▀▀❛samples ⋯ ﹏

[prxm]

self-explanatory

[prxm]

By the end of the gruelling few hours out with the rest of the council, Ryuu had sent a total of 34 messages to Kaito and Shou. Most of the messages were emoticons of frustration and anger, and disjointed sentences. Whether his friends had actually understood what he wrote in his texts, though, was another thing altogether. He had had umpteen struggles with Suzume, but nothing bad enough to warrant real suspicion. Ultimately, as he put his forehead against the food court table, defeated, he found the greatest comfort in Kazune’s words. They were done. It was over. They could leave. “I’m going to head home. I’ll bring the paints to school on Monday,” Ryuu announced in uncharacteristic monotone. There just wasn’t enough energy left for him to say anything else. He just wanted to go home.

--

As he dragged his tired feet up the stairs of his family's mansion, Ryuu couldn’t help but absentmindedly wonder what his friends were doing at that point in time. He hadn’t heard from either of them since the start of the council’s shopping trip. He knew Shou was on a date (which he genuinely hoped was going well) and that Kaito was at a shoot. Glancing at the clock, he noted the time—7:45 PM. He pressed his lips into a hard line, moving into his bedroom and closing the door behind him. His parents weren’t around, as far as he could tell. That was just the way he liked it.

Setting the bags of paint bottles onto his study table, Ryuu switched out his jeans for sweatpants and peeled off his hoodie, hanging it on a hook behind his door. He even opened the window to let in some fresh air. He had considered taking a nap, but he figured it wouldn’t do anything to help him anyway. He’d just sleep earlier that night, he decided, crawling into bed anyway.

Ryuu had recently developed a liking towards scrolling through Kaito’s fan pages for personal entertainment. There was a lot to find amusing when the star was your best friend, he noticed. Most fan posts were kind of rambly and even obsessive, but he did make a mental note of how kind Kaito seemed over the internet.

Emphasis on: seemed.

Ryuu looked up from his phone upon hearing a rustling in the tree outside his window. It wasn’t often that he opened his window, but he knew that it was probably one of the easiest ways to break into the Fujimoto residence. His father had tried to mitigate the possible problems by making the window able to be opened only from inside, but you’d never know.

[******** you, Kaito!” Ryuu groaned, though not without a hint of a laugh in his voice. “You haven’t done that in forever—you almost gave me a heart attack,” he accused pointedly, putting his phone away. His momentary irritation was quickly subdued, though. Kaito’s self-invitation onto his bed was well-received by Ryuu, more interested in the whiskey that he had gotten. He looked over the label and nodded approvingly. “I didn’t think you had the balls to do it,” he laughed, pushing himself up to sit cross-legged on his bed.

Ryuu rolled his eyes at Kaito’s not-so subtle request for dessert, a smirk on his face. He knew Kaito’s habits by now. From what Ryuu understood, dessert was never something on Kaito’s top must-eat lists, just because of the butter and sugar content. Regardless, Ryuu was always up for baking with company.

The smirk dissipated into a curious c**k of an eyebrow at Kaito’s subsequent sentence, though. “What did you even do...?” he asked, almost cautiously. Before waiting for an answer, Ryuu held a hand up, picked up the bottle and started out of his room. “Tell me in the kitchen.”

“Oh, and remember to take off your shoes!”

--

Ryuu had all the ingredients on the kitchen island in no time. He had a notebook in hand, biting down on his lower lip, and eyebrows knitted together in concentration. He had only found the recipe recently, so visualising how everything would happen in succession and the beat he would go along took some time. It was a simple recipe, admittedly, but each recipe had to have its own visual and its own beat.

‘Wiskey-spiked Chocolate Chia Seed Pudding’, he had written at the top of the page.

“Tell me what happened, and I’ll decide if I need to make him some castella cake too,” Ryuu half-joked, already beginning to measure out all the ingredients. As he listened, he had begun to beatbox under his breath too. Loud enough that only he heard, he hoped, not wanting to interrupt Kaito and not wanting to make it seem like he wasn’t listening.

[prxm]

Hiroyuki had to admit—he didn’t really like the attitude the girl was giving him, but he figured she couldn’t be blamed. They weren’t friends in any sense of the word, or even acquainted. He should never have even begun to expect courtesy from her after the way he snidely responded to her in the first place. Regardless, they both seemed to not be in the mood for casual chit-chat with strangers at 3 in the morning, so he wasn’t going to fight that.

Shrugging his shoulders, he set the skateboard down onto the floor, left leg set atop the board, right leg poised to kick off. It was about time that he headed home anyway. His mother would ask...

Yeah, right.

“Actually, I’m having a bad night too. So let me borrow this.”

Before Hiro had any time to react, the skateboard was snatched from his hands and flung across the pipe. He blinked in surprise, but let her do what she wanted. He wasn’t confrontational, and she seemed like she was the kind to bite off someone’s head if they dare cross her. He watched silently as she went faster and faster, kicking herself into unnecessary speeds. It looked as if she knew what it felt like to need some wind against your face to blow some steam off. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Someone who understood him? It couldn’t be.

Hiroyuki exhaled sharply out of his nose when she quickly tumbled to the floor. That wasn’t to say he didn’t expect it, but it was interesting to see such a poised and proper lady so ungracefully hitting the concrete. He strolled over, unfazed by her strict instructions. He was trying to figure her out in the time that it took for him to walk over to her, and then over to the hill in the slight distance. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker, looking over her with disguised curiosity. What was it that ticked her off so much that night? Even Hiroyuki never found the need to go to the hill just for some buzz, so this girl was either really pissed, or really crazy.

Either way, he was into the thrill.

“If you fall off, remember to roll,” he commented, putting some weight on the slightly inclined skateboard. He was interested to see how her whole plan to make that night better was going to go. A person with as much confidence as she had... He predicted she would do just fine on the board. She seemed like she knew her way with a skateboard, so he wasn’t too concerned. Plus, the hill wasn’t too high or too steep, so he wasn’t too concerned. “Have fun,” he muttered, pushing the board down with a firm push with his foot.

This was turning out to be a good night.

[prxm]

Dry clothes rarely felt as good as they did.

Minjie toweled himself off quickly, and hung out his boxers and pants on a nearby branch to dry. He knew they wouldn’t dry by morning, but he figured it was better than keeping damp clothes in the tent all night. Meanwhile, he had pulled on a comfortable pair of shorts and the same t-shirt he was in earlier. By then, he had pretty much forgotten about Kurose’s little antics, deciding that he wouldn’t let something stupid like that get to him for the rest of the night. Besides, it wasn’t as if he could say that Shin reciprocated his feelings for sure, so thinking any further into it would have been less than helpful.

The game continued to progress once Minjie and Shinichi had found their way back to the campfire. He drew the stick for the next round almost obligatorily, though it seemed asking Shin what the number was would be unnecessary this time round. He let out a laugh at the thought of Hiroyuki being Pochi for the rest of the game. Such a stone-cold individual with such a cute challenge? Min could hardly contain himself.

Feeling the fabric being dropped into his lap, Min looked to Shin’s general direction inquisitively.

“I always keep my promises.”

For the third time that night, Min felt his face heat up again. He hadn’t expected Shin to go to that extent for him. A smile broke out across his face, though, and he carefully opened the blanket, draping it over Shin and himself. “Can’t let the president going cold for me,” he teased, putting an arm around Shinichi, giving him a tight one-arm hug, before just as quickly letting go. That didn’t mean removing all physical contact, of course. Min let his body lean again Shin’s slightly. It was just enough to maintain the contact, but not enough to raise any questions (not that Min could tell, anyway). Truthfully, just being near Shin put Minjie a lot at ease, and he, in perhaps momentary stupidity, considered that maybe Shin liked him too.

“What kind of vice president would I be if I didn’t look out for my prez, hmm?”

--

“Ichinose Sakae, I swear to God, if I die in these woods tonight, Shinichi and Kurose will know exactly who to blame.”

Needless to say, getting paired up with Sakae wasn’t the best thing to happen to Min that night. Overall, he’d had a pretty good birthday, but he wasn’t exactly looking forward to going into a forest of bullshit scares. He wouldn’t be able to see any of his schoolmates in costumes, of course, but he didn’t trust Sakae in the least to keep him from supernatural harm. He hadn’t yet ventured into the woods, and he was feeling less than safe with someone like that witch by his side. He didn’t trust her in the least, and from what she was saying at dinner the night before, she was behind the curry incident.

“Basically all I’m saying is just let me off the hook for tonight. It’s my ********’ birthday, and I don’t need to deal with your witchery tonight. Let’s just get through the forest and win, okay?” he proposed with hopeful expectations she would agree. Truth be told, he was just scared shitless. Whether of Sakae or of the forest, he wasn’t too sure, but he was scared nonetheless. If he could eliminate one threat, he figured he’d, at least, make it out of the forest alive.

[prxm]

The mockingbird scoffed at the king’s overflowing confidence. Then again, it was one of the things that Dieudonné loved about Klaus. “Don’t you worry, mockingbird. I have everything under control.” Dieudonné nodded, letting a laugh slip past his lips at the sudden change in tone of his voice. It was a nice change, though. Comforting, in fact. It gave a nice contrast to the bitterly cold night, after all. Though it was unlike Klaus to speak so warmly, Dieudonné wasn’t one to complain. “I trust y’ do,” he assured Klaus, beaming. He cupped his hands over his nose and mouth and exhaled heavily through his mouth in an attempt to get his hands warm. ******** the cold.

The church held an eerie haunting sort of aura on its own. He couldn’t imagine the Wonderland Messiah being coronated in such a run-down cathedral, though that seemed to be the point of holding it at St. Arx. As Dieudonné laid eyes on the strange wooden crates. He sucked in a breath and looked towards Klaus. He followed him up the steps, confusion painted across his face. Champagne? He frowned, utterly disconcerted. He raised an eyebrow at Klaus’ tantrum, deciding to keep quiet so he could calm down on his own. Dieudonné learned not to get into either king or queen’s way when they were angry. Usually it was at each other for something trivial and ridiculous, but in this case, Donny didn’t blame Klaus for being furious at something as absurd as four whole crates of champagne. He pressed his lips into a hard line.

“Are y’ sure Miss Alice Liddell ‘r someun’ else didn’t order it?”

Even as he said it, Donny knew he was being absolutely ludicrous. There was no way someone from Gemini would dare put the secrecy of the coronation at risk by ordering four whole crates of champagne for the coronation. He shook his head in disapproval as he gazed intently at the crates of champagne. Dieudonné looked up only when he heard rhythmic beat of the clickclack of footsteps. “Who’s that?” the mockingbird uttered under his breath curiously as Klaus pulled the man in question into the cathedral, demanding to know about the champagne. Dieudonné strayed from both of them and leaned against a pillar he deemed as stable enough to hold him, leaving Klaus to deal with the guest who ordered the champagne. He stayed a considerable distance away, noiselessly observing, his eyes staring with strained attention at the stranger.

Or rather, someone he knew all too well.

The Duke...?

Dieudonné stiffened considerably. He knew that voice from the countless times he had imitated it. He knew that voice from the orders it gave to the compliments it paid Adelaide. What in the bloody world was he doing at Alice Liddell’s coronation? There was no one more devoted to the Spade Queen than the Duke himself and Dieudonné couldn’t believe his worst nightmare was twisting itself into the happenings of reality. Or, well, whatever “reality” Wonderland was considered to be, anyway. Should he find out the mockingbird was aiding the Geminis, it would be the end of him. Dieudonné swallowed down hard at the cold lump in his throat almost comically. He ran cool fingertips over his neck, already able to envision the fury in Adelaide’s eyes, the rage that would drip from her voice to order him dead. As the fearful thoughts began to manifest in his brain, Dieudonné couldn’t help but quail, slipping behind the pillar for security.

He always knew he didn’t have the best luck, but he never expected it to be as bad as that.

Perhaps he was overthinking things? What if the Duke was one of the Gemini as well. A double agent of sorts like the mockingbird himself. It was a longshot to consider such a preposterous thing, but there was a possibility, wasn’t there? Dieudonné started to question his own beliefs of the Duke. There had been many, many doubts on the avian’s end when it came to the Duke, yet none nearly as complex and intricate as such. Most were merely thoughts he entertained for fun. They were touch-and-go, nothing he delved too far deeply into. But Klaus could deal with him, right? Should the Duke have any plans to ruin the coronation, Klaus and Juno could handle it, right?

Well, what was he being so scared about?

Dieudonné lived the life of risk as a double agent for the Red Chess Court. He was putting everything he knew at risk every day he flew to Adelaide’s castle. Why was he afraid now? All the conflicting thoughts were confusing even him. Was the Duke one of the Gemini, or was he out to sabotage the coronation? Was he afraid or wasn’t he? Dieudonné’s mind was a whole new kind of mess he couldn’t sort through just yet. He pressed his index fingers to his temples, forcing himself to remain concentrated on the matter at hand - the success of the coronation. He would keep a close eye on Lucian - that much he was sure of. He would alert Klaus immediately should there be a need to. There wasn’t a real reason not to make himself known to the Duke, however. If Donny didn’t alert anyone of the Duke’s presence, there was no reason for the Spade to confront the mockingbird, was there?

He peered past the pillar and listened to their conversation, the mention of the White Rabbit, Jasper McTwist immediately piqued his curiosity. How... curious.

Deciding not to waste more time, Dieudonné emerged from behind the pillar and audaciously walked as calmly as he could towards both men. His heart palpitated furiously against the hollow of the bones that made up his ribcage and he could swear it resounded throughout the cathedral. “Sir,” he addressed Klaus in an unnaturally grave tone, the term only used in solemn events as such. “If it c’ncerns th’ guest list, I’m doubtful we have th’ time t’ make last minute changes” he looked Duke squarely in the eyes, palms breaking out in cold sweat from the sheer nervousness. He pushed his fists into his pockets and looked to Klaus as a silent cry to walk away. “We really must git’ goin’,” he prompted the Red King almost desperately.

[prxm]

It didn’t take Michele very much time to pack his things. He had already packed a little bit the night before. All he needed was his miscellaneous items. His beanies-slash-skullies, and jackets, for example. He couldn’t go away for a whole month without at least one of either item. He threw in his things carelessly, only bothering to neaten them up a bit before he zipped his suitcase shut. He was basically ready to leave for a whole month. It wasn’t a short time, nor was it a long one. He was going to miss his familiar surroundings, he was quite sure. Michele pulled a brush through his pink hair, noticing the slightest hint of blond in his roots. It was nothing a beanie couldn’t hide, though. He combed the ends with his fingers, observing its length. He’d have to get it trimmed some time soon, he made a mental note to himself. He could probably tie it, too.

But whatever.

He didn’t need to think of such trivial things when he was going on a vacation. Ruru was going too, so it had to be all sorts of fun, one way or another. Michy ran a hand through his pink dyed hair and pulled a hat on as well as a pair of plain white converse sneakers. He hummed a tune to himself as he picked up his things and walked out of his apartment, locking the door behind him. He sang under his breath, a song he’d long forgotten about. His lips curved around the lyrics easily, almost instinctively. He thought nothing of it, though. Just another song he forgot about some time. It didn’t matter.

Michele took a rather usual route to the docks - cab. He had a large pair of sunglasses on, along with his black beanie pulled down to the nape of his neck in an attempt to hide his pink hair. He had an unfortunately violent encounter with a previous fan of his, who went rather ballistic upon seeing him. He didn’t understand how fans actually acknowledged his existence in the band, especially two years after they had disbanded, but he wasn’t one to complain. Not that much, anyway. It had been quite a while since he was recognized. The cab driver took occasional suspicious glances in the rearview mirror, to which Michele didn’t think much about. At the very least there weren’t any girls to bother him or anything. He was fine with anything but that. The backup singer kept his head low, staring down at his hands as the journey progressed. It was quite a long ride, he noticed. Or, at least, it wasn’t going as quick as he would have liked it to.

The vibration in his pocket made Michele jump slightly.

The male couldn’t help but grin at the name that was displayed on his phone screen. He answered the call and before he could say anything, he was greeted by chiding from Karasu. “Glad t’ hear from y’ too,” he rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Don’t y’ think I’d be busy with my own crap too?” he laughed. He didn’t know that Ruru trusted him to help pick out his clothes. It wasn’t all that much of a problem for Michele, but he knew that Karasu had problems with deciding what kind of clothes to bring for a short vacation. He’d probably ended up packing his whole wardrobe, Michele snickered to himself silently. “Is Kiki goin’?” he asked, pushing his thumb into a designed hole in his jeans. He cocked an eyebrow up at the reply. “He didn’t get a ticket? I’m surprised,” he commented absent-mindedly, looking out at the streets as people passed by in a blur of faces. “And where’re y’, fer ******** sake?” Michele scrunched his nose up at the reply. Well, wasn’t that just peachy? He scratched the corner of his eye in thought. He made an empty comment, which lead up to more voiced-out thoughts, which really didn’t make sense to even him.

“I see yer havin’ fun with nicknames now, eh?” he joked. Michellyn, hmm. He hadn’t heard that one before. Michele laughed to himself again. It was only people like Karasu that could make simple phone conversations as ridiculous as he did. “So are y’ almost there, or...?” he asked. Michele didn’t need to finish his sentence, seeing as how Ruru replied just as quickly with, what he guessed was, an exasperated sigh. Michele scratched the material of his jeans. “Yer welcome t’ sleep with me if y’ get scared without Kiki,” the singer grinned from ear to ear, only able to imagine what Ruru’s face looked like. He let out a laugh at Karasu’s giggle. Only Ruru could manage such... facepalm-ish conversations. “Sure, Ruru. G’bye,” he rolled his eyes at Ruru’s goodbye, but he didn’t think much of it. Typical of him, no? As soon as the call was disconnected, Michele looked out the window to see he had reached the docks already.

How eerily convenient.

Regardless, Michele took his things and skimmed over the letter again without much thought, having already questioned the company’s motives the night before. He quickly advanced towards the boat and a man came out to greet him. He was asked for his name and Michele took a moment to consider. Often times he had introduced himself as VY2. Simply because it was much easier that way than his own name. He removed his sunglasses and hooked them on the front of his shirt. “Michele D’amico,” he uttered. The man nodded and gestured him aboard. Michele set his things into the lower deck, as he was instructed. He leaned against the bars of the yacht and stared at the busy docks. He felt the yacht start to move, though, and he glanced at the captain. It was going to be a long ride. That was something he was certain of. Michele let out a slow sigh. It was going to be fun, he told himself for the second time that day. He closed his eyes as the wind whipped across his face.

It was going to be fun. No matter how suspicious it may have been.

[prxm]

Regus needed to leave. Or, at least, make it look like he hadn’t been in the bay the entire time. People were going to come in, and he didn’t want to be around to ask questions. He didn’t want to be around when they started asking Nike questions, either. He made his way out of the hangar bay as quickly and silently as he could. No one (other than Nike and Leo) were around yet, fortunately. He needed some down time with Sirius—have that tea he promised him hours ago. At the thought, he started to reach into his pocket for his phone; drop Sirius a text, maybe?

What tiny flicker of hope he had for rest was soon extinguished as he was pulled aside into a lonely corridor, away from prying eyes and ears.

“I see you got your head out of your a** long enough for me to deliver a message. Good job.”

The sarcasm and contempt in the tone of the man standing in front of him was unrecognisable. As much as, physically speaking, this was his comrade, there was something different about his air that made Regus even more nauseous than he already was. He licked his lips, trying to search for some familiarity in the face he was looking at. To his disgust, he found none.

“What are you talking about?”

Regus didn’t need to ask to know that he knew all about his secret operations. The look in the other’s eyes was tell-tale enough as he glanced down at the laptop in Regus’ hands. So this was it. This was how the Colterons kept tabs on him? A new-found irritation bubbled just underneath the surface of his skin, and Regus bit down on his lower lip. “All this time, huh?” he breathed an incredulous laugh, nodding slightly. Ironically, he felt rather betrayed, but he supposed he had it coming to him from the start. His sheer disbelief almost lead him to think that his comrade was just playing a cruel prank on him, but this was no joke.

The man presented him a piece of paper, on it were words that didn’t take a genius to comprehend. It detailed a Colteron attack, except this time, it wasn’t on the ship, but on civilians on Earth. They went into explicit detail, going so far as to give him an estimated death toll. The number wasn’t forgiving, to say the least.

“What the ******** is this?” he demanded, fighting to keep his volume low. “We had an agreement. They’re not supposed to touch anybody,” Regus spat bitterly, crushing the paper in his gradually tightening grip. This was a threat—no, a promise—if he didn’t do something for them. He had been working with the Colterons long enough to recognise their patterns, but there was always the lingering paranoia that they would finally decide he wasn’t worth their time, and go back on their word.

“What is it this time?”

--

As the alarms blared around him, Regus could focus on nothing more than what he had just been instructed to do. He needed tea, and a lot of sleeping pills. It didn’t seem like he and Sirius were engaged in the fight, and he felt somewhat... grateful for that. It just meant one less thing to worry about, right? His head felt heavy, and his feet dragged as he willed himself towards his room. He didn’t know what to feel. ‘Resigned’ came to mind, but so did ‘desperate’, and ‘pathetic’. He couldn’t find any energy left in him to feel the panic he had expected to feel, but he supposed that came with the job. Maybe he was finally learning how to be heartless.
Good for him. It was about time.

He felt himself slowly start to give up—just like that. It almost unnerved him to think that something as simple as an instruction could put him in such a state of disarray, but this wasn’t just a simple instruction was it? The repercussions of it would reverberate with him (and countless others) forever, and he knew it. He could feel it already starting to eat away at his insides. Here he was thinking he had done the right thing, betraying his own kind for them—his friends; his family. It didn’t seem worth it anymore.

Maybe he could pretend for two seconds that he cared more about the millions of faceless people that would die otherwise. All of them would die because of him and how selfish he was otherwise.

Two seconds was all he needed, right?

He glanced over the AVA message he had received from Sirius earlier that night, a pang of guilt washing over him when he realised he had left him alone again.

Regus never had good enough excuses for his absences. Most nights, he noticed, Sirius was just satisfied with some half-assed dismissal of the entire thing. Most nights, Regus just needed Sirius around, and his navigator seemed more than happy to oblige instead of prying. The nights he spent out were usually the nights he slept with Sirius held tight; he needed the reminder as to why he was working for the Colterons in the first place. He needed Sirius to be there with him—to keep him sane.

That night, though, Regus needed him more than ever.

SIRIUS
Sorry, I was busy. I’ll be home in a while. See you there.

Then, in slight hesitation,

SIRIUS
Okay?

Sirius would know. He always did.

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