Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Do you think she ever stargazed?” You asked.
Shadow chuckled as he lay on the grass-covered ground next to you. “Maybe as a kid. But, I don’t think we ever did anything like that. She worked nights, remember?”
Yeah, you remembered. It was hard to forget with how often Shadow talked about her.
“I remember, but you guys did have holiday to stargaze.” You closed your eyes and breathed in the sweet Spring air.
Not a cloud hung in the dark sky. It was an absolutely splendid night for stargazing, especially after so many clouds a few days prior and that snowstorm. Now, there was peace. Still, you couldn’t help feeling like more was on the way. A bigger, scarier storm.
“I don’t think she was much into the romantic parts of relationships, anyway,” your friend said, he, too, enjoying the starry sky. “She didn’t like it when I did that kinda stuff. Never said anything but I could tell she didn’t care very much.”
You nodded and turned your head to look at him. “I never understood your attraction to her. She was kind of a bitch.”
Shadow shrugged. “She was beautiful and smart. There was just something so dangerous, so alluring about her.” He put a hand behind his head. “I don’t know exactly why. I can’t really put my finger on it. All I know is it was love at first sight.”
You shook your head with a smile and looked back to the stars.
“Did you hate her?” Shadow asked. This time, he turned to you.
In quiet contemplation, you thought about Laura and how she acted. She wasn’t your favourite person in the world and tended to treat Shadow as nothing more than a sweet, loyal, little puppy-dog, but she made him happy. That was good enough for you.
“Nah. Didn’t understand her, sure. Didn’t like her, definitely. But, I never hated her. I couldn’t. Not with how happy you were with her.”
Shadow smiled, platonic love in his eyes. “You’re the best friend everyone needs, ya know that?”
You laughed and looked over at him, meeting his eyes. “So are you.”
The neon lights of the motel across the road reflected off both of your faces.
You both turnt to the stars. Even though they were without their wife, the stars twinkled beautifully so. Shadow used to say that they reminded him of you; always there, always lighting up the sky even when the Moon wasn’t, always dependable. When he’d say that, you’d laugh him off. That’s just how the two of you were- are. You are that way. Even with Wednesday trying to push you apart.
With the rat bastard on your mind, you began to wonder if he had noticed “his” man’s absence. He surely didn’t notice yours.
“We should head back,” you said.
“Nah. Wednesday won’t notice. If he does, it doesn’t matter.”
Despite your want to argue, you stayed quiet. Shadow may have been right, but, still, you didn’t want the old fart being all weird.
For a while, the two of you lay in silence and stargazed. Only the rustling of the tree branches in the wind and the spare wild animal going by were heard. That and the occasional car driving on the road.
“How you feelin’?” You asked, breaking the peaceful silence. “With her death and all?”
Shadow didn’t say anything for a while, just slipped his hand into yours. It was a rather comforting action, but you, with your overactive mind, still worried for him. Everyone works through grief differently, but you didn’t want your friend to feel like he couldn’t talk to you anymore.
“Shadow?”
Sighing, he closed his eyes. “It hurts,” he said before turning to you. “But, it’s better with you. I feel at peace. So, can we not talk about it right now? I don’t think I’m ready.”
“Yeah. Of course. Sorry.”

Chapter Text

Slow days were pretty common on weekdays. Any bartender worth their shoulder towel can tell you that. Compared to Fridays and Saturdays, the rest of the week, especially where you worked, were slower than molasses going uphill in winter.
Working at a bar in small towns is either Hell on Earth because it’s pretty much the only place around, or it’s Heaven on Earth ‘cause the town is so small. Your place, the North Bar, was a small, albeit popular, place in a village nestled in a valley. Every major place was on one street right through the middle. Like something out of an Old Western movie, but that’s just how small towns are. The North Bar got busy some nights and not so much on others. Best food around (not that that is saying much), and everyone makes sure that there is something to do, like Karaoke nights, corn hole tournaments, or pool. There’s always something, even if it’s not fun or popular with people.
A cousin of yours called your little town the “Lakeside of Michigan”. You couldn’t say whether or not that was true, but you preferred to call Lakeside the “Luther of Wisconsin”.
You wiped some crumbs into a trash bin as you cleaned a table. The Lunch “Rush” was over, and no one but you, the regulars like Chuck, and the other employees were here. It’s not like there were many of you, just one or two servers, the cook, dishwasher, and another bartender. Plus the owner, but she was busy in the back.
Good ole Chuck mulled about in a drunken state before sitting at the bar. You tossed your towel over your shoulder and shook your head.
“Come on, Chuckie boy. I think it’s about time you head on home now. You’ve been here since we opened and had plenty,” you said.
The old, balding man grumbled.
“Don’t make me call your daughter.” You crossed your arms. “Cause I can, and I will.”
He muttered som protests but after a hard glare from you, he stumbled up and out.
It’s not like you wanted to kick him out, but, hey, last time you let him drink to his heart's desire, you ended up having to call the Sheriff. You liked Chuck too much to let him spend any more time down at the jailhouse. He’d come back later anyway.
As you got back behind the counter, the other bartender, Joan, nudged you.
“Can I take off? You ain’t gonna need me here till later, anyway,” she said, gesturing to the now dead bar.
You shrugged. “Sure. I ain’t gotta problem with that.”
“Thanks!”
Once upon a time, you were much like Joan, ready to get the fuck out as soon as you could. Nowadays, it wasn’t too much like that. To you, there wasn’t a point in running off seeing as how, from all the years you’d been working, things never changed. Well, not for the town anyway. For you? You lost that enthusiasm that Joan had. Wasn’t the big of a loss anyway.
You’d been working here since before the North Bar had changed hands. Hell, you’d been here since the place was first takin’ root. And before it, you worked at the Grocers. And before that, at the wood mill. Course, if anyone asked, you’d say it was your ancestors who’d gone and done all that. You took after your cousin like that.
Because you’d worked here so long, you were the de facto boss, especially when the owner wasn’t around or too busy. But even she referred to you when things were going nuts. She frequently asked you for advice, and you were happy to give it.
As Joan went to clock out and leave, a man entered your bar.
With just a look, you knew he wasn’t from here. You knew everyone in town, and he, sure as Hell, Michigan, wasn’t one of them. From the smell and the feel of the mountain of a man, you knew he wasn’t human either. After a look over, you recognized the pesky Leprechaun.
“Sweeney, you’d better not drink me out of my liquor, ya hear?” You growled, scowling at him.
The Leprechaun sat at the bar, the stool groaning beneath him. “Just because ‘a that, I think I might.”
You glared at him, arms crossed.
“Southern Comfort ‘n Coke,” he said. The redhead stretched and sighed. “Been stuck in that fuckin’ car too long. Damn thing’s got me all stiff.”
As you got him his drink, you rolled your eyes. “Try being smaller. That might help.”
It was his turn to glare at you. The tree of a man never really cared for your sarcasm.
“What are you doing here, Sweeney? This place is too outta the way, too ‘blink, and you’ll miss it’ for you to be here on accident.”
He leant against the wooden bar and rubbed his neck, groaning. “It took me fuckin’ ages to get ‘ere. Drove right past it more times than I can count. The place is fuckin’ invisible. Fuckin’ villages, I swear. Shite’s the worst.”
You slammed your fist down, the liquid in Sweeney’s glass jumping and spilling over the side. “What. The fuck. Are you doing here? I will not ask again.” You stared at him, scowling, with both hands on the bar top.
He held your stare. “You’re the only one I could think of to talk to, Y/N. You know things. Understand things. Things I can’t.”
Sighing, you straightened. “I’m a bartender. That’s our little slice of magic even in a world without it.”
Sweeney nodded slowly.
“What do you need to get out?”
You were a bartender. Everyone talked to you about everything. From marriage disputes to petty arguments, everything found its way to you eventually. When people needed an ear and advice, the people of Luther’s first thought was you. Just like Sweeney and others like him.
You supplied the drink as Sweeney talked. And, boy, oh boy, did he talk. His pain never seemed to end, and he never let up to let you say anything. Which was fine by you. Sometimes, people just needed an ear to rant into.
The Leprechaun started to slow in his ranting.
“I’m stuck, Y/N. So fuckin’ stuck,” he said. “I can’t stay ‘ere. It’ll drive me madder than I already am. But, I don’t know where else ta be or ta go. The bar life, the fightin’ life, it’s all I know. Everythin’ else is a blur. It’s not like I can leave the States either. I’m stuck ‘ere, in this rut, and it feels like if I move, I die.”
You nodded quietly and poured him another drink. “Then die.”
The Mad King looked at you.
You shrugged. “It’s better to die living than live already dead.” You pointed to the door, liquor bottle in your hand. “I seen too many folk come through my doors living like the dead do, same thing every day. They ne’er change and ne’er want to. Sometimes, I get them to live just a little with a game or two of pool or corn hole. Sometimes I even get people to play Euchre. Maybe some songs to lighten their mood and food to heavy their stomach, but ne’er for long. Some live like the dead, and some die living. Some live life, some don’t. I’d rather die living fully than live like I’m already dead. Maybe you should try it.”
He took in your words. Slowly, but he got there. Eventually. “Then why do ya stay here?” He asked.
You blinked in surprise at his question. It was true. You walked through those doors every day doing the same thing every single goddamn day, only sometimes changing it up. You lived like most of the folk ‘round here, but you always explained it away as: “They need me,” you said, shrugging it off.
Sweeney finished his last glass in one gulp before setting it down with a thud. “Seems to me, you need them more.”
They worshipped you just like your cousin’s town worshipped him. Albeit in different ways, but still. It wasn’t like you made this town or anything, but you had lent a helping hand. Their worship kept you alive. Of course, you needed them more.
He stood to leave, but first, he leant over the bar and said, “Thanks for the chat. It helped.”
You nodded as the redhead left. Quietly, you hoped you would never see him again.
You would, eventually, much to your chagrin.

Chapter Text

You stood, along with a few other students in your area, at the bus stop.
“Y/N!” Shadow said, running up to you out of breath. “Hey, where have you been?”
You shouldered your backpack and looked away, watching for the school bus. “Busy is all.”
“With what?”
“Packing.”
“For a camping trip or something?” He asked in curiosity, those soft brown eyes shining innocently.
“No, something much worse,” you said, meeting his gaze. “I’m moving.”
Shadow’s mouth dropped. “What? When? Where? Why? Do you have to go? Please don’t.”
You waited, patiently, for him to finish his barrage of questions. “I’m moving, Moony, in a couple of weeks. Mum won’t tell me why or where, and yes, I do have to.” You tapped your foot nervously against the sidewalk and fiddled with your straps. Unable to do much, you just turnt away.
Shadow stared at you.
“Please say something,” you whispered shyly and looked up at him. “Shad?”
He stepped back and looked at the ground. “We still have a couple of weeks, yeah?”
You nodded.
Then he did, and his eyebrows knitted together in thought. “We’re going to make these the best couple of weeks ever, then. That way, we’ll never forget each other. Even when you move away.”
You smiled, enjoying your best friend's determination. “Sounds like a plan, my main man.”
Shadow laughed.
•
“This isn’t a good idea, Y/N,” Shadow hissed. “We’re gonna get in trouble!”
You looked up at him from your crouched position with your signature crooked smile, a bag of clothes laying next to you. “Nah, mate. We just gotta be quick.”
Shadow watched, concerned, as you tried and failed to pick the padlock. He rubbed his bare arms and shivered in the cold air.
Trying again, you heard the audible click of the lock releasing and grinned. “Ah, there we go.” You pulled the simple padlock off the chain with ease. Then, with one swift motion, you ripped the chain away from the fence, metal clinking against metal. Stepping aside, you twirled your wrists around as you bowed to Shadow like a lower class would bow to their king and gestured with your arms pointing to the now open fence door to the pool. “After you, my good sir.” You looked at him, your smile lopsided and full of mischief.
“You’re insane, N/N; I hope you know that.”
“Yeah, and you’re my partner-in-crime, so it’s not like you’re any saner.”
“This is breaking and entering!” He protested, walking inside.
“It’s a public swimming pool!” You followed him, picking up your bag as you went.
•
You laughed as your dumbass of a friend leant a little too close over the edge of the pool and fell inside. He, as he resurfaced, sputtered and coughed up the water he swallowed. The young teen grabbed for and clung to the edge of the pool like his life depended on it. His slippery fingers desperately gripping for the wall in the dark.
“It’s not even that deep, Moon Pie,” you said. Sitting down, you dipped your legs into the cool water before slipping in. You stood, head out of water. “Definitely not that deep.”
Still, Shadow clung to the wall and crept his way to the deeper side. The calm blue soon gave way to a darker hue as he sidled the wall.
Quickly, you swam after him. The poor boy was just learning how to swim; he’d need someone there if he was going to survive.
“Shadow, don’t go out that far,” you warned, trying to keep your head above water as you followed.
Soon after your warning he slipped, a yelp erupting from his lips just before sinking.
“Shadow!”
If he slid under, you wouldn’t be able to find him in the dark water. He could drown. He would drown because you weren’t fast enough to get to him. If he drowned because of you, you’d never forgive yourself.
Shadow, thankfully, managed to grab the wall again. In the silence of the dark night, the pool was illuminated only by the will of the Moon and stars and the lights of occasional lamp posts. The water lapped at the walls as cars drove by.
You silently stared at your friend, treading so you yourself wouldn’t go under.
Shadow breathed heavily and clutched the wall. Then, he did something stupid, even for him. He kicked away. Despite his heavy breathing and fear, he drifted out to the middle of the pool, his skin glistening. Slowly, he levelled his breathing and relaxed. He just floated there, tipping to one side or the other every once in a while.
As you swam to him, you noticed his concentration on his breathing. “You’re supposed to be learning to swim, not float, Moon Pie.”
“It’s easier this way,” he said, gently moving his arms side to side.
You shook your head and took one of his hands in your own. “Come on. You asked me to teach you so now I am.”
•
You and Shadow dried off and changed after both of you had gotten wrinkly in the pool. Chlorine filled your nostrils and permeated your swim clothes. It didn’t bother you in the slightest. Shadow, on the other hand, stared at his trunks and frowned.
“Mom will definitely know we snuck in here.” His hands dropped to his sides, trunks in tow. “She’s gonna kill me.”
You shrugged. “It’ll be fine, Moon Pie. I mean, what’s she gonna do? Tickle you to death?”
Shadow glared at you.
“What? She’s a softie!”
“Why do I let you convince me to do this shit?” He asked.
“Language, Moony,” you said, wagging a finger at him in faux anger. After throwing your swim clothes into the bag, you shrugged. “Anyways, it's because we’re like family, and you love me.” You smiled at him. “Plus, you did say these were going to be the best couple of weeks ever, so this is on you.”
Shadow sighed and smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “You still frustrate me, though.”
•
The two of you “criminals-in-training” left the public pool. As you relocked the padlock, Shadow kept his eyes out for anyone, particularly the cops.
When you turnt around, Shadow nudges your arm. You tensed at the sight of one. His dark blue uniform standing out against the orange glow of a nearby lamp post. The bloke was heading straight for you.
“Hiya, offica!” You chirped with a grin. You had to relax; otherwise, he’d think something was wrong, the exact opposite of what you wanted.
The officer nodded at you. “What are you kids doing out this late?” He asked.
“Oh, ya know, making sure this shite is good and locked up.” You leant closer to him. “Someone’s been breaking in and stealing the water wings and chlorine shite, don’t cha know?”
The officer, Brown, as the nameplate said, nodded again but slower. “Aren’t you a little too young to be working here?”
Shadow snorted.
Brown looked at him. “Something to say, young man?”
“No, sir, not in the slightest,” you said as Shadow shrank away. “Poor boy can’t speak ‘a lick ‘a anything. He’s a mute. Ain’t cha ole buddy, ole boy?”
Shadow nodded, the bag of wet clothes over his shoulder. He’d have to punch you later for that.
“See!” You slung an arm over his shoulder and gestured at him with your free hand. “As for your question, sir, we don’t work here. This was a favour for a friend. Name’s Toni. Asked us to just stop by if we happened to walk near here tonight. See if we can spot the ne’er-do-well and all.”
‘Just keep lying,’ you thought. ‘He’ll go away eventually, and we can get fucking home before Ms Moon finds Shadow missing.’
The officer nodded in concentrated thought like he was trying to figure out whether or not you were lying. Finally, you supposed, the pig decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. “Well, then. It’s good to see such young people making an effort for their neighbour and their city. Hope you two have a safe walk home.”
“Thank you, sir. We appreciate it. And thank you for helping to keep our fair city safe!” You waved goodbye to the officer and began to walk away as you spoke, sarcasm lacing your tone. “Whore,” you sneered at the cop, glaring over your shoulder.
If there was one thing you hated more than rules, it was cops and the government as a whole. In your opinion, the entire system was corrupt, and it made your blood boil.
Eventually, after you got far enough away, you heard Shadow audibly breathe out.
Your arm dropped from his shoulders, and you grinned that crooked grin at him. “How ya feelin’, Moon Pie?” You asked.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” he said. “I can’t believe you just lied your way out of getting caught. I can’t believe we did that!”
You could, just by looking at your friend, know his heart was furiously beating in his chest. “What can I say, mate? I’m slick as they come.”
He looked at you, concerned. “You make me wonder whether or not you’ve ever lied to me.”
“Nah, I’d never do that to you,” you said, slinging an arm over his shoulder again and ruffling his curly hair. “I trust you too much.”
•
Eventually, you two made it to his place. It was a run-down apartment complex built back when Black people had that Great Northward Migration that you’d read about at a library ‘round here. Cool place. You liked it. More than your flat, anyway, but that might have been because of Shadow and his mum.
“You wanna come in? Mom’s making spaghetti, and I know you don’t eat enough,” he asked.
You shook your head, chuckling. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got other things to do tonight, anyway.”
Yeah, illegal things. The bills don’t pay themselves, after all.
“You sure?” He asked. “Mom loves you, mischief and all. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. We could even have a sleepover or something.”
You patted him on the shoulder and ruffled his curls. “Don’t worry about it, little light of mine. It’ll all be fine.” You went quiet for a moment before your lopsided grin appeared. “Hey! That rhymed!”
Shadow laughed, and batted your hand away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
“Bright ‘n fuckin’ early, Moon Pie.” You walked away, pulling your jacket close.
•
“Ballsy move, kid,” someone said from a dark alley. “Real ballsy. What if he knew there was no breaking and entering at the pool? What then?”
You paused and looked over at the tall man with his slanted smile and fur coat. “You gotta take risks if you’re gonna survive, Dad. You taught me that.” Crossing your arms, you glared at him. “What are you doing here? And why the fuck are you watching me? That’s creepy.”
Your dad stepped from the darkness, still grinning. “A guy can’t make sure his kid’s okay?”
“Not when it’s you. You always want something, and we ain’t got nothin’ to give, so hit the road Jack and stop comin’ back, yeah?” Even with your outward coolness, fury burned within you. How dare he come back here and act like he cares now of all times? Especially when you and your mum are about to move away, hopefully far away from here where that arse can’t spy on you like a fucking pervert anymore. “We don’t need nor want you, so just leave us be.”
Your dad’s gloved hands slipped into his pockets, and he silently stared at you.
“What?”
“You’ve got fire, that’s all,” he said. “Reminds me of your mother” He stepped forward and put a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t let anyone snuff out that fire. You’ll need it.” His hand dropped, and he walked away, slipping his hand back into his pocket. “Have fun in London!”
“How the fuck do you know about London?” You called after him.
Loki didn’t respond. He just kept walking.
You stood there, hands in your own pockets, staring after him, silently wishing he’d come back. Yeah, he’s an arsehole, but he’s your dad. And, well, he was the closest you’d ever get to a real parent. And, no, your mum doesn’t much count.
You huffed, scowling, and stalked away.
•
The next week and a half were filled with school and screwing around with Shadow. And, when you weren’t doing either of those, you were selling as much of the good kush as you while taking care of your mum.
It was fun, dragging Shadow around for a load of mischief, but it was also painful, knowing you wouldn’t get to see your best friend ever again. But, someone has to leave first, that was something you’d learnt early on. You figured, the person might as well be you.
You stared at Shadow’s building, not sure if you should go and see if he’s there or not. Luckily, you didn’t have to decide.
Shadow walked up behind you and put his hands over your eyes. “Guess who?”
You laughed, feelings of dread slipping away. “Moon Pie, get your grubby hands off me,” you said.
He did, indeed, remove his hands from your eyes. But, being the arse he is, he wrapped his arms around your neck and perched on them. “Is there a reason we’re staring at my apartment building?”
In an act that you weren’t sure of and wasn’t very common between you, you turnt around and hugged him. Shadow staggered back and stared at you before slowly hugging back.
“I’m going to miss you, too, N/N.”
You smiled then, a small, satisfied smile, still hugging your best friend.
Yeah, Mum was ruining everything by moving you and her back to London for some boyfriend that wouldn’t last long, but, at least, you met and got to know Shadow while you were in the States.
•
You, older now, shouldered a duffle bag and picked up a backpack. The airport was annoying, and you quickly made your way the fuck outta there. As good as it was to be back in the U.S., you didn’t miss the airports.
You moved through the crowd with ease, trained sticky-fingers picking up things here and there, some watches, some wallets, some random pieces of jewellry. The object didn't matter; knowing you were still a good pickpocket was what you were really after. It was all in good fun anyway. Besides, would they really even miss it?
Bursting through the airport doors, you hailed a taxi. Your new boss was supposed to be sending a car, but you didn’t have the patience or attention for that. Always too impulsive, as your mum liked to say when she was sober. And alive, too. When she was sober and alive.
A taxi pulled over, and you told her to drive to the nearest hotel. That you didn’t care where, as long as it had air-conditioning. She drove, dropped you off, and you paid her, tipping an imaginary cap with a crooked smile.
•
Late at night, you jogged down the steps outside the hotel. A Red Roof that definitely had a reddish roof.
You sighed and rolled your neck. A puff of warm breath turnt into a cloud.
Instead of staying put like you’d always done until whoever you were working for at the time contacted you, you started walking. The night was young, and you had nothing better to do, so why not? Adherence to rules and the “status quo” was never really your thing.
As you walked, breathing in the city air, you thought back to how life was when you were younger. How simple it was.
A few simple lies here and there, some pickpocketing, and just general mischief. Back then, it had always been for your dad. To impress him, to get him to notice you, to make him proud. Now, those lies were massive, you’d stolen more than your mum could have ever dreamed of, and that “general mischief” had turnt into murder for money and breaking people’s bones for fun, not as an accidental side effect. In your quest to make your dad notice you, you ended up becoming as cold as ice and as cruel as war. It was unnerving and, when you looked in the mirror, all you could see was Loki in your eyes. There seemed to be no more of Y/N L/N left in you.
You couldn’t remember the last time you genuinely smiled or told a joke. If there had been anyone to listen to it, maybe you would have right then and there. It would have to be something corny and stupid, like the ones you used to tell.
And then, you did. You let one out. It was stupid and corny, just like the ones you used to tell your old friend, Shadow when you weren’t teasin’ the poor bloke.
“I could really use a drink,” you said to the night air. “A soda. But nothing too big. A Minnesoda, if you will.”
You laughed then; it was quiet and low. A wry chuckle, really. But, still, it felt so foreign and unreal. Like it wasn’t really you who said it.
“By the gods, that was bad,” you said. No one was there to agree and laugh with you at your own stupid joke, and, somehow, you felt even more lonely than before.
Sighing, you turnt your head to the sky and frowned. You couldn’t see the stars. The smog and bright lights of the city had overtaken them years ago, and you felt a pit in your stomach. You felt empty and lost. That was a good way to describe most of your life, but this was more than that. It was petrifyingly lonely. There was no light, just darkness. No warmth, only cold. Not even the stars and Moon would open their arms to you. If they wouldn’t, who would?
If someone killed you right then and there, as you walked, no one would remember you. No one would care. Maybe your new boss would be upset about having to find a new hit-man, but otherwise, you would be nothing more than another dead body. And that, well, that didn’t sound so bad to you.
Maybe you should just do it yourself. After all, your mum was already gone, your dad never seemed to truly care about you, and the only person you ever thought might genuinely give a fuck about you, you hadn’t seen since you were teenagers.
Something, a sound, captured your attention, pulling you from your rather depressing thoughts. The high-pitched sound reminded you of when your ears rang when nothing else was ringing. Tinnitus, you remembered the doctor calling it, from too many hits to the head, you guessed. Boy, was it uncomfortable. At first, you shook your head, believing it to be the normal ringing, but when it didn’t stop after a couple of minutes, you knew it had to be something else.
You looked around, trying to find the source. At first, you didn’t. Whatever it was didn’t want to be found. Or maybe you were imagining the whole thing. But, you were wrong, unless you had started hallucinating, which wasn’t likely. No history in the family of that happening.
A weird-looking box sat in an abandoned parking lot; a white light ran along the sides. It was a strange little thing, a bit polygonal. The sound made you queasy and, on instinct, stepped away.
Whatever the Hell that thing was didn’t look like something you should mess with.
When you turnt around to leave, another box appeared in front of you. It was much closer than the other one. The shite was like something out of a horror movie.
‘Okay, that’s some freaky shite,’ you thought.
Backing away, you stared at the thing, keenly aware that there was another one behind you. You turnt between the two and tried walking away again. But, another one appeared. And when you looked behind you, another sat, glowing like the rest.
‘Holy fuck, I’m the first person to be murdered in a horror movie,’ you thought, quietly freaking out. ‘I can’t fucking believe I’m that idiot.’
When you turn to the right side box, it opens. It looked a lot like one of the face huggers from Alien but more mechanical. Inside was grey, and two lenses that reminded you of closed camera lenses opened to reveal a bright white light.
You considered trying to go diagonally or jumping over them and get the fuck away from here. But, if the previous actions signalled anything, that would be futile. So, you gave in instead. “Oh, fuck me.”
The face-hugger jumped forward and wrapped around your face. The impact made you fall back a little, but you straightened yourself. You calmly looked into the light. It was bright, and the entire thing felt cold, like the hospital room your mum was in back in London.
A thought crossed your mind as the thing brought you wherever it was bringing you. Maybe this is how you would die. You’d always hoped to go down by your own hand, not someone else’s. But, it was too early to say this was meant to kill you. Especially when you appeared in a long, rectangular room.
Two things popped up next to you.
Popped up is the wrong term. They didn’t magically appear. It was more like them starting at the base layer of a character design and going from there. When they stopped forming, it looked like they were still rendering, like characters from an early video game.
Someone else formed in front of you, on the opposite side of the room. But, this one didn’t form like the others. They were like weird, polygon-shaped sludge climbing on top of each other and taking form. Eventually, the weird stuff shifted into a young man, late teens or early twenties, you weren’t sure.
“Hello, Y/N,” he said in a ‘holier-than-thou’ voice as he finished forming. A strange vape with what you believed to be a salamander or something in the bulb materialized in his hand. He took a drag from it. “Don’t fuck with me.”
You raised an eyebrow. “You, essentially, kidnapped me. Why the fuck shouldn’t I fuck with you?”
The young man’s brown hair seemed to change into a lighter colour when he tilted his head, and his blue eyes studied you. “Fair enough,” he said, shrugging. He offered his vape. “Want some?”
“Why would I take something from my captor?” You asked, arms folded.
“You’re not stuck here. You can leave anytime you want.” The young man took another drag and breathed out. “But, I don’t think you’ll want to do that.”
“Don’t presume to tell me what I do and do not want.”
Actually, that might be helpful, seeing as you were utterly lost on what you actually wanted from life. Even murder and thievery get boring eventually.
The young man rolled his eyes, grimacing. “Well, you’re going to be fun.”
“Why am I here?” You asked, glaring at him. Whoever the fuck this punk was, wasn’t interesting enough for you to not keep your temper.
He scoffed and leant forward, putting his vape away. “You,” he said, creating a gun with his fingers, elbows on his knees. “Are here because I want to offer you a job. Well, Mr World does, but I’m here to relay the offer.”
‘Who?’ You thought. Instead of asking, you point out the obvious. “Already got one.”
The young man smirked and leant back. “Not anymore.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
‘What did this little arsehole do to my new boss?’
He grinned at you. “You don’t agree to this job, and you’ll find out.”
He’s dead. Your new boss is dead. The guy was a dirtbag, a rich one, but still a dirtbag, and he got what he had coming to him. The anger came from pure principal, not you actually caring about the old fuck. You’d never even met the fucker. Not in-person, anyway. But, still, nobody gets away with taking a paycheque away from you.
“You cost me a lot of money, you pathetic twink,” you growled.
This young fucker seemed to enjoy your anger. He leant forward and whispered. “We can pay you a lot fucking better.”
‘Better than 25 mil every 3 months for one person? Ain’t nobody gonna give up that kinda money,’ you thought. ‘No one in their right mind anyway.’
In one swift motion, you pulled two hunting knives from your boots and stabbed both of the horribly rendered video game muppets in their throats.
“Fine,” you said, pulling your knives out of their bodies. “But, only on my terms. It’s my way or the highway, twinkasaurus.”
He gave a strained, ‘I want to kill you’ smile and nodded. “Fair enough.”
His boss must have really wanted you.
•
Shadow turnt towards the door of the interrogation room.
Media entered in all her Marilyn Monroe glory, floating just above the ground.
You remembered what movie she was using. The Seven Year Itch. Not your favourite Monroe film, but definitely up there. You watched from behind Mr World as she talked to Mr Wednesday and Shadow Moon.
Shadow Moon. Your best friend from years ago. From the photos you’d seen, he’d grown up well.
You hoped he wouldn’t recognize you. He didn’t need to know what you did for a living. Hell, he didn’t even need to know you, the now-you that is. He could keep the past-you safe from the taint of the now-you, as long as he didn’t recognize you.
The cameras glitched behind a window into the interrogation room. Mr World, ever the drama queen, walked forward slowly, the tiles underneath him lighting up as he did so. His footsteps echoed in the quiet hall.
The sound made you sick.
You hated working for the guy. But the pay was good, and the job was mostly just for show. You were well-known for your ruthlessness and efficiency. The underworld respected you, and with respect, there was usually fear. The kind he thrived on. His enforcer, bodyguard, torturer, hitman, and more all rolled into one. $75 mill every 3 months made it well worth the travel and murder. You, essentially, were his eyes and ears outside the U.S. and inside the criminal underworld. You had connections and power the Spooks and the Agency didn’t. And, when he needed you to be, you were by his side, ready and waiting for his command. You were his prized show dog, and, boy, did you love it when it pissed off Technical Boy.
Mr World had a creep factor that was always at 100%. It was unnerving, and the constant feeling of familiarity only made it feel worse. But, well, money. It was good enough for you. It’s not like you had morals or standards anyway.
His coat on his shoulder and fedora or whatever tilted over his face made it seem like he was trying too hard to be intimidating. But, hey, whatever works.
“Mr Wednesday,” World said, taking off his hat with that creepy fucking smile. “Overdue. I have to start with an apology. I’ve been remiss.” He looked away. “I should have reached out to you ages ago but, to be honest, I didn’t see you. Not clearly. Not like this, here, now, in person.” World breathed deeply. “You. Are. Huge. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His attention turnt to Shadow. “Have we met?”
“Do not talk to him. Do not say a word. Do not tell him anything,” Wednesday said as World walked toward Shadow.
The uneasiness in your stomach grew as your boss neared your old friend.
“You don’t have to,” World said. He waved his hands over Shadow’s cuffs, unlocking them. “I already know you.”
Shadow took the cuffs off and looked at World. “No, you don’t.”
“Sure, I do. You’re a person. I know people.”
Now that sounded desperate. He always sounded desperate, to you at least.
“Everything about all of them,” World said. “You have a name: Shadow Moon. You have a blood type and a recurring nightmare: B+ and an orchard of bones. You prefer Swiss to cheddar and can’t abide the tines of two forks touching, and this is the face you make when you masturbate.”
Before he could show everyone, you said, “Ain’t nobody wanna see that.”
Both of your arms pressed against either side of the doorway, the unzipped zipper on your leather jacket dangled in the air, and your leather-clad feet crossed at the ankles. It was a cool look, casual.
“Seriously,” you said, pushing into the room. “For the good of what little mental health I have left, don’t. That’s private and gross to know.”
World glared at you as you relaxed against the wall. If he wanted a good little bodyguard to do what he said, he shouldn’t have brought you.
“Regardless,” World said, looking at you. “It was the same as your mother’s, who had 86 sexual partners in her life.”
Wednesday made an O with his mouth like he was impressed.
You were just grossed out. “Okay, did anyone really need to know that? Seriously, that’s also private and gross to share. You need to learn boundaries, mate.”
In that moment, Shadow was reminded of an old friend with a similar sense of humor, a penchant for mischief, and a crooked smile.
World turnt to you and glared. You just smirked. It wasn’t full of energy like the ones when you had a kid. It was dead, just like your eyes.
“Get on with your speech, boss,” you said. “Unless you forgot it?”
Pissing off your boss was fun. He looked funny when he got mad.
World looked at the floor, trying not to kill you, and he whistled. There was silence for a moment. Then, he turnt to Media.
“Is he still sulking?” He asked.
She shrugged.
Again, World whistled for him.
“I could get him for ya? I mean, he’s gonna have to come in here eventually.” You waved Technical Boy’s phone around.
“Sticky fingers,” Shadow said, remembering all the shite you used to steal. “You could clean them.”
You turnt to him and raised an eyebrow. “Only when they’re covered in blood, mate.”
Eventually, Technical Boy made his own way down the hall. His shoes squeaked as he, begrudgingly, did so.
He stopped at the mouth of the room. The petulant child gave a strained smile. "I'm sorry," Technical Boy said. "For lynching you."
Upon hearing 'lynching', your body froze, and anger boiled in your veins. Shadow didn't seem to care much; he was more weirded out by everything than upset. You had gotten used to the batshittery of it all, but the comment, the “apology”, brought something to the surface you hadn’t felt in a long time.
Rage.
Not anger. You'd felt that plenty over the years. But pure rage from the audacity of the fucking piece of shite for lynching someone. And, of all the people he could have done it to, he lynched Shadow. He didn't just try to kill him, but he tried to do it slowly and painfully. There were also the racial implications of it all, but, for some reason, you had a feeling it was more about the pain and drawn-out death than the colour of Shadow’s skin, but his race didn’t help the matter.
"You did what?" You asked, your voice deepening.
Technical Boy turnt to you. His blood ran cold. Out of fear he rarely felt for anyone but Mr World, he stepped back. Sure, he'd seen you angry before, but this wasn't anger. He could see it in your eyes. "I--," he tried. "Fuck!" The god ran from the room.
You wasted no time pulling a knife from your boot and taking chase.
Shadow, recognizing that rage inside you, quickly followed. He’d seen it several times when others decided to fuck with you, him, or someone weaker.
•
Your fist repeatedly connected with Technical Boy's face, the other hand holding his sweater. The punching reddened your knuckles, but the pain felt good. It was one of the few things you could still properly feel. The Boy's pristine face became bloody. A cut from one of your rings appeared on his cheek and you enjoyed watching the bright red blood fall down his pale face. There was no doubt in your mind that a bruise would form around his eye. His lower lip split open, and blood dripped down. That didn't make you stop, though. In fact, it made you punch harder and faster. He shouldn't get away scot-free; the bastard deserved this. If he didn’t deserve worse.
A hand grabbed your wrist as you tried to punch Technical Boy again. A low growl emitted from your throat as you turnt to face the one who dared try to stop you.
Shadow stood there, sadness in his eyes and his fingers wrapped around your wrist.
A silent conversation passed between you.
'Enough, N/N,' Shadow said without saying anything. 'It's okay.'
'But--'
'Enough.'
You dropped Technical Boy, and he groaned in reply. After Shadow set his hand on your shoulder, you wiped away what blood you could and looked at him.
"I'm sorry. I lost my cool," you said, more apologizing to Shadow than Technical Boy.
The Boy didn't deserve an apology.
"I never thought I'd see you again,” Shadow said. “I really fucking missed you.”
You looked at him, and something strange happened. Something that hadn't happened in years. A bit of warmth came to your cold heart, and, well, you smiled that crooked grin, and a small twinkle returned to your eyes.
"And I you, Moony." You pull him into a hug. "Damn, is it good to see your ugly mug again."
Shadow hugged back, smiling.
Technical Boy laid there, forgotten on the floor, and he didn't feel like moving, so he stayed and watched this interaction. 'Of course, Y/N would know him. Of fucking course,' he thought. ‘Why does the universe hate me?’

Chapter Text

“O, O, O'REILLY’s AUTO PARTS!” You yell at the top of your lungs right into Mad Sweeney’s ear. Personally, you would have preferred to do the Red Robin jingle, but you did that yesterday and needed new material.
Mad Sweeney, more than a little hungover, groaned. “It’s too fucking early, Y/N. Go away, you chaotic fuck.” He tried to snuggle back into the sofa, but you had other plans.
You sucked in your lips, trying not to smile. “OOH EEH OOH AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG! OOH EEH OOH AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG! OOH EEH OOH AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG! OOH EEH OOH AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG! Dow, dow, dow, dow, dow, dow. OOH EEH OOH AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG! OOH EEH OOH AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG! OOH EEH OOH AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG!”
“ALRIGHT, WILL YA QUIT YER YAPPIN’ ALREADY?” Sweeney shouted, snapping his head to the side, his upper body still resting on the sofa.
You snickered and smiled at him.
“Yer a menace, N/N,” he said. “A right fuckin’ menace.”
“It’s a glorious day, my redheaded friend! We should do something!” You bounced around, pulling at his jacket. “We could go to the park and throw bread at people who try to feed bread to the ducks! Or go for a swim in a public fountain! Or maybe-”
Sweeney cut you off. “It’s too fuckin’ early for this. I need a fuckin’ drink before we do anything at all.”
“It’s also too early in the mornin’ for that,” you said.
Sweeney groaned and face-planted back into the sofa. You, being you, started poking his face.
“Sweeney. Sweeney. Sweeney. Sweeney. Sweeney.” Between every call of his name, you poked him. “Sweeeeeeeneeeeey.”
You didn’t know when this started. When you’d started bothering him at every turn, just, generally, being chaotic and troublesome. But it sure was funny. And if he really hated it, he could just walk away.
Sweeney groaned and turnt his head. “I need fuckin’ coffee before I start dealin’ with ya, ya fuckin’ cunt.”
You grinned and bopped his nose.
•
“OH, she’ll be comin’ ‘round the mountain when she comes! Oh, she’ll be comin’ ‘round the mountain when she comes! She’ll be drivin’ six white horses--”
Sweeney clamped a hand over your mouth.
Wetting your tongue with as much saliva as possible, you start sticking your tongue out into his hand repeatedly, licking it like a cat licks their water bowl.
He pulled his hand away in disgust. It looked like he was getting ready to smack you.
“What the fuck is wrong with ya?” He asked. “Seriously? Why the fuckin’ hell would ya do that? I swear, yer battier than a fuckin’--”
An old lady with white hair muttered something. It was just loud enough for you to listen. “Big man like that. He oughta be ashamed of himself. Yellin’ at someone so sweet and innocent looking. Oh, that poor--”
He had enough of everyone in that moment. “How ‘bout you spend a day in my fuckin’ shoes. Deal with this--” he said, pointing at you. “--Little fucker for a day.”
The old lady glared at him then gestured to you. “They’re just a sweet, innocent little thing. And, you,” she said, pointing at him. “Are a brute.”
“Yeah, I’m sweet and innocent,” you said. The opportunity to fuck with him was right there. Of course, you’d take it.
Your false words fueled Sweeney’s rage. “Ya want a brute, I’ll show ya a brute!” He tried to get at the old lady, lunging forward and all that.
You were barely able to pull him back. “Nope, sorry, Sweeney, not today.” You push him toward the door and look back at the lady. “He’s a mess without his cuppa joe in the mornin’, ya know?”
As you meet Sweeney in the parking lot, you realize he isn’t just his usual angry. The look on his face screamed murder.
“Sweeney, come on, it was just a joke,” you said. “I know I’m not sweet and innocent, and you know I just do things to piss you off.”
“Ya do a lot more than piss me off! Ya make my life a living fuckin’ Hell, actually.” He neared you, a vein popping out of his neck. “I have no fuckin’ clue why da fuck I even hang ‘round you most of the time. Ya drive me fuckin’ mad, Y/N. Mad!” The tall man turnt his back to you and ran his hands through his hair. He seemed to be caught up in his thoughts as he stared into the sky. “It’s those stupid fuckin’ eyes, innit? And that laugh and smile.” He sighed and shook his head. “It’s just every fuckin’ thing about you.”
“What are you talking about, Mad?” You asked.
He looked over his shoulder at you. “You don’t see it, do you?” He asked. “You have no fuckin’ clue.”
“See what?”
“That I love you.”
Your jaw dropped. ‘When did that happen?’ You thought.
Then you thought back to this morning and remembered him staring at you as you rambled about the things you could do together. Then about the night prior and how he had called you on a payphone, asking you to come get him, and how he had fallen into your arms, nuzzling his head into your neck. It was sweet, and you had laughed, finding his action funny. You continued thinking about the past. About how he’d slip his hand into yours when he could. How he’d look at you when he thought you weren’t looking. How he’d call you late at night or just show up at your place whenever. It was so obvious now.
“Oh,” you whispered. “OH!”
Sweeney looked away, ashamed.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?” You asked.
He shrugged.
You started moving side to side with a smirk, acting like you were dancing like Rick Astley. “We’re no strangers to looove. You know the rules and so. Do. Iiiii. A full commitment’s what I’m thinking of--” You sang before Sweeney stopped you.
Instead of putting his hand over your mouth again, he pulled you into a kiss, hands gripping your jacket. The force and passion behind it was intoxicating. You kissed back, setting your hands on his sides.
When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours and panted. The connection was nice, calming in a way.
“Y/N, don’t ya fuckin’ start with me,” he whispered.
You laughed. “Well, I’m happy. You?”
Sweeney looked at you, a slight smile on his face and kindness (or was it love? You couldn’t tell) in his eyes. “I’m very fuckin’ happy,” he said. “But will ya please not be so fuckin’ annoyin’?”
“Nope!” You grinned, mischief on your mind.

Chapter Text

Ostara walked through her house. She stopped in the living room and placed her hands on the top of a fancy sofa.
It was a temple, but only once a year. Easter was over, and it would be until next year. It made her feel empty. The prayers she got weren’t enough. They didn’t fill her like they used to. In fact, she felt starved from this worship. It was like simple carbs: filling while you’re eating but don’t really help you or add to you.
Silently, you came up from behind her, and wrapped your arms around her waist, setting your head on her shoulder.
“Watcha thinkin’ ‘bout, bunny?” You asked.
One of her hands drifted to yours and she turnt slightly to see you. She gave a pained smile. “Nothing, flower. Nothing at all.”
One look into her eyes and you knew she was lying, but you decided against pressing the issue. “Okay,” you said. “But, you do know you can always talk to me? I’m here for you, and you’re here for me. That’s how these kinda things work.”
“I know,” she said gently. “I just- I can’t right now. Maybe I will later. But not now.”
You nodded before turning to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be in the kitchen cleaning, okay?”
She smiled and nodded.
When you left, she turnt back to the empty living room and any semblance of happiness faded.
The worship filled her for her day, but it never felt like enough. She had lost so much here, and grown so small. It hurt, but, well, that’s the price for being a god in America.

Chapter Text

You walked around Laura’s house. It was cozy, you guessed, but there wasn’t much to do. Unless you wanted to get into her wine, but wine is a big no-no. Laura and her mum would be mad at you if you tried. Plus, Laura always said it tasted like grapes. You hated grapes. They felt slimy and icky in your mouth.
“Y/N,” Laura called. “Come here, will you? I want you to meet someone.”
You walked to her, swaying side to side. When you find her, she’s standing next to a tall man with a bald head and dark eyes.
The man crouched down and smiled at you. “Hi,” he said. “My name’s Shadow.”
•
“Creep- Creeper. Creeper!” you shouted as the blocky, green “monsters” hissed at you and Shadow. It blew, killing you both. “Goddamn it!” You threw your controller down and kicked the sofa.
Shadow stared at the TV screen and sighed. “I had diamonds,” he grumbled before throwing in a quiet “fuck”.
Picking up your controller, you sat back down and got right back into. “All our fuckin’ progress, just gone. Just fuckin’ gone.”
Shadow joined you. “You shouldn’t be swearing like that, kid. What if Laura’s mom heard you.”
“You gonna tell her?”
“Nah,” he said, following you back down your mineshaft. “Ain’t my place.”
After what felt like forever (it was more like a couple of minutes), the two of you found your way back to your shite. All your armour and loot was still there, thankfully. Otherwise, you woulda killed Shadow out of anger. Or maybe just a bunch of creepers since they were the ones who killed you.
As you regeared into your previous equipment, you used a torch to look around. The loot from the creepers was mostly just blown up cobblestone, but you did spot an iron vein.
“Sweet, more iron,” you said before starting to mine it. You continued mining through the cave wall and ended up in another cave. One filled with your mortal enemies - creepers. “Ah, shite.”
Shadow equipped to his sword, and so did you.
“Together, then?” He asked as the mobs noticed you two.
“Fuck yeah.” You tensed up, a grin spreading across your small face. “We got this.”

Chapter Text

After a night of drinking at a local bar, you and Sweeney stumbled away, laughing.

They had kicked you out after Sweeney decided, in all his drunken glory, that he was going to fight the owner. Not a good idea if you wanted to keep drinking.

As you two walked away from the bar on the boardwalk (funnily enough, it is called the Boardwalk Bar), you found yourself on the beach with the Moon and stars high above. You smiled upward, basking in the Moon’s glow and the twinkling lights of the stars.

“Ain’t she just a beaut, Sweeney?” You asked, turning your head to look at him.

Sweeney shrugged. He plopped down, the sand moving to make way for his giant arse.

You sat beside him. The sand would, eventually, find its way into your clothes and whatnot, but you didn’t really care right now. You just wanted to sit there, staring at the Moon, and thinking beside Sweeney.

Time passed. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. You weren’t sure. It was long enough for Sweeney and you to become a little bit more sober.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” Sweeney asked. “The Moon again?”

You laughed. “Just thinkin’ ‘bout the time I murdered a man in cold blood.”

Sweeney glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you wrapped your arms around them and set your head on top of your knees.

“No explanation?”

“Didn’t think you’d want one,” you said.

A star up above twinkled. You could have sworn it had moved, but it might have been your imagination.

“Well, I would,” he said. “Weird thing to say without context.”

You shrugged. “He was annoying me. So, I killed him. That’s about it.”

“Ya know, most people, when they murder someone, feel bad about it,” he said.

“Did you?”

“No. Not really. It was me or them. My people or theirs.”

You nodded and picked at your lip.

Sweeney grew quiet as he thought. He didn’t usually like to think or to remember. In fact, in all the years you’d known him, he had never once shared his past as anything more than “bits ‘n pieces that’re there, but I can’t remember.”.

“Sweeney?” You asked.

“Hmm?”

“You good?”

“Yeah.” He laid on his shoulder lying flat against the ground, sand getting onto the back of his head. “Just thinkin’ is all.”

“About what?” You mimicked his moves and tried to ignore the fact that you’d have to shower after this to get the sand out.

Sweeney was quiet for a moment more before he spoke again. “The feeling of throwing a spear into another man’s chest and ripping off his head.” The leprechaun moved in the sand like he was uncomfortable. Maybe it was the sand; maybe it was the topic. “I remember one time I did that. It was a brutal scene. War was about, and my men and I, we slaughtered them. But we were not without our own casualties.”

Not knowing what to say to that, you said, “That’s rough, buddy. War stinks.”

Sweeney chuckled and closed his eyes. “That it does, my friend.” He sighed despondently. “That it does.”

Chapter Text

A video camera records a young person with a guitar in their hand. They’re sitting on their bed in their room. It’s nothing special, and there are no decorations.

The person seems nervous as they take a deep breath.

Slowly, they begin to strum their guitar and sing. It was beautiful and heartfelt. Another rendition of Hallelujah, but there was a soul to it. Something ethereal. Like the muses of old had taken hold of the musician and raised them up, flowing through them.

It was a better time for you, a simpler time.

You smiled mournfully at the video. Water made your eyes shine as your lips tightened.

It had all been so much simpler back then. Just make a couple of videos and post them. Hope that someone with a good ear sees and goes to work. Maybe send some of the recordings to producers or something.

It wasn’t so complicated. There were no concerts and signings. No meet-and-greets. No lawyers. No producers. No pressure. Nothing.

You were so young and impressionable. People pushed you to do so much more than you wanted.

If only you had had the vision to see what life was really like for musicians. But hindsight is 20/20.

A tear fell down your face, and you wiped it away.

“What’s the matter, my dear?” Someone asked. “Do you not like my gifts?”

You turnt to see Media. She looked nice and fake, as usual. Just like you had become.

“Once, I had a dream. It was a beautiful dream. And now...” you spoke through the tears, trailing off. “Now look at me. It was a dream to share my heart and soul with others, and now it’s like I’m creating for nothing more than money. I wanted to share with them my music, the stuff from my heart. I suppose now, it’s all gone. All that passion and heart I used to have. It’s nothing more than garbage now.” You placed your elbows on your desk, covered your face with your hands, and cried. “Where did it all go wrong? When did I go from this”-- you gestured at the video. --“to this.” You motioned to yourself.

Much had changed in the past few years. You’d gotten thinner, and the whites of your eyes had turnt yellow. Dinner plates had become smaller and smaller. Sometimes you wouldn’t even eat. You cried more now and often hurt yourself. It felt like the only way to relieve the pressure. The cutting felt good, so did the burning.

Media placed a hand on your shoulder and leant over. On your desk, she placed a pill bottle. “It’ll all be over, my dear. All you have to do is take them all at once and you will be at peace,” the snake whispered in your ear as she often did.

You reached forward to take the bottle, and you could feel a smile slipping onto her face.

Then you thought back to your mum and dad and to your family and their smiling faces. You thought back to when your brother first leant you his guitar at 8, said he was never gonna take it seriously anyway. It was sweet and had sent you on the path you’re on today. You remembered when you and your sister celebrated your first gig at 16. It was nothing special, but you cherished it and her excitement for you. Memories of your mum and dad travelling to see your first ever concert and them cheering backstage. The warmth of your father’s hug and how much your mum had grinned widely flooded your mind.

You couldn’t do this to them. Not after everything. It wasn’t you.

You set the bottle down.

Media scowled.

You were 27 now and weren’t going to end up like the others. You wouldn’t be her next victim. You weren’t going to be another member of the 27 Club. Not now, not ever.

Picking up your phone, you called your sister. She picked up.

“Y/N?”

Media got behind you. You could feel her. “Take the pills, Y/N. Take them!” She tried to force them into your hand, but you refused.

“S/N,” you said, between sobs. “Please, I--”

You didn’t need to finish before she said, “I’m coming. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She hung up.

Media soon realized a harsh hand would do her no good. “Come now, my dear.” Her tone was sickly sweet. Like the one she had first used on you to lure you into this rotten world. “You take these”-- she offered you the bottle. --“and it will all be over with. You’ll never have to hurt again.”

You crumbled to the floor, trying to ignore her, and rocked back and forth.

Sweet relief was her proposition. But there was fine print. Poison is what it meant.

Not too unlike what the media offered a young musician looking to make it big like it had all those years ago.

“NO,” you shouted at her. “No.”

Shakily, you got to your feet and walked away. You wouldn’t give in. Not to this charming serpent. You couldn’t. For your sake and for your family’s.

A car rolled up outside, and your sister got out. She immediately went inside your house, not waiting to knock.

“Y/N,” she said. “I’m here. Where are you?”

You clambered down the stairs, barely able to hold yourself up. “S/N,” you cried.

She rushed to you and pulled you into a hug. “Shhh, N/N. It’s okay. I’m here. It’s all going to be okay.” She petted your hair as you cried into her shoulder.

Media, at the top of the stairs, glared down at the two of you. S/N didn’t notice.

You needed help. You knew that now.

Chapter Text

The plants had receded back into the ground. No green leaves sat on the trees’ branches. No flowers grew. No grass shoots stood proud amongst the fields.

Ostara had taken away Spring.

And that was fucking frustrating.

‘Seriously? Taking away Spring?’ You asked yourself. ‘Where the fuck is she getting off? I get that she’s the goddess of Spring, but there are schedules for a reason! They are made to be abided by, so things happen as they are supposed to! Not whenever the fuck the gods feel like.’

Storming up Ostara’s steps, you stopped at her door and started banging on it.

“I know you’re in there, Ostara,” you yelled. “Now, let me in.”

Ostara gingerly opened the door and peered out at you.

A seemingly permanent scowl sat on your face as you glared at her, your arms crossed.

“Hi, Y/N,” she said, trying her best to smile and lighten your mood.

You gave her a “go-away” gesture with your hand that meant “back up” more than it meant “go away”.

Ostara opened the door fully and let you in.

If you had been here for any other reason, you would have admired her decor. But, she had taken away Spring, and that had set everything behind. After all, death can’t happen without life, and life can’t happen without a renewal of life, aka Spring.

You turnt around sharply on your heels and glared at her. “Anything to say for yourself, little Ms ‘My worship is more important than the schedule’?”

“Look, I understand you’re upset with the whole taking away Spring thing, but it’s really not that big of a deal,” she said. The flowery goddess looked anywhere but at you. “I mean, it’ll happen eventually. People will have to pray to me, and then I will give them Spring back.”

You straightened and walked up to her, noses almost touching. “They don’t even know how to pray to you. And, these days, when they don’t know how to do something, they pray to the New Gods.”

Ostara shrunk in on herself.

You turnt your back to her, pinching the bridge of your nose. Suddenly, you spun back around with your arms spread out. “For the love of all deities, what is wrong with you? I mean, come on, Ostara! Things don’t work like they used to anymore. People don’t even know who you are. They don’t know who any of us are. This is pointless.” Your shoulders slumped forward, and you rubbed your face. “Not to mention, you have thrown off our schedule. Ya know, the one we all made together and had gotten approval from World to have? That one? Yeah, now he’s breathing down my neck because it’s not being kept to. And even if he wasn’t, I would still be here.” You walked closer to her. “You wanna know why? Because schedules are made to be adhered to! They aren’t just something you can throw away!”

Ostara tried to speak, but you didn’t want to hear it.

“Fix this, Ostara. Do not make me say it again,” you said. “We have a schedule to maintain. Your time is now. My time is over. The other’s are next. Get back to the schedule. Now.”

“Please, Y/N, don’t be like this. I know what I’m doing. Just give me time,” she pleaded.

You got in her face again, not caring about her personal space. “Summer’s time is next, Autumn after that. Then it will be Winter’s again. Then Spring. The dates are marked. The days and times. There is a schedule. Stick to it. I will not say it again.” You stepped back through Ostara’s door, leaving her flabbergasted and slightly afraid. Without so much as a thought you got back into your car and sped away.

Chapter Text

You walked down the street with your gaze downcast. Music pumped into your ears. It felt good. Allowing your feet to take you where you always went felt natural. Everyone around you moved, too. They all had their own destinations and thoughts, just like you.

Over the past few months, you’d been going to a bar. Not to drink or anything; it was too early in the day for that. But, there was a man there. He’d come in and order a Southern Comfort and Coke every time. Sometimes, he’d stay for an hour or two. Other times it was the whole day, usually Saturdays or Sundays.

He was cute. Red hair and beard, tall, brawny. He had a bit of a temper, too. Not that he ever seemed to go out of his way to hurt certain people, but when people who looked like they could beat the shite out of ya messed with him, he messed back.

You’d never talked to him. He was very, how would you say, intimidating. But, you did watch him, hoping you’d be able to muster the courage to talk to him. It was slightly creepy, you’d admit that. But it’s not like you followed him home or spied on him with others. All you did was stop by the bar when you could and hope to catch a glimpse of him. Still a bit creepy in your book, though.

You slipped into the bar and sat near the front at a table.

It wasn’t busy, but a few people did meander about. The bartender worked at the bar, putting away glasses before wiping the wooden bar top down. A few older men sat at the bar and at tables. Their greying hair and beards showed their age, and their joyful laughing showed they didn’t mind it. Much to your dismay, the tall redhead wasn’t there.

You figured you’d wait a few minutes. If he didn’t show up, you’d leave.

•

And, he didn’t show up. So, you got up and started toward the door.

Just as you were about to push it open, someone else pulled it open from the outside.

Slightly shocked, you looked up to see the redhead. He was breathing heavily like he’d been running. His rather handsome face was flushed, and the start of sweat sat on his brow. It was an oddly good look on him.

“Hello,” you said, staring up at him.

He grinned down at you. “I was hoping to see you here,” he said. “I guess today’s my lucky day.”

Heat rose to your face as he looked you up and down.

Chapter Text

It was creepy. He knew it, too. Stalking, in most contexts, was creepy as fuck. Technical Boy had allowed for much more in-depth versions of stalking with all his new technology. Technology he, himself, was now utilizing to observe you.

The god hadn’t expected himself to find a worshipper so interesting. It wasn’t like he liked you or anything. You were just peculiar to him. Something was different about you, but not in a bad way. He couldn’t say it was good either. The best way he could describe it was that you interested him on a level he wasn’t usually interested in anything on.

Honestly, the entire thing had started rather innocently. He had passed by you and felt something strange. It had caused him to turn to look at you. He’d caught a look at your face when you’d looked back at him. It wasn't anything amazing, but he could have sworn something went weird in his chest when he saw you.

He’d seen the faces of the most beautiful people in the world and felt nothing, but you were inexplicably different.

Then, things started to get more intense.

People didn’t stand out to him. They were all ones and zeros. Data. Worshippers. Nothing more, nothing less. They didn’t matter.

Well, most of them. Except for you, and that bothered him.

Instead of this fading, like he’d expected it to, the god had grown more curious than ever.

He’d even created social media accounts on everything you were on to find out more about you. Unnervingly, even to himself, he’d log onto the games you were playing and make sure the two of you would play on the same server. Once, he’d found a way to match with you on the text only Omegle. The two of you talked for ages. Surprisingly, he found you just as interesting after talking with you. In fact, he’d become more so obsessed with you after.

If he was frank with himself, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be obsessed to the point he was, but he also really enjoyed you and talking to you. You were funny and smart. The things you’d talk about often had nothing to do with each other and yet, they seemed to fit perfectly into each other.

After your chat, you’d given him one of your social media accounts and started talking there. You’d both send each other memes and “good morning” and “good night” texts.

But still, despite the talks, he couldn’t find it within himself to ask to meet you.

If the past had shown anything, the gods and humans didn’t work on any intimate level conceivable. It was a worshipper-worshipped thing. His common sense told him that it would never work as anything else. But his heart said differently.

So, he asked to meet you somewhere you were comfortable.

You readily agreed to meet him at a park as you had been going through the same thing in a different way than he was going through.

He couldn’t help but watch from afar as you lay in the grass, eyes closed. The Sun basked you in its warmth, and you breathed in the clean air.

The god loved how calm you tended to be. It was so different from his own energy. You rarely got visibly angry or upset about anything. He had a raging temper. But that never seemed to bother you. In fact, when he was pissed or upset, he could text you, and you always found a way to calm him.

He found it strangely attractive.

‘No. Not attractive,’ he thought. ‘Interesting.’

Despite his feelings, he still couldn’t admit it to himself. He’d spent hours trying to figure out whether or not he loved you, and, contrary to the evidence, he refused to believe it.

You sat up and brushed dirt off yourself. When you looked up, you saw Technical Boy standing under a tree. A soft smile graced your lips.

The feeling in his chest from when he first saw you returned accompanied by something he could only describe as “butterflies in his stomach”.

You stood and walked over. His face was faintly familiar. As you got closer, he moved away from the tree trunk, and you recognized him as the boy you’d passed several months ago.

He’d been as stuck in your mind as you’d been in his. Your heart yearned for someone you didn’t even know the name of. And, you hadn’t even realized it was the same boy from Omegle until now.

“Oh,” you said. “It’s you.”

Technical Boy said nothing, not trusting his voice. Your beauty overtook him.

You reached for his face and gently cupped his cheek. “I remember you.”

Despite himself, the god leant into your touch. Finally, after months of watching you from a distance and being in virtual contact, he was touching you. Or, more accurately, you were touching him. But the semantics, for once, didn’t matter to him. He closed his eyes, enjoying it.

As he opened his eyes, he looked into yours.

It was like electricity shot through you both. A silent conversation passing between you. Despite never having a real-life conversation, it was like you’d known each other for ages.

“I know you want it, too,” you whispered. “So, can I?” You looked to his lips.

He gave a nod and leant in, kissing you sweetly.

If there was a God above, you’d have to thank them for this.

Chapter Text

You walked on the cracked sidewalk of your street. It would still take a few more minutes to get home. You hoped no one would fuck with you this late at night.

But, something felt off as you walked.

Taking a quick look to the right, you spied a figure following you. They wore a hoodie over his head and kept his head low.

‘Aw, shite, here we go again,’ you thought. You turnt into a nearby alley.

The person followed.

You kept walking and as the person caught up with you, you elbowed them in the face.

“Fuck!” They said.

The voice was familiar. Very familiar.

You turnt around to find Technical Boy clutching his nose.

“Oh my gods. Shite,” you said. “I didn’t know it was you. Are you okay?”

He kept holding his nose and leant back. His head fell forward and he dropped the act, his hand falling to his side. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

All concern vanished as you glowered. He smirked.

“Why did you have to do that, you arse? I could have really hurt you,” you asked, feeling like punching the smug bastard.

He shrugged, smiling. “Cause it’s funny.”

Rolling your eyes, you moved around him and continued walking home.

Technical Boy quickly followed.

He slung an arm over your shoulder and you, subconsciously, leant into him.

“You do realize last time I walked home, someone tried to mug me, right?” You asked him.

He nodded and pulled out his phone. “Yeah, I got a picture of you fucking the arse up. Wanna see?” He showed you the picture, but you swatted it away.

“You’re an arse.”

“Whatever,” he said. He did some stuff on his phone before putting it away. “Sent you something.”

A notification sounded from your phone and you ignored it.

Technical Boy poked you. “Open it.”

You chuckled and did as he asked. It was a link. When you clicked on it, it took you to a video of Never Gonna Give You Up.

You groaned and put your phone away, not even caring to listen to the song. “Seriously? Rick Rolling? That meme is so old.”

Technical Boy smiled. “I actually really like the song. Despite the meme, it’s pretty good. Astley got talent.” He stopped at the door to your house and gestured for you to open it. “You should give it a listen. An actual listen. It really says everything I ever wanted to say to you.”

As you went inside, he stood at the door, leaning on it with a smile.

“You’re not coming in?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nah, I just wanted to stop by. Say ‘hi’ and all.” He tapped your pocket, the one with your phone. “Give it a proper listen, okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

Technical Boy nodded and left.

You shut the door after he was out of sight.

Chapter Text

You and Technical Boy sat on your sofa, both in your own worlds. He played COD: WWII on the flatscreen and you read stuff on your tablet. Your legs lay over his crossed legs.

Looking up, you paused and smiled at Technical Boy. His brow was creased and he moved around as he killed his opponents. You could almost hear his mutterings.

As his character got killed, Technical Boy slumped back and scowled at the telly. “Fuck this shit,” he said. “Stupid fucking game.” With a free hand, he pulled one of your legs closer and rubbed it.

You softly chuckled and relaxed.

Looking over at you, his shoulders relaxed and he smiled at you. You usually had that effect on him. He placed the controller on the coffee table and moved to get closer to you. The god loomed over you before planting a soft kiss on your lips. You kissed back, touching his chest. You could feel the hand not holding him up wrap around your waist and pull you closer.

You pulled away from your lover’s kiss with an adoring smile.“Do you remember back when you could barely even talk to me without stuttering and blushing?” You asked.

Technical Boy shook his head. “No. Nope. Don’t remember that. Not at all.”

A pout formed on your face. “You don’t?” You trailed a finger down his cheek. “Well, maybe, I should remind you. I do have video evidence.”

As you began to open something on your tablet, Technical Boy snatched it from you and turnt it off.

“Tech!” You tried to get it back but he held it just out of reach.

He stood on his knees with his arm held as far away from you as possible. You placed a hand on your lover’s side as you tried to reach your tablet, resulting in a rather intimate position. His face was so close to yours you could feel his breath. Technical Boy grinned with mischief in his eyes.

“What? Something you want, my love?” He asked.

You tried to grab it again and failed, pouting.

He laughed, his forearm pressed against your upper chest. Oh, how he loved it when you pouted.

Instead of trying to grab it again (knowing you’d fail), you cupped his cheeks and kissed your lover without warning. He seemed to enjoy it, responding by wrapping his arms (most importantly, the one with your tablet) around your waist slowly and kissing back. For a moment, caught in the electric bliss of kissing the tech god, you forgot about your prize. The way his soft lips moved against yours was, frankly, intoxicating in the best way possible.

Technical Boy slipped the tablet on the floor as he eased you back onto the sofa. With his hands now free, he pulled your legs over his hips. “Y/N,” he mumbled, kissing down your neck. “I love you.” One of his hands found its way to the bare skin of your back, rubbing it. The other held onto your thigh, squeezing it up and down lightly.

You smiled and tangled a hand in his hair, enjoying his affection. “You’ve definitely come a long way from that blushy Boy I first met.”

The god stopped. He looked up, his eyes searching your face, and kissed you again. “Marry me?” He asked as he pulled away. One of his hands slipped into yours.

You snorted, covering your mouth with your free hand. When you looked up, you noticed his serious and apprehensive face. “Oh,” you said. “You’re serious.”

He nodded.

“Um, yeah,” you said but you could tell from his knitted brow he didn’t fully believe you. “Sorry. Just a little surprised. Woulda thought you’d propose via text or something.” You straightened and sat up.

“Why would I do that? I can’t kiss you as easily after,” he said. “Like this.” He kissed your cheek before kissing the other. Then, he littered your face with kisses, kissing everything he could.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his unusually goofy self. Finally, as you slowed your laughter, you pulled him into a smiling kiss. As you broke apart, the sun shining through the curtains behind you, you asked, “You have a ring? To make it official and all.”

Technical Boy looked to the ceiling and closed his eyes. “Shit,” he mumbled. “I knew there was something I forgot to do yesterday.”

You laughed again.

He looked back down at you with a smile. Interlacing your fingers, the god kissed the top of your hand. “Don’t worry, my love. I got an idea.” He got up from the sofa and disappeared from the room.

You fell back onto the sofa, smiling like an idiot.

The thought of marrying THE Technical Boy, the god of technology and the internet, was as enticing as it was terrifying. You loved him. Who wouldn’t? He was kind and caring in his own peculiar way. He had made it a habit to spend as much time with you as possible. And, to top it all off, he protected you from World and he was terrified of the man, no matter what he said. But there was also the fact that World and Media were a part of his life and they scared you. They probably wouldn’t be happy about a union between you, an old god, and him, a new one.

Picking up your tablet, you turnt it on. The lock screen was a picture of the two of you, your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you both smiled at the camera. You smiled at it before entering your password. Going to photos, you scrolled through them. Picture after picture of the two of you or one or the other showed up. You stopped on a picture of him sitting on your guys’ sofa, playing video games. Another of him pulling cookies out of the oven. It was hard to believe this was the idiot you were marrying.

You scrolled before stopping on a video that you didn’t know you had. You pressed play.

-- "Hey, lovey,” Technical Boy said, smiling at the camera. “I know you’ll probably be mad that I stole your tablet, but I don’t care. I just wanted to say I love you more than I love anything, even myself and my worship, and, one day, I’m going to marry you and we will have a life together. Hell, I’d even adopt a kid if you wanted to. So be ready for that.” He pressed a kiss to his fingers before blowing it to the camera and stopping the video. --

You smiled and laughed. “Idiot,” you mumbled.

“What was that?” Technical Boy asked, coming back into the room.

“Nothing.” You shook your head and put the tablet down.

He slipped beside you on the sofa, one of his hands firmly closed. “Reminder, this is not the one I wanted you to wear all the time, but I forgot to get the proper one.”

The god opened his hand to reveal a band. Multicoloured wires were shaped into a circle. You weren’t sure it was possible for wires to have no opening or end but they seemed not to. Copper wrapped around the outsides, creating small patterns of flowers, grass, and trees waving in the wind, and bunnies and birds running around.

You looked at Technical Boy, mouth agape. “H- How?” Turning back to it, you gently touched the ring and the bunnies ran to nuzzle against your fingertips. The birds perched around them. It felt warm, like it was alive. The feeling was so similar to how Technical Boy felt when you touched him. It was like him but in a ring. At least now you’d always have a part of him with you.

He watched you and kissed your temple. “Magic, my love.” It was the best way he could sum it up for you to understand. Sliding an arm around you, he slipped the ring onto your finger. You reached up and took his now dangling hand. He quickly pulled you close and kissed your forehead before taking back his arm.

You admired it with a smile, loving it more than any garden-variety ring you could get at a jewellery store.

Technical Boy slipped his hand into yours, kissing it and holding it. He rested his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into it.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close. “Don’t you want to get back to your game?” You asked, looking down at him.

“That can wait,” he mumbled as he snuggled close, resting his head in the crook of your neck. He wrapped his arms around you, sighing in content.

The telly shut off.

Chapter Text

“If an apricot fell into a lava pit, would the archipelago blow up?” You asked, hanging upside down on your bed.

Technical Boy looked at his phone, then up at you, then back at his phone. “I am way too sober for this.”

You laughed and poked his forehead.

He took a deep breath, his gaze falling back onto your smiling face from the floor.

“But what do you think, T?” You asked, watching your friend with a smile.

He shrugged. “I have no idea, N/N. I guess I’m not as smart as I thought I was.”

Wriggling off your bed, you landed on top of him.

He grunted in pain but wrapped an arm around you so you wouldn’t fall off him.

You got close and bopped his nose. “You are very smart. The smartest, cutest person ever and don’t ever say otherwise.” Wriggling further down him, you placed your chin on his chest. “Oh, and the answer is yes. The apricot would displace enough of the lava for it to fall out of the pit and onto the TNT, causing a chain reaction resulting in the archipelago blowing up. That or some guy really wanted to eat that apricot and was so pissed he blew up an archipelago for no reason.”

Technical Boy laughed at the strange answer. “It’s always something I don’t expect with you, you know that?”

You smiled up at him.

“Your randomness is probably why I love you so much.”

You chuckled and hugged him, nuzzling into his chest. “Well, I love your predictability, and, by extension, you.”

He smiled sadly. “Good. It’d be horrible if you didn’t reciprocate my friendship.”

You blinked, confused, and got up. “Friendship? I thought--” You stopped. “Nevermind.” You got off him and back onto your bed.

“Wait, Y/N,” Technical Boy said and got off the floor. “What did you think we were?”

You pulled your blankets over you an turnt away from him. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” he said, sitting on your bed and pulling you to face him.

You stared at him. “I thought-- I thought we were more than that, but I guess I was wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong.”

“More how?”

You sat up and pulled your blankets to your chest. “With all the looks you gave me and how you acted, I thought you liked me, liked me not just liked me. And when you asked me out, I thought that it was a date, not a hang out.” Not wanting to look him in the eye, you instead stared at the end of your bed.

“Oh,” he said.

“It was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” he said. “Don’t be sorry. I wasn’t clear and that’s on me. But, your assumption about how I feel wasn’t wrong.”

You looked up, greeted by a rather blushy Technical Boy.

“I didn’t think you’d feel the same way, so I never said anything.” He looked to the floor then back at you. “Would you be okay with me kissing you?” A hopeful look covered his sweet face.

“No.”

His shoulders slumped and smile fell.

“I’d be extremely happy if you kissed me,” you said, bouncing back into your goofy mood.

Technical Boy rolled his eyes, smiling. “Sometimes, I really do hate you.”

Cupping your cheek, he came closer and kissed you. It was quick. Nothing to write home about or anything, but it felt good knowing he liked you.

“Can we cuddle?” You asked. “It’s lonely and cold under here and you’re warm.”

Getting up, he pulled the covers away and slipped in beside you. “Definitely.” He kissed your cheek before you settled into his arms.

Chapter Text

You gently placed the slime bomb on the ceiling directly above World’s chair. The pink, glittery goop looked like it would make an epic mess. You giggled to yourself as you carefully made your way down the ladder.

‘Wait til he gets a load a this!’ you thought to yourself.

As quietly as you could, you closed the ladder shut and carried it out of World’s immaculate office.

•

Red numbers ticked down above World’s head as pretty pink slime pressed against the container.

8…

7…

6…

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

0…

A loud, wet sound came from World’s office.

“Y/N!” He screamed.

You and Technical Boy looked at each other, standing pretty far away from his office. A grin spread across your faces before you burst out in laughter.

•

You sat outside World’s office.

The god had gone to clean up after your little prank. Pink and glitter, in your opinion, suited him much better than black and beige, but to each their own.

World, now in a clean navy suit, walked into his office, gesturing for you to follow.

You sucked your lips in slightly and stood up, following him into his still slime covered office.

“Sit,” he said, pointing to a miraculously clean chair. His voice was oddly calm which is never a good sign.

You sat down in the ridged chair. “What’s up, bossman?”

World stood behind his desk, but he didn’t sit. The swivel chair was still mostly covered in slime.

The stuff was super sticky.

“You know, outside these walls, you’d probably be arrested for acts like this,” he said, glaring down at you with that disapproving look he often used (on both you and Technical Boy). “You should be grateful I’ve been so lenient with you. Most would not.”

‘Lenient? Please. Last time I pulled something like this, you made me wash every single car the Agency had, twice,’ you thought, but didn’t say a word.

World gestured to his slime and glitter covered desk. “This is unacceptable behaviour, Y/N. You are a god. Not a child. You need to act like it.” He crossed his arms.

“‘Don’t hurt me, Archie. I’m only little.’” you quoted. After a stern glare, you kept talking. “I’m just having fun, boss. It’s not like you let me out to have any. I’m getting bored being stuck in here. Let me out! Let me have some fun!” Hands on the edge of your seat, you leant forward. “Media would have wanted me to have fun,” you joked.

Media had never given two shites about you.

At the mention of the upgraded goddess, World tensed, his scowl deepening. “You are going to stay here and clean up your mess.”

“But-”

“You are going to make sure this room is spotless,” he continued. “I want nothing less than perfection. If I see even a hint of pink, slime, or glitter here, I will make you hurt. Do you understand me?”

You fell back into your seat, jaw slack in disbelief. This wasn’t even the worst thing you’d done to him and he was acting like you’d just bombed Nagasaki. Well, he probably would have congratulated you if you had bombed Nagasaki. So it was more like you’d just sent an airplane into the Twin Towers.

Not even two weeks ago, New Media had done something like this to you and Technical Boy and she hadn’t gotten in any modicum of trouble. All she did was bat her eyelashes at World and he seemed to completely forget the transgression.

“New Media’s done worse than this and you don’t punish her!” You said.

“Y/N,” World said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I really don’t want to argue with you. Just do as you have been told.”

“No.” You stood. “New Media has literally pulled the exact same shite before and you didn’t do shite. Why do I get punished for doing what she did when she didn’t even get punished for it?”

He slammed his fists on the desk, slime sticking to him. “Y/N! That is enough. You will do as I say or I will throw you to the dogs. Do you understand me, you ungrateful brat?”

“I’d rather be thrown to the dogs than continue working under you with all these fucking double standards.” Instead of letting him say another word, you turnt and stormed out.

“Y/N,” World called. “Y/N!”

Tired, World sat on his chair, forgetting about the slime. A squish came out from the pink goop as he displaced it. A face of displeasure spread across his face as he nodded to himself.

“Just great,” he mumbled. “Just fucking great.”

•

Technical Boy watched as you stormed past him and into your room. He slipped his phone away and kicked off from the wall.

You furiously stuffed a bag.

He leant against the doorway and continued quietly watching you. “What are you doing?”

You threw your cloth-filled bag against a wall and sighed. Turning to Technical Boy, you breathed heavily.

The younger god walked toward you, concerned. “What’s the punishment this time?” He asked.

“He wants me to clean up everything. Which I would understand if he had punished New Media the same way. But he didn’t! He didn’t do anything when she did that to us. Why does he always treat us differently? I don’t understand it!” You kicked something on the ground.

Technical Boy shrugged. “He’s the boss. He calls the shots. We just do what he says. You get used to it.”

“No,” you said. “I won’t.” You picked your bag back up and finished packing it. “I’m done.”

“You’re gonna leave me here alone? With them?” He asked. “Cool. Cool. Whatever.”

“You’re trying to guilt trip me, aren’t you?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

You booped his nose. “Nope!”

“Dang,” he said, following you as you left the room.

•

Technical Boy and you stood next to your car.

“You sure I can’t convince you to stay and put up with this with me?” Technical Boy asked.

You nodded and tossed your bag into the back. “Hey, you’re always welcome to come with, mate. But, I ain’t doing this. When he treats New Media the same as he treats us, let me know and I’ll consider coming back.”

He nodded and you hugged him.

You pulled back and gently tapped his cheek. “Don’t cause too much trouble. Who knows what’ll happen without me here to act like a shield.”

“Fuck you. You ain’t my shield.”

“Yes, I am,” you said with a smile as you slid into the driver’s seat. “I mean, who else saved your arse from Media after that stunt you pulled a few years back? Cause it sure as Hell wasn’t World?” You started her up and drove off.

Technical Boy waved goodbye, a tight-lipped smile on his face. As you turnt into traffic, he stuffed his hands into his trousers and sighed. “Fuck me,” he grumbled.

Chapter Text

Technical Boy stared at the ceiling of his dark room from his bed.

You walked in, worried.

Technical Boy had been quiet since he got back from whatever World had him do. He’d been in his room since then. No sound came from the room. Not even sighing or sounds of quiet music or shooting from a video game. It was dead silent. That was the complete opposite of who and what Technical Boy was.

“Tech?” You asked. “You good there, buddy?”

He snorted dismissively but otherwise, gave no signs of consciousness.

“Tech, come on, talk to me. You know you wanna.” You sat on his bed and looked at him.

When he did and said nothing, you laid down beside him.

Some time passed. Not much. Maybe a minute or two. But, when it came to Technical Boy, the boy who could never stay quiet, it felt like an eternity.

“I lynched Shadow Moon,” he said.

You said nothing and let him talk.

“I mean, he was asking for it. The disrespect and fucking with me. He deserved it!” Tech sat up straight and threw his hands in the air. “I told him not to fuck with me. And he still did!” He fell backward. “God, I hate him so much. The asshole. Treating me like that.” The god pouts and crosses his arms like a child not getting his way.

You placed a hand on his bicep and rubbed it with your thumb.

Technical Boy turnt to look at you. His anger slowly faded as he looked into your eyes. He sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just… I screwed up, especially since he didn’t die. I just know that Mr World is going to be upset with me. I don’t know what to do about it.”

“You could apologize?” You offered.

The god scowled and turnt to face the ceiling. “No fucking way. There is a snowball’s chance in Hell of that happening. Why the fuck would I apologize for anything?”

“Tech, you did something stupid,” you said. Cupping his cheek, you forced him to look at you. “Something that you don’t even agree with now.” Your hand travelled down to his chest, just above his heart. “Try to fix it. I know you want to.”

His hand found yours and gripped it tight. “Do you hate me?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m just disappointed. But, I know you can fix it, or at least try.”

Technical Boy sadly smiled, rubbing your knuckles. “I’ll try.”

You rested your head on his chest.

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Technical Boy just needed some air. Everybody does, but with him, it was more of a necessity so he wouldn’t blow up at someone.

Sex (the druggie) had been teasing him a lot more than usual and he hated it. Sure, Weed and Coke tried to get her to stop, but she started doing it behind their backs, and if Technical Boy told Weed about it, he’d be a snitch. He did not want to be known as a snitch bitch amongst the drug gods. That would be a nightmare.

He could have asked for Weed to help him calm down, but he didn’t feel like calming down that way. He wanted some peace, not to get high.

So, here he was, walking down some random street in some random city because he didn’t want to be anywhere near the druggies.

Yes, they’re his best, and only, friends, but he doesn’t always want to get high. Being around them, usually meant getting high off them. Sometimes, it’s nice. Sometimes, it’s not.

Technical Boy, in a dice hoodie with the hood up and black sweatpants with fire at the bottom, stared at his phone, scrolling through the news.

It was a lot of shitty stuff.

He wasn’t surprised by that. The others, “family” of the druggies, were at it again. Those of that sort, those with the brown hair and eyes, it’s like they were born to create chaos and discord in the world.

Technical Boy rolled his eyes, scoffing. He slipped his phone away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The god turnt to the sky, eyes closed.

As he walked, passing by an alley, Technical Boy heard quiet sniffling.

Instead of stopping, he kept walking.

There were plenty of homeless people in the world. Not everyone is lucky enough to be born into wealth or lucky enough to be able to keep their homes. Some people get shitty deals.

Nothing he could do about it. Nothing World would allow anyway.

Still, the god noticed that the sniffing was much higher pitched than normal, adult sniffling. He had an entire database of sounds at his fingertips, and as a part of him and his domain. It sounded like the sniffles of a child crying.

He stopped and hung his head.

‘This had better not be a kid,’ he thought to himself.

He didn’t like children, in theory. He’d never actually met one but from movies and shows, they seemed insane. It’s likely, upon meeting one, he wouldn’t know what to do.

Technical Boy wasn't good with regular adults. Dealing with a child would be impossible.

So, instead of assuming he was right and the sniffling was coming from a child, he decided he was wrong and approached the alley’s mouth as if an adult was in there.

“Hey, man, you okay?” He asked.

The god peered in, trying to make out anyone.

Something small shifted around. It was far too small to be an adult like he’d hoped. The small thing poke its head out from underneath a small, makeshift cave of junk. It quickly hid after seeing the god.

Technical Boy looked around and sighed, shutting his eyes.

‘It takes, in total, from 0-18-years-old, $284,570 to raise a kid, and a good chunk of a parent’s day to take care of a kid,’ he thought. ‘I have the money, but I don’t have the time.’ He opened his eyes and looked at the makeshift shelter. ‘Why the fuck is my first thought taking care of the kid? I could drop them off at a home or something. That’d be easier.’ He walked closer, trying not to scare them. ‘But the foster system here is fucked. The kid could get hurt, be abused, or die.’ As he approached, he noticed the kid watching him. ‘But there are tons of good families who foster and adopt, too. They’re not all bad. 1.5 million kids have been adopted and roughly 140,000 kids are every year. So, there’s a good chance the kid will become a part of a family.’

The kid pushed themself away from the opening and into their shelter.

“Hey,” he said. “Hi, are you okay?”

Technical Boy knelt down and watched for the kid.

“Leave me alone. I’m fine. Go away,” they said.

There was a silence. The god did not leave.

“Please, go away?”

‘The kid sounds weak. Like they haven’t eaten in days. When was the last time they showered or took a bath, too? I can smell ‘em even from over here.’ Despite the disgusting alley floor, Technical Boy seated himself.

“Nope. Can’t. Brain won’t let me.”

An old, rusted out can came from the shelter, flying straight at Technical Boy. He easily dodged it.

“Wow, you’re a dick,” he joked.

He heard a small huff.

Slipping his hands into his pant pockets, he found candy, probably chocolate, that he’d forgotten about.

‘This is so not healthy for a kid,’ he thought, playing with the wrapper in his pocket. ‘But, it’s better than nothing.’ He took the candy out, finding a Snickers. ‘Called it.’

“Hey, you like chocolate?” He asked them.

More shuffling from the shelter. “No. Especially not from a stranger.”

“Here.” He tossed the Snickers into the mouth of the shelter. “Have a Snickers. It has nuts.”

A thin hand reached out and snatched the candy quick as a whip.

The tech god raised an eyebrow. “Thought you didn’t like chocolate.”

Another can came from the darkness and he dodged it again.

The kid unwrapped the bar and used the wrapper to fill a gap in their home. Hungry, they scarfed the candy down.

‘So small. The kid must be starving.’ Technical Boy continued to watch the mouth of the shelter, his concern for the kid growing.

“You always around here?” He asked.

A small piece of glass was thrown at him but it didn’t get very far, falling an inch or so away from him.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Technical Boy stood up and brushed himself off. “I’ll see you later.”

He knew it would be impossible to convince the kid to come out of their hole and come with him on the first meeting, but he hoped to convince them to go into foster care sooner rather than later. If he tried to tell the authorities, the kid could get hurt or worse.

He left the alley and the kid watched him do so.

•

Technical Boy, in the druggies’ kitchen, placed an apple and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in a bag.

Weed walked in, smiling. “Whatcha doin’?”

He looked over, a water bottle in his hand. “Nothing,” he said, turning back to the bag. “Just making a bag of food.” He cracked open the bottle and closed it again.

“Who’s it for,” they asked.

The tech god shrugged, putting a small stack of crackers and a container of cut cheese in the bag.

Weed wrapped their arms around his waist and rested their head on his back.

After closing the bag, he placed a hand on Weed’s, chuckling. “I’ve got to go, Weed.”

“First, tell me who the bag is for,” they mumbled.

He shrugged again. “I don’t know,” he said before he turnt around to face them. “But, as soon as I learn what their name is, I’ll tell you.” He booped their nose with a smile. “Promise.”

Weed giggled, sleepiness in their eyes.

Coke rushed in and grabbed an apple off the table, one from Weed’s garden. He stopped before he left and turnt around. “Are you two having cute times without me?” He asked, with a goofy smile.

“No,” Technical Boy said as Weed rested on his chest. “I was trying to leave, but Weed is sleepy.”

Coke bit the apple and walked over before picking Weed up. They wrapped their arms around him, nuzzling into him.

“Thank you, C,” the tech god said, earning a nod from Coke who practically ran out of the room with the apple in his mouth and Weed in his arms. “Don’t fall!” He shouted after them. Technical Boy picked up the bag and left for the alley.

•

The kid shoved a few cans into place on their mountain of junk. Technical Boy watched them work for a little, not wanting to interrupt until they were done. When they finished and started to head into their home, he approached.

“Hey, kid,” he said. “Brought you something.”

The kid, at the mouth, stared at him like a deer in headlights before rushing into their cave.

Technical Boy sighed and walked to it. “Ya know, I ain’t gonna hurt ya, kid.” He dropped off the bag of food at the mouth of the cave before sitting down farther away.

They snatched it up as soon as they thought he was far enough away.

Technical Boy sat, crossed-legged, and watched for any signs of anger..

“You trying to poison me?” They asked.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Cap’s been opened.” The water bottle rolled to his feet.

He rolled it back. “Nope. I opened it for you. Those fucker’s are annoying and the ridges hurt.”

The bottle slipped into the darkness.

The kid, inside, sipped on it. “Tastes gross,” they said, pulling a face.

“It’s bottled water. It never tastes right.”

The two sat in relative silence as cars drove past and the kid ate. The occasional pedestrian peeked into the alley, giving Technical Boy odd looks, but he didn’t particularly care. He was used to it.

As the kid finished, they asked, “Why’d you come back?”

“Felt like it.”

“Why’d you bring me food?”

“Felt like it.”

“Are you a rapist?”

“No. You?”

They laughed a little. “No. Are you a peadophile?”

“No. That’s gross.”

“Are you going to tell the police where I am?”

Technical Boy sighed. “If I wanted to do that, I would have done it yesterday.”

“You gonna kidnap me and sell my organs on the blackmarket?”

“Sounds like too much work,” he said, stretching. “I’d rather hire someone to do that for me instead.”

Crunching came from the dark hole. It wasn’t cracker crunching. More like, a horse mowing down on a carrot or apple.

“This tastes good.”

“Yeah, a friend of mine grows their own food. Doesn’t like the food from stores. I’m pretty sure they want to start raising livestock, but, I don’t know.”

“Mhmm,” they said before tossing the core over his head into a nearby dumpster. “Do you think you could bring more?”

Technical Boy nodded. “Definitely. If my other friends don’t eat them all first. But, harvest was good, so I doubt they’ll all be gone.” Technical Boy pulled out his phone and texted Weed. “I’ll text them to hide some of the apples from the others just in case though.”

Carefully, the kid peered out, staring at his phone.

“There. Done,” he said, putting his phone away. “They’ll hide some for ya.”

A can came at him but he ducked.

“You told them?” They growled.

Technical Boy put his hands up in surrender.. “Woah, hold your horses there, kid. I haven’t said shite to anyone. I just asked them to put some of the apples away, that’s all.”

Inside the hole, they looked him up and down. “Can I have my can back?”

“No, it’s mine now.” The god pulled the can behind him protectively.

The kid giggled.

A text popped up on his phone. Technical Boy looked down at it and rolled his eyes.

“What?” The kid asked.

“Nothing, just my boss being a dick.”

The container Technical Boy had filled with cheese rolled out on it’s side.

He opened it to find a few crackers and some cheese. “I made the bag for you, kid. Not for me.”

“I know. I just don’t want you to be hungry.”

“Thanks.” He smiled softly and ate the cheese and crackers even if he didn’t really want to.

“My name’s not kid, ya know,” they said. “It’s Y/N.”

“Technical Boy.”

“That’s a weird fucking name.”

The god shrugged. “Should a kid your age be swearing like that?”

They shrew a can at him. Instead of dodging, he caught it and put it behind him with the other can. “Mine,” he said.

“Nuh-uh!” They said. “Gimme my can back!”

Technical Boy shook his head. “Nope. You threw it away meaning anyone can claim it. So, I did.”

Y/N huffed. “Dick.”

•

Weeks passed and every single day, without fail, Technical Boy came to Y/N’s little home with food and conversation. Once or twice, he brought clothes and blankets. He very well couldn’t let the kid freeze. What kind of person would he be if he did? Even though both Media and World didn’t like his disappearing acts and he got repeatedly scolded and punished for it, he didn’t care. For some reason, he found he had grown rather fond of the rude kid. He liked to believe they had begun to like him, too. Even if it was just a little, itty-bitty bit. The god no longer wanted to let them go into the foster system, rather, he wished to take care of them himself. But he knew Y/N wouldn’t agree, no matter how much they liked him. They were much too independent for that.

Since he’d started coming, little Y/N had grown in both width and height. No longer skin and bones, they moved around more and even left the confines of their home for more than building.

“I’m stronger now, so I can kick you better if you try anything,” they had claimed.

Technical Boy chose to see this as them trusting him more.

•

Technical Boy dropped off a bag of food at the mouth of Y/N’s home and sat farther away.

Y/N came out, sitting in front of the mouth in the light. They opened up the bag and smiled.

“Apples,” they mumbled.

Technical Boy smiled as they rifled through the bag. “Yeah, that’s the last of ‘em, though. Won’t be more until the next harvest.”

“Thanks.” Y/N looked up and gave him a pained smile before looking back down.

He shrugged and played with one of his confiscated cans. “It’s whatever, kiddo.”

Y/N tossed him a fruit snack baggie. He caught it but dropped his can.

“Ya gotta stop doing this, N/N,” he said, opening the baggie. “You need to eat more than I do.”

They flipped him off.

As he ate the gummies, he watched Y/N scarf down everything. At least that hadn’t changed.

“How are you feelin’? You think you’ll be okay here during the colder months? They are getting closer,” he said.

They looked up, some jelly on their mouth. Y/N wiped it away. “I’ll probably be fine. More fat means more insulation. Plus the blankets you gave me.” They picked at the sandwich. “Are you still going to come, even when it snows?”

“Of course, kiddo. Come rain or shine, hail or snow, I’ll be here until you don’t want me to be.”

Y/N stared at him for a while before crawling into their home. Inside, they rummaged through their things, pulling out bits of scrap and pushing away blankets. After a while, they found what they had been searching for and returned to the outside world.

Outside, they stood up and walked over to Technical Boy. They presented him a beaten up and squashed Snickers bar and refused to look at him while doing so.

Gently, the god took it from them. A Snickers bar, just like the one he’d given them when they first met. A strange, warm feeling spread throughout his chest and he smiled.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Instead of going back to the cave, they plopped down next to him and wrapped their arms around one of his. They nuzzled into his arm and held on tight.

It was a rather odd sight. A much larger, muscled man with an odd style choice and a clean visage being clung onto by a small, dirty child no older than 10, no younger than 5.

Looking down at the kid, Technical Boy knew he had to protect them, no matter what. This was his kid now. They had been for some time.

•

Another day, another bag for Y/N.

Technical Boy did as he always did, placed the bag at the mouth of the makeshift shelter and sat down opposite of it.

But, Y/N did not come out.

The god waited for a few minutes. When they still had not come out, he called for them. Still, there was no response. Technical Boy stood and walked over.

Placing a hand on the top of the mouth, he looked inside. “Y/N, hey, are you okay?”

Y/N lay limp in the makeshift nest.

“Y/N?” He nudged their legs with one of his hands.

Still, they didn’t respond.

Crawling a little into the small space as best he could, Technical Boy shook Y/N’s shoulders. “Y/N, wake up. Kid, please. This isn’t funny.”

Nothing.

At this point, the god had gone from fine to freaking.

Wrapping an arm around them, he pulled them out of their shelter.

A giant, bloody gash spread around their eye and eyebrow. He could feel blood on the opposing side like they’d been hit with something and cracked their head on concrete. They were cold, freezing really.

‘Please, be okay,’ he thought.

Their back pressed up against his chest, Technical Boy, through his tears, gently smack their cheek.

No response.

He calmed his breathing, shutting his eyes tight. ‘They can’t be gone. Not yet.’

Hoping beyond hope, Technical Boy checked their pulse, pressing his fingers to their neck over one of the carotid arteries.

After a few minutes of silence, he could feel a faint heartbeat.

They were alive.

The god let out the breath he’d been holding, sighing in relief.

His kid was going to be okay.

He stood up. Picking them up bridal-style, he held them close.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered to them. “You’re gonna be okay.”

•

Pacing in the waiting room, Technical Boy picked at his lip.

‘I should have asked them to come with me,’ he thought. ‘I should have made them come with me. This could have been avoided if I had just taken them. They’d be fine right now if I hadn’t wanted to respect their autonomy. The streets are no place for a kid.’

He sat down in one of the chairs, elbows on his knees. His hands interlaced in prayer and he bowed his head. Though he trusted his technology to save them, he couldn’t help but pray they would be okay. Almost immediately, his heel started bouncing against the tile.

“Mr Brown?” Someone asked.

Technical Boy looked up and then stood. “Are they okay?”

The person smiled, probably a doctor, and nodded. “Their skull had been cracked open and they lost a lot of blood, but they’ll be okay,” they said.

“When can I see them?” He crossed his arms, watching the doctor for their reaction.

“You can go to the room, but they won’t be awake for some time.”

“That’s fine. I just- I need to see them.”

They nodded, smiling sympathetically, and gestured for him to follow them.

•

The doctor showed him to Y/N’s room and gestured for him to go in.

Technical Boy, as soon as he laid his eyes on them, sighed in relief.

The bandages surrounded their head and one covered the gash around their eye and eyebrow.

He walked to their side, his eyes never leaving them. As he got to their side, he gently cupped their cheek and rubbed it. He knelt down.

“I’m sorry, N/N. I should have given you some way to contact me or something,’ he whispered to them.

•

The first thing the kid felt when they woke up was something in their arm. It wasn’t painful, just weird. The second, and more enjoyable, feeling was someone holding their hand and the warmth coming from it. Y/N groaned slightly and opened their eyes, only to find Technical Boy gripping their hand, asleep, with his head resting on the bed.

The view looked strikingly similar to their dad when they were younger.

“Tech?” They asked, struggling to get the nickname out.

When he didn’t respond, they nudged him. He groaned a little. Struggling, Y/N got up, feeling a little lightheaded, and, still gripping Technical Boy’s hand, they tugged on him.

The god groaned again and rubbed his eye with his free hand. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, looking up at them. “How ya feelin’?”

They tugged on him again and mumbled something.

“What?”

“Hug.”

Technical Boy chuckled and leant forward, hugging them tight.

Y/N hugged back, nuzzling into his neck.

“You fucking scared me, kid,” he said. He rubbed their back gently as he broke away from them.

Y/N immediately took his hand back, not wanting to be seperate from him. “Feel like I got hit by a brick and cracked my skull open on the sidewalk before crawling back home,” they rightfully complained.

Technical Boy rubbed their cheek, concerned. He dropped his hand and took their other one into his. “I know you probably prefer being on your own, but I really care about what happens to you and I don’t want you to be on your own,” he said as he looked them in the eye.

“Whatcha sayin’?”

“If you want, my place is plenty big for two people and it’s always open to you.”

Y/N was quiet. So quiet, in fact, Technical Boy thought they might have shut down like they always did when he said something they didn’t like and didn’t have something to throw at him.

“Will it be safe?” They asked.

He nodded.

“Okay, but I’m not calling you dad.”

Technical Boy chuckled lightly. “I wouldn’t expect you to, kiddo.”

Chapter Text

The young god sat on the steps of Xie Comm. His phone turnt on, displaying your number in his contact list. He hovered over the call button.

It had been a week since you had talked to each other. He’d been ignoring you and when you brought it up, he snapped. He'll admit, he shouldn't have, but World had been pressuring him and the war was just fucking everything up. Before Wednesday decided on war, the tech god already had a strained relationship with World. After, it only got worse and that did nothing to help your relationship.

Technical Boy pressed the call button and held the phone to his ear. He needed to hear your voice, even if you were still rightly upset.

It rang. Once, twice, thrice. You didn't pick up.

At home, you were playing music on the telly and cooking. The phone rang in the living room, but you didn't hear it.

"If it isn't important, go away. If you're T or an employer, leave a voicemail."

He chuckled.

It wasn't you, just a recording, but it was enough to give him a little morale boost.

"Y/N, hey. It's me, um, T. I wanted to say I'm sorry for snapping at you and ignoring you. It was a dick move. I love you, baby. A lot. I, uh, I need you to know that. If I'm still around by the end of this, I'm gonna come home to you. I'll bring you your favourites and we can do whatever you want. If I'm not there by 9, tonight, I'm sorry. I love you. *chuckles* I haven't said that enough but I really do. You're my heart. You keep me sane and I love you for that. I'm confident I'll see you tonight and when I do, I'll apologize properly."

He hung up, breathing heavily.

He would see you tonight. He would apologize. He would tell you to your face how much he loved you.

Putting his phone away, Technical Boy looked at the infinity symbol-shaped behind him and sighed.

He would come back to you.

•

Panting heavily, the god took a moment to catch his breath. His back was pressed against the cold wall, eyes closed. The soft buzzing of his phone in his pocket pulled him out of his head. Quietly, he prayed it wasn't New Media calling to taunt him about his failure.

When he pulled it out, he stared.

It was you. You were calling him back.

He answered and listened for you.

"Hey, T? Are you there?" You asked.

After he regained his composure, he smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here."

"Love, are you okay? You sound out of breath. And your voicemail- It scared me. Is everything okay?"

"I love you." It's all he could think to say. He needed you to know that more than anything else.

"I know, love. You made that pretty clear in your voicemail," you said, picking at your lips. "I love you, too. But, are you okay?"

"I don't know if I'm going to make it home to you. I’m sorry," he mumbled. Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. A flash of New Media. "I've got to go, baby. I love you so much. No matter what happens, I always will."

"I love you, too. But-"

Not allowing you to finish, he hung up and started running again.

He had to get away from World and New Media. He had to get away from this building. And, most importantly, he had to get home to you.

But, as soon as he saw that box next to the stairs, he knew he wasn't going to make it back.

His last conscious thought was of you. It was of knowing you would be up late, waiting for him, terrified for him. It was of your tears and mourning. It was of you, eventually, knowing he wasn’t coming back and that you lost him and he lost you.

•

You stayed quiet, your phone still pressed to your ear.

He hung up on you. If you weren't so worried about him, you'd be mad.

Over the several years you'd been together, he only hung up when it was important or he was pissed. The fear in his voice, the heavy breathing, the way he spoke and what he spoke about. Whatever World had done was bad. Or maybe it was what he was going to do. Either way, you couldn't help but feel dread, knowing that if -- no -- when Technical Boy came back, something would be wrong. Maybe he would be injured or afraid. Maybe he'd even be half-dead.

Quietly, you tucked your phone away and walked to the living room.

It was quiet now. You'd shut the music off so you could talk with your partner but that didn't take as long as you thought it would. It felt eerily silent like a phone line going dead. That dull, constant buzzing in your ear but instead of that, there was simply nothing. The silence was somehow worse.

The window that faced the street let light in and the heater was on, but it felt darker and colder than it should. You sat on the sofa under that window, staring out. You'd wait as long as you had to to see him again. He'd come home eventually. He had to.

•

Months after he was supposed to be back, you still waited for him. Always to 9, like clockwork. Sometimes, you'd wait longer. Hoping, praying, for your lost love to return. You didn't let it interfere with daily life, but the thought of him never left you.

Now, you laid on the sofa, the one under the window. It was almost 9. Almost time to go to bed. Almost another day without him. Something told you to stay a little longer tonight. That something had pestered you before, but now, it screamed.

Pushing up to sit, you laid your arms on the top of the sofa and laid your head on top of those.

The soft, orange lights of the lamp posts flickered before shutting off. Which was strange since it was almost nine at night without a sliver of the sun to be found.

You straightened, head tilting to the side.

Technical Boy crossed your mind. But you pushed the hope aside. It had been months of silence. If he was okay, he would have shown up far sooner. It was probably just a technical malfunction or something. Still, your mind wandered to him, to his smile and laugh, to his silly hair and eccentric clothes, to the way he held you and the way he'd snuggle up to you when he needed to, to the way you'd bicker about silliest things but always talk about the big ones.

The thoughts of your love hurt, crushing your heart as you remembered all the good, the bad, and the ugly of being with the tech god.

You hadn't noticed the tears streaming down your face until they fell almost all the way down. You wiped them away, sighing.

He was gone, likely for good, and you were finally weeping for him and what you had lost. After months, you'd realized he wasn't coming back to you. That he couldn't. That he was gone for now and forever.

•

Shutting the curtains, you wiped more tears away. The soft cloth of the sofa enticed you to stay. You didn't have the will to say no so you pulled the blanket from the top and wrapped it around yourself. In a way, it was like you were still waiting for him to come home.

Just as you'd gotten comfortable, a knock came to your door.

Your first thought was to ignore it. Whoever it was was probably a creep. Come on, who starts knocking at doors at 9 at night? Serial killers, that's who.

But, the person was insistent so much so that you tore away your blanket and got off the sofa.

"I'm fucking coming, alright. Jeez," you said, storming to your front door.

You threw it open, ready to give whoever it was a good, stern talking to. But, maybe you shouldn't have if it was a murderer.

All your anger dissipated at the sight of the knocker.

It was him. It was your Technical Boy.

•

You gawked before covering your mouth.

He smiled, pained. "Hey," he said.

You stepped out, not believing your eyes.

Was it really him? Was he here now? Was this really your Technical Boy?

He shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took me this long to get back to you. I didn't mean--"

You cut him off with a tight hug, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

He froze in shock.

The god had expected many things. Yelling, hitting, you slamming the door in his face. But, he hadn't expected this. When he calculated the probability of various reactions, hugging was very low. A 0.82% chance, to be exact. It was higher than a kiss but still incredibly low.

Finally, he settled his arms around you, holding you as tight as he could. It was like he was afraid you'd slip from his grasp.

You breathed his scent in, a mix of his cologne and vape. Over the last while, you'd forgotten it. You'd forgotten a lot. Like how big he was, how soft his skin was, and how warm he was against you. You never wanted to forget any of that ever again.

Your own heart thudded in your chest.

This was real. He was real. But you had to make sure. Maybe you had fallen asleep and this was just a dream. A cruel, cruel dream.

You pulled away, tears falling.

"Hey," he whispered, brushing away your tears. "Please, don't do that. If you cry, I'm going to start crying."

You laughed and smiled at him.

It couldn't be a dream. Dreams never made sense. They were never accurate for you. But this, he was. Maybe his hair was shorter and his clothes screaming a little less, but it was him. It was your Technical Boy.

You reached for him, cupping his cheek. "T?" It came out like a sob.

His hand held yours as he nuzzled into it, kissing your palm. "It's me. I promise."

Overwhelmed with joy, you kissed him, placing your other hand on his other cheek. It's forcefulness left your lover stunned but he quickly reciprocated, bringing you closer.

You panted hard as you broke away, pressing your forehead against his.

"I love you," you said.

He grinned. "I love you, too."

Chapter Text

Shadow tried to open the door to his new flat (thanks Wednesday) but the key broke in the hole. He knelt down and tried to get it out with his nailless fingers. Obviously, it didn’t work. The thing was jammed in there pretty good. Turning, he looked at you.

You rubbed your arms and looked around the old building, scowling.

Neither of you said anything.

Shadow stood and spied the door opposite of him, but decided better of disturbing anyone so late at night. He turnt back to you. “Okay, Y/N,” he said, kneeling back down to be eye level with you. “I’m going to go and see if I can open up a window and let you in that way, okay? I want you to stay here and wait for me.”

You scowled at him before flipping him off.

“Alright, that was entirely unnecessary.”

You stuck out your tongue. Cold, tired, and hungry, you tried to pull your arms closer around you.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. As he left the building, he kissed the top of your head and did that weird head jerking thing adults always do to kids when they walk away from ones they know.

•

Soon enough, Shadow returned with a lady.

She was pretty. Brown, curly hair, and a scowl on her face. Also, she had a shotgun in her hands. Your type of lady.

You watched her pull out the broken half of the key.

“My name’s Mike, by the way. Mike Ainsel,” Shadow said, sniffling, his arms crossed. “This is Y/N.”

‘Liar,’ you thought.

Before he was “Mike Ainsel”, he was “Shadow” Moon. Shadow was the one you’d gotten to know before he wised up and started going by Mike all the time.

You kicked the floor before walking over to Shadow and headbutting his leg.

He looked down and sighed with a small, affectionate smile on his face. “Alright, ya little brat, come here,” he joked before picking you up.

Tired, you wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled into him. Shadow was warm and you loved it. His warmth was always comforting.

The lady, despite herself, smiled a little while watching the interaction. She soon pulled out the broken half of the key and stood. “Wait here,” she said, heading into the flat opposite yours.

Shadow walked forward a little and opened his mouth to say something. You still nestled in his arms, playfully bit his shoulder. He bopped you on the head, smiling at you. You looked at him and stuck out your tongue with a smile of your own before nuzzling back into Shadow’s neck.

She returned with a new key and his mail. “Next time you get locked out, knock on the door before you go breaking and entering.”

He nodded, taking the things from her. “I didn’t catch your name, by the way,” Shadow said as she walked away.

Just before her door closed behind her, she said, “‘Property Manager’ works.”

“I don’t like her,” you mumbled in his ear.

Shadow chuckled, rubbing your back. “You don’t like anyone, hun.”

“I like you. Sometimes.”

•

Shadow set down the mail and key before letting you down. The burly man looked around and rubbed his arms. Noticing you were cold, he messed with the thermostat, hoping to keep you warm and nightmareless. It was to no avail. Turning to the fireplace, he read the sign: “DO NOT USE!”.

You stuck your tongue out at it before going back to scowling.

“Come here, hun,” Shadow said, taking a blanket off a seat. As you approached, he unfolded it and wrapped it around you. “That better?”

You continued scowling. “Itchy.”

Shadow rolled his eyes. “Ya know, for an orphan and previous street-rat, you’re really picky.”

You flipped him off.

“Oh, wow, very mature.”

You gave a smug smile.

Shadow picked you up and brought you to the bed. “Let’s get some sleep, little Mx Rude-olph.”

You giggled and your smile in his neck. It was too late, though. Shadow caught it despite your effort to hide it.

He let you down on the bed and you jumped on it. “Hey, come on, we need sleep,” he said. He tried pulling blankets off but you kept jumping. He placed his hands on your shoulder, stopping you. Your current father figure looked you in the eye and cupped one of your cheeks. “I know you’re scared. I get nightmares, too, but you need to sleep, hun. You’ve refused to sleep for the past few days. Please get some rest?” Shadow gave you that puppy-dog look that you couldn’t help but give in to.

Pouting, you fell backward. “I don’t like them. They’re mean and ugly.” The nightmares were very much mean and ugly.

“I know,” he said.

He took off your shoes and his own, setting them side by side. Yours were much smaller than his to an adorable degree. He slipped off his hoodie, letting it fall on your face. In one swift move, he yanked the blankets off the bed, you along with them.

“Meanie!” You shouted, fists pounding into the floor.

Shadow smirked.

“You’re an arsehole.” You stood and brushed yourself off.

He nudged you gently with his foot. “What have I told you about that kinda language?”

Face blank, you flipped him off.

“Rude.”

You climbed back into bed and he followed, pulling the blankets around you both.

“Goodnight, trouble maker,” he mumbled, pulling you close.

“Night, arsehole.”

He smiled, his eyes closed, and kissed the top of your head.

•

Shadow woke up to screaming. Your’s, specifically.

You thrashed around, kicking Shadow and trying to rip the blankets away. It wasn’t the feeling of being trapped that caused the nightmare. You could never feel trapped with Shadow there. It was the cold that always did you in. Back in Milwaukee, when it was cold, you would have horrific nightmares about the faceless robotic-like men.

“No! No! No!” You screamed over and over again.

Shadow pulled the blankets away before pulling you close. “Hey, hey, hey, shhhh. Y/N, it’s okay, you’re okay. They’re not real.” He rubbed your back, continuing to shush you as you cried into his chest.

The faceless men had come for you again, killing Shadow along the way, torturing him, really. You had to watch as they electrocuted him and cut into him. It was torture porn like Hostel.

You clung to Shadow like a baby sloth clings to their mother.

A knock came at the door.

Shadow looked over and winced. The last thing he wanted to do right now was leave your side. You needed him. He looked back down at you. “I’m going to go get that, okay? I’ll be right back. I promise.”

“NO!” You dug your nails into him, still crying. “Please,” you sobbed. “Don’t leave me alone.” Your voice shook, eyes screwed shut as you pressed yourself closer to him.

A gut wrenching guilt festered in his stomach. He wanted to cry. Instead, he pulled you closer. “Okay,” he said, his own voice shaking. Shadow picked you up and slid out of bed.

He made his way to the door, you in his arms, and opened it.

You breathed shakily, clutching Shadow’s shirt.

The property manager stood there, bleary eyed but concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Shadow nodded while rubbing your back. “Yeah. Everything’s good. Y/N had a nightmare is all.” He looked down at you as you wiped your nose.

She eyed him with doubt.

“Go away. I want to go back to bed,” you said to her, turning slightly, your eyes puffy.

She pursed her lips, watching you. “Okay.” Her voice was soft. Deciding to believe Shadow, she turnt around and went back to her flat.

Shadow closed the door to his. He looked down at you. “You gotta be so rude?”

You snuggled into his neck and nodded. He couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“Shadow?” You looked up. “We’ll always be here for each other, right? You aren’t going to leave me alone?”

Shadow looked down at you, shocked. “Of course, Honeydew. You’re, well, you’re my little brat. No matter what happens, I’m here for you. I ain’t gonna leave you unless I have to. I promise.” He pulled you into a tight hug, lifting his head for a split second to kiss your temple.

Chapter Text

Normal children are scared of the dark. The hidden monsters and impossible ghosts hid within them.

For you, you feared the dark for another reason entirely. You see where there is darkness, there is usually no electricity and where this is no electricity your father cannot see. For that reason, you never trusted the darkness without previously knowing there was light there like in your room. In your room, you knew you were safe. Though your father could not see properly there, he had told you neither could the men who would hurt you. Your room and your house was safe.

The soft, warm glow of a gas lamp flooded part of your room leaving the rest in darkness as someone opened the door. That someone cringed as the old door creaked. He feared that you would wake.

Enveloped by soft blankets, you clutched a stuffed animal along with something else and lay fast asleep. You had sworn to yourself that you’d stay awake the whole night to see your father, but you hadn’t been able to keep that. Just like your mother, you were a heavy sleeper. Your father could hold a concrete in your room and the only thing that would be able to wake you up is him.

Telephone Boy closed the door almost all the way before turning to watch your sleeping form.

He smiled at you, pain in his eyes. The young god wished he could have tucked you in with your mother by his side, or maybe have read you a story before M/N pestered him to let you rest, or maybe, just maybe, you and he could just sit in your room and talk for a while. He wished all he could on making something like that happen. Telephone Boy wanted to be your father rather than just a man who was around every once in a while.

He sat on the bed, the mattress sinking beneath him.

A soft black suit jacket lay pressed against your chest. You gripped it hard, nuzzling into it in your sleep. Even as you slept, you yearned for your father in every way a child does.

Telephone Boy smiled softly. Though a sweet moment, he wished you didn’t have to cling to his clothes to feel his presence. There was nothing more in the world that he wanted than to be with his family, but he knew it was not possible. As long as he was a god, you and your mother would always be at risk, whether from the planned impulsivity of World or of angry Old Gods who thought they could do damage to him. His heart yearned for you as much as yours yearned for him.

You squeezed the suit jacket tight and curled into yourself. Even as you dreamt, you dreamt of your father holding you.

Telephone Boy gently leant over and kissed your temple, gently rubbing your head. As he pulled away, he silently stared at you with a small smile, his little baby who had stolen his heart right from his chest the moment they were born.

You whined a little and shuffled, your grip on the jacket loosening. A better form of him was right there on your bed and you were beginning to feel it.

His smile grew and he rubbed one of your small cheeks with his thumb.

You whined again as you woke up and drowsily rubbed your eyes. “Daddy?” You asked, voice dried from sleep.

A quiet sigh left him as he looked at you with reverence in his eyes. “Hi,” he said softly.

A goofy, sleepy smile spread across your face at your father’s gentle words. Though not fully there, you reached clumsily for his hand. He let you take it into your small, soft hands and pull it to your chest. Knowing you were very much safe, you fell back to sleep.

“Goodnight, my sweet angel,” he whispered before kissing your forehead.

More light poured into your room, banishing the darkness to the farthest corners.

Your mother stood there with a look that screamed she was holding back tears.

Telephone Boy’s heart sank. He prayed he’d have more time with you. His time spent with your mother must have taken up much of it, he supposed. The god turnt back to you and kissed your temple. ‘I love you. Forever and always,” he whispered. Tears pricked at his soft, blue eyes as he stood.

He loathed this moment that happened every time he managed to get away from his duties to see you. It broke him each and every time without fail. As a New God, he could never be certain he would see either of his beloved again. He may have been a god, but he still had a heart. That heart was you. You were good and goofy. His adorable angel on Earth.

He left you, a hurt deeply nestled in his heart.

•

Warmth from your father’s reassuring touch and the light from the hallway drifted away.

Though Telephone Boy surely thought you’d gone back into a deep slumber, you had not. Instead, you had teetered on the edge of sleep and consciousness. His absence pushed you to wake up.

"Daddy?" You asked the darkness but it gave no response. "Mummy?" You tried.

A pit grew in your stomach, panic taking hold of you.

He had been right there holding your hand not but a minute ago or so your sleep-ridden mind said. Your mum would have been close by to wish you another good night. Why weren’t they there with you? Had a bad thing happened? Like the ones they warned you about.

Fear consuming you, you flung your blankets off you, forgetting the jacket, your stuffed animal, and even shoes as you ran out of your bedroom, and the front door.

•

Arms wrapped around the mother of his child, Technical Boy had his forehead pressed against hers in a quiet silence. Neither of them wanted to break it, not wanting the moment to end.

They stood near the end of the driveway, just enjoying each other like it could be the last time.

“I wish you could stay longer, my love,” she whispered. "Y/N misses you more and more everyday." She sniffled. “I do, too.”

Telephone Boy kissed her gently on the lips before nuzzling their noses together. “I miss you both, too, but you know the risks. World would throw a hissy fit and do who knows what to you. I’m already pushing his patience as is. I can’t risk you both. I won’t. I refuse to lose either of you.”

She let out a quiet sob as her nails dug into his suit jacket. As more tears fell down her face, she pulled her beloved into a hug, desperately trying to imprint him upon her.

Telephone Boy quickly reciprocated. He wanted to leave as much as she wanted him to.

Every time he left, she knew she may never see him again. That terrified her.

•

"Daddy," you called out, bursting through the front door.

Pulling apart, both your father and mother turnt to see your panicked face.

Telephone Boy knelt down and opened his arms as you ran down the driveway and jumped into him. He pulled you close and kissed your temple.

Something deep inside you knew something was wrong and that a bad thing was going to happen. You didn’t know how to describe the feeling or where it was, but you just knew in your heart of hearts something was wrong, that a dreadful thing was going to happen.

Your father held the back of your head and pressed your face into his shoulder. The two of you desperately hugged as you cried.

“Shhhh,” he said quietly. “Everything’s okay.” He pulled away and tried to put on a smile, but you saw right through it. “You should be in bed, angel.” Your father held your hands in his, giving you a sad smile.

“Don’t leave us again,” you begged. “Please, please don’t do this.”

"Angel--"

"You can’t do this. You can’t go." You hugged him again, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your head in his chest. "Please, please, don't go. Don't leave us alone again." He hugged back, kissing the top of your head as sobs wracked your body. You didn’t want him to go, for yourself and for you mum. "She won't admit it,” you said, trying to calm down. “But Mummy's scared, too, Daddy. She cries herself to sleep if she sleeps at all. Please, don't go. We need you."

Self-hatred burnt bright in him at that moment. For everything he did to keep you both safe, he was causing such strife in you both and he hated himself for it. The only thing he’d wanted since he had met your mother, fallen for her, and had you was to keep you both safe and happy. While he was trying to do the first one, he failed on the second.

He squeezed your small frame tighter, never wanting to let you go.

It pained him, but he broke away from you, eyes shining with tears unfallen. "I love you, angel. I want you to remember that. I want you to know that everything I did was for you, to protect you and your mother."

Though unnecessary words for those who can’t see the future, Telephone Boy felt like he had to say them, like he had to tell them that.

Tears streaked down, dripping off your chin and jaw like raindrops.

"Don't cry, my little angel.” He smiled, trying to reassure you. “I'll be back before you know it." He wiped away the tears, smiling sadly at you. The god of the telephone backed away, toward the car.

"Daddy, please," you begged, still crying.

When you tried to go after him, your mother, trying to hold back tears of her own, pulled you back and held you close.

If she’d known what was going to happen, she would have let you run to him. Hell, she’d have done it herself. But she didn’t know and that was the worst part of it, the not knowing. It leaves a hole in people that eats people alive.

A part of you knew, as he drove away, that you'd never see him again. Some dreadful, paranoid part that screamed at you that night. It was a part you wished you could have properly articulated back then, maybe he would have still been there.

You never did see him again. That night, the night you mourned for him before you knew you were, was the last time you ever saw your father.

After your mother explained what he was you went in search of more like him. You found the other tech gods; Television Boy, Game Boy, Technical Boy, etc. Sadly, you also stumbled across Media (and eventually New Media) as well as the bastard himself Mr World.

You never spoke a word of who you truly were. A version of the truth was all they needed.

And all you needed was to be close to your father again, even if it wasn’t really him.

Chapter Text

After a long day at work you were relieved to not have to do anything else today. As soon as you got home, you said to yourself, it’s nap time. Sadly, or maybe happily, things didn’t work out that way.

As you stepped into the small, shared flat, you sighed and rolled your neck. Wordlessly, you walked to the kitchen and got some water, tossing your keys on the counter.

You had been on your feet all day; the only thing on your mind was a shower and bed. As you drank, water falling from the corners of your mouth, you noticed there was silence about the house. There was never silence unless your long-term partner, Game Boy was gone. Setting your cup down, you walk around the counters and cabinets that split the living room and kitchen. You stopped at the edge and peered in, hands on hips. With a frown, you tilted your head before walking into the living room, still in your barista uniform.

“Game Boy?” You called in the empty flat. “You here?”

After a long string of silence, you moved closer to the sofa and placed your hands on top of it.

It wasn’t peculiar that Game was gone, just odd that he hadn’t said anything before. He had always told you beforehand so you wouldn’t worry. This time, you supposed, he’d failed to mention his absence. Still, a part of you thought he may be elsewhere in the flat.

As he didn’t answer you, you began to search for him. He wasn’t in the bathroom and you doubted he was in the communal laundry room. Despite knowing that he certainly wasn’t in your room, you still checked. Predictably, he wasn’t there, but you did decide to change into something more comfortable.

With nowhere else to look, you knocked on his room’s door and opened it. It was empty. Gaming equipment, actual games, a computer, a telly, and other stuff like that covered the room, but there was no Game Boy. Your partner Game Boy, not the Nintendo handheld game console. He did, in fact, have one of them on a shelf.

There was a note taped to his computer which is odd because Game Boy rarely ever wrote anything with a pen or pencil. He also never let anything so “dated” as a pen and paper note on his precious computer. Not if he was in his right mind anyway.

You got closer, out of curiosity of what was so important that Game decided to write it out. The handwriting was very sloppy, you noticed.

/Do you remember where we met? The note asked. I do. I thought you looked amazing. That’s why I couldn’t talk to you. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t say anything. I was so tongue-tied, it was rather embarrassing./

You smiled, remembering how flushed Game had been. He couldn’t even look at you. It was adorable.

/Find where we met. Follow the trail and we’ll see each other soon enough. Let me take you on an adventure. You won’t regret it. I promise. I love you - G/

Your heart swelled in your chest.

‘A game from Game Boy,’ you thought. ‘How cute.’

You left the flat, wanting to see just what game Game was playing.

•

Standing near a park bench, you looked around.

You had been around here, on a walk, when you’d bumped into Game. Stupidly, you hadn’t been watching where you were going and ran into him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Flashback

“I am so sorry,” you said. “I didn’t see you.”
You looked into his beautiful blue eyes and your heart skipped a beat.
The young man you’d run into turnt away, blushing and pulled his black trench coat tighter. He nodded, still looking at the ground.
“Again, really sorry.” You walked past him but stopped next to a park bench. After a few seconds, you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder at him.
The blue-eyed boy stood there, looking at you, his hands in his pockets and scarf wiping back from the wind. He was considerably round and he had some acne, but it didn’t bother you. His eyes told you everything. There was more going on behind them than most would assume. More what, you didn’t know. But he seemed to know so much. One look into them and it was like you had had a glance into endless something, but you weren’t sure what. It was within your grasp and, yet, an ocean away.
Your eyes met again and warmth filled your chest. You smiled and waved at him.
His already deep blush deepened.

You walked down the path. A note, taped to a bench, caught your attention. You picked it up and opened it.

/This is where you stopped when we first met. The moment you looked back at me and our eyes met, I could feel myself falling for you. I don’t get that feeling anymore. It’s more of knowing I love you and you love me kinda feeling, but I digress./
You smiled. His words rang true for you, too. There were no longer butterflies and lightning. But there was a feeling of belonging with him that you could feel in your heart.

/Sometimes, I wonder why you weren’t repulsed by my acne and fat. I still have no idea why you’d go out with me. But, I’m glad you did ask me out. Being with you has been something else. A fantastic something else./
After the first time walking through the park, you started going there more often. At one point, it was every single day. All you wanted was to see him again. But, it took months before you did.

And when you did, as cliche as it sounds, it was like the whole world stopped around you. Without even thinking about it, you walked over and asked him out.

You got a stuttered yes, but it was still a yes.

/Go to where we had our first date and you’ll find a friend and a note waiting. - G/
•

After getting out of the car, you made your way to the arcade you and Game Boy had spent your first date. It had been easier to get him to talk about video games than it was himself. Still, the way he had talked about his favourite, and his most hated, games made you fall deeper in love.

The two of you played a ton of games, usually for two players. He’d even called you his player two, as a joke.

“Hey, Y/N,” the attendant, Steve, said. “G stopped by earlier. Told me to give you this.” He handed you a note.

/I know I didn’t really let you talk much when we were here, but when you asked about my favourites to play, I just started rambling. It did make it easier to talk to you, though.
Speaking of rambling, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was a bit nonsensical, wasn’t it? I don’t know why you love that movie (or the book) but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t happy to wear the VHS tape out with you. Seeing you happy was the best part of that. Now, Alice, my dear, go back home and go down the rabbit hole once again. - G/

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was indeed nonsensical which was the best part about it. There was no real story. It was nonsense, the best kinda sense there is.

“Thanks, Steve. See ya later,” you said as you left.

•

Back home, you went to the telly and pulled out the VHS tapes. On AAiW’s case was a note from Game.

/We’re pretty close to the end now. But, just to say it before I say it, I love you. As much as I found this movie weird, nonsensical, and rather insane, I found it worth every second spent watching because I got to spend time with you. Y/N, you mean everything to me. I love you. The reason I say this now is because I’m not the best at saying things without coming off like a prick. It’s easier to write them.
You can find me at the address below. And, as the rabbit always says, “I’m late.” So get here before I have to chop off your head for tardiness (or should I say tartiness?). - G
You chuckled softly at the pun and ran a finger down the page./

The address below wasn’t familiar to you so you pulled out a map.

•

The warehouse looked disgusting on the outside. Broken windows and grime-covered walls were not the most romantic thing, but still, if Game Boy was here, it’d be worth it.

You walked in, expecting to walk across broken glass or something, but there was no crunch beneath you. A path looked like it had been swept clean for you. It trailed to the back of the warehouse, small origami roses laying on it.

You followed them and picked them up one by one. The first few were plain white with green-painted stems. But, slowly, red started to bleed onto them. The ones farthest away were fully red, just like the Queen wanted.

The last rose sat on a door handle, the kind typically found in warehouses that jut out to the side. You picked it up, twirling the faux stem in your fingers. The rest of the bouquet sat in your arm. You could smell the paint coming off them.

The door creaked open and a shy figure peeked out.

“G?” You asked.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “Please?”

You did as he asked, heart pumping. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

As much as you wanted to know, you knew Game Boy had a hard time figuring out what was okay and what wasn’t when it came to real-life people.

“You’ll see,” he said.

The door creaked open more and he shuffled out. He picked the bouquet out of your arms as well as the last flower before disappearing for a moment. The warmth of his hands transferred to yours as he led you into the office. You could hear the door close again. Game Boy positioned you right in front of something, guiding you by your upper arms. His warmth left you before he spoke.

“You can open them now,” he said.

He stood in front of a table, a vase of the origami flowers he had made in his hands. Candles hung down from the ceiling in a heart formation, each holder connected by wire.

You silently stared at the sight.

Game Boy breathed heavily, his coat thrown off to the side. Still, his turtleneck was a little hot right now. He couldn’t tell if it was because he was nervous or overheated. Probably both.

You stepped forward and took the vase from him and set it down on a table.

“You did all this?” You asked.

He nodded, wiping his hands on his khakis. “I wanted it to be special.”

“Wanted what?”

He ran a hand through his blonde hair. “I’m not the best at this,” he mumbled under his breath. He straightened and looked you in the eye, despite that being rather uncomfortable for him. “Y/N, we’ve been dating for a while. Not a super long one, but it’s been a while. And I know you said you wanted to wait before calling us partners, but I can’t wait any longer. I love you so much. I want- I want you to be my player two. Permanently. Not just for a game or two.”

He seemed to have practised saying the speech over and over again.

You walked forward and pulled him into a kiss by the fabric of his turtleneck. Game Boy cupped your cheek and kissed back gently.

You pulled away, smiling. “I’ll gladly be your player two for as long as we both play the game fair.”

Game Boy sighed in relief, a giant grin spreading across his face. He leant in and kissed you again.

Chapter Text

Hands stuffed in pockets, you walked down the concrete sidewalk. Pulled up, the hood of your dark hoodie obscured you from view. It was only a small comfort knowing that it was more difficult for something like a camera to pick up on your face.

A street light flickered above you as you passed by.

Remembering the effects the New Gods could have on technology, you turned around, looking for one of those weird “boxes'' they used. But the street lights all stayed on and none of the boxes materialized.

Stopping for a few moments more, you looked around just in case someone was there and you just couldn’t see them. You mentally cursed the loud chirping of the crickets. Even if someone was there --- you weren’t sure if there was or wasn’t --- you wouldn’t be able to hear them over them.

Finally, with one last look, you turned back to your back and continued down it.

As you approached the small apartment complex, you searched for lights in the windows. Occasionally, a neighbour or two would stay up until the wee hours of the morn. Tonight though, everyone seemed to have gone to bed except for you.

Carefully, you climbed the stairs to your flat. The hair on the back of your neck raised as the cold breeze passed by.

As you got to your floor, you looked down and around. It wasn’t a quick one look-see and done kinda deal. You analyzed everything, half expecting someone to jump out or come around the corner. Everything from the flicker of the old wall lamp, to the shaking trees, and the swarming insects around light was scrutinized.

Despite the months of being away from him, he was always in the back of your mind. You knew, despite being miles away from where he had you last, he could find you and bring you back under his thumb. He was more powerful than you ever imagined. He had eyes and ears everywhere. Here, even with no security cameras and out in the middle of nowhere, you knew he could still get to you. The trees may be plentiful and the people few and far between, but he still had power

No one jumped out, so you went to the door with your heart pounding in your chest.

Still scanning the hall, you patted yourself down in search of your keys. You couldn’t tear your eyes away just in case someone unwelcomed showed up.

You fumbled for your keys, too fearful of the unknown to search for them properly. The thought of someone or something popping out of nowhere took all your attention, the fear forcing you to scan the hall again and again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw something in the shadows.

Whipping your head around to get a better look, your eyes widened as if they were trying to soak in as much of the area as possible. The possibility of your ex or his lackeys being right around the corner froze you in place. One of your hands gripped your keys while the other stayed tensed on the doorknob of your flat.

Quietly, you breathed and tried to calm yourself, but kept your eyes wide open. As you concentrate on your breathing, knuckles paling, your shaky, uneven breaths become even again.

It was just your imagination, your mind playing tricks on you. That was all. No one was there. No one at all. You were safe. He couldn’t get you here.

Eyes still glued to the shadows, you yank open the door and rush inside, slamming the door shut. Once inside, You pressed your body against the door, just in case someone tried to push it open, and deadbolted it as fast as you could manage without looking at the locks. The shadows did not move as you stared at them through the peephole on the door.

Stepping away, you take a few gasping breaths, shoulders and jaw tensed. Your heart pounded heavily in your chest.

Every time you left the flat there was a risk that your ex would find you. Any reasonable, sensible person who knew your ex would tell you leaving your flat was a stupid idea, that there was too much of a risk in leaving. But, you couldn’t stay inside all the time just because he terrified you. You had to live your life, not live in fear. There had been far too much of that.

You looked around the small flat and moved toward the windows, unlocking and relocking the windows.

Placing a hand over your heart, you breathed deeply in and out. You’d found it to be the best way to calm yourself over the past few months. Now, within the safety of your home, you could relax.

Turning, you found your way to the sofa and fell upon it.

The flat’s door stood opposite of you and you stared at it, expecting someone to start banging or barging in at any moment.

A backpack filled with your things lay next to the sofa. Not much was in it. Just some clothes, toothbrush and paste, and other such necessities. No unnecessary items.

The fridge sat mostly empty and the bedroom lay unbothered as if no one had entered it since the last tenant, and even the bathroom had little in it, just a bar of soap that hadn’t fully dried yet and its bag. The flat had barely been lived in. Hopefully, you’d soon have the courage to change that.

After many hours of paranoia, you fell into a restless, fitful, nightmare-fueled slumber. Even as you dreamt, he did not let you be.

•

A loud knocking woke you from a nightmare you couldn’t remember after you got up from the sofa.

At that moment, as you walked over to the door still dressed from the day before, things almost felt normal. It was as if the last 6 years hadn’t happened and you weren’t terrified and paranoid he’d find you.

Every last shred of that feeling dissipated after you looked into the peephole.

There, on the other side, stood two men in black and white suits. Both had an earpiece and sunglasses. They looked straight out of the Men in Black movie you remember watching when you were younger.

Your mother loved that movie. As did you.

Sadly, they were not the Men in Black from the movie. They were a different sort. The men who worked for your ex, Mr World.

Stepping away, you blinked as your heartbeat and fear steadily rose. Your breathing became shaky.

He’d found you.

“Mx L/N, we know you are in there,” one of the men said. “We just want to talk. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Instead of responding, you ran to your sofa and threw the backpack on.

Outside, the two men had a conversation.

Your flat was on the first floor. It would be a quick two-story drop.

Scrambling to the window opposite the kitchenette, you opened it as quietly as you could.

The men knocked again. “Mx L/N, please open the door.”

Remembering the bar of soap in the bathroom, you stepped inside and grabbed it. You slipped the bar into the bag and stuffed it into your pocket.

It seemed completely asinine to grab it, but you didn’t want to leave anything behind. Especially not a brand new bar of soap.

You lifted yourself up the window so you could get out feet first. Going headfirst at any height could lead to serious injury, or, ya know, death.

“Mx L/N?”

You looked back at the door breathing heavily before looking back at the window.

For a moment, you thought about just giving in to him. Letting him keep you locked away and make you live in fear of him for the rest of your life. It would be so much easier. That or just killing yourself.

But you couldn’t do that, not when you had come so far. Not when you had almost enough to get out of the country and never see him again. Not when you could be free of him and the U.S. as a whole.

You didn’t know what had so attracted him to you, but you wished that whatever it was would stop existing.

“Mx L/N, please open up!” The man sounded more urgent now like he knew what you were doing.

Gripping under the window, you pushed yourself out. Instead of letting go immediately, you hung on. You dropped a little so you could get a better grip on the bottom of the windowsill. Swinging side-to-side, you set your sights on a nearby balcony.

Even though the sound of your heartbeat flooded your ears and the fearful doubts filled your mind, you could still hear the shaky, unsure breaths you were breathing. You breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth, closing your eyes, before swinging to the neighbour’s balcony and letting go.

The balcony was situated over another tenant’s old sofa. They’d put it out a few days ago and had yet to throw it away.

You landed with a forceful thud onto the sofa, even moving it a bit. It didn’t do much but it was better than concrete.

You pushed yourself up and turned, only to find a man in black with his gun out. Looking the other way, his partner came around the corner, his gun also raised.

“Mx L/N, we were given instructions not to hurt you, but we will if we have to,” one of them said.

You looked between them, warily.

They seemed to be twins. Everything down to the last detail was identical. Must have joined together and gotten paired up. Who better to trust in the field than your brother?

There was nothing but woods behind you. If you made a break for it, the best they could do was shoot an arm or leg, maybe a shoulder if they were brave. It’d slow you down and you’d need medical attention, but you’d live if you didn’t bleed out first.

One of the twins put his gun away and slowly approached you. “Please, we just want to talk.”

It was obvious he was trying to get you to trust him, but you wouldn’t fall for that again.

You took off running.

The other twin aimed but his brother chastised him.

•

After running through the woods for a while, you climbed up a tree, out of sight. If the men tried to follow, they, hopefully, wouldn’t look up.

As you fell into the almost bowl-like middle of an old oak, you breathed heavily and tried to relax.

You knew he wouldn’t leave you alone for a while. But it had been months. Months. Why was he still chasing? Was it because you knew what he was? Who he was? He had told you many secrets that he probably wouldn’t want anyone else to find out, usually when he wasn’t who he told all the others he was and was, instead, himself. But, you didn’t want anything to do with him or his world. You wanted a new start, a new life.

You waited in the tree for hours, thinking about him and the new life you’d start somewhere else in the world. Maybe Canada, Scotland, or New Zealand. Someplace like that. Somewhere that wasn’t the U.S.

Slowly, you fell asleep.

•

When you awoke, it was late. The full moon was at its peak and the stars were out bright in the navy sky. They all had much to show the world. But, more importantly, it was light enough for you to leave.

You couldn’t go back to your flat. It was too dangerous. You’d have to just pick a direction and keep moving. Hopefully, you’d find someplace then.

•

You had to admit, this was the first time you’d ever come out to these woods since you’d started renting here. It was definitely pretty.

The brown leaves littered the forest floor, but not in an ugly way. It was rather beautiful. The leaves almost looked like rich, dark soil in the night’s late hour. If it weren’t for the fact that you knew they were leaves by their crunch, you would have thought the forest floor had no grass. The leaves reminded you of a time long past, a time of innocence you no longer possessed.

With a smile, you jumped on a group of leaves making them crunch slightly. It was rather satisfying. Sadly, you knew you had to keep going and playing with the leaves just wasn't an option, so you trekked on.

Despite knowing you had to hurry to find safety, you still allowed yourself to enjoy the moonlight as it gave the forest an almost otherworldly, effervescent glow. Funnily enough, it felt more familiar than the word of concrete and metal you came from. It felt safe and comforting.

Twigs snapped beneath you every once in a while as you walked. You gripped your backpack’s straps tightly, occasionally looking behind you.

A part of you wished for this to be over, to be safe and sound elsewhere. Not awake in the middle of the night, walking through the woods on an empty stomach.

While looking behind you, you took a misstep and fell.

You groaned. Leaves stuck to your now dirt-covered hands and you pushed yourself up.

As you looked up, someone came into view.

A new stint of fear shot through you as you scrambled backwards.

“You do not need to fear me,” the person said. “I mean you no harm.”

As the moonlight cast down upon her, you studied the young maiden. What seemed to be a golden wreath of sorts sat upon her head, like a crown.

“I heard your prayer for safety, young one. I only wish to guide you to it,” she said, nearing closer.

Despite her soft words, you doubted her. You knew what she was and, in your experience, their kind never gave anything without wanting something in return.

She knelt in front of you. “My name is Soteria. Will you let me help you?” Soteria stood and offered you a hand.

Unlike other gods you’d met, she seemed kind. She didn’t have the same feel as the others. No malice or anger or lies.

Even though your paranoia screamed no, you couldn’t help but take it.

She lifted you up and gently touched your cheek, looking deep into your eyes. It was rather uncomfortable really. Her hand fell.

“Travel straight that way,” she said, pointing to her right. Her gaze followed her arm. “And you will find safety.”

You nodded, gratefully.

“Young one,” she said, turning back to you. “No harm shall fall on you if you keep this with you.” The goddess took your hands into hers and placed something in them. “You will survive and you will persevere.”

“How do you know?” You asked.

“Believe it and it will be so, my child,” she said, cupping your cheeks with a smile.

•

You pushed yourself off the forest floor and shakily rose to your feet.

“Must have really hit my head,” you mumbled to yourself.

You hadn’t realized you were tightly gripping something cold and sharp in your hand until it began to cut into your skin.

Taking a look at the foreign but familiar object, your sight is met with a metal circle hung from a chain, the face of Medusa filling the frame. Moonlight glinted off the metal, shading her horrific, severed head. Running your thumb over the pendant, you noticed her snake-like head raised from the circle. You could even feel the raised blood falling from her stump and the fangs of Medusa and her snakes. Said snakes had minute scales engraved into them. The gorgon's mouth hung wide open like a snake’s with flesh between the top and bottom at the corners of the mouth. She hissed, baring her fangs, at an unknown attacker along with her forward-facing serpents. Her slit-pupilled eyes spoke of the fear and anger she held before Perseus cut her head from her body. On either side of the pendant, golden laurel sprigs created a sort of half-wreath. You ran your thumb over the gold as well. The detail of the leaves was incredible. Tiny, minuscule veins wound through them. Small gems you didn’t know the names of decorated the sprigs, clustered together to resemble flower buds. It was a beautiful, albeit peculiar, necklace.

Upon remembering what Soteria said, you put the necklace on and gripped the pendant tight. It was strangely comforting.

You took a deep breath, turned to where the goddess had pointed and marched on with a strange, newfound confidence and determination. Knowing that a goddess was behind you and the Roman Medusa hung around your neck renewed you.

He wouldn’t get you. You wouldn’t let him.

•

You didn’t know how long you walked, but the moon had set and dawn had broken.

Birds, the noisy things, squawked and sung and annoyed the ever-living daylights out of your tired self.

Still, it was a better sound to be around than the New Gods and the shite they were always talking about.

The Technical Boy in particular. Him and his talk of being better than the Old Gods. But, he seemed to be the best of the bunch. Sadly, that’s not saying much.

Media was a snake who told you the prettiest lies and World, despite saying he cared for you (never love, only care), preferred a pretty lie over the ugly truth, telling you whatever would keep you the happiest and controlled by him. It took you a long time to admit he was manipulative, but once you settled that with yourself (not an easy task) it was slightly easier to see his lies and manipulative tendencies.

The Technical Boy didn’t give two shites about you, and, thus, didn’t care to lie. He always told you exactly what was going on. He was also, usually, really fucking blunt. The dude had no filter.

Eventually, your tired legs and sore muscles screamed at you to take a break. The dryness in your mouth and rumble in your stomach asked the same of you.

But you couldn’t. Not yet, at least. Your mind told you to keep going, that relief was just around the corner. And, you believed it. Besides, if you passed out now, who’s to say the fumes wouldn’t run out while you were resting? Or worse yet, someone aligned with World would find you.

A car rushed by, a flurry of leaves trailing behind it.

You clambered up the ditch, mud and leaves furthering to dirty your clothes.

Not to say they were clean before your escape. Too much could happen in the time it took to clean a load of laundry.

You walked along the road. Cars passed you occasionally, but it was far too early and the road was probably a ways away from the complex. That complex was also pretty far from any city.

•

Exhausted, thirsty, and hungry, you prayed you’d be able to stop soon even just for a minute or so.

As you walked, the faint outline of a building stood up ahead.

You sighed in relief.

Maybe there will be people there. Ones not attached to him.

All you could do was hope for that and maybe some water, that’d be nice, too.

•

As you got closer, you realized it was a motel. A Motel America with its neon blue and red. It, faintly, reminded you of the U.S. flag. That was probably the point of it.

You stumbled to where an attendant sat behind a desk. They didn’t notice you.

“Hello,” you said, voice raspy. “How- How much is a room?”

They looked up and their jaw dropped. “Are you okay?”

‘Must be worse off than I thought,’ you thought.

The floor under you swayed and you struggled to keep your footing.

“Mx? Are you okay?” the attendant asked again. “Do you need an ambulance?”

You shook your head. “No. Just- just a room. Please. Please don’t tell anyone I’m here.”

They nodded and grabbed a key, handing it to you.

You fumbled for your bag and tried to pay, but the attendant shook their head.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Just go.”

You mumbled thanks and stumbled away, rubbing your necklace.

“Call if you need anything,” they shouted after you.

A bout of relief spread through you and you thanked the attendant in your head. You also thanked Soteria. She was probably the reason you’d even got here.

•

The smooth, clean blankets covered you, wrapping you in their warmth. It didn’t matter that you were still wearing dirty, grimy clothes and hadn’t taken a shower in over three days. For once, you felt clean, and most importantly, safe.

Your muscles ached as much as your stomach growled. The emptiness of your stomach reminded you of your current lack of adequate resources. Sure, you had some cash stuffed away in your backpack, but not enough to last long.

Someone gently shook you awake.

With a groan, you buried your face in a pillow.

The person shook you again.

You turned to them, only to find the attendant from last night.

“Morning,” they said. “My shift’s been over for a while, but I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You pushed yourself into a sitting position with more effort than you should need. “I’m fine.”

Your growling stomach betrayed you.

The attendant looked down to your stomach then back to you. “Sure about that?” They asked, eyebrows raised. “I got an extra sandwich in my bag. Want it?”

You nodded but refused to meet their gaze.

It wasn’t that you wanted to take advantage of their generosity, but you were starving.

The attendant slowly backed away like you were a wounded animal. They pulled something out of a bag and tossed it to you. “I’m Sammy, by the way.” Sammy pointed to the bathroom. “There are cups in there if you need them.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I won’t stay much longer. I have to keep moving.”

Sammy nodded.

You got the feeling they understood your position. Maybe that’s why Soteria had directed you here.

•

Night had fallen and the waning moon filled the sky with her beauty as her beautiful wives twinkled with her, though they did not shine with her same might.

You stepped outside your room onto the concrete walk, fiddling with the gift from Soteria.

Though you may not have been able to wash your clothes, a nice shower, some food, water, and rest did you wonders.

Sammy peeked out of their place and waved.

You waved back before setting out on the road.

There was a long journey ahead of you.

•

A fluttering of butterfly-like creatures caught your attention. Turning to the sound, a box sat with the creatures hovering above it. They disappeared when you saw the box.

You had been looking out for one of those.

World and the others had a particular fondness for them.

Your breathing quickened and you slowly stepped away before you started running down the road, your backpack bouncing up and down as you went. Though your muscles still ached, you pushed through the pain.

You couldn’t let this happen. You couldn’t go back. You couldn’t be trapped with them again, with him again. You had to keep running. You had to get away.

In a foolish move, you looked behind you only to see it gone.

When you looked back, headlights blinded you, stopping you in your tracks. You covered your face, wincing from the bright light. Stepping back, you realized it was Technical Boy’s limo. As you, again, stepped back, you knocked into something. Slowly, you turned around and looked into the faceless thing the New Gods called one of The Children. It grabbed you by your arms, holding you still.

Instinctively, your hand went to the necklace as you panted, staring at the Child. It had barely been a day and you already clung to it like a koala on a tree.

A flood of light and smoke came from the limo, bringing your attention back to it.

The door opened and someone, no, two someones stepped out.

A scowling Technical Boy and a pleasantly, fakely smiling Media stood up and faced you.

“Y/N, darling,” Media said, flourishing her arms out. “It is so good to see you again.” She wagged a finger at you. “You’ve been very naughty. Running away like that and all.” The goddess smiled at you. “Mr World has been very distraught over your absence. Oh, how he loves you so. The two of you are like Cesar and Cleopatra.”

Technical Boy snorted. “You mean World’s a creep and helped create a false narrative surrounding--”

Before he could complete his sentence, Media slapped him upside the head.

“Hush,” she hissed.

The boyish god winced and rubbed his head.

Media approached you, still all fake smiles and pleasantries. “Darling, Mr World really does miss you terribly. I’ve never seen him quite so distraught! Please, come home. We, well, Mr World, can take good care of you. You can be happy again. Just come home.”

“He wants me back?” You asked.

Media readily nodded.

“Then he should come get me himself.”

A smirk crept on Technical Boy’s face but he pushed it away. “Look, I admire your determination and tenacity, I do, really, but come on. He’s making life a living Hell for us. Just come back. I’m sure he’ll do better by you or whatever,” he said.

Your gaze shifted to him, eyes shining. “You know nothing of a living Hell,” you said, your voice breaking. Tears threatened your eyelids at knifepoint.

“Not helping,” Media sang with a strained smile at Technical Boy.

He looked down and rolled his eyes.

“Look, darling, I know Mr World can be difficult--”

You cut her off. “Difficult? Difficult!? You think he’s difficult?” You asked. “No, he’s fucking insane and manipulative. I want nothing to do with him or any of you. Just leave me alone.” Your tears cut through and spilt down your face.

Media opened her mouth to say something but closed it, not knowing what to do.

Technical Boy made a dismissive wave at the Child and it stepped away, letting you go. He carefully stepped toward you.

“I don’t like you,” he said. “I don’t know why World does. I don’t get what he finds so fucking interesting about a pathetic, squishy, easily killed human. But I know he wants you back and has spent every second he can trying to find you.” The god stopped in front of you. “He’s obsessed and, yeah, he’s manipulative and probably insane. That’s World for ya.” Technical Boy placed a hand on your shoulder. “Just come back, maybe punch him in the face, demand some shit or whatever. I don’t care. But World is fucking riding us like you used to ride him. He is up our fucking asses all day and it’s driving me insane. Please, for the love of fucking God, just come back before I lose my shit.”

You wiped away the tears and looked the arrogant son of a bitch in the eyes. “Go fuck yourself, Technical Boy.”

His hand fell from your shoulder. He turned back and shrugged. “I tried.”

It was obvious, even to the most socially inept, that he didn’t really care about you.

In the distance, a man struggled to maintain a straight line as he drove. Liquor bottles clink against each other in the backseat, and the passenger seat and floor.

Media stepped forward. “I understand your uneasiness, Y/N, but things can be different.”

The car got closer, swerving around. No one seemed to notice.

“No, they can’t,” you said. “He will never change.”

Technical Boy, who had been scrolling through his phone, looked up. He spotted the car and straightened. “Um, guys…”

“Not now,” she said, raising her pointer finger behind her at him.

Technical Boy slipped his phone away. “But--”

“I said, not now!” The goddess turned around to glare at him.

“Yeah, but there’s a fucking car!” Technical Boy said, pointing at the oncoming car.

You swivelled around, taking a look around the Child. Headlights filled your gaze, and, for a moment, you understood what it felt like to be a deer trying to get across a road. By the time you recognized what was happening, it was too late; you couldn’t get away.

The last things you felt was the Child’s body slamming into yours and the distinct feeling of dread.

You were going to die.

There was also a sense of relief, knowing that you would die free and not chained to him.

•

The sound of beeping woke you. The feeling of another warm body against yours was unsettling when you did wake. As you opened your eyes, your blood ran cold.

World was holding you, partially on the bed with one of his legs hanging off.

“Hello, my dear,” he purred. “It’s good to see you awake.”

You pushed him away and tried to sit up.

“Oh, no, no, no, we will be having none of that now, my dear. You are far too injured.” The well-dressed god pulled you back toward him, but you did not relax.

Slowly, he pushed you back into a lying position and kissed your forehead like a child. He even dared to pull blankets over you. World sat onto the bed and faced you, gently reaching out and stroking your cheek.

Some part of you wanted to react, to vomit or push him away, but you couldn’t. Every fibre of your being told you not to do anything to make him mad. After 6 years of that keeping you alive, the idea had become ingrained.

“I almost lost you, my dear,” World said, quietly. “The thought of never seeing you again was unbearable. I’m so glad to have you back, safe and sound beside me.”

Though he seemed to actually mean it, with shimmering eyes and kind movements, you couldn’t trust him now any more than you could any other time. It was all a facade, a carefully crafted one at that. He had manipulated you before and would do it again. This time, though, you wouldn’t let him, no matter what he did. This snake would no longer charm you.

Despite it being a majorly bad idea, you had to ask the question that had been running through your head since you’d run the first time.

“Why?” You asked, quiet as a mouse. “Why do you want me so badly? I don’t understand it.”

His hand traced a path to yours. “My dearest, you know better than to ask something like that. A partner like you best kept with their mouth shut and a pretty smile on it.” With his free hand, he tilted your chin upward, possessively smiling down at your frowning face with malice.

“That’s not an answer,” you said.

World’s smile became strained as he tried to hold back the urge to smack you. You could tell by his eyes that’s what he wanted. There was dark anger behind them. Instead, he chuckled lightly before roughly grabbing your jaw and bringing you in close. “It’s the only one you’re getting, my dear.” He leant in close, any semblance of a smile falling away, and looked into your eyes. “If you ever,” he said, trembling with rage. “And I mean ever, leave like that again, I will not be so kind as I am now. Do you understand me?”

Against his hand, you tried to nod, any form of confidence fading from you. In his hands, or hand more like, you were like a tiny, weak child all over again.

He roughly shoved your face into the pillow and it stayed there as you were too afraid to look back at him. You bit your lip and screwed your eyes shut, trying not to whimper or cry.

World stood. “Technical Boy,” he said.

The tech god slowly walked in, keeping his eyes on the ground. Even he was somewhat afraid of World. Technical Boy stood near the door, not daring to walk in any further without permission.

“Wassup?” He said, popping the p.

World glared at him, disapproving of his casualness, from the opposite side of your bed.

Your head still firmly placed on the pillow, you opened your eyes to look at Technical Boy.

He had a rather odd style choice that you’d become fond of over the years. Today was no different.

Today, he seemed to have a hard-on for neon. Neon yellow and orange shoes with shiny spikes around the soles. A multi-neon-coloured jacket that looked like someone took a paintbrush and just started painting diagonal lines in a thousand different neon colours. His pants were awful, too. Every type of neon colouring on it, just like his jacket. Neon pink suspenders hung from his trousers and a neon blue t-shirt with a giant, pixilated, neon green thing on it. It was one of those spaceships from Galaga Shooter from back in the 80s or whenever. You couldn't remember what they were called exactly. Maybe it was just spaceships from Galaga Shooter.

His hair was, much like his clothing, a weird story. Along the pulled-back sides were two metal pieces on both sides, going from the front all the way back. Maybe they connected around the back of his head. The top had pieces wrapped into little bowls all the way down the middle. On his shoulder was a braid pulled out from the back. More neon stripes decorated his hair, from bowls to braid.

World looked to you. “Technical Boy will be looking after you until you’re all better and you can come home properly.” There was plasticity to his voice that you’d only become recently aware of before you’d run from him. World walked around your hospice bed and stopped next to Technical Boy on his way out. He turned slightly, the tech god mirroring his action, and whispered something you couldn’t hear before leaving.

As World left, you watched the tensed Technical Boy with curiosity. He looked back at you, his eyes meeting yours.

“I guess we’re going to be spending a lot of time together,” he mumbled. The god looked around and found a chair.

As he pulled the chair to sit next to the door, you struggled to sit up.

“Don’t even think about trying to run,” he said. “I ain’t like the Spooks or the Children. I’m not stupid nor easy to manipulate or overpower. You running will only hurt yourself and piss World off.” He sat down and leant back into it, staring at the ceiling. “Why the fuck is he so fucking interested in you, anyway? You’re not that special. Don’t get me wrong, you’re attractive in a simple, human-ey way, but you’re not, well, you’re not geometrically perfect, or close to it, like, say, Jensen Ackles.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you said, finally in a sitting position. “I know there’s no point now.” You wryly chuckled, tears slipping from your eyes. “Fuck,” you mumbled.

Technical Boy watched you, uncomfortable. He wasn’t good with emotions, especially not others’. “You good?”

You wipe away your tears before looking over at him. Deftly, you flip him off. There was nothing Technical Boy could do to you that would hurt more than knowing you were, once again, trapped under Mr World’s thumb.

The god rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. If he was going to be stuck here, he might as well play some games.

You look around the room, crossing your arms and rubbing them. It was a plain, white, rectangular room with your bed, a chair, and a nightstand. Otherwise, it was barren. The most interesting and colourful thing here was Technical Boy’s awful outfit, which looked, strangely, stylish on him, and the blankets on your bed. Their colours were stark in contrast to your hospital gown with the polka dots and barren room. The top blanket looked like a hand-stitched quilt with an array of warm colours and black decorated with images of cats and witches and other things like that. The others were larger child-like blankets with Bob the Builder, Care Bears, and other things like that on them. You ran a hand over the top one, enjoying the stitching and cloth running under your fingertips.

“World had those brought for you,” Technical Boy said, not looking up from his phone.

Your blood ran cold and your hand froze where it was. Slowly, your hands receded and you pushed the blankets away. Knowing that, even now, World was, in a way, touching you freaked you out. You needed to get away from it. You needed to get away from him. Barely registering what you were doing, you kicked the blankets over the edge bed and pushed yourself away from them and into the pillow behind you.

The quilt and childish blankets cascaded to the floor, unceremoniously falling into a heap.

The tech god looked up from his phone and stared at you as you curled up and hugged your knees, staring wide-eyed at the blankets. He continued to watch as you began scratching at yourself, trying to get the feeling of World off you. Technical Boy didn’t intervene until he noticed you bleeding.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, the god got up and walked over to you. He sat on your bed and grabbed your hands.

Out of pure instinct, you thrashed in his grip as he tried to calm you down. You could hear someone calling for you but you couldn’t stop yourself. He was here and he was going to hurt you.

“Y/N,” Technical Boy yelled over your panic. “Stop it. You're hurting yourself.” You continued fighting against him, kicking and thrashing. “Fuck’s sake, I need someone in here!”

Nurses came in and held you down before one stuck a needle into your arm and you passed out.

•

A year and a half ago
You lay in bed, texting a friend, one of the few World let you have. Smiling at your phone, you pulled a blanket over you, a quilt with sock monkeys on it.
World entered and took off his blazer, setting it on a fluffy chair. He rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. “Hello, my dear,” he purred, watching you.
You looked up and smiled. “Hi, bossman.”
He smiled, leant over you, and kissed your forehead. “Have you been good today?” He asked.
You shrugged and took one of his hands into your free one. “I did what you asked if that’s what you mean. I haven’t been out all day.”
“Good, my dear. Good,” he said before sitting on the bed and caressing your cheek. “I don’t want anyone else taking you away from me.”
“I wouldn’t want them to, love.” You smiled, gazing into his eyes.
As World started to say something, your friend texted you back a meme. Because of the addictive nature of technology, your head snapped to your screen. You laughed.
World’s eyes hardened. “Who are you talking to?”
“Just a friend.” You shut your phone off and tossed it to the side. You could worry about responding later.
“Just a friend, huh?” He asked. “A friend that makes you laugh?”
His sudden change in attitude threw you off and you sat up more. “Well, it was less my friend and more a meme he sent me.”
“He?” World growled.
He seemed to grow bigger, or maybe you were just pushing yourself into the bed more.
“I- I’m sorry,” you stuttered out. “I thought you said he was okay to talk to.”
World gripped your wrists, kneeling on the bed, and pushed you down. “I told you not to leave the house.” He jerked you off the bed and began to drag you out of the room in your underwear.
“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I was just talking to him,” you pleaded as you tried to stand. His grip tightened and began to hurt. “World, love, please, stop. You’re hurting me.”
Just as you had managed to get in a crouching position to stand, World yanks you down. You land with a thud on the cold, wooden floor.
“Hurting you? Never, my dear. No, I’m just punishing you for disobeying me.” He stood over you, his fists clenched.
“I- I didn’t. I didn’t go outside.”
That only seemed to piss him off more.
“I said not to leave the house. That means technologically as well. You disobeyed me, my dear. I really didn’t want to do this, but you’ve given me no choice.”
•

Present Day
You woke up in a fetal position in bed. Clenching your fists, you willed yourself to forget about the nightmare. Shakily, you pushed yourself up, blankets falling off you. A part of you expected, when you looked at them, you’d find the ones World had gotten for you. Instead, you were greeted by a different set, the top one with a close-up of a bunch of wolves perched atop a cliff with a forest in the background on it.

“I had one of the Children get some other blankets from a nearby store,” Technical Boy said, glued to his phone. “I didn’t tell it any specific type of blankets to get, so it just grabbed some. Hope you like wolves.”

Assured in the knowledge World hadn’t had a hand in getting these, you laid back down, pulling the blankets over you. You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing heavily, and curled back into a fetal position.

•

Weeks passed and you slowly healed. The Child that you had been in front of when the car struck had partially protected you, so you were better off than if it’d rammed into without any sort of cushioning. Still, rehab was fucking painful.

Technical Boy mostly said nothing, preferring his tech to others, particularly you. When he did speak, it was sarcastic and filled with a feeling of superiority. It tended to get on your nerves. But it was better than the alternative. Occasionally, he’d get a text and he’d be out the door faster than the Flash going at light speed. It was rare but still, you dreaded those texts because he’d always leave one of the creepy Children behind, or several depending on how he was feeling.

You’d talk to Technical Boy, of course. Well, not specifically to him, but you’d talk aloud to kill time. It was mostly rambling about one thing or another. Sometimes you’d talk about your parents and family, other times you’d talk about random things you’d learnt over the years. On very rare occasions, maybe once or twice, you’d talk about World and what it was like with him. It was nice, just talking without anyone listening but someone still being physically there. You knew he didn’t care and he probably wasn’t listening, but that didn’t matter to you. You just wanted to talk. Sometimes, he’d stop scrolling or playing a game for so long you thought he was listening. Thankfully, he was just reading something when that happened. Talking “to” Technical Boy was like talking to a brick wall in the best way possible.

Now, you laid in bed, throwing things at the ceiling, head relaxed against the headboard. You closed your eyes, groaning.

Out of pure boredom and nostalgia, you remembered a school play you’d been forced to do; The Wizard of Oz. You had played the Wicked Witch of the West for the second half of the play. Despite the rather enjoyable performance, you did hate the green face paint you’d had to wear. It didn’t feel good against your skin. As you remembered the play, you began to think about the song Ding-dong! The Witch is Dead that your Mum had always teased you with. That and the whole “I’m melting scene”. The song rang through your head as you tried to remember all the words, but the same lines repeated over and over again.

“Ding-dong! The witch is dead. Which old witch? The Wicked Witch! Ding-dong! The Wicked Witch is dead,” you sang, very much off-key but with a childish enjoyment.

Technical Boy joined in with his eyes still glued to his phone. “Wake up, ya sleepy-head. Rub your eyes, get out of bed.”

“Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead!” You both sang out, Technical Boy was much quieter than you.

Your head fell forward and you giggled to yourself, covering your mouth with your hand. Technical Boy, unused to the sound, looked up at you, the edges of his mouth twitching up. But, when you looked at him, he looked away, his lips straining into a white line as he tried to cover up the smile. You curiously watched him for a while like you were waiting for him to do something. Upon deciding he was too boring to do anything of note, you started humming Ding-dong! The Witch is Dead to yourself. The song had ingrained itself into your brain.

Technical Boy typed something into his phone before speaking. “I can play it out loud if you want.” He showed you his phone’s screen.

You couldn’t tell what was on it as it was too far away, but you assumed it was Ding-dong! The Witch is Dead. “Sure. If you want.”

He pressed play and turned up the volume, but the noise was minuscule. Technical Boy gave it a confused look, frowning, and mouthed a “what the fuck”. For a few minutes, you watched him fuck around with his phone, trying to solve the problem.

Eventually, he turned to you. “Sorry. Volume isn’t working as it should. Must be some sort of hardware issue. I’ll take a closer look later.”

You considered, for a moment, that maybe Technical Boy wasn’t as good with his tech as he liked to boast. Then you remembered that TECHnical Boy was a TECH god and this is probably happening because he wants it to, on some level. You internally laugh at the thought.

‘Maybe he really hates that song,’ you thought.

“It’s fine. Maybe we’ll both be able to hear if you get closer,” you said with a small smile.

You could have sworn he was blushing at that moment. That was definitely peculiar. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you.

Technical Boy scratched the back of his neck, looking away from you. “Yeah, sure. That- that could work.” He got up, shuffling his sneakers along the tile.

As he neared your bed, he rewound the video and started playing it. Instead of sitting on the bed, he awkwardly stood there, holding his phone closer to you.

You laughed lightly before patting the bed. “You can sit down, you know that right? I’m not as easily broken as you might think.”

“I don’t think you’re easily broken at all,” he mumbled as he sat down.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Technical Boy drug the timer back to the zero second mark, replaying the video.

You shuffled around, listening to the song, before getting closer. Your chest pressed against Technical Boy’s back as you rested your chin on his shoulder. Surprisingly, he was very warm.

You’d expected him to be like his domain, cold and calculating, but, you supposed, he’d always been very angry and loud, just like the other part of his domain. You smiled softly, recognizing the duality to him. The angry, emotional, loud human-dominated Internet and the cold, logical, data-processing technology-dominated, well, tech. Then, you remembered how phones and computers were. It had been so long since you’d had one, it was like a far off memory. But, all technology tended to warm up as they were used and cooled when they weren’t.

You nuzzled into his strangely soft sweater, your cheek pressing lightly against Technical Boy's neck. Blood rushed up to his neck as his heart beat heavily, you could hear it more than you could hear the music. It was very calming. Though the rapidness of the beat was slightly concerning. Usually, humans have really fast heartbeats wasn’t a good sign, but he wasn’t human so maybe it worked differently.

Technical Boy glanced down at you, trying not to disturb you. A soft smile spread across his face. A blush did the same thing over his cheeks and his ears tinted pink as your hands found their way to his side.

You sighed, content, as you relaxed.

You hadn’t meant to get so physical with Technical Boy, but it felt nice to feel someone else’s warmth for once. To even be near someone again without fear of getting hurt was a huge relief. Though you knew if World ever found out, he’d kill you both or worse.

At the thought of the cruel god, you reached for where your necklace used to be. Instead, you grasped at nothing. The reminder that World had taken your necklace made you feel empty and cold even with the heater named Technical Boy letting you hold onto him. Your eyebrows knitted together as sadness filled your heart, weighing it down. Still holding nothing, you pressed your face into the tech god’s shoulder.

Technical Boy gently reached for the hand still on his side. He grasped it and pulled it around his stomach, gently rubbing your knuckles. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, just as surprised by his own concern and gentleness as you were.

If it had been anyone else, he would have pushed them away, but this was you and, after all the weeks you’d spent rambling, he felt like he knew you better than World did.

To be fair, most people probably knew you better than World did.

Still, Technical Boy had started to understand why World wanted you so badly. You were so human and so sweet, laughing at your own jokes and, in a way, treating him like a pet like always humans tend to do with technology. The way you so easily spoke to him about whatever was on your mind and the way you smiled even when you weren’t doing anything, was so human and he found that, despite how he had always viewed humans, he liked that about you. He wouldn’t say he felt anything stronger, but he did like it. Maybe more than he should.

You tiredly looked up at him, lips grazing his sweater (Technical Boy found himself wishing he wasn’t wearing one) and gave him a strained smile.

“I’m alright, I suppose,” you said. “I’m just wishing I still had my necklace. It helps calm me down.”

Technical Boy nodded, his phone turning off.

You didn’t know if he did that or it did it by itself.

“What’s it look like?”

His gaze seems to drop to your lips before darting back to your eyes, but you can’t be sure of yourself.

You shrugged. “Head of Medusa and gold sprigs of laurel shooting out from the pendant.”

Technical Boy nodded, mentally putting a yellow sticky note on a rough image of the necklace he had in his head with “find” written in red on it. “Sounds cool,” he said, meaning it but sounding rather casual about it. He mentally facepalmed.

You nodded, still touching the place the pendant once hung in front of.

Technical Boy noticed your despondency and put the yellow sticky note and the necklace under important.

You trailed your free hand down Technical Boy’s back, nails sending tingles all over his body.

This was something you both needed, but both rarely got.

Physical touch is the hardest thing you’ve ever come by, especially after meeting World.

As for Technical Boy, he was a lonely god surrounded by cold fellow New Gods and unfulfilling worship. Though he was necessary for the U.S. to function, the people’s belief in him wasn’t really belief IN him. It was a belief that technology is going to solve everyone’s problems. They do not view him as a deity and they do not know he even exists. It’s a sad thing for a god to be worshipped but not known truly within their worshippers. If that wasn’t bad enough, the other gods like Media and World didn’t really like him and they did nothing to hide it.

He glanced at you again. You caught it and smiled softly, wrapping your other arm around him, enjoying the warmth of him and the feeling of another being. The god leant into you, rolling his head back and closing his eyes. His hands found yours and he absentmindedly rubbed them.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

Technical Boy snorted. “Why? You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“It’s just-- You’re Technical Boy. You don’t like humans, so you probably aren’t the biggest fan of this.” You shifted slightly but still held him close.

He turned to look at you. “If I wasn’t okay with this I would make it known. I tend to do that.” A slight, itty bitty smile surfaced. “I can show you if you want? Trust me, I can be really loud and annoying.”

You pulled away, covering your mouth as you laughed.

Technical Boy’s smile widened and there was a strange light to his eyes as he watched you.

You couldn’t help but smile back.

“Ya know, I’m really touch-starved, so, trust me, I’m enjoying this,” he said.

Silently, you reached for one of his hands and held it in your own. “So am I, to be honest. World was never really one for touching. I was often pretty lonely…” You trailed off, eyes wandering. “It’s not much like that now, though. Even with him looming over me, at least you’re here.”

“Yeah, I am,” he said. Part of him wanted to kiss your cheek, but his far more logical side decided that would be a dumb idea. Instead, he squeezed your hand and smiled. “Don’t think I’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.”

All you could do was smile.

•

The Child sat there in Technical Boy’s chair like an action figure not in use.

Laying on your stomach at the end of your bed, your head sat on your crossed arms as you watched the empty, motionless creation.

Technical Boy had gotten one of those texts and had to leave. One of the Children had taken his place.

Ever since that conversation a few weeks or so ago and all the touching that happened, the tech god had opened up a little more, willingly joking with you and talking. You’d finally gotten to know more about the god. Turns out he was moderately decent sometimes.

You continued staring at the Child, your head falling to lay down. Blowing out a breath of air, you flipped over and stared at the ceiling.

World, thankfully, had been too busy to stop by in ages.

Sometimes, you’d learnt, you were fine with his name and existence being mentioned. Other times, you weren’t. Sometimes, you were scared, but his presence didn’t make you freak out. Other times, it did. The whole thing was pretty inconsistent.

You’d missed Technical Boy. His presence had a calming effect on you to a degree you didn’t understand. Still, when he laughed, you smiled with pride. When he smiled at you, your heart clenched in your chest. And, of course, when you caught him stealing a glance at you, you could practically feel the blood rushing to your face.

The sound of the door unlocking and opening made you jump and you quickly turned to see who it was.

Silently, you hoped it was Technical Boy and feared it was World.

A familiar face walked in with something in his hands.

“Tech!” You smiled and sat up.

He grinned at you before slipping whatever was in his hands behind his back and walking in. Realizing the Child was still there, he gave it a look and it got up. It left and shut the door behind it.

“I got something for you,” Technical Boy said, turning his attention back to you. “I think you’re really gonna like it.”

Head tilting with curiosity, you look at him. “What is it?”

He chuckled and sat down on your bed. “You’ll have to open it and see,” he said, pulling a small box from behind his back. He handed it to you.

Gently, you took the box and opened it. Inside sat a shell-shaped compact mirror. Though definitely disappointed, you were more confused than anything. You took it out and examined it.

“Why did you give me a mirror?” You asked.

Technical Boy’s grin grew. “Cause, without it, you wouldn’t be able to see what I’m about to give you.” He slipped behind you on the bed and opened the mirror over your shoulders, placing it in your hand. “Now, close your eyes and don’t open them till I say,” he whispered into your ear.

You leant back into him, enjoying the closeness. Though you were reluctant and a little confused, you closed your eyes anyway, deciding to trust Technical Boy.

You listened as shuffled around. A sudden and strange, though familiar, feeling of something settling around your neck made you tense, but that tension faded quickly.

“Okay,” he said. “Open ‘em.” Technical Boy’s head settled on your shoulder and he wrapped his arms around your waist, watching you in anticipation.

Just as you began to open your eyes, he stopped you. “Wait, hold up.” You felt one of his hands cup yours as he adjusted the mirror. “Okay, now.”

You opened them, greeted by a view of your necklace shining in the bright, artificial lighting. Your jaw drops as you stare at the terrifying face of Medusa. A warmth finds its way into your heart as your open mouth turns into a grin. Gently, filled with disbelief, you reach up and touch the pendant. Realizing it was truly there and not an illusion or something, a weight lifted off you, knowing you hadn’t lost it. You sighed in relief and clutched the pendant, closing your eyes.

Out of excitement, you turn around and wrap your arms around Technical Boy, hugging him tightly.

For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do. He knew you’d be happy but he hadn’t anticipated this. Remembering all the fanfics, posts, shows, and movies put on the internet, he realized hugging back would be a smart option. That would definitely help with keeping his blush hidden. He hugged you back, nuzzling into your neck.

As you pulled away slightly, you looked at him, still smiling.

He shyly smiled back.

You knew he blushed rather easily, but the sight of his face so flushed and ears so pink was a little shocking. It was still cute, though.

You fell back into him and rested your head on his chest.

Technical Boy squeezed you tight, resting his head against yours. He closed his eyes, finding himself able to relax with you.

A few seconds of silence passed before you decided, on a random whim, to kiss Technical Boy’s cheek.

He froze.

If he was pink before, he was Hot Tamale Red now.

You giggled lightly before beaming up at him.

Honestly, you couldn’t say why you did it. All you knew was that it felt right.

The door to your room slammed open and World appeared. Both you and Technical Boy snapped your heads to look at him, eyes wide.

You scrambled away from Technical Boy and off the bed, eyes going wide at the sight of your terrifying ex.

"And what exactly is going on here?" World asked. He stepped into the room and glared at you

The tech god got off the bed and put himself between the two of you, pulling World's attention away from you. The last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt, especially because of him. He didn't care if he got hurt. Technical Boy was a god; he could handle it. You were human and World had already done enough.

"Nothing much," he said. "Just talking."

World got closer.

Your heart pounded against your chest. The familiar fear of his presence shaking you to your core.

The way he approached reminded you so much of how he used to right before he laid into you, all height and glaring. He was going to hurt you again. Or Technical Boy.

Gods, Technical Boy. You didn't want him hurt. He'd been so kind to you over the last few weeks and had really come out of his metallic and rude shell. The thought of him regressing and being cold to you again sickened you.

"It seems as though I've caught my beloved and you doing much more than “talking”," World hissed.

Out of pure fear, you hide more behind Technical Boy, placing a hand on his bicep.

"Y/N hugged me," the god said, maintaining eye contact with World. "That's it. They were thanking me."

World took off his fedora, his long coat hanging off his shoulder. "For what?" His head jerked unnaturally.

"For being here when you weren't and for getting them their necklace back," Technical Boy said.

You hadn't noticed how tense he was until World was nearly on top of the two of you. He was just as scared as you were. Technical Boy breathed heavily through his nose but refused to flinch.

World pointed at your necklace and growled, "You shouldn't have that."

Your hand shot to your necklace, clutching the pendant in shaking fingers.

"And who are you to dictate that?" Technical Boy asked.

World, angered by Technical Boy's insubordination, walked to him and looked him in the eye. "You will leave if you know what's good for you, Boy," he said unwaveringly. "And, if you know what's good for them." World turned away, his fingers trailing across the end of your bed. "Unless, of course, you want them to receive the worst possible treatment for their injuries."

Technical Boy's eyes went wide and his jaw tensed. He looked to you.

You didn't want him to go. You didn't want to be left alone with World. You didn't want to left alone at all. Despite that, you also didn't want to end up in a dark room to die and you didn't want Technical Boy to feel guilty if that happened.

Turning to the tech god, you nodded toward the door, mouthing the word "go".

He hesitantly tried to say something, eyes glistening with sorrow and guilt, but didn't, defeated.

As he left, his heart heavy, you gave him a pained smile and wave. Once he walked through the doorway, your smile fell and you wrapped your arms around yourself. You already knew what World was going to do.

He turned to you, scowling.

•

Outside the room, Technical Boy stood, already hating himself for leaving you to deal with him alone. The number of times World had hurt him because he wasn’t perfect or didn’t do what World wanted exactly as he wanted it done and had the shite beaten out of him for it was astronomical. He’d always wished Media had done something about it when it happened, but she never did. Now, he had done the same thing to you.

He heard you yelp and the distinct sound of a body hitting the floor. Your cries echoed in his ears as World beat you. Though the door was shut, it did nothing to mask what he was doing to you. Technical Boy could faintly hear him saying this to you. He couldn't fully make them out, but he knew, in his heart, they were as vicious and violent as he was.

It took all of the tech god's self-control not to rush back in and protect you. He'd shield you with his own body if he had to.

Sadly, the god knew you'd only be worse off if he did. So, he sucked it up and walked away, fists clenched.

He had to figure out a way to get you out of here before World made sure you'd never go anywhere again.

•

You laid in bed, curled up with the blankets Technical Boy had gotten for you. The cloth felt soft and strange against your skin like you weren’t used to the feeling of safety and warmth around you. Even though you’d been using them for months at this point, the blankets still felt foreign. They were better than any World could force on you, at least. And, they reminded you of Technical Boy.

Since the day you told him to go, you hadn’t heard a peep. It was like he vanished from your like.

Honestly, you were worried about him and thought about him a lot. You had no idea if he was alright or not. Unfortunately, you'd experienced just how cruel World could be when he was angry; your face and body were plenty of evidence of that. Though Technical Boy was a god and World couldn't kill him, you feared for Technical Boy's safety. Over the years you'd been with World, he showed an apathy toward Technical Boy, if not hatred for him. He'd been violent with the tech god before. You knew he would be like that again on a whim. That's all it ever took; a whim.

The door to your room opened.

Tensing, you pulled your blankets closer. You shook slightly, closing your eyes and letting out a fearful breath. A free hand laid where the pendant of your necklace should be.

You'd been expecting him to come back to teach you another lesson. World had come every day since he's taken Technical Boy off "Y/N duty".

Slowly, you steadied your breathing and opened your eyes. A part of you hoped he'd find no joy in it today, that he'd grow tired of you and toss you aside. Even if you ended up dying, it'd be better than living in fear of World for the rest of your life.

"Y/N," a familiar and gentle voice said.

You wiped the blanket off and turned to look at the speaker; Technical Boy stood there with bruises on his face. They didn't take away from how happy you were to see him.

The corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile, but his eyes screamed of pain. "Hey."

Of course, World had hurt him. You knew he would. It was World. But, that feeling in your chest, the feeling of your heart squeezing, the feeling you'd felt when World showed up randomly early on, the feeling of relief and love filled you as you looked at the tech god.

Without hesitation, you pushed away from the blankets and scrambled off the bed, not even thinking about them falling to the floor. You didn't give Technical Boy a second to breathe as you pulled him into a tight hug. Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you screwed your eyes shut and breathed him in.

After the initial shock, Technical Boy slowly hugged back. He tested his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily. "Are you okay, Y/N?" He asked, pulling away and cupping one of your cheeks. His soft eyes searched yours.

You chuckled, tears of joy pooling at the corners of your eye. “I’m-- I’m better now,” you said with a smile.

Technical Boy relaxed a little, but still, his eyes stayed trained on your face. His fingers ghosted over your bruises and split lip.

It made you wince.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Did he do this to you?”

You looked away, not wanting to see the hurt in his eyes. "He cause those?" You asked, turning back and gesturing to Technical Boy's face.

For a beat, there was silence. Without having to say a word, both of you knew what happened.

You pulled him into another hug and he quickly reciprocated.

"I can't stay long. World doesn't even know I'm here right now. I hope he doesn't, anyway." Technical Boy pulled away and smiled at you. "I'm going to get you out of here, and soon. I promise." His eyes drifted to your chest, his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion before turning into anger. "And I'm going to get your necklace back from World."

You looked down, putting a hand over where your necklace should be. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a necklace.”

It wasn’t, in fact, just a necklace. It was a gift from someone who actually, selflessly cared. Though you hadn’t talked to Soteria since you’d gotten the necklace, you knew she had been watching and trying to keep you safe. You knew it in your heart of hearts, in your essence, in your very soul itself. Maybe it was a want to have someone on your side or blind stupidity, but you had an unending faith that she was with you, that she was protecting you and guiding you even now. It was that faith you clung to when World would come in. It was that faith that kept you sane. Even before Technical Boy had been sent away, it was that faith that helped you get through even the worst days where your mind would plague you will horrible memories of World and your life with him.

Technical Boy shook his head. “It’s not just a necklace. It’s your necklace. It belongs with you, not him.”

You smiled softly at him, relishing in his gentle touch.

“I’m going to get it back for you and I’m going to get you out of here, so be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, okay?” He asked, looking into your eyes.

You nodded before hugging him again.

Real, genuine, caring contact with another being, no matter how artificial, is the only thing you wanted at the moment. Everything else be damned.

•

The door to your room opened in the night. No light shone in as all was quiet. It was past midnight. Of course, all was quiet. It’d be weird if it was loud and noisy.

Laying in bed, you slept as soundly as you could with the constant threat of World looming over you and plaguing your scarred mind.

Technical Boy looked back into the dark, empty hall before slipping into your room.

His own fear and doubt squirming through his mind and infecting him. Around every corner, his heart had beaten loudly in his chest as he could never be sure someone was just around the corner. Though the god knew how to manipulate technology, even recreate and control it to a certain extent, he was still afraid that World would pop up while Technical Boy had blinded himself by taking the cameras offline. It felt wrong to not be able to see everything through the cameras. It was too late to take it back though.

“Y/N,” Technical Boy said as he gently shut the door. When you didn’t respond he got close to your bed and nudged you. “Come on, wake up. We need to go.”

You groaned quietly and tried to pull the covers over your head but Technical Boy stopped you. He pulled them off the bed and stared at you.

You whined, trying to curl up, but the god wasn’t having any of that.

“Y/N, get the fuck up or I swear to God I will throw you over my fucking shoulder,” he said putting his hands on his hips.

You groaned again and flopped to your back. “It’s late.”

“I know,” he said. “Now let’s go.” The tech god pointed at the door.

You sat up, back stiff, and stretched. “Outside?”

He nodded. “I said I’d get you out of here, didn’t I?” Technical Boy smiled before offering you his hand.

The two of you shared a smile. Just as you reached out to take his hand, you remembered World and froze.

“What about--”

“Don’t worry about him,” Technical Boy said. “I’ve got a plan. Right now, we need to go.” He grabbed you and pulled you from the bed.

•

Outside the compound World had been keeping you in, you stared at the night sky. The beautiful blues and blacks melting together, and the points of white stars twinkling high above. You never thought something could be so beautiful. The stars danced in your eyes.

Technical Boy, holding the door to his limo open, stared at you like you stared at the sky.

Feeling his eyes on you, you looked to him and gave him a soft smile.

If it wasn’t so dark, you could have been sure of whether or not he was blushing. Instead, the darkness hid his embarrassment for him as he turned away from you.

“Get in,” he said, gesturing to the limo.

You nodded and walked over. Before you slipped inside the bright automobile, you gently kissed Technical Boy’s cheek.

He stood there for a moment, stunned as the tips of his ears turned pink. Swallowing hard, he gets into the limo, sitting next to you.

•

Standing in the busy airport, you looked around, clutching the carryon bag Technical Boy had packed for you.

Patiently, you waited for the tech god to appear. He had to get some things in order before your departure.

When he did appear, he seemed nervous, scanning the crowd with fearful eyes. He stopped in front of you, still scanning.

You understood his fear. It was a similar kind to what you had felt when you’d run from World.

Gently, you touched his arm, tearing his attention from the crowd. You gave him a gentle smile.

The god softened and weakly smiled back.

“Thank you,” you said.

Technical Boy shrugged, looking down. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is to me.”

•

On the plane, a child kicked your seat from behind and the man at the end of the row was talking loudly on the phone. You felt bad for the grey-clad man sitting between the two of you. He was getting it far worse than you.

Looking away from the commotion, you watched the people outside the plane scramble around and grasped the necklace’s pendant.

You were so close to freedom. Close enough to taste it. Or maybe that was just the aeroplane smell.

Despite still being in the U.S., you smiled. Even if the plane crashed, you wouldn’t be stuck with World. Even if the plane gets redirected somewhere or there’s a storm and the plane has to make a landing, you could still stay away from World long enough to get another ticket out of here. It would be a terrifying ordeal, but you could do it. Even if, worst comes to worst, World finds out and finds you again, you knew you could find a way out of his grasps again.

And if none of that comes to pass, you leave the U.S. for good, and never see anyone here again, you knew you could be happy. Maybe find someone to settle down with or get an animal or something. Maybe find a good job that you can mostly enjoy that isn’t totally soul-crushing. Maybe, if you’re really lucky, you can get a few hobbies that bring you joy like nothing ever could.

If you’re lucky that is, but you’ve never really been that lucky. Who knows? Maybe that will change.