choking smoke

anonymous asked:

Dude it sounds like you had a panic attack...

I… guess you’re right? I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I’m reading the symptoms and that sounds correct. Wow.

I just remember being hit by this wave of horror and shame and intense, nauseating empathy and not knowing what to do. I couldn’t believe what was happening, and then they laughed me off and said it was no big deal when I said it was not okay, so I just had to stand there and bear witness without letting on that my body was on fire and I was choking on the smoke. I felt really guilty about that for a while, but ultimately I think it was best that I didn’t make a scene ‘cause then the kids might have become suspicious of the situation and not been (hopefully) shielded by naïveté.


It was the same scattered dream at first; there was the sound of something dripping, echoing and stone all around him. The fog hugged his knees and choked him like smoke and his skin was cold and clammy, veins ice beneath the surface. The unease only shifted, becoming worse, when green played across the features.

He saw splashes of red and blue and purple and even more red as he ran, feet pounding on stone and scraping with turns. But he couldn’t find the exit. Something howled and it spurred him onwards, running faster as the green- something green came out of the shadows like an amalgamous shape behind him, twisting and changing much like fog at his feet.

He only caught sight of it when he twisted a corner, searching for an exit he never seemed to find. The thing was a fox, was a skeleton, was a hand skittering in the dark. And when he reached the end of the tunnel, when it ended in a wall he couldn’t get away, he turned and saw himself, a reflection that matched him perfect, except for the left arm and the hue so sickly green it twisted his stomach.

It raised it’s hand towards him, the one he no longer had. On the palm of what almost seemed to be bloated, rotting flesh was an eye, the blinked as it stared at him, seemed to stare right through him. His own body trembled as it smiled like a macabre puppet, head lolling limp to look at him with the eyes on it’s face. the other watched him, snaking out the right hand for his wrist when he tried to move away. The hand with the eye came closer fingers slimy and cold like a dead thing as it caressed over a cheek in a way that was saccharine, sickeningly gentle.

I see you, Artie. You can’t run far enough to escape me~.” There was a laugh, and hands closed around his throat. Arthur felt himself hit the floor and he couldn’t move as it squeezed and suddenly it was green it was red and his arm was on fire and he screamed and felt cold and then something was there that wasn’t supposed to be and it was yellow and green. Then he stood, and it wasn’t him. “Now why don’t we see what your friends are up to, hmm?”

The thing let him breathe before grabbing a handful of the hair on his head and it’s head too, and trotting back towards the tunnel. Arthur struggled and it laughed and he could see the others up ahead and they waved at the him that wasn’t him and he couldn’t stop it and-

Arthur woke with sweat crawling down his back, soaking his shirt. He gasped and tried to sit up, to move to escape to breathe- but something kept him still. His own muscles were paralyzed by sleep and he squeezed his eyes shut, not ready for more hallucinations as his body shook with tremors.

But….something else was there. Something warm and firm against his back, that he could feel more noticeably as his body relaxed, as he reminded himself it was just a dream- a nightmare already fading with waking. In fact….he was sure that thing was a someone. A someone he was sure wouldn’t be there, not really.

Arthur risked opening an eye, turning his head to look down, where large hands were linked around his waist, and then over his shoulder in sleep-addled confusion. He….hadn’t been wrong?

“Lew…..? What’re yeh doin’….?” His voice was slurred by exhaustion and he blinked slow, moving his only arm up to wipe at his eyes with a yawn.

underrated twenty one pilots lyrics

  • “i don’t believe in talking just to breathe and falling selfishly”
  • “gnawing on the bishops, claw our way up their system”
  • “a mortal, rotting piece of song will help me carry on”
  • “i’m the son of all i’ve done - impostor, been fostered, then my new father drained my dirty blood”
  • “i hope they choke on smoke ‘cause i’m smoking them out the basement”
  • “my nose and feet are running as we start to travel through snow”
  • “i will carry all your shame”
  • “i asked forgiveness three times, same amount that i denied”
  • “put away all the gods your fathers served today, put away your traditions”
  • “we have enough stuff just to blow stuff up”
  • “i’m screaming submission and i don’t know if i am dying or living”
  • “i just won’t let go until we both see the light”
  • “is the blood mine or yours? don’t wanna do this anymore”
  • “am i screaming to an empty sky?”
  • “i could pull the steering wheel”
  • “then i sat up off the floor and found the breath i was searching for” 
  • “tell our dad i’m sorry”
  • “we all know somebody who knows somebody who’s doing great”
  • “hope you’re dead, ‘cause how could you sleep at a time like this?”
  • “i do not have writer’s block, my writer just hates the clock”

i. Aphrodite has given up on love. She listens to boys yelling obscene things at innocent girls. She can be found serving drinks at the local bar to broken women and spitting poisonous words at the filthy gentlemen next to them.
ii. Apollo dreads the moment the sun rises. Because when the sun goes up, his local late night show ends and his hour of fame comes to a close. He can be found spending his days, sitting on a park bench asking for loose change and wishing his poetry was good enough.
iii. Ares doesn’t understand war anymore. All he sees is needless bloodshed and brutal homicide based upon abhorrent racial cleansing and childish disagreements. He can be found weeping over the destruction of schools and the murder of innocent children.
iv. Artemis doesn’t hunt game anymore. She carries a switchblade and mace, prepared to fight off any boy harassing a girl with intoxicated footsteps. She can be found holding back girl’s hair as they vomit up their insecurities while sobs wrack their body into the next morning.
v. Athena has stopped believing in reason. When there’s international conflict concerning who marries who and a nationwide crisis about the newest fashion, reason just doesn’t seem applicable anymore. She can be found protesting with college students about real problems.
vi. Dionysus can’t help the madness. When the frequency of mental illness - in children nonetheless, has become so high? What’s the point? He can be found at the same pub and same seat as always; drinking the same dry whisky wishing everything would be the same as it used to be.
vii. Hades can’t stand jewels anymore. Emeralds reflect the envy and greed of humanity while rubies reflect their sexual and blood lust. He can be found rolling his eyes at people begging for their lives in the allies while human demons hunt them down for materialistic ends.
viii. Hephaestus has developed a hatred of fire. It does nothing but steal. It steal oxygen from the air and steal people from their families. Fire does not give it takes. He can be found saving everything he can from fire’s wrath, but will later choke on the smoke of his cigarette.
ix. Hermes can’t stand traveling. His legs are weak and his eyes are strained. He’s carried too many messages to people about the death of loved ones and the love letters are scarce. He can be found stealing, not money, but of their hope and strength because he’s hasn’t any left.

The gods are among us and they can’t survive. Why should I?

—  “Modern Mythology” by Maggie McCloskey 
  • *Person B gives Person A a cigarette to smoke, lights up their cigarette, and holds the lighter for Person A to light their cigarette*
  • Person A: *Couldn't see the lighter, and tries to get it, and finally got the lighter, and lights up their cigarette* I couldn't find it.
  • Person B: That's what she said.
  • Person A: *Almost chokes on the smoke from their cigarette, and starts laughing*
Take The Trade: Part 3

Author: @sincerelystiles
Pairing: Dylan x Reader
Word Count: 3,126

Warnings: nsfw!!

A/N: you can all thank @sabrinas-wolves for this. she helped me so much with this and gave me some amazing ideas of what i should do and she read all of this and gave me so much support. this is dylan’s pov!! enjoy!!

Originally posted by bloggergirl29

I dig my hand back into the plastic bowl, my fingers picking at the popcorn until I grab a handful, shoving it into my mouth whilst kernels crumble down my shirt. “Do you have to eat like a pig?” I turn my head, watching as the blonde grimaced at me. I huff at her, a few kernels falling from my mouth and almost hitting her face. “Do you have to be such a snob?” I retort, her eyes rolling in reply and I grimace at her in return.

I focus my attention back onto the baseball game. The Mets were playing, and any other time I’d be completely and utterly consumed by the game, but I had other things on my mind. For example, the love of my life- who was halfway across the world and in two days, married to a sophisticated English man with no taste in music and horrific fashion sense. It was inevitable that I’d probably be unhappy for the rest of my life.

Keep reading

there are times when i feel everything, and times when i feel nothing.

when i feel everything, it’s as though a candle tipped over in my lungs and set fire to it all, like i am choking on smoke from the inside. like someone hugged me gently but every one of my ribs cracked from the weight of the emotion. it’s like the ocean inside of my heart started leaking, and now my bones are heavy with water. do you know what it feels like to feel everything? it’s heart aching, ribs breaking, weary from the hurt and the happiness.

but feeling nothing, that’s so much more terrifying. because everything is gone. and in place of it, is this emptiness that disintegrates the very essence of what you are made of. feeling nothing is like feeling everything, except you don’t notice the pain. you don’t notice the joy. you don’t notice anything because you don’t feel anything.

anonymous asked:

Hi! I was wondering if you had any fics where stiles has to choose between Derek and Scott?

Made a little list for you, enjoy!  -Emmy

Originally posted by flightoeternity

Not My Alpha by Dancing_with_Devils

(3,566 I Teen I Complete)

Forced to bite Stiles to save his life, Scott fully expects Stiles to be his most loyal beta. But things don’t always go according to plan, especially with Stiles involved.

We Fight Together We Die Together by TheRighteousMan (FullmetalFlameElric) 

(5,018 I Mature I Complete)

“What about Scott?”

“What about him?”

Deaton eyed the teen for a moment. “He’s going to need your help in all of this.”

Stiles pulled a face. “Like I needed his help when I was getting the shit beaten out of me by Gerard Argent?” he countered. “I’m not his baby sitter…”

“You need an alpha if you want to-”

“I have an alpha.”

Our Flame Flickers But We Won’t Go Out (We Build Our Futures With Our Mouths)  by RayShippouUchiha 

(12,620 I Explicit I Complete)

His hands shake when he pulls his phone out of his pocket.  It’s amazingly intact but it takes him a few tries to get the pass-code in and pull up the text screen.  He knows Stiles and Lydia are in school, but he needs them, needs his Pack, his tethers, to keep him from flying apart.


Derek faces some of the ghosts of his past and finally gains some peace as he begins to build a future for himself and his Pack.  Oh and Scott arrives.

Here is the Deepest Secret Nobody Knows by owlpostagain 

(22,322 I Teen I Complete)

“Derek,” Stiles groans. “You have me. You’ve always had me, you absolute moron, how many physically impossible feats of life-saving heroics do I have to perform before you get it?”

And You Say You’re Alone by taelynhawker 

(30,314 I Explicit I Complete)

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter’s untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

Will to Follow Through by owlpostagain 

(42,411 I Teen I Complete)

“It depends entirely on how you look at it, I guess,” Stiles shrugs. “On the one hand, instant healing and the apparently inherited ability to pull off leather at all times. On the other, serious attitude problems and a suspicious disappearance of eyebrows.”

“Even Derek’s?” Danny snorts, “that’s a lot of eyebrow to lose.”

“I know,” Stiles agrees. “You should see, it’s so weird. Every time I want to ask him where they go, except he’d totally eat my face off.”

“There are worse ways to die.”

The Choice by linksofmemories 

(48,410 I Mature I WIP)

It was always said that the Omega had the choice. The Omega chose their Alpha. Sure, that was great on paper, but no one ever told Stiles how many strings had to be pulled and deals had to be made behind the scenes for him to be pushed into choosing the Alpha everyone wanted him to choose.

Of course there was a choice to be made, but he definitely wasn’t the one who was supposed to make it.

Sing Sweet Sparks by RayShippouUchiha

(50,333 I Explicit I Series WIP)

Derek’s been choking on the smoke and ash of his family’s murder for years now.  It consumes every part of him, influences all that he is.  He knows that he’ll never be free of it, that nothing will ever grant him the peace he so desperately craves.

All he wants is to feel safe, to be loved and to love in return, but he knows that’s impossible.

Until, that is, he meets Stiles.

Through ups and downs, past blood and pain, Stiles slowly gives Derek exactly what he’s always desperately wanted and never believed he could have.

Comfort.  Care.  A new Pack.  And a dark, desperate kind of all consuming love.

And once Derek has all of that within his grasp?

Well he’ll burn the world to ash to keep it.

The Broken Radio is Playing Suicide by decideophobia 

(73,415 I Explicit I Complete)

Stiles only wishes they could actually be safe. They haven’t been for nine months now.

anonymous asked:

can you do 33. celebrity/fan for Sasusaku with Sakura being a celebrity? :)

33 - celebrity/fan au



His devotion to her work is a silent thing, really. He’s never bought tickets to her concerts, or purchased any of her albums on itunes; never even told anyone of his interest in her music, or much less that she has become somewhat of his muse. And yet, still, Sasuke keeps track of her every content with near religious loyalty, storing every picture of her performances, events and tour dates away on an inconspicuous folder on his laptop, her stack of albums neatly tucked away in his nightstand alongside his vintage walkman cd-player. 

But if he is honest with himself, Sasuke prefers it that way, anyway. Sakura Haruno is, after all, not the type of artist most would think him to be into; generally (stupidly, he corrects), he tends to be associated with the louder, grungier bands—those of which coincidentally (not) always seem to comprise an abundance of headbanging. 

(it is almost comical considering his aspirations consist of nothing but to become an acoustic musician just like her.)

She is his inspiration, his absolute greatest influential figure, a paragon of true kindness and passion—and on the nights he works on his own pieces, he can never help himself from wishing he may one day meet her; from hoping he might someday bask in her bright, warm presence. 

(a funny thought to have, he realizes later, because really, what did he know about the famous twenty year old? maybe she isn’t even like that. maybe it’s all just an act.

but sasuke never accepts this.)

Keep reading

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

damn guys, just jump right in on that angst shit

“You’ve gone awful quiet,” McCree says, and Hanzo freezes. 

He had downed most of his store of sake just trying to drown out his thoughts, but in a cruel twist of irony, his drunkenness had only narrowed his focus upon them, until his fears and his anxieties began to take over and it was all he could do not to let them show. 

They are alone, under the dark of a night sky smattered with distant, twinkling stars, huddled around a tiny fire as they wait for the Overwatch shuttle that will take them home. It’s freezing and lonely and miserable, and the only joy the two of them have found is in the fact that they both carry alcohol on their persons. 

And Hanzo is deeply ashamed that he finds some joy in the situation, just in having McCree to himself for a few cold, isolated, terrible hours. And it frightens him, on a level he never thought possible, the fact that he can care for someone so much that it takes over everything–overrides his his thoughts, his focus, his bodily needs, his everything, all for the chance to drink in the presence of the man beside him. 

“I think,” he says, slowly and carefully despite how he has no control over  the words spilling forth, “that I am in love with you. And I am terrified.”

His heart hits his ribs as the words hang in the air between them. McCree lowers his cigarillo, jaw dropping. The light from the fire turns his widening eyes to a warm, coppery brown.

“What?” he says, and he sounds choked, like the smoke has caught in his throat. 

Hanzo grits his teeth and stares at the fire. His hands tremble faintly, and he cannot make them stop. He knows McCree heard him. He cannot bear to repeat the words. It doesn’t matter how McCree will answer–Hanzo is afraid either way. 

A long moment stretches in the chilly night air. McCree sets down his flask of whiskey, grinds out the remains of his cigarillo in the dirt, and flicks the stub into the fire. 

“Okay,” he says. “I think–I think I get it, then. And if that’s the case, I guess I’m just gonna have to be brave enough for the both of us.”

He reaches over, resting his gloved hand over Hanzo’s between them on the ground. He licks his lips, his gaze boring into Hanzo’s, searching and beseeching all at once.

Hanzo feels just a little less afraid. 

Player Two (Full Story) Be More Chill Fanfiction

“Awesome party, I’m so glad I came” Michael jeered sarcastically, giving a lonely glance at Jeremy, who chatted away happily, completely unaware of the anger and betrayal Michael felt. He clenched his teeth in disgust and hurt and stormed out the door.  

  As Michael slowly shuffled away from the house, he felt his throat began to close, and hot tears brim his eyes. When he cried, there was a rawness to it, like the pain was still an open wound. He would clasp onto something for support, anything, a table or the back of a chair, and then his whole body would shake, but since he didn’t have that at the moment he gripped the sleeves of his hoodie. The sobs were stifled at first as he attempted to hide his grief, then overcome by the wave of his emotions he broke down entirely, all his defences washed away in those salty tears. When he at last turned his face to the house, to face Jeremy, his face shone a picture of grief, loss, and devastation. It was the face of one who had suffered before and didn’t know if he could do it again. Then, just when he thought the breakthrough would come, his shutters would come down, his emotion walled off behind a mask of coping. He would just wear it until everything was right again, he didn’t know another way. He tore off his black thick-rimmed glasses, and he wiped the remaining tears from his eyes. His dark hickory eyes, once filled with delight and cheerfulness, had now lost their light and filled with hurt and betrayal. His dolce skin, was now flushed from his crying, and Michael put up his signature red hoodie, to conceal his face, and continued to walk.

  He didn’t get very far when he heard a wail from, presumably a female student, coming from down the street. The alarms sound, an odour of smoke in the air, and Michael can see the black curling particles visible, swirling out of the house. The glowing embers leaped and twirled in a fiery dance, twinkling like stars in the cool October air before cascading to earth like gleeful fire fiends, setting alight and lighting up the darkness of the night. Michael gaped at the scene down the street, the house emitting the choking black smoke from the windows, and into the air. Michael slowly stepped towards the the burning house, his body felt numb and he felt suddenly disconnected. This wasn’t the house, this couldn’t be the house where they were throwing the Halloween party. His senses soon returned and adrenaline kicked into his veins, he bolted towards the house, running past and shoving other students who were trying to run away. “JEREMY?” He cried out, looking desperately for his friend, even if Jeremy didn’t consider him it anymore. His brain began foggy and Michael felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in his abdomen. Tension grew in his face and limbs, his mind replaying the scenarios of what could’ve happened to him. His breathing became more rapid, more shallow. In these moments before his personal hurricane, he glanced around at the other students, hoping to see him among the crowd, or even one of them seen Jeremy leave the house. Their faces were covered in ash and soot, and coughing up the remaining smoke from their lungs, their clothing seared from the burning flames. “Jeremy!!” Michael shouted again in desperation, ignoring the tightening in his chest, and fear plastered on his face, his eyes sparked with concern. The other students turn and glanced at each other, murmuring to each other, some among the lines of, “I haven’t seen him” and “I don’t think he got out”. They turned back to Michael, with worry and remorse for the teen and simply said, “I don’t think he got out Michael”. Michael gasped, he ran his hand through his thick umber hair, and cletched his teeth, feeling as if he’s been punched in the gut. A student came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder to ground him, “It’s ok Michael, it’s going to be ok.” Reality spun around him and came crashing down, and he bit his lip, desperately trying to refrain the sobs from deep within his throat. He glanced at the house, “You think he’s still in there??” Michael asked, his voice soft and worn. “Michael I…” the female student responded, before Michael tore from her and bolted to the house. “MICHAEL!” the female student cried, her protests for him going in vain as he ran inside the burning building.

   The black smoke curled around him, fogging up his glasses up with ash. “JEREMY!” the Filipino called out, looking among the burning ashes for his friend. Michael gasped for air as the black smoke filled his lungs and coughed into his hoodie, trying to block out the rest of the thick smoke. He wandered through the house, the fire burning around him as it licked up the walls. The flame burns with colours he never thought were possible from a fire. With each flare another possession alights, and the house is closer to collapsing in shambles. The videos of house fires bare such little resemblance to the real thing. The screen shows a TV version, small and cold, black smoke billowing toward the sky. In front of the real thing the radiant heat is intense, scorching Michael’s skin. It’s more like a colossal campfire than anything else, casting its yellow glow into the night. The smell dominates every breath and the flames are louder than he expected, roaring as they consume what was once a fine home. Within the house the fire spread with ease, turning the once pretty first floor into a maze of flame. Black smoke billowed up the stairs and the alarm soon died a long time ago. As Michael dodged the burning flames, and falling debris, he heard his headphone beep a small melody, signaling bluetooth has been connected. “Wha-?” Michael started, before coughing into his sweater once more. “Michael Mell” a male voice came through the speaker’s, “Jeremy Heere’s best friend.” “Jeremy? Where is he?? Is he ok?” Michael grew anxious, the fire soon burning brighter around him. “I am his Sqiup, and in order to help him, you must do what I instruct” the voice ordered calmly. So this was the pill that made Jeremy ditch him. THIS WAS THE PILL THAT STARTED ALL OF THIS! “How do I know that you’re actually going to help me? I mean, why should I in the first place, considering I’m WAY too lame for Jeremy!” Michael barked at the voice. “Have you considered that if Jeremy, ‘doesn’t make it’, I’ll cease to exist as well” the Squip answered back cooly. “Fair enough” Michael growled, and continued searching through the house. “Oh, and Michael” The Squip said, “I was wrong.” Michael hummed in response, honestly he wasn’t concerned how wrong he was, he just wanted to find Jeremy. “Take a left here” the Squip commanded. Michael broke into a sprint, and followed the Squip’s directions. “Y-You nEEd tO hUrRy Michael!” the Squip said, his voice glitching through the speakers of his headphones. Wait, the computer actually sounded…worried. “JEREMY!” Michael shouted. “JEREMY!”, he ran and turned a corner and saw a wooden door blocking the way. “He’s in here, isn’t he” Michael stared at the bathroom door, which was blocking his way to his friend.

The door was scratched and dented with chipped brown varnish, it had a brass door knob dulled with age and greasy fingermarks.

He placed his hand on the door to see if any heat was radiating from it. He learned the trick from the hundreds of demonstrations of what to do in a fire in middle school, he just never thought he would actually need to use them.

  The door wasn’t warm, so Michael reached for the doorknob and jiggled it; the door was locked. Michael furiously twisted and turned the knob for no avail, but what startled him the most is that there was no keyhole for the doorknob. The door wasn’t locked, it was jammed! The Filipino again felt the panic rise in his throat. Michael began to kick at the door, and ram his shoulder into the wood, being not very successful. “JEREMY!” he called out, hoping his buddy would hear him and know that he wasn’t alone. Michael tried again and again and became increasingly frustrated with his futile attempts to gain entry. He planted one foot on the ground, grasped the door frame and thrust the other foot with all the might he could muster and slammed it into the door with a loud yell…hoping to unhinge the door from its frame.  The door began to rattle, and the center began to bulge slightly with each blow. The knob looked as if it would pop out, and dust puffed out from the frame, which started to separate from the wall. Michael took a few steps back to prepare himself for the final blow and rammed his shoulder again into the door, causing it to collapse with a loud crash. Michael collapse with the door onto the hard tile floor of the bathroom and let out a groan. He grasped his now injured shoulder and looked around the smoke filled bathroom. A boy was curled against the side of the old white tub, his slightly curly caramel hair flopping delicately over his left eye, his stripped red and blue shirt hard to miss among the flames that were now licking towards the ceiling. Michael gasped softly and bit his lip from crying out, “J-Jeremy?”. He shuddered, blinking away the tears forming in his eyes. “JEREMY!” Michael choked out and skidded to his friend side, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket and tore it off, wrapping it around his friend to guard him from the flames and suffocating smoke. He held his unconscious friend tightly in his arms as the fire swirled around them, choking black smoke filling the room. They were going to die, Michael didn’t see another option. Michael stared at Jeremy, his breathing was wheezed and shallow, and his face was pale, far too pale. “Don’t worry buddy, I’m gonna get you out of here. I promise.”

  Jeremy’s eyes fluttered open, although only half-way, Michael can still see Jeremy’s bright green eyes stare back at him, glazed and seemingly tired. Jeremy smiled softly staring back at him, before collapsing back into Michaels arms, his grin fading. “JEREMY? Oh god! Stay with me buddy” Michael gripped Jeremy’s shoulder tightly. He could see the orange flame forming just outside the fallen door and he knew the bathroom exit was no longer an option. His only option was the window that hung just above the toilet, luckily it was just big enough for Michael and Jeremy to wiggle through. Michael wheezed into his arm and coughed violently, shutters going down his spine as his charred lungs begged for air. The Filipino soon regained his strength after his coughing fit and his body kicked into an adrenaline rush, just seeing Jeremy’s motionless body in his arms. He lifted his friend up, who was surprising light, and heaved him onto his back. He gripped Jeremy’s arms to tighten them around his neck to keep him from slipping, and climbed onto the toilet to open the window. Michael fiddled the window’s handle and swung it open, releasing the fresh cool air into the room. Michael gasped, taking in the air into his lungs and started to swing his leg over the window sill. He stared down and sighed, thankful that they were on the first floor, and leaped from the burning building.

   The fall wasn’t long nor should it have injured them, but Michael must have fallen on his ankle wrongly and gritted his teeth in pain, giving a glance at Jeremy reassuringly. He limped to front of the house as the flames burned. He released Jeremy and held him in lap, removing the red jacket from his shaking frame. Jeremy had 2nd degree burns traveling up his right arm, it was angry red with blisters forming in his skin. Michael winced seeing the injures his friend gained in the fire. He rewrapped the red jacket around him as he rocked back and forth, gripping Jeremy, pulling him close and becoming overcome with emotion. His crying was both ferocious and noisy. He blinked briny tears from bloodshot eyes, his thick lashes stuck together in clumps as if he’d been swimming. The tears made wet tracks down his face and dripped from his stubbled, wobbling chin staining his shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he repeated over and over gasping for breath. Jeremy’s jade eyes slowly opened and stared at Michael, “M-?” He wheezed, and sat up quickly hacking up the smoke from his lungs. Michael rubbed his back reassuringly and gripped his shoulders to steady him. Jeremy relaxed and settled back into Michael’s arms. “Michael?” he choked out, his eyes slowly returning to normal. “I’m right here buddy” Michael smiled warmly. “You came back” he sounded surprised. “Of course I did! You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Jeremy whimpered softly and stared into Michael’s eyes, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” his body became wracked with sobs. “Hey! It’s ok! Oh god, Jeremy!” Michael frowned. The two boys huddled there watching the flames devour the burning house until the wailing of the ambulance finally arrived.

   Jeremy had 2nd degree burns along his right arm and grazes on his forehead and cheek. The doctors praised Michael for his bravery saying Jeremy wouldn’t have survived if he remained in the burning house. Michael shrugged and said any good friend would have done it. Michael suffered a sprained ankle, bruised and bandaged shoulder and was required for crutches for a few weeks. As Jeremy was recovering, Michael wobbled in his hospital room and made his way to the chair next to Jeremy’s bed and sat down. He stared at Jeremy who laid peacefully in the hospital bed, bandages wrapped up his right arm which were red from slight bleeding. Michael sighed and leaned back in the chair. Jeremy looked over at him and smiled softly, “‘ey Mike” he said raspily. Michael grinned back, “How ya feeling buddy?” Michael asked. “Pretty sucky honestly” Jeremy laughed. The boys laughed together until Jeremy broke into a coughing fit. Michael put his hand on his shoulder, and waited for the episode to subside. “Michael” Jeremy looked at his friend, guilt filled his eyes as his coughing fit died down, “I’m really sorry. I was such a douchebag to you! I know you didn’t deserve it, and yet you still came back to save my sorry a-” “Jeremy” Michael interrupted his rambling, “I forgive you, it’s ok. You’re my player two man! We promised each other we would always have each others backs! I wasn’t planning to break that promise especially since you almost died!” Jeremy played with the fuzz on his sleeve not making eye contact with Michael. His eyes glazed with tears finally made eye contact, “I don’t deserve you” he stared at his lap, “I don’t even deserve to be alive right now!” “Hey!” Michael shouted. “Don’t say that! Don’t ever say that! You’re my player two! I need you! We need each other! Please!” Jeremy gave Michael a guilty look and they finally clasped each other in a warm, slow and luxurious hug. Their chests rising and falling against each other, their breaths in unison, and the warm blood that they could feel in each others’ embrace. “No matter what! We’re always going to be a team.”