September Writing Challenge: One Wish

[Sean *]

It's writing challenge time! To enter, just post a ficlet (300-4000 words suggested) in this thread. When the voting for this month's OTM winners comes around, a voting poll will go up for this as well.

The Challenge: Your character makes one wish and it comes true. Be it on a star, on a candle, or through some other method. Whether the wish comes true with no strings attached is up to you.

The rules:

• Characters must be in Hammel canon, but the ficlets are not site canon unless expressly stated, and anything setting-breaking will not be site canon regardless.
  
• Entries must be more than 300 words.
  
• You can enter no more than three ficlets. Any ficlets posted after the original 3 will not be considered for voting. If you want to post more, however, have fun.
  
• Ficlets must be titled.

[Adaryn Breslin]

The Price of Love
Taken Place: Early December 2013


Trigger Warning:// Self Harm & mentioning of blood

Word Count: 3356 (sorry not sorry)

Tears falling down the cheeks of a teenage girl as she stared at the pool of her own blood, and then up her eyes trailed to find the source - Her arm, coated in the iron based substance, dripping down freely. Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she tried to figure out what exactly to do with the scene before her. Her mother had just called explaining that she was no longer wanted in the most casual tone possible, as if it were nothing more than saying the day of the week. She had been ignoring Monroe, and the idea of that blonde girl Eloise falling in love with Monroe caused her head, heart, and stomach to spin simultaneously. Surely Mr. Meian would be looking for her by now, but even so, she couldn’t help but let out a strangled scream that had been building up within her for the past fifteen minutes.

“Why don't you love me!”

Because really, that’s all she ever wanted. Adaryn Breslin didn’t want to be the outcasted daughter that killed her sister. Adaryn Breslin didn’t want to be the girl who was on Hammel Campus the entire year because her parents didn’t want her. Adaryn Breslin didn’t want to be the girl that wouldn’t be able to watch her little sister grow up. Adaryn Breslin wanted to be the girl with the normal family that cared for her as much as she cared for them. But that initial strength she had when yelling had left her, and she crumpled to the ground, clutching her arm to her shirt for dear life as she waited for one of two things to happen: Either she'd die, or somebody came to save her. In that moment, she wished it were the former. “I wish you loved me…” She whispered just as the door was forced open and a panicked figure approached her with a desperate haste.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Waking up, Addie found herself in a purple room with light, whimsical sketches taped to the wall. To her left, she realized as she regained coherency, was a small bear with her name stitched into the shirt and her bedsheet was littered with purple flowers. Purple Flowers. That Bear. A sudden burst of energy propelled her upwards, noting how she somehow found herself in her home bedroom as opposed to the bed that she had fell asleep in prior. Her mother, after what was said on the phone, wouldn’t want her anywhere near her house, so why was she here?

The Brunette pulled herself towards the mirror reluctantly, but she had to figure out whether or not it was a dream. But as she looked in the mirror, she was absolutely stunned to see what she had; the scars that once littered her arms - gone. The fresh wound the she had inflicted on herself not too long ago - nonexistent. She knew this because she was wearing a pink tanktop with matching pajama bottoms. Was this a dream? A sick, twisted dream that was trying to give her what she desired most and then take it away from her once she started feeling whole again?

Adaryn searched the room for what she owned and it seemed, much to her surprise, that everything that she owned was in the room. Her clothes, cardigans and all, within her drawers, and her art supplies in the color coordinated bins that her mother always insisted on her having: blue for pastels, orange for pencils, red for paints, etc. Why was this all here? she wondered, but then she heard the door open.

“Oh Addie, you’re awake.”

That voice. It was… The 16 year old spun around and saw the figure that she hadn’t seen for months staring at her with a gentle smile that reached her eyes instead of the blank stare or intense glare that she usually wore. “How are you feeling, Princess?” Princess? When was the last time… Addie couldn’t breathe then, a feeling of sudden fear and helplessness overwhelming her. Where was she? Why was this dream doing this? It had to be a dream, but Adaryn couldn’t help but wonder why it didn’t feel like a dream. There was always something off about the worlds she conjured up in her head, but as she looked around the room and back at the figure in the doorway, she found there was nothing that presented itself as altered except the situation at hand. Her mother was speaking and smiling at her.

“Addie? Are you okay?” It was then that Adaryn’s mother, the nearly identical looking brunette, took a few steps forward and Adaryn responded by taking several steps backwards, effectively bumping into her nightstand and knocking over the lamp that sat unfortunately close to the edge of the small surface. It was then that Addie noted the concern on her mother’s face, and she watched as the woman’s hand retracted in response.

“Do I need to get your father? Are you feeling really ill?”

She was still there. It was as if this woman, after two years of ignoring her entire existence, actually cared about her. What could she say? What could she do in such a situation? Answer her question, maybe, would be the most logical path to take, but after going years without saying anything other than “okay,” and “goodbye,” anything else didn’t seem like an option.

“Okay then, just lay back down? I’ll see about a doctors appointment on monday, but I’ll let you relax this weekend. I can watch Carly.” The woman looked as if she started to approach Adaryn, much to the Empath's horror, but she seemed to pull back at the last moment and turn the other way, exiting the room with a gentle click of the door.

She leaped for her bag in her panic, searching for her phone. Monroe… Monroe… Monroe… Where was his number? It wasn’t there! Maybe she had deleted it in her hysteria? But why would she do that? Even though she was angry at him, there wasn’t anything that would make her delete his number. Her eyes scanned through the contacts once again, but there was no one that she recognized except her parents numbers. Suddenly a message flashed on the screen, and Adaryn found herself even more confused than before.

New Message: Lily
Heya girly, hope you’re feeling better today. Yesterday wasn’t the same without you.

Who the hell was Lily?

The idea of being enclosed in her childhood bedroom was causing her such anxiety, and she noted how the purple walls were the equivalent to the red she was so afraid of. To add to that, not knowing where Monroe’s number went, who this ‘Lily’ was, and why she was texting Adaryn was beginning to cause her such panic, she started to feel the walls start to enclose in on her. She had to get out of there. The only issue was the fact that Adaryn’s mother had said that it was a saturday, and therefore school wouldn’t be in session. Maybe she could sneak out and see if she could head over on the bus to go to Hammel? It made no sense why she wasn’t in her own dorm, but then again nothing was making sense in this dream of hers. Absolutely no sense. Maybe this was when the dream started to go sour? Where her parents laughed and kept her hostage, saying she deserved everything she received. While nothing about this situation settled well in the depths of the Empath's chest, her curiosity ate at her. Maybe her mom really did care? Was it so sick that Adaryn wanted to be proved wrong so she figured everything was back to normal, while another half of her wanted so desperately for all of this to be real; Addie wanted the buzzing concern that her mother wore when looking at her to be real. With a nearly crippling hesitance, Addie decided to change into a set of acceptable clothing - including a cardigan out of comfort rather than necessity at this point- and walked out of the bedroom, meeting the unfamiliar familiarity with a held breath. Walls of pictures lined the staircase, pictures of herself, Carly, Louise, and her parents all smiling happily. Nearest to that photo was an individual photo of Louise, the caption reading 'Always in our Hearts', and Addie ran past it. This was it. This was when it was going to turn sour, she thought to herself as she neared the bottom of the stairs and was met with the smell of lemon.

Lemon White Chocolate Cookies.

Her favorite.

Her mom always used to make them on Saturdays, along with chocolate chip for Louise and Carly and Oatmeal Raisin for her father. Addie held her breath as she neared the smell, walking past the old dining room table that she used to scribble on when she was five. The memories all flooded back to her then; her father used to joke that Addie would be the greatest table artist the world ever saw, and she would just ignore him, continuing with her pictures of poorly drawn ponies and flowers. The Brunette always pitched a fit when he cleaned them off, but would feel satisfied when he told her she could just draw another one. Her hand traced her seat, the one she always sat in when she lived there, and felt her chest tighten. She missed this. She wanted this back. Even though they moved houses so Addie could attend Hammel and still live at home, the decorations were the same - the furniture was the same, and it brought her back to a time when everything was okay, when Addie was happy and had an actual family.

The Empath peered over into the kitchen area through the archway, watching as her mother moved about the kitchen, humming to herself with a air of slight worry but overall satisfaction. Mesmerized, Adaryn tried to engrain the image of the woman she grew up with in her mind permanently, hoping that she would be able to see that woman whenever she reverted back to the hatred or indifference, whichever she decided to use on that particular day. Addie wanted to remember her mother in her favorite floral patterned t-shirt and jeans, smiling at her with love. The more she thought, the more she lost concentration on remaining hidden, finding herself stunned once again when she heard her mother speak up.

“Someone seems really eager to have her favorite cookies.” And that was when she saw her mother turn to her with a legitimate smile, amusement trickling throughout her aura. Adaryn looked around for a moment before opening her mouth to speak, no words coming out. When it came to this, she honestly didn’t know how to respond. This was just so strange, and she didn’t know if she liked it.

“M-me?” Addie pointed to herself, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Carly isn’t in the room, is she? Of course I mean you, Princess. I thought you were going to rest?”

She looked around then, hoping to find Carly somewhere in the general vicinity of her; it had been so long since she could see her younger sister, and she missed her dearly. Did Carly even remember her after so long being apart? But currently, she was faced with responding to her mother and was unsure on how to do so. Should she? Would she even listen? “I- I have to go back to school,” she blurted out.

Confusion immediately replaced the amusement, and Adaryn watched as her mother’s brow raised, mimicking her own confusion. This had to be when everything went sour, when her mother started yelling. It had to be. But instead of being proved right, she was surprised to be proven wrong. “But it’s a Saturday, Addie. Did you forget something?” No yelling. No reprimanding. No indifference. What?

“M-my sketchbook. I left my sketchbook. Uh,” What kind of lie was she going to tell in order to get out? And then it hit her, “Lily told me she had it, and you know I can’t live without my sketchbook. I need to go back… I can take the bus though, so you don’t have to.” She added the last part hastily, but her mother simply laughed at Addie.

“Number one, you’re sick so I won’t be letting you walk to the bus stop in this weather. Number two, I’d never let you take the bus anyway. Your dad can take you, but I want you to come right back. You and Lily have a habit of talking more than you should when you get together.” There was no arguing or keeping her hostage, there was nothing that would indicate this would take a turn for the worst. In fact, when her mother told her father that she needed to go back to school for a bit, he didn’t say much. That was, until she had gotten in the car with him and he started talking about the dangers of driving in snow and ice and how she always had to be careful. He said he was ‘preparing’ her to drive, but she couldn’t respond to him. It was just so nice to hear his voice again talking to her like a father would, rather than just an expense.
By the time Adaryn had gotten out of the car, she found herself half smiling, actually finding herself enjoying the conversation she had with her father. It had been so long, and she actually felt like he loved her, even after what she had done.

But he wasn't who Adaryn wanted to see. Addie wanted to see Monroe and tell him what had just happened with her and how her parents suddenly started to love her again - that they suddenly started to care. She also wanted to apologize for ignoring him for so long; the fact that she had done so made her felt awful and she really did miss the sleep deprived, combat boot wearing boy of her dreams, as much as it made her blush with embarrassment to think about it.

She knew the dorms from one end to the other, in and out, all the hidden spots and crevices because of her social anxiety and her inability to control her power, so finding Monore's dorm wasn't a problem. A few turns and a scaling up a staircase and she stood in front of the designated dorm, her hand knocking quickly against the wooden door. She hadn't expected for him to open the door as quickly as he did, but his sleepy expression was familiar in this time of unfamiliarity.

"Monroe," She breathed, but there was something wrong with him. Yes he was holding a coffee cup in his hand as he looked at her through shaggy, uncombed hair, but he was confused, Addie could feel that aura, but for the moment Addie blamed it on the fact that she had ignored him for so long. That is, until he spoke up.

"Uh, Yeah?" A yawn escaped his mouth, and Adaryn suuddenly felt very nervous about the lack of recognition in his eyes. He looked confused, yes, but he didn't look hurt, or happy, or even mad. He just looked confused

"I- I uh wanted to tell you I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ignore you."

"Ignore me? I don't even know you." He looked at her, and his gaze seemed very uncomfortable then. But of course Monroe knew her - he went looking for her after her dream. He saved her, so how couldn't he know her? He had to.

"I know you're mad, but do-" Adaryn started desperately, but his voice interjected with a sleepy yawn.

"I can't be mad if I never met you before. I mean, maybe you got the wrong Monroe or something?"

But this was the Monroe that she knew. The one that was always half asleep and sometime seemed like he didn't care about the things around him because he was so damn tired; he was the Monroe who always had a coffee in his hands and wore his combat boots with a religious determination that always had Addie smiling. But for her to know him, and him not even acknowledge her existant, well, it made her want to cry.

"It's Addie. Remember my dream? You saved me... and y-you kissed me. That's why I got mad... Monroe, please tell me you remember. Please don't do this." Adaryn always felt that this dream would go wrong, and little did she realize that it wouldn't be her mother or father who crushed her heart within their able hands, but it was Monroe. Monroe.

"I'm -uh- sorry Addie, but I've been in a lot of dreams. Kind of goes with my power. That and the insomnia, which sucks and it makes me need coffee all the time..." He sort of rambled, but then the pieces started to come together then.

"You don't remember the maze? You were telling me my dream wasn't real... It was a horrible nightmare, but you ended up finding me in the maze and you talked me through it. You saved me, remember?" But she had a feeling she knew the answer to that question - he didn't. Why? She wasn't too sure, but she had a feeling that it had to do with the wish she made not too long ago, right before Mr. Meian found her and right before she woke up to find herself sleeping in her own bed. There were no scars, and there was no need to actually go and hide away from all that there was.

"What maze? I don't know what you're talking about, and you're basically starting to freak me out. Look, I don't know you. I'm sorry."

But at that moment, she knew something had changed. Something really major. Something that she couldn't even begin to imagine or understand in that moment. Monroe didn't know her because in whatever this was, she never had that dream because she had always been with her parents, therefore those thoughts didn't exist. Right? So if she never had that dream, did that mean she never met him before? Did that mean she never met Eloise or AJ or any of that?

Who was that Lily girl, or rather, any of the contacts in her phone? In this dream world or whatever it was, was she a more social individual than who she was in the actual world? Did that mean there was a possibility of knowing Eloise? But was the price for her parents actually caring the loss of Monroe? Because if that were the case, was it really worth it? But that question caught her off guard because everything she ever wanted revolved around getting her family back, but she never realized she could lose anything else - that she could lose anybody else - in the world without her parents. She was obviously wrong, because the lack of recognition in Monroe's eyes hurt just as bad as the hatred in her mother's.

He had been there when she hadn't, so why did she wish for her mother so much more?

But instead of asking these questions out loud, she looked up at Monroe with an apologetic look; whether he knew her or not, Addie wasn't going to let him see her cry again. It was enough the first time. "Well, I'm sorry then. I guess it was the wrong person." She said in almost a dismissive tone, but she knew that he was amazed by the sudden change. Monroe shrugged.

"Yeah, sorry about that I guess. But, uh, hope you find who you were looking for?"

"Mhmm," She said, her phone starting to ring as she turned.

"Addie, have your sketchbook?"

"Yeah dad, I'll be right out."

[Gryphon Matsuoka]

Invisible.
Trigger Warning: Mentions of stillbirth.
Also semi-serious warning: This will get cheesy. Apologies. Blame Gryph.
Word Count: 2190

Gryphon was in an odd mood again. His mood had gone from content, to neutral, to slightly detached and now he found himself looking at that necklace. A piece of designed, moulded metal which was able to stir up the rawest emotions in his core. He had considered, in the past, wearing it regularly, for the sake of keeping a part of his mom close to his heart, even if that was some cheesy shit. Maybe it would help.

But if he couldn’t look at it without choking up slightly, wearing it would be a nightmare that no one should be burdened with. Besides, it was less likely to get lost or damaged if he just kept it safe, in his drawer.

His eyes flickered over and around the design as he sat cross-legged on his chair, in deep thought. Can you hear me, mom? He mused, inwardly, Because I can’t tell if I’m actually talking to you or if I’m just talking to myself anymore. He sighed and frowned.

There was so much he missed out on, as a kid. His idea of a family was corrupted. He had an idea of what it should be like - loving and accepting parents, honest people who were caring and kind. Who could understand your pain and patch you up when you fell down. People who loved you, and looked at you like you were one in a million, because… well, you were. One in a seven billion, or thereabouts. Maybe that description was an idea of narcissism, but it was solely revolving around the fact that a child should be treated like a piece of glass. If the glass chipped, you could fix it, if you did it correctly, with the proper care, and it would be like it never happened.

But if you dropped the glass, it would shatter. You could try to put it back together, but you would easily see the cracks from the past, and all those little missing shards which just seemed to disappear once the damage was done. Gryphon felt like a piece of dropped glass, put back together by Fiona in the best way possible. But he was damaged, even if he didn’t show it.

Generally, he didn’t feel it anyway. He was too distracted with his happiness and his optimism to think on his past problems too much, and that wasn’t bravery or some huge act. His brightness was real. But it could easily just take one thought at the moment for him to become muted. A thought of his passed mother, his ignorant and deceiving father, his childhood. The number of times he had screwed up, or could have done better.

He would be fine. He was just trying his best to get over dwelling on the past.

In his current situation, however, he couldn’t help but want a true parental figure to reach out to. Fiona was very busy at the moment, and disturbing her would be extremely inconsiderate. His father was part of the problem, and he hated the idea of even trying to keep a civil conversation with him. And Dorotheé wasn’t family. Never was, never had been.

Gryphon closed his eyes and kissed the charm, I wish you were here, he thought, just as a silent message, no matter how sincere it was, I wish you didn’t have to die. He sighed and curled up a little in his chair, pulling his knees into his chest.

And then it all went blank.

-------------

Kodi woke up with a jolt, feeling a little jarred from the haunting nightmare he had just experienced. He didn't want to think about it. But he knew what he did want to think about - or more rather, who. It wasn't exactly early so the dentokinetic grabbed his phone to text or call Gryph or something.

But his number wasn't there anymore. Kodi frowned - maybe it was a glitch. He needed to make sure he had it written down somewhere for future reference. For now, he would just go over. Knowing Gryphon, he'd be fine with him just turning up. He usually was, anyway.

The journey to his apartment took as long as always, and he say impatiently on the bus, waiting, waiting, waiting to get there. Once he was at the right stop, he hopped off and got to Gryph's apartment, quickly scaling the stairs and knocking on the door.

But a stranger answered him. "...hello?" They asked, confused. But not as confused as Kodi was. Had he gotten the wrong room somehow? He was certain this was the right place.

"...did you just move in?" He asked, bluntly. The man frowned at him, "No, I've been here for a while. What do you want?"

"...never mind." Without any kind of farewell to the stranger, Kodi walked away and began checking the room numbers... but it was definitely Gryph's place. Well, it was, before, somehow.

This was crazy. Was this some kind of joke? Even that dumb whore wasn't about. What was going on?

He made his way back to Hammel, extremely confused. He couldn't contact his boyfriend, because all of his contact details seemed to have disappeared. He couldn't find him anywhere, and he hadn't said anything. This made no sense, and he was beginning to panic. What if something had happened to him...?

He got back and sighed - okay, if anyone would know where he was, it would be that pixie bitch. Kodi bit his tongue, annoyed that he was going to have to resort to this.

------

"Gryphon Matsuoka?" Phoenix frowned, tugging at his sleeves, bewildered by how Kodi was acting. Maybe he really was insane...? "I don't know anyone called Gryphon. Why would I...?" Kodi seemed almost certain that he would know. What made him so sure? "...are you playin' a joke on me?" That seemed to be the only reason that made any sense.

But the logic was elsewhere for Kodi, "I wouldn't fuckin' joke about him. Where the hell is he?" He demanded, angrily.

Phen jolted a little at the increased aggression, "I-I swear, I don't even know who you're talkin' about." Kodi growled in his worried rage and turned around, stomping away. How the fuck could this happen?! It made no sense at all!

...maybe it was his Dad. That was possible. But he didn't even know his fucking name and he lived in Seattle. Plus, that didn't explain why there was some random dick in Gryph's apartment.

Still, it would be worth a try.

He went back to his own room and loaded up the white pages, typing in Gryph's surname. One that seemed likely was Meong Matsuoka, given the location and the Korean origin of the forename. Kodi pressed the number into his phone and put it to his ear, all kinds of nervous.

"Hello, speaking?"

"Um... I'm Kodi. Do you... know where Gryphon is?"

There was a bit of a pause, and he heard the man on the other end take a breath, "I hope this isn't a prank call, son."

"No, no it's not!" He said, completely serious and completely freaking out, "Gryphon Matsuoka, your son, do you know where he is?"

The man paused again, before he heard him shout something, a name, that he couldn't quite work out. He seemed to have covered the speaker. After a few more moments, he heard a muffled conversation, followed by a female voice, "Hello, young man?"

This was strange... "...hello?"

"How did you find out about Gryphon?" She asked, seemingly upset, from the tone of her voice.

Kodi was extremely confused, "He's... he's my boyfriend."

She made a noise of exasperation, "You must be mistaken. Have you got the wrong number?"

The dentokinetic backtracked a little, "You said you know a Gryphon?"

"Knew." The woman corrected, slowly, "I... knew a Gryphon Matsuoka."

Knew?

"Gryphon... Gryphon was my stillborn child."

What?

No. No, no, no...

"...w-what's your name?"

There was a little pause, before; "Philippa. Philippa Anderson-Matsuoka. Why do you ask?"

Kodi almost broke down on the spot. He hung up and shook his head, standing up and pacing - he couldn't have just been a figment of him imagination. No, they went through so much together, it couldn't have all just been a stupid dream or something. He couldn't have not existed.

...maybe that was why he always seemed so perfect. Because he was too good to actually be true. But... he had to be true. He touched him, felt his body, spoke to him, felt emotions because of him. He loved him.

Gryphon...

Kodi felt his eyes grow damp and sniffed. Why, why did this have to happen? Was it just living torture? Some kind of pre-emptive punishment from God, for being as fucked up as he was?

Or maybe this was a dream? A horrible, cruel dream that he could wake up from and see Gryph again and cherish him that much more. He couldn't lose him.

He began to cry. Could you lose something that was never there? He lay down on his bed, clutching onto a pillow and just wishing, wishing that it would turn into Gryphon, or that he would come back. He shook in his sadness. He just didn't know what to do. It wasn't fair, he had someone, finally, he had someone, someone amazing and gorgeous and selfless and perfect, and he never even existed. That wasn't fair.

He cried for a while. Just lay there and sobbed, alone, still confused and very much torn up. Eventually, he fell asleep.

---------

"Kodi."

The dentokinetic jolted and opened his eyes at the voice. No, he thought, don't do this to me, I've already been tortured enough.

"Kodi, look at me."

He rolled over in the direction of the voice. And it was definitely him. Kodi stood up quickly and went over towards him, but as he reached out to embrace him, it seemed there was some kind of barrier in the way.

Gryph looked at him with sympathetic eyes, "I'm sorry." He said, clearly upset at himself.

Kodi leaned against the invisible wall, looking up at him, "Why, what... what happened? I was sure you were real."

"I was." He replied, fiddling with the sleeves of his long white shirt, "...I made a wish." He explained, "I... I wished that my mother didn't have to die." The winged boy looked down, "I didn't realise that it would actually work, but... you know how the universe is. A... A life for a life."

Kodi looked at him helplessly, "...no. There has t'be a way for you t'come back. You can't... you can't leave me." He felt his eyes go sore again, "How come I'm the only one who can remember you?"

Gryphon paused, not sure if he should reveal the answer. But in the end, he did, "Apparently... you are my actual soulmate. And I'm yours. At least, that's what I've been told. Even if you lead a different life now, where... where I never existed, and never will, the connection between us is strong enough to keep me in your memory." Gryph felt his own tears begin to fall, when he saw Kodi's, "I'm so... so sorry for doing this to you."

The world seemed to fade a little. Gryphon panicked, "I love you so much, but don't waste your life being upset. I'll always watch down on you, and wait for you. I'll make sure you join me again. I'm going to miss you so much." He said, taking a shaky breath as the world dissolved even more. Kodi was waking up. "I won't get to see you again, after this, I don't think, so don't forget me. Or do, if that's easier. Either way, I'm going to give you something. You can keep it or do whatever, but it's my little piece of me, to you."

Kodi cried, holding his hand against the flat surface that separated them, "D-Don't go. Please, don't go." He said. Gryphon placed his hand opposite Kodi's and smiled sadly, "I'll always be with you, in spirit, I promise. I love you."

Kodi choked a little, "I l-love you too."

He just about caught the last blink of happiness in Gryph's eyes before the space went black.

-------

Kodi woke up, in his bed, alone. It looked like it was midnight. He could remember every single detail of his dream, like a true memory. That alone made him increasingly happy and mournful at the same time. But he said... Gryph said he would give him something.

The blonde boy looked around rapidly, until his eyes fell on something that sparkled a little in the moonlight. He almost smiled - it seemed like something Gryphon would plan. Something so ridiculously cheesy, straight out of a romance novel.

He stood up, shaking, and picked up the gift. It was a necklace, a pair of wings. He looked at the charm and rubbed his thumb over the detail, before turning it over. There was an engraving, in Gryph's handwriting.

Your Moron <3

Kodi smiled sadly, closing his hand around the charm, holding it to his chest. He shuffled back onto his bed and closed his eyes, sighing.

"I wish you didn't have to die."

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Rocks on the Ocean
Word Count: 1119

Some days were worse than others; control was always needed, but so rarely was it ever completely achievable for Penelope. There was always something that would breach past her mentality with a brush of contact. And sometimes it wouldn’t stop.

It was the middle of the week. Middle of the day. She was in class. The psychometrist herself forced her to go – if the Australian were to ever graduate, she needed to at least be present for them. As tempting as it was to ask her to stay, Penny couldn’t. And now she was there. Alone. Without her own classes or training, the Brit stayed confined to her dormitory.

It started with an attempt to clean – the Brit’s ritual of scrubbing down every inch of the common room area and her own personal living space. Her fingers curled around a freshly bought rag – never daring to use the same one twice, because despite the waste of material, it wasn’t worth the memory relapse of using the same one multiple times.

Still, there it was, attached to the strands of fabric as her grip tightened around it. There was always something.

A woman. A mother. Penelope took in a breath – her breath – as she ran thumb over the material. Although contemplating to buy it or not, her mind wasn’t focused on it. Instead, Penelope felt focus drawn to her hands. How worn they looked. How incredibly tired she felt. The life of a single working mother. Her grip tightened on the material before she put it back on the shelf.

A half second. It was all it took. No time had passed, but she couldn’t total up the amount of time it felt to her. Of exactly how much time had passed living in other people’s heads. Days? Weeks? Maybe more. It was impossible to tell, and with a short breath the psychometrist dismissed the thought.

She just couldn’t think about it.

Still, she moved forward, refusing to a single memory deter her. If that had ever been the case, the Brit would never accomplish anything. She moved to the counter, pressing the chemical soaked rag against the space, starting in the corners where nobody seemed to notice the grime that lived there but Penelope herself.

An arm brushed the hardened surface and the rag disappeared from her hands in an instant. Instead, a palm was pressed to the countertop, nails drumming against it as she waited for her herbal tea to finish steeping. Olivia Baker never quite remembered just how long to let different teas stay before she pulled the bag from the hot water, so she looked down at it. Did it look ready? She thought it did.

Penelope blinked as she quickly drew herself away from the counter, dropping the rag as she brought her hands to herself. It was a silly mistake – a moment of weakness in her memory based ability. With another breath and she clenched her jaw, annoyance over her own stupidity. Touching anything needed a moment’s thought – a second dedicated to pushing away the memory that threatened to invade her body.

But twice now. And as the clothes shifted against her skin, the Brit felt another wave hit her. A memory of herself. Picking out clothes best suited for the day. When she drew herself out of the moment, Penelope rolled her shoulders back, straightening her posture. Tension built up her spine, spreading to her neck as she hesitated, fingers twitching before she reached for the rag. Another memory burned her fingertips, the familiar headache shooting through her temples as she fought it, and quickly she made the move to throw it in the trash. Brand new. And wasted. It hardly felt like it mattered.

Touching nothing was impossible, and so Penelope continued her attempt to clean, instead focusing on the jacket tossed across the couch. And again, as her fingertips brushed the surface, she felt the oncoming memory shoot up her arm. It tensed, as she squeezed her eyes shut, losing the inevitable battle.

Because in the next moment, she was sitting. Or rather he was sitting. A pizza box resting on his lap. “Did someone order pizza with extra sausage?” The voice she recognized. Lucas. He shrugged his shoulders looking over at Olivia, who seemed alarmed over his presence. What? It was a joke.

The onslaught of memories came like the never fading tide. Each wave hitting the shore of her mentality with every single touch. These days were the worse – and the person who grounded her remained in class, and Penelope wasn’t about to pull her from it.

How much time – actual time – passed, Penelope wasn’t sure. Looking at a clock hardly felt like an option as she slowly made her way back to her dorm. Every point of contact throwing her into a different mind. Her limbs ached as she stripped the sheets from her bed, breath short as she changed into clothes not worn for months.

Wishing was a game of fools; it did nothing to change the stars in the sky. Penelope never saw the point, but still, every single day of her life there would be a moment where she would make a wish. The same one. Every day. And this was no exception, but maybe on those particular days when control was impossible she wished harder.

Because she woke. The headache that seared her temples faded as she felt the familiar hand brush through her hair. Dark eyes opened to meet a concerned expression. Psychometry never stopped her from reaching out to her. And as her fingers curled tightly around the material of Lucy’s shirt, she took in a sharp breath.

There was nothing. The familiar burn in her fingertips wasn’t there. Only the material that brushed against them.

“Hey.” They Australian’s accent filled Penny’s mind as she pushed herself up. The palm that pressed to the mattress only felt exactly that. Again. Nothing else. She couldn’t recall the last time she truly felt something without the sensation. And there wasn’t an answer for it, but she just knew. It was unexplainable to understand how she knew. But she simply did.

“It’s gone.” She breathed, eyes widening with the realization as it passed her lips.

Lucy was short to follow. Her eyebrows lowered in confusion. The little information given to her made it impossible to piece anything together. “What’s gone?”

Penny’s hand tightened on the shirt she held, as if it were to prove her point. Still, she knew it wasn’t enough. And for once she could finally use the term she always hated saying. “The psychometry.” She tried, “It’s…gone.”

And as she looked back to Lucy’s expression, the concern never faded with her realization.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Hearts and Bones

To resume old acquaintances,
And step out occasionally,
And speculate who had been damaged the most.
Easy time will determine if these consolations
Will be their reward.

The day had been long and exhausting. Sean had barely had time to decompress between sessions, had barely found time to leave his office for a cup of coffee or a bathroom break between meetings and obligations. The psychiatrist had been called in early, because one of the new students suffered from night terrors. From there, his day had seen snowballing obligations: medication adjustments for two students, a long joint session with Oriel and Phoenix, his individual meeting with Oriel for his anger management, three back-to-back disciplinary meetings because of a fight in the cafeteria, and capped off with a staff meeting.

This served as a cap to a hectic and exhausting week. With only a month and a half left before Election Day, Josh’s campaign was in full swing. Nearly every night, the attorney had an event: a debate, a meet-and-greet, a speech, an appearance at a social or economic justice roundtable...the list went on. As Joshs’ campaign manager and his spouse, Sean’s presence at such events was both necessary and expected.

Those events came with a cost. Josh found himself inundated with questions and comments, and the telepath saw precious little of his partner during these interludes. By the time they returned home, one or both of them was exhausted, which led to going to bed immediately, if they were lucky. If not, they had work to do before they could retire for the night.

It had been weeks since they had last been intimate in a material way. Sean coped with that and did not pressure, nag, or guilt his partner in any fashion. After all, he understood being busy and having other priorities. He knew how Josh became when stressed, and this was so important to the attorney; he had put so much energy into the campaign and his platform.

There had also been the incident with Edgar Alegria, which had snowballed. Edgar belonged to PUSE, and, as with all members of that hate group disguised as a political action committee, he harbored strong metaphobic beliefs. Like many people, even those who were meta-human themselves, he harbored additional anti-psychic bias. Josh had been taken aback by Edgar’s questions and allegations about Sean’s scruples.

The telepath had taken the entire incident with the same stoicism that saw him through most trying experiences.

However, the situation had not ended there.

Instead, Josh had been upset, and he had spent the entire evening after they had returned home from that meet and greet expressing his disapproval of Edgar’s attitudes. Further, he remarked no fewer than five times that he didn’t understand what caused people to behave to rudely and with such distrust towards telepaths. That he could not understand how anti-psychic bias could be so widespread and blatant.

There was something about having someone rant about his life experiences to him that was at once both surreal and frustrating. Particularly since Sean had spoken to Josh about anti-psychic bias before.

Of course, that had then motivated his partner to do something about it, which then included new speeches and new policies. The telepath found himself as a test audience more often than not, and he was thrust into the rumor mill even more often than usual.

He was exhausted.

When Sean returned home, Josh’s bicycle was nowhere to be found. There was a voicemail on his cell phone, alerting him to the fact that the attorney had to stay late at work and then was meeting with Russell regarding campaign finance. For once, the telepath’s appearance was unnecessary. Unfortunately, Josh had no estimate for what time he would get home.

So he was exhausted and alone. Just as he had felt for quite some time.

After the day that he’d had, he lacked the energy to cook. Instead, he popped some leftover takeout (they had been eating out more due to Josh’s campaign schedule) into the microwave, and then brought that and a glass of wine out onto the porch.

Vermont in autumn was crisp, clear, and beautiful. Breathing the fresh air, looking up at the night sky, and sipping wine helped him to decompress. He only needed to make it through the next month and a half, and then the election would be over. Then it would be only another month until Hammel’s winter recess began, and that involved a month of vacation for himself; Josh would take a couple of weeks off for the holidays, and everything would be fine. They could start fresh in January.

Unless Josh won his town council position. At which point the lifestyle changes would be semi-permanent.

Semi-permanent because Josh would have to run for office periodically, but Pilot Ridge functioned like many small towns; once someone rose to local office, they stayed until they retired or were forced out for misconduct. Josh would never engage in misconduct. Which mean that there would be late-night council meetings and political functions and life with increased scrutiny. It would mean having to assure everyone else of his good will and ethics, reliving an argument that he and his sister had started eleven years ago, and which he could never win, no matter how many reassurances he offered.

Still, he hoped that Josh won office, for his sake as well as for local political reasons.

He simply wished that he had someone in his life who understood what it felt to be singled out in this way for his powers. He wished that he had someone to help fill the void that Josh’s campaign created. He wished that he did not have to be a role model for everyone all of the time.

Light streaked across the sky. Perhaps it was a shooting star.

Whatever it was, Sean raised his wine glass in a silent toast.

***********************************

Saturdays were always busy for the Neville-Bernstein family. Josh had temple, and Sean ran errands during that time. That afternoon, there was a round-table discussion about town policy and possible meta-human anti-discrimination laws. PUSE promised to be there to offer their opinions, as well as to protest. Several students and staff from Hammel had promised to counter-protest.

At some point, Josh was to meet his mother for supper. Sean was not expected to make an appearance.

For that, the telepath was grateful. Not because of any dislike for Mama B (he was quite fond of the older woman) or because of judgment of his relationship with Josh (she had come around in the nearly two years since her son had come out to her and explained his relationship with Sean). Instead, he simply needed a break from being on.

It would be nicer if Josh could spend the evening home with him, but Sean would cope with that.

By the time they arrived at town hall for the round table discussion, Sean even looked forward to it.

True to form, some of the members of PUSE stood outside of the building with signs and pamphlets explaining their point of view. Explaining why meta-humans were dangerous and why metas required no legal protections when they already had the upper-hand due to their powers.

Several students stood on the other side of the building with homemade signs. Accompanied by several staff members, including Devon Wentsworth and Cee Cohen, who was not even meta-human, and also Roman Tilford, who did not work at Hammel. Fortunately, Chase Campbell was nowhere in sight, as that would open a fresh can of worms that nobody present wanted to deal with.

Remle Boyd was there on behalf of the radio station. “Mister Bernstein?” She queried, hurrying to fall into step with the two men. “Would you like to make a statement?”

“Of course.” Josh stopped in his tracks, causing Sean to stop as well. The telepath tried not to look around, but Cee waved at him enthusiastically, and so the psychiatrist forced a smile.

“The fact that there are this many protestors for what should be a simple civil rights issue underscores how deeply necessary such legislation is.” The attorney then reached out to rest his hand on Sean’s shoulder. “My partner has legal protections for being in a relationship with me but not for being himself. There’s something deeply wrong with that, and it’s our obligation to fix it.” It was almost inspiring how well Josh took to the role of politician, with his ideals, his legal training, and his extroversion.

“And Doctor Neville, is there anything you’d like to say?”

The telepath forced another smile. “Josh is the lawyer in the family, so he has a better background in the nitty-gritty details. But I don’t think that we should even need to vote on civil rights. They should be afforded to us for being fellow human beings.”

“He’s a telepath, you know!” Jeremy Derenstein shouted across the line, causing Sean ti suppress a sigh. Apparently, so did Joe Honnick, who took the younger man aside to lecture him about proper decorum. They shared suspicions of meta-humans, and Joe disliked psychics even more than Jeremy did, but Jeremy was a loose cannon. Joe needed him to behave.

Rather than respond, Sean resumed walking towards the entrance. After another moment with Remle, Josh fell into step behind him.

*****************************

The round table went long, as did the media interviews afterward. Josh had had to rush to his mother’s for supper, and, to save time, Sean had offered to drive him.

It was dark by the time the telepath returned home to their otherwise empty house. Mospy did not count for companionship, as she was Josh’s pet, and Sean had so little interest in, or connection with, animals.

He had a headache, and so he popped two Excedrin pills and opted for the hot tub and Sounds of Silence on CD.

I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship, friendship causes pain.

Before the next verse of “I Am a Rock” began, and before the album reached “Blues Run the Game,” the doorbell rang. Sean cocked his head, listening for thoughts, but could hear none beyond his neighbors going about their evenings. Frowning to himself, he thought perhaps he had imagined it.

It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock.
I am an island.

The doorbell rang again.

Certain that he had heard it this time, Sean climbed from the hot tub. Quickly, he dried off and donned a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, which he covered with his bath robe. After stepping into his slippers, he turned off the CD player and hurried downstairs. He tightened his robe and crossed the foyer before opening the door.

There, he found himself face-to-face with Robert Hopkins.

“Hello, Sean.”

Sean blinked in surprise. This was impossible. Robert had died a decade ago. The telepath had been there for the end of his mentor’s life.

His mentor’s appearance only confirmed that fact. The older telepath wore the same suit in which he had been buried, the one that complemented his eyes. The flesh around his face had receded, and what remained looked leathery and tan. His wisps of white hair stood up in all directions, and his lips had thinned, barely able to hide his teeth, which were yellowed with age and lack of care. His eyes shrank back in their sockets, his eyelids no longer covering them.

Robert did not blink.

Instead, he offered the younger, still living telepath a smile that perhaps was once reassuring but came across as too creepy to describe. “I thought you might be lonely.” He gestured with one bony hand at the door. “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”