Burnt Roses

by Iridescentfalls

Summary:

Mariana's life had long since fallen into dull monotony: wake up, eat, work, eat again, sleep. Trapped in a loop of partially his own making, doomed to the worst fate of it all: A meaningless life, a set piece for others more interesting than he was. Destined to fade away into obscurity, always forgotten in favor of someone else.

Charlie had turned life around ever since two children forced themselves into it. Or, at least, he tried to, though he liked to think the less appealing parts had been swept under the rug well enough. He reconnected with his friends, his brother, and best of all, he was free. Though with freedom comes recklessness, and with recklessness comes... mistakes.

Or: Charlie is the lead singer of a shitty new rock band he started with a few friends, and he would like to think life was pretty good! He had friends, a mostly intact apartment, and a job that payed... well enough!
Though after an incident at a local coffee shop (that attracted only mild attention from the cops), he had made an enemy of one of the barista's, who he, unfortunately, could not stop running into.

Chapter 1: Yellow Carnations

Charlie took a drag of his cigarette, eyes following the cloud of smoke that swirled into the air as he exhaled. 

The winter chill bit at his face, nose and cheeks flushed bright red. He buried his hands back into his pocket, throwing the cigarette to the pavement and stamping it out with his foot, smashing it into the concrete. His jacket was bulky, though he could deal with sacrificing looks for warmth, the jacket lined with a layer of fluff on the inside, including the pockets. It felt like wearing a heater.

Though today the cold cut right through the jacket as if it wasn’t there. He sighed, breath visible in the still air. He was putting off going inside for as long as he could, but he was just getting colder.

A bell jingled as he pushed open the door to the coffee shop, his whole body relaxing with the warm gust of wind that blew in his face as he entered. Yellow lights casted a warm glow over the shop, it felt… comfortable. He shrugged his jacket off and hung it on a chair before walking over to stand in line.

He prayed the barista from last week didn’t work Wednesdays. Or he had quit after what Charlie had done. It was early in the morning, no use starting it on a bad note.

Unfortunately, this was the only good coffee place in a five mile radius. And Charlie wasn’t willing to walk farther than three.

Well, that’s what he liked to tell himself. Realistically, longer than a mile would be all the outside interaction he could handle for a week. 

The line moved forward, slowly but surely. The man in front of him continued to obscure the barista’s face. Anxiousness bubbled deep in his stomach, only rising as the man read out his order. His fingers rhythmically tapped against his thigh. Statistically the chances were low, right? The incident happened at night. Maybe he only worked the closing shift. And yeah, as he thought about it more, he was filled with a newfound confidence. This would be fine. The man finally stepped away, towards the pick- up line. Charlie stepped forward.

Fuuuuck.

His confidence crashed down around him, leaving only dread that sank into him like a rock. Who had he been kidding? Charlie had the worst luck. Bad enough it rubbed off on anyone who came near him, even dared to steal a glance towards him.

Maybe that’s why it had happened.

 

It had been a night like any other, Charlie getting coffee at the completely normal time of nine o clock. 

In his defense, the cafe was full.

And okay, he was cranky. Anyone would be after getting run over by a car.

Well. Almost run over. It grazed him just enough to knock him to the ground. Not seriously injured, though he had a nasty scrape on his arm. So maybe, just maybe, when they messed up his order, he freaked out a bit!

It didn’t help that the barista was such a bitch about it.

Anyways, yada yada, argument broke out, spilled coffee on the barista, display case shattered, patron behind him slipped on the glass, caused a huge scene. Punched him in the face. Barista kicked him in the balls. Police sirens. Ran away from the crime scene.

And now he was met face to face with the same man with his stupid orange gloves and slicked-back hair. His face bore a familiar scowl. 

 

“What the hell are you doing here,” he hissed, words laced with poison (and a tad bit of surprise, though he hid it well). 

“Getting coffee,” Charlie flashed a smile, a comical bead of sweat trickling down his cheek. His voice kept the confident facade, though a hint of nervousness made its way through. 

“How are you not banned?” The man leaned over the table, lowering his voice as to not attract attention. 

Charlie shrugged. “No idea. Can I get a medium caramel frappe with two extra pumps of vanilla? Extra ice, I like chewing it after I’m done with the drink.”

The man’s face twisted into disgust. “You’re fucking weird, man.” He angrily scribbled the order onto a plastic cup. A glint in his eye suggesting barely contained murderous intent, Charlie was sure he would strangle him right here and now if it wouldn’t get him fired. Honestly, Charlie was surprised he hadn’t been for kicking him in the balls. And yet he was the one to get the cops called on him. Unfair, if you asked him.

Charlie peered over the counter to watch him as he made the drink. The man- and the audacity of this guy, honestly- looked him dead in the eye as he spit into his coffee. Gross.

He handed the cup over with a smile. Charlie slowly wrapped his fingers around the cup, eyes trailing over to his name tag. 

Mariana , and written under in smaller text He/She .

Mariana watched as he held the cup up to his lips. Charlie took a gulp, smiling wide as he lowered the cup. “Just the way I like it.” He winked. The coffee was honestly not that bad. Not to say he didn’t feel a little gross about drinking this guy’s actual spit, but honestly, the look on her face was worth it.

“Gross,” she muttered as he walked away. 

 

Charlie fiddled with the lock on his apartment door. Place was old, but relatively cheap, so it was worth all the wear and tear. 

He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it on the couch. He took a deep breath in. The place used to be…disgusting, he had to admit. He would be surprised if his lungs weren’t fucked up from all of the dust he had inhaled.

Though all of that changed three months ago, when he walked into his home after a completely average day at work, to find two identical children sitting at his kitchen table, helping themselves to a bowl of his fruit loops. 

How these seven year olds managed to break into his apartment, he had no clue.

And what was he meant to do, kick them out? Charlie was no monster (And even if he tried, he doubted he would be successful). These kindergarteners had committed a literal crime. He was frankly terrified of what else they were capable of. 

But, if they were going to live here, he had to clean up his act a bit.

So he took one look at them, sighed, and grabbed a broom.

It took two hours to clean the stack of dirty dishes that had been building up for the past month (or two). Another hour to gather all his trash, and thirty minutes to sweep the entire apartment. 

And since then, he’s been a single father of two.

 

He learned a few things about his new children.

 

One, they had run away from home and had been living on the streets for the past two weeks. They had apparently been homeschooled. Though they never said the word ‘home’, when speaking of where they had lived. And they never wanted to talk about it, either.

Two, they were, in fact, not the same age. The one with her hair slightly shorter, braided into two messy pigtails was a year older. Why they looked like identical twins was a mystery.

Three, they were almost completely identical, except in the eyes. One was a light baby blue, and the other a dark, unnatural green. 

The one with the blue eyes and hair a few inches shorter’s name was ‘Juanaflippa’, he had learned, and she was trans.

 

“And what’s your name?” He bent down to eye level with the two, facing the other sister. She frowned, closing and opening her mouth a few times before speaking.

“They called me Code.” She said, but it seemed to take effort to get the words out.

“Oh! Code? That’s an interesting name!” He cooed. Who the fuck named their child ‘Code’? “Do you… do you want to be called that?” 

Her face scrunched up as if deep in thought. “Hmm…. I dunno! It feels a little weird.” 

“Okay!” He nodded his head, exaggerating his facial features. “Do you want a different name?” 

“Okay!” She nodded aggressively, mimicking him. “But… wait,” her face morphed back into a frown, “I dunno what I wanna be called!” She pouted.

“I can help if you want!” Charlie suggested, though he regretted it immediately. Was he really going to rename some child and trust himself not to say something absolutely stupid?
Though before he could fully rethink his choices, she smiled a wide, toothy grin and nodded. The pressure was on now.

“Alright, um…” he paused for a moment, “How about something close to your name? Like, uh, Cara! Do you like Cara?” ‘Cara’ was a normal enough name. He hoped. Her face scrunched up once again, and for a moment, Charlie was afraid he was about to be rejected by a six year old.

“Cara!” She repeated, smile wide once again.

 

Five, they were both Mexican. Or half Mexican. He really wasn’t sure, nor did he know how they ended up here . Juanaflippa knew more Spanish than English, while Cara was better at English, but as he would come to learn, she didn’t talk much, preferring to sign. Though of course both of these literal kindergarteners were somehow fluent in ASL, more so than their other two languages. 

He was half convinced these were escaped government experiments, honestly.

 

Today, they were both scribbling away in a coloring book he had bought for them, badly coloring in a dark purple dragon with a set of crayons that had long since gone blunt. He smiled, it was nice to see them happy.

Really, that was the main reason he hadn’t called the cops and kicked them out immediately. When he first met them, they were scared. And he couldn’t help but look at the two kids and see himself, himself and Mike. 

Though it did mean he now had to learn both Spanish and ASL, on top of Mike insisting he learned Portuguese. He had made some half decent progress on the first two, though!

“Alright girls, going to be in my room. Holler if you need anything.” He closed the door quietly behind him. Charlie sighed, his entire body relaxing as he plopped down on his bed. He could finally relax.

Or at least he could, if they hadn’t scored a gig at one of the biggest clubs in the city. In two days.

He was pretty sure the lyrics were ingrained into his skull at this point, so he pulled out his phone instead of revising. Phil had backed out of babysitting the kids last minute (something about a date with Missa) and neither Cellbit, Baghera, or Jaiden could do it seeing they were in the band, so he had been on the hunt for anyone willing to take care of them the day of the gig. Which was hard, seeing they were little demons whenever anyone other than him attempted to babysit.

A text from Cellbit on the group chat. Okay. The three of them had agreed to see if any poor, innocent soul unaware of the sibling’s sins was willing to put up with them for the day. It was a coin flip if Cellbit had found someone, or it was yet another text pining for his best friend.

Opening up the group chat, his eyes immediately narrowed in on the name ‘Roier’. Not a good sign.

 

Cellbit: Roier found someone

Charlie cringed, sucking in a breath. Guess it really was unrequited. Shit, he owed Baghera ten bucks.

You: shit man that sucks

Cellbit: no no not like that

Cellbit: he found someone to babysit your kids

Ah. Made more sense. Though the words ‘your kids’ still felt strange to him, even if that’s how he referred to the two in his head. 

They were his daughters.

Ha. And to think Charlie had sworn to never have children.

You: oh ok

You: who is it

Cellbit: idk just some friend of his

Cellbit: he says he trusts him and I trust Roier

You: alright sounds good

 

He sighed. Charlie wasn’t sure how much he loved the idea of Mysterious Guy having free roam of his apartment (and, more pressingly, trusting him with his kids) but it was the best option he had. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Chapter 2: Petunia

Summary:

Charlie runs from the police. Mariana's life is inconvenienced.

Charlie walked to the door, careful to keep his footsteps quiet before looking through the peephole.

Shit, it was a cop.

Oh, this was bad. He took a deep breath. Charlie needed to think through his next steps carefully.

He tip-toed away from the door and over to Flippa and Cara. He squatted down to meet their eye level. “Hey,” he whispered. “I need you two to head to your rooms. And if you hear anything, or if anyone you don’t know tries to come in, you have full permission to bite and kick and run as far away as possible, got it?” The two looked at him worriedly. “I know this is a lot, but trust me, okay? I’ll explain later, but right now I need you two to hide.” Finally, they nodded and hurried over to their shared bedroom. Charlie sighed.

He quickly shoved all traces of them into a cabinet, yelling “One minute!” as the officer knocked on his door again. He scanned the room. Everything looked relatively normal, and it was the best he could do with the time he had.

Charlie hesitated by the door for a moment before clearing his throat and pushing it open, plastering a polite smile on his face. “Hello!”

The cop stiffened his posture. “Hello, am I speaking to Charlie…” He squinted at a piece of paper in his hand. “Slimecicle?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Lying here wouldn’t help, he lost his fake ID months ago and all it would take was one search of his apartment to figure out who he was.

The cop smiled back, more obviously forced than his was. Pretty bad liar for a cop. “Excellent, may I come in?” He tried to step around Charlie. 

Charlie moved to block his way. “Can I ask why?” His smile remained unwavering. “I mean, you know… you can’t enter without a warrant or my consent, I’d like to know what I’m getting into first.” He laughed nervously.

The cop’s eye twitched. “Yeah, of course.” He cleared his throat. “There was an incident at a coffee shop close by last week? We were called, and you.. Well, you resisted arrest and ran away. That’s a crime, you know.” Charlie’s smile began to waver. He looked down at a name tag on his chest. Agent 18. “And then, well, we looked more into it and I found out some interesting things about you, Charlie.” 18’s smile turned to a smirk. “A few days ago, someone called in and said they saw two children enter your apartment. They both match the description of kids who went missing months ago.” Charlie’s smile faltered. “And then we traced you back even further, to a case from years ago. The murder of-”

Charlie pushed past Agent 18, cutting him off. He stumbled back, giving him enough time to run down the stairs. The sound of footsteps behind him followed shortly after, and he shouted as Charlie hopped the guard rails and fell down a story, dropping into a tuck and roll to break his fall. He transitioned seamlessly back to his feet, bolting down the street.

He turned one corner, and then the next as he heard police sirens behind him. This was bad. 

As he continued to run, pushing past bystanders on the sidewalk, he felt someone grab his shirt and pull him into an alley. His body stiffened, arms flailing as a hand wrapped around his mouth. He tried to scream, but the sound was muffled through their fingers.

“Shh!” They reprimanded, whispering loudly into his ear. “Shut the fuck up! It’s me!” His body relaxed. He recognized that voice. Baghera. The police cars whizzed past them. After a few moments, Baghera removed her hand and let go of his shirt. 

Charlie panted as he tried to catch his breath. Baghera stared at him. “What did you do?” She half-whispered.

Charlie laughed nervously. “You should ask what I didn’t do.”

“Charlie. Are you a criminal?”

“Maybe. Are you?”
“...That’s not important.”

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!” A voice shouted. The two whipped around fast enough to see a police officer at the entrance of the alley, gun drawn. 

Well. This was bad.

Charlie grabbed Baghera by the wrist and tugged her behind a dumpster. A bullet ricocheted off the metal and embedded itself into the wall. Okay. They were going to die.

The footsteps grew closer. In one fluid motion, he lunged forward, pulling Baghera along by the wrist to follow him, transitioning into a run as he sprinted over to the next turn. The both of them ducked behind the wall, barely making it as another bullet whizzed past, narrowly missing Baghera. They weaved through the alleyways, narrow twists and turns blurring together as pure adrenaline clouded their thoughts. More footsteps could be heard behind him, the man must have called backup, though as both him and Baghera ran, the wind blowing and rustling their hair, Charlie found himself having fun, a smile creeping its way onto his face. They hit a dead end but kept running straight ahead as the two of them began to scale the wall, using cracks in the brick as footholds and oh, the two of them probably looked crazy. They jumped rooftop to rooftop and the few moments of freefall as they jumped each gap sent another rush of adrenaline through his veins, he was enjoying this . 

Eventually they jumped down onto a conveniently placed mattress tossed behind a building, covered in dirt and rips made by animal claws. The mattress bounced as they landed. It made a harsh screeching sound as the rusty springs attempted to support their weight, though Charlie didn’t mind. They both stood still for a second, catching their breath before both bursting into laughter. They were giddy with the thrill of their escape, still high on adrenaline because holy shit, they both just ran from the police. He wasn’t sure he had had that much fun in months.

Baghera swept a lock of hair out of her face, still doubled over in laughter. She gripped her yellow jacket with both hands for stability as the mattress rocked back and forth under her. 

“You know we’re on the run now, right?”

 

Mariana was having a perfectly mundane day, thank you for asking. Save for the man who had almost gotten him fired drinking his spit , his shift had been mind numbingly boring. Roier had messaged him during her break, asking if he could babysit two of his friend’s kids on Friday.

“Niñas? ¿Qué edad tiene tu amigo?”

“Una 20? 25? No estoy seguro. Es amigo de Cellbit.”

Oh, Cellbit’s friend. That explained the desperation. Must have promised Cellbit he would find someone (Roier was head over heels for the guy) and panicked when he realized he didn’t know anyone willing to babysit. Thankfully, Mariana liked kids. And it wasn’t like she had anything to do, anyway. 

For now, though, he sat on his couch and waited for something interesting to happen.

He glanced over at his watch. A quarter to three, ten minutes since he had last checked. He sighed, fiddling with his TV remote. He couldn’t think of anything he felt like watching. Though there was always the news. His English wasn’t great, but it would still be fine background noise. He clicked the remote on. 

“Last night there was a robbery in Favela Square-” 

Mariana zoned out, quietly humming to himself. Fluffy yellow-and-red pillows lined the gray material of the couch, matching his furry carpet, a slightly lighter shade of gray. The tv sat on the opposite end of the room on a glazed wooden table, next to a tiny egg plushie Roier gave him. The lights in the room were dimmed, the TV lighting up most of the room. The sound was turned down low, he could still hear the crackling fire from his stovetop. 

“A police chase took place downtown mere minutes ago. A man was seen running away from multiple officers, but thankfully no one has been hurt. Police cars are currently circling the area he was last seen, the QPD has not revealed the identity of the man but say he is armed and dangerous, and have warned the residents of Quesadilla to stay inside. If you see any suspicious activity, find somewhere safe, call 911 and report it immediately. And remember, everyone: stay safe out there. Now on to Mark for the weather-”

Mariana switched off the TV. She sighed. There went her grand idea of ordering out today. 

She fiddled with the zipper on her jacket. She had work tomorrow. Which honestly, thank God, he was half worried that asshole got him fired. Sure, he might hate his job, but it payed well. And in the end, that’s all that mattered.

She flicked the stove off, where the tea had just begun to boil over. He opened the fridge. Empty. It wasn’t like going shopping was going to kill him, he doubted a criminal had time to stop off at the grocery store. 

He reached for his car keys. What was the worst that could happen?

Notes:

Chapter two baby!!!! This was going to take longer but Charlie didn't stream today for qsmp 2024 so out of spite I finished the chapter. Comments and kudos always appreciated!!!!

Chapter 3: Adder's Tongue

Summary:

Charlie and Baghera talk. Mariana goes to the store.

Notes:

I didn't edit this at all because im just kind of panicked rn uh. fuck my life. for context I clicked on a fic without reading the tags and realized too late it was. uh. REALLY weird. and then I tried to click on the authors profile to block them and FUCKING MISCLICKED and left a kudos. someone kill me

Also on another note this chapter wasn't meant to be angsty at all. the fuck happened

Tubbo was a fucking lifesaver. 

Charlie slipped his phone into his back pocket. He leaned against the wall behind him, originally white but dirty enough to appear a dark gray. He had just gotten off the phone with Tubbo, who said he would try to convince Fred to pull a few strings and get the manhunt on his and Baghera’s heads called off. He had his own opinions on Tubbo dating a government official, but they were head over heels for Tubbo. In his mind, he was already off the hook.

Baghera was still pacing around, on the phone with Foolish. Foolish worked for the QPD, a decision that got a lot of backlash when he first told the others. Though according to him, his plan was to slowly climb the ranks, his end goal to overthrow the existing government and rule Quesadilla City as its emperor. Honestly, if anyone could do it, it was Foolish.

Eventually, Baghera put her phone away and looked over at Charlie. “He says he’s actually friends with the guy who tried to arrest you. He should be able to get them to stop chasing us, but he said whatever charges are against you are serious. He isn’t sure if he can get them dropped. But we should be good for now. Well, not now. We have to last a few more hours.” 

“Okay. Great. What do we do until then?”

“I dunno.” She reached her arms up above her head, eyes closing as she stretched. “I’m kinda hungry.”

“What, you want to get something to eat right now?” He joked. Baghera looked down, refusing to meet his eyes. Charlie frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Charlie…” Baghera hesitated a few seconds before meeting his eyes. “What did you do?”

Charlie bit his lip. For as close as he was to her- and everyone else in the band- he always kept his past close to his chest. Hey, it wasn’t like the rest of them were open books either. 

“Well, uh, there was the coffee shop last week. And Flippa and Cara, um, you already know they aren’t, like, officially adopted, or anything. I just… found them. Or they found me. And that technically is kidnapping.” He paused, and this time it was his turn to look away. “And… when I was a kid. There was something else.”

Charlie took a deep breath. He considered his options here, he could always lie. Say he stole something, or he was a drug dealer, or claim it was all a big misunderstanding. He looked back at Baghera. He couldn’t lie to her, it was Baghera. 

“I, um…” His voice on the first syllable. His gaze flicked back down to his shoes. Fuck, this was embarrasing. “When I was younger. Thirteen. I- okay, I should backtrack a bit. I have eight siblings. Had. Mike- you know Mike, right?” Baghera nodded. He continued. “He um… he was the only one that liked me. Until he ran away at eight, and then none of them liked me. 

I, uh, I’m not really sure why they all hated me so much. I guess- I guess I was the runt of the family. And with him gone, there wasn’t anyone to protect me anymore. And things got worse.

By the time I was thirteen, four of them had died. Malnutrition, dad didn’t let us eat much. And he hated me more than the rest of them, and they thought that if they got rid of me, he would be better to them. So they jumped me. 

I guess my survival instinct kicked in. I wanted to live, you know? Really live. It’s all a blur, and I’m not sure how I did it, but I killed them. And my dad. Well, turns out my dad was a pretty important guy! And the death of someone so widely beloved was a big deal, so, uh, my name was on the news for a bit. Said I was a ‘troubled kid’, undeserving of the loving father I had. And then I finally snapped. Killed all of them.”

Charlie grinned. “And yeah, that’s all of it! I was on the run for a few years after that, but then I ended up here! ‘ Quesadilla City, The Land Of Second Chances’. Though I guess that tagline is more for like, smaller things and not actual crimes and, uh. Murders. But eh.” He shrugged. “It’s all water under the bridge now.”

Baghera looked absolutely horrified. Well, made sense, he did kill four people. She probably hated him now. She probably thought he was disgusting. She probably regretted saving him from the police. All valid things to feel, and exactly what he had expected to happen.

Though what he didn’t expect was what happened next.

“Can I hug you?”

Her voice was small, more sincere than Charlie had ever had her. And so utterly confusing. 

“Y-yeah, but-”

She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him tight and oh, she was so warm.

Charlie laughed nervously. “I don’t think you get it. I, you know, killed four people and-”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Baghera said firmly. She stated it like it was a fact, like no matter what he said it would be true. Like just the idea of her being wrong was absurd. It was her saying that she wasn’t going to leave. And that he should probably stop talking.

Something about that broke something in him. His eyes stung. Charlie didn’t like crying in front of other people. Though Baghera was sure as hell not about to let him leave, so he compromised, burying his face in the crook of her neck. 

Baghera tapped Charlie’s shoulder rhythmically, humming a song under her breath. City Of Stars, one of their favorite songs to perform on karaoke night. They would go for hours until their voices were fried and vocal cords irreparably damaged. Charlie took a deep breath in. Her jacket smelled of rubber and hibiscus. It wasn’t unpleasant.

A few minutes passed before he pulled away. Baghera grinned.

“Your eyeliner is running.”

“Fuck you. I didn’t even put eyeliner on today.” The tension faded, it was easy to put the last five minutes behind them. If there was one thing the two of them were good at, it was emotional whiplash. Gotta keep people on their toes.

Baghera yawned. “I’m hungry.”

“Dude, we’re still on the run. Sure you can’t wait two hours?”

“No.”

Charlie did not have the emotional capacity to argue with her right now. “Where do you want to go?”

“...They have those really good chicken sandwiches at Fallmart.”

“What did you just call it?”

“Hm?”

“You said Fallmart.”
“Yeah. That’s what it’s called.”

“...Okay!” Charlie paused. “But you want to eat dinner at a grocery store?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“No.”

“Good.” Baghera walked right past him, scaling the fence most of the way before lifting her feet into the air, holding onto the chain link fence with her hands as she maneuvered her legs above her. She propelled herself off the fence, leaping over the barbed wire in a backflip as she landed safely on the other side. Charlie laughed, running after as he seamlessly performed the same athletic feat. It was second nature at this point, neither of them were great at following laws. 

“Your form is terrible.”

 

Popular pop songs played all too loudly on the overhead speakers, the lights bright enough to give Mariana a headache. The store was packed, more so than normal. Everyone here must have a fucking deathwish. Who was he to talk, though. He made the conscious decision to drive out here instead of ordering out in case his delivery driver was a serial killer.

Admittedly not her smartest move.

But she was here now, so he might as well make the most of it. She grabbed a bag of oranges and put them in her near empty basket, sitting next to a wheel of cheese and a half dozen eggs. All in all, a completely normal time at a completely normal grocery store.

As she walked into the next aisle, something caught her eye. Two hooded figures huddled around one of the freezer doors. The aisle was otherwise completely empty, quiet enough he could hear the two of them argue under their breath.

“Well I think twenty is a perfectly reasonable amount-” The voice was familiar, though Mariana couldn’t tell where from.

“I don't think that’s a very balanced diet, Charlie.”

“I think a six year old can survive on hot pockets.”

“Isn’t Flippa vegan?”

 The taller one stuttered. “Um. Well-” He was interrupted by the shorter one stiffening her posture, quickly muttering something under her breath.

“Someone is watching us.”

Mariana froze. Fuck. 

“Let me handle this,” the other said, and his voice was so familiar-

He turned around. The man’s hood cast a shadow on his face, obscuring his features. He had a practiced smile plastered on his face, it would fool most but for Mariana, the eyes gave it away. His eyes were searching, calculating, like he was watching her every move. Though it quickly gave away to shock, as did Mariana’s face as he realized just where he knew this man from.

It was the fucking coffee guy.

Okay, that was a terrible nickname. It was the man who almost got him fired. Nope. Too long. The man who drank his spit. Ew. ‘Coffee Guy’ would have to work for now. Or ‘Fucker’. 

“What are you doing here?” The man hissed. 

Mariana continued to stare. “Shopping?” He gestured down to his grocery cart.

“Oh.” He said dumbly. “Why were you staring at us?”
Mariana came back to his senses enough to remember he was meant to be mad at this guy. “Because you two are being suspicious as fuck, man!”

“We’re not suspicious. You’re suspicious.” The girl faced towards her too now, pink hair spilling out of her hood.

“Are you planning to rob this place or something? Did you kill someone?” Mariana meant it as a joke, but the two visibly tensed as he spoke. Her eyes widened. “Wait, are you two the ones the police are after?” She took a step back. “Look, I don’t want to be wrapped up in this shit, man-”

The two’s gaze then switched from him to something behind him. She turned around. Mariana only caught a glimpse of blue before the man tugged on her arm.

“You’re a part of this now. You’re coming with us.” The man dragged her along as the two hooded figures broke out into a sprint, Mariana stumbling to catch his footing before fully committing to joining them in a run as he heard someone chase after them. Fuck, he had turned around. They probably saw his face, they probably saw him talking to the two of them. She should have just punched him in the face the second she recognized him. Or, better yet, she never should have come here at all. Idiot. 

A gunshot rang out from behind. Shit.

Notes:

Uh once again. was planning on putting something witty here but uh. still very grossed out. chapter was meant to be longer, sorry that it ended pretty abruptly! will probably go back to edit later

Chapter 4: Snapdragon

Summary:

Mariana is abandoned in an alley. Charlie goes to band practice.

Notes:

WE'RE SO FUCKING BACK BABY anyways uh. You may have noticed that this fic has switched owners! Well, it hasn't really, it's still just me. Just switched ao3 accounts! Sorry if the beginning section here seems kind of abrupt, I really had no idea what to do with that scene, just needed an excuse to get Charlie and Mariana to meet again.
Also the passage of time sucks tf you mean the last time I worked on this fic was a month ago.

Mariana’s back hit the concrete wall, sharp bits of concrete digging into her back as she gasped for air. His legs burned,  though the adrenaline still coursing through his body numbing most of the pain. The other two, whose names still remained a mystery, were pressed up against the wall across from him, still catching their breath. The sun had just begun to dip below the horizon, clouds parting just enough for a golden glow to bask the area. Golden hour was a rare sight in winter.

“What the fuck,” She finally managed to squeak out.

The man looked up to meet his eyes. “First police chase?” He smirked. Everything about this man was infuriating. 

“Why would you go to a grocery store while on the run?” 

“We were hungry.” The man stated, like it explained everything. “What, have you never gotten hungry, Mariana?”

Mariana was taken aback. “¿Qué putas? How do you know my name? Are you- have you been stalking me or something? ¿Qué chingados te pasa- fucking freak!” 

He snickered. “It was on your name tag.”

Mariana blinked. “Oh.”

The woman elbowed him in the gut. “Stop being mean.” She turned back to Mariana. “Well.” She pursed her lip. “We’re going to leave now.” She hummed, all too casually walking off as the man followed her, both turned away from Mariana.

“What?” Mariana’s eyes widened, taken completely off-guard. “You can’t just leave!” He shouted after them, too stunned to try to stop them. “¡ Maldito pendejo! What am I meant to do?” 

The woman turned around to face him and shrugged.. “I don’t know. Whatever you want to!” 

“So you’re just going to leave?” He was like a broken record, racking his mind for something new to say but coming up with nothing.

“Hey, I mean, we’re doing you a favor here. The police are after us, not you. Names ‘ll be cleared in a couple hours, anyway.” He said it all back still facing Mariana, not bothering to turn around like the woman had. 

The two left without another word. The sun dipped below the building behind him, leaving a dark shadow cast in its wake. Mariana’s eyes followed the dual silhouettes as the last bit of light left the sky, stars pepperring the dark until the two were out of sight.

 

“Do you ever feel like you’ve wasted your entire life?” 

The cashier looked up at Mariana with the sunken, tired eyes of a retail employee absolutely not paid enough for this shit. “Your total is $45.99.”

She sighed, swiping her card through the reader as the cashier bagged her groceries. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, though it's not like she had ever been any good at keeping her thoughts to herself.

“Have a nice day,” she muttered as she grabbed the plastic bag, eyes glued to the floor. 

The drive home was a blur of lights and sound. Her mind kept replaying it over and over, the man, with his cocky grin and ocean blue eyes that shined oh so bright with a dangerous mix of mischief and over confidence as he grabbed his arm. Running through the grocery store, turning corner after corner, the wind rustling her gelled back hair. Adrenaline coursing through his blood, the terror mixing with a strange sense of glee and a high he couldn’t help but chase. It felt like living. 

Walking back into his apartment now felt almost disappointing. It was all coated in shades of gray, the two pillows on his couch adding the only pop of color. It was… it was boring. For a second he had a glimpse of something else; another him, another path. The man was like a window into another life. Something that could have been. Mariana couldn’t help but resent him for it. 

He wondered if he would ever see him again. A part of him wanted to.

A wave of exhaustion crashed over him as he stumbled into his room. His blanket still hung halfway off the bed, covered in small rips and tears that added onto his excuses for never washing it. He curled it around him as he pressed the side of his head against his pillow, eyes staring straight through the window. Even through the light pollution, stars still scattered the night sky, all circling the moon as it began to dip above the horizon, just barely visible through the grand towers all located near the middle of Quesadilla. 

The man smelled like lilies. Lilies and burnt apple pie.

 

The basement air was stale. The gray paint on the walls chipped off in places to reveal rotting wood underneath, dimly lit by flickering light bulbs emitting a low hum that filled the silence. Charlie gasped for air, his lungs expanding and constricting with each raspy sound accompanying each breath. Sweat ran down his neck, his skin clammy in a way that made him feel gross inside and out. 

Band practice was a bitch.

Baghera tapped a drumstick against the metal rim of her drum. Her pinwheel hat slid halfway off her head, strands of hair obscuring parts of her face as she leaned back in her chair. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. 

“We almost got shot yesterday.” Baghera said suddenly. Jaiden, sitting criss-cross in the corner of the room as she packed her electric guitar away, craned her neck up towards her.

“Cool.”

Cellbit hummed from where stood, leaned against a basement wall threatening to break under his weight. An abandoned building may not have been the most convenient place to practice, but they all lived in apartments and none of them were willing to risk a noise complaint. The upper floors of the house were covered in graffiti and broken glass, though the basement was left entirely bare. Even stranger were the lights, which turned on despite the house remaining abandoned for as long as any of them could remember. Someone had been paying the electricity bill. Though no one questioned it, nor did they question the distinct smell of rotting flesh in the attic. Some things were better left alone.

“The news yesterday. Was that you two?” Cellbit asked, still not looking up from his phone. 

“Yeah,” Charlie rasped, his throat still sore. Cellbit nodded in understanding.

“I’ll go get you some tea.” He pushed himself off the wall and towards the stairs, where a mini kitchen had been set up out of the bar area. 

Baghera, of course, took advantage of Charlie’s newfound inability to speak. “I got to meet Charlie’s crush,” she smirked.

Charlie scowled. “Not a crush,” he signed, each hand movement exaggerated. It didn’t help that none of them knew asl, though currently speaking hurt like a motherfucker and he imagined his body language would send the message across well enough.

Cellbit came back with a mug of herbal tea, steam still floating up out of the cup. It was warm in his hands. Charlie took a sip. He lurched forward as he tried to not spit it out, fuck it was hot. His tongue felt numb as he swallowed the scalding hot liquid, almost dropping the mug in surprise. Cellbit stifled a laugh.

“But really, yesterday. What happened?” He asked.

“Police tracked down Charlie for running away last week. I helped him escape.” Baghera paused. “The authorities in this city are insane.”

“I don’t think they’re even an official police department. It’s all run by the Federation.” Jaiden muttered.

“The what?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jaiden said. She smiled slightly before going back to picking at the carpeted floor. 

“Anyways, we went shopping. We ran into the barista whose life he ruined and Charlie decided to take him with. We left him in an alley, he probably got home fine.”

“Are you still on the run?” 

“No, Foolish took care of it.”

“Hm.”

They fell into an awkward silence. Charlie took another sip of his tea, which had finally cooled down to a reasonable temperature. His tongue still hadn’t recovered, a strange tingling sensation running through it that turned to pain whenever he swallowed. 

“So do you like the barista?” Jaiden finally asked.

The tea had soothed his throat enough to form sounds again. “No,” Charlie said, words laced with venom. “He’s so… I don’t know. He sucks.”

Jaiden grinned. “Tell me more.”

“She… she talks too much. If she hadn’t been such a bitch that night the whole coffee shop incident never would have happened. Him and his fucking… brown eyes.”

Baghera raised an eyebrow. “Brown eyes?”

“I…” Charlie laughed nervously. “I don’t know where that came from.” He tried to pass it off as a joke, but really, he didn’t know. He was thinking of things he could remember about Mariana, and evidently, that had been at the front of his mind.

He was an attractive man, sure. Or… woman, or person, or whatever terms Mariana went by. He had never really asked. Though it was an objective fact that he was good looking. Charlie would admit that much. This, however, was not an indication of any sort of attraction towards her. If anything, it was part of what was so infuriating about him. His deep brown eyes that had stared at him with nothing but disdain. And the way he readjusted his glasses when he was mad. Or how she stumbled over her words when she yelled at him. Or, how if he tried hard enough, the glint in her eyes could almost be mistaken for love rather than pure hatred. 

“‘His brown eyes’? Sounds kind of gay, man.” Jaiden teased.

Charlie laughed. Strangely enough, he couldn’t find it in him to come up with a witty response. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. 

“Want to get something to eat?”

Notes:

The Horrors (life) persist but I stay silly :3

Notes:

A SINGLE MOM WHO WORKS TWO JOBS-

(Also just a disclaimer that I'm disabled, and updates might take a while! I refuse to abandon this though, or the other two multichapter fics I'm working on. If you don't see anything for a while, another chapter is coming, I swear!)