T w e n t y N i n e

W i s e F r i e n d s

The day I felt pain, was when I learned how to bite my tongue.

There weren't any needles, knives, blades, guns; there wasn't any contact that could cut through into the pit of my chest. And yet - when the words start pouring out like, dripping out of their mouths like saliva, there is more to those words when it's touched.

Being someone who already looked out of place was already worse, let alone being out of place.

You're pushed to your limits, adjusted without your will that you might as well be the one out of the chess board. The piece that was in the wrong place and time.

Again and again and again. The cycle continued. Playground mockery, constant whispers behind my back. I remembered the taste of chalk hovering the air whilst I wrote the answer on the board. Quickly and neatly, I answered the teacher's request before rushing back to my seat.

However, at some point: the pain numbed. The voices were just mutters turned into mumbles. I comment faded and some point: peoples names were deleted in my head. Before I was rushing to get an answer written down; speed walking gradually faced to slow glides.

My head held higher and shoulders bolder.

That was why pain felt greater when I took an eraser and wiped it off clean. And when I pulled out the needle out of my arm, the feeling of cleanliness reverted me back to my moments.

Little sparkles of light blinked within my vision, as I rushed my lids wide. I looked about. Sitting on a rugged bed, compiled with many layers of fabric sheets, rotting curtains and stitched bin bags. There was a small wooden plank, enough to create a simple beside table - if you could consider it one.

Suddenly, I flicked up my head to hear a rattling cough. It echoed the dark gloomy room, and it would have probably woken up all the others if they were functioning properly.

'Shit,' I bemoaned in my head as I tried to hold my head. Though, my vision wasn't entirely the best: I almost slammed face first onto the concrete floor if I hadn't grabbed the wooden surface. At a sudden creak, I looked around.

Nothing moved.

It took another twenty minutes before I composed myself, enough to stand up and shove my jacket on and my bag on my shoulders. As I got to my feet, I stared a the floor - now knowing that there were two empty injections on the floor.

____

A few days passed, and I was sitting in the living room. George was in and out of the room, bickering about work. He had his packing time held at the last minute, which I wasn't surprised. Neither of us were mundane lovers and if the struggle for food was enough, if we couldn't pack a bag then I don't know how we actually live together.

I busied myself by checking over my emails whilst I had my pen in my writing hand and a notepad on my knee. It was another month until the office move, so Turps had given me on duty to sort of the systems in the newly dubbed 'Yog Studios'.

"I think Lewis had enough being in the fucking basement," The dark haired man snorted, watching a shoe fly over my head and into the floor of the living room.

I raised an eyebrow and spoke, "Those were classic Nikes." My best friend had no appreciation to anything vintage.

He shouted, "And I think he wanted it, because it's near the harbor." At that point, I snorted too.

"What? So he can finally confess to the Bristol police?" I said, pushing away the device from my lap and leaned down to grab the precious little thing.

George sauntered into the room, rack of clothes stacked up in his hands before tossing it right onto the sofa - and onto my body.

Luckily I had quick reflexes and shoved my laptop, "Oh-hey!"

"Thanks for helping me!" He rolled his eyes.

When he tossed another shirt at me, I caught it easily and threw it faster back. But soon his face contorted into something a bit more menacing, his mischievous eyes caught on with him. Out of nowhere, I felt a pair of boxers hit my face.

Our fully pledged clothes fight left us taking deep breaths and the whole ideal of getting thing done scrapped. It was mess; there were socks on the lamp, a pair of boxers stuck on the bonsai tree (Trott gave me for Christmas that now lived on the window sill). Some of his shirts even landed on the top of the bookshelf.

Thank George, who saw the clock and realized that he needed to go, and stopped our war. I picked away the shirts and began to fold them. No matter what the circumstances, we were children.

So, I helped my best friend pack everything he needed for his trip to Estonia. And to be honest, I was a bit odded out by the surprise. It's not often that he got a sponsored trip for a gaming company. The two of us did do separate videos and not only we had the joint one, George and I had streams. So it was more likely that we were going to have our separate ways.

As that thought rolled over, I couldn't help but stop and glance at my friend. Ten years with him felt so long ago.

The Sunday of May passed on quite quickly, and now we both stood in the car park.

I wrapped my cardigan around my body, grimly looking above me at the grey skies. Perfect weather for travelling. At least the wind didn't pick up whilst George shut the boot and scraped his trousers off the dust. With a hand ruffling his own hair, he moved towards me with eyes down.

A smile crawled over him, "Seriously, we need to get you a stepping stool, [Y/N]."

"Shut it," I scolded but that didn't stop me from pulling out a grin. "I know I'm short, but believe me."

"I know," He simply said.

After a pause, George seemed to pause to think. He looked at me, but he seemed to twitch his smile. But, I knew this was George - concerned and worried George. The boy who double checked if the door was locked or if we turned off the hob. Entirely ordinary to even me.

And then he asked me if I was going to okay, but I immediately shrugged it off and told him otherwise.

I sighed, "I'd...it's not been a good few months to be honest."

His face calmed.

"And." I took a breath, taking my focus next to him rather than his eyes. "You know. With the new office and with you gone for a couple of months."

But what I hadn't expect was when I felt his lips touched my forehead. As he kissed my forehead, his arms crowded my body. Slowly, I obliged into him.

He muttered something behind me, but I was a little shaken by his closeness. Especially once I was afraid he could see my pupils. I quickly scoffed up, laughing back before he continued.

"I think I needed that." A genuine grin formed on me.

George spoke, "Good." His arm lightly punched my shoulder. "Because...I if I hear Zylus trying to kiss you again-"

"Don't worry," I reassured the man. But I could tell myself that most of it was for me. The awkward topic about what happened in Insomnia...I couldn't even think about it.

Ever since that, Zylus had kept his eyes, hands and his own presence out of my way. And it was an awkward situation. George and Turps was wary whereas Katie was a little hesitant whenever he entered the common room. Even the editors knew the tension.

Heaven knows since they had to edit the Trouble in Terrorist Town videos.

I spoke, "Plus he got the picture."

"Really?" He eyed me, opening the car door next to him. "Because with Zylus, I'm definitely not fine with. And Smith is out of the picture."

Wait. What?

George let out a laugh, "I'm still looking, [Y/N]! And I think you and Smith are perfect together."

"You're joking," I gave him a deadpanned look. I then scoffed, "He's nothing but a reckless, hypocritical and stubborn man ever."

Then he returned the same look. "You really don't know what you just said."

I glared back, indicating well enough that this conversation was done.

"I'm kidding, dingus." He waved off, but not until a cheeky grin changed over. "Besides, you really don't know?"

I furrowed my brows. "Know what?"

"You and..." He rolled the word.

I gaped, "I really don't know what you're talking about."

Sometimes, I couldn't understand who, where or what George talked about. And when my clueless answers carried, I think he had enough. George, carefully lowered his head onto the roof of the car. A soft thump echoed the car park and I patiently waited for my friend.

Well maybe not patiently.

He then raised back his head, "Jesus Christ. You do not like love, do you?"

"I do!" I defended but I stuttered, "T-to some extent."

So when George slipped out our boss' name, my whole mind froze.

My face began to heat up, but I quickly hid it well enough. Well, not enough for him to smirk. "Wow...I'm not surprised." George raised his brows.

Sighing, I answered, "I kind of fucked it up, though." My arm rubbed the other. "Zylus happened."

George let out a curse, throwing back a sympathetic expression that could rival my awkward one. However, it felt much better talking to him about it. It's been two weeks; Zylus left to go back home and I was pretty much stuck with Lewis ignoring me.

"Nevermind," I waved him off. "He doesn't think of me like that. Friends, that's what we are."

All I got was his 'bullshit' face.

Luckily, I quickly mentioned that he needed to go now. His precious time with Tom was diminishing, with him talking constantly with me about my love life. Even as he got into the car, eyes still not cutting from mine - he never stopped me from having the pit of worry enter me as well.

I wished him well, a side smile creeping up before he smiled back all the same.

Though, a single wave didn't stop him from saying, "[Y/N]. Talk to him about it. Please?"

With my lip bit, I pondered over before giving a nod. It felt so fast, but a the engine turned on and he pulled out of the car park: I felt almost alone again.

____

"Again."

The instructor jotted down his recordings, a passive expression on him - no matter how the gun exploded from the trainee's hands in a repeated manner.

[Y/N]'s never removed her eyes on the target, her right hand positioned out in front with the head pointing at the silhouette of a man. She clicked the trigger, slightly pulling back from the ricochet. But she did not take a single blink.

She tossed her other arm upwards, using the left to shoot another at the target before repeating the same steps. And what would any ordinary person be surprised was that: it always hit the target right in the same place.

Hands sweating, she flexed the muscles in her fingers once all her ammunition was gone. As she twirled the gun back down into its holster, she stared straight - a strand of hair swaying in her view. [Y/N] wanted perfection, but improvement meant pride. But pride meant arrogance which she believed it led to being reckless.

The instructor didn't say a word, and she left and changed once her day of training had finished. The leather uniform stuck onto her body, making it an effort to pull it off. But as she began to dress, she looked longingly at herself - and it felt almost as if she could feel the room disperse.

There were new batches of bruises and cuts, swelled and bright in colour as she patched them up quickly and placed her coat on. With her hair tied back, she grabbed her bag and sauntered out.

The compound was specifically for agents in training. She wasn't surprised at first that the Intelligence hid themselves from the capital city and hid on the outskirts of the West's countryside - just a few miles off a small village. Sometimes it felt almost the same for her, as she had been brought up in a small village where everyone knew their neighbour or their nearby corner shop. And when she was given a new cottage safe house in the village, it felt like home for her.

"Marino." Calling out, [Y/N] spotted the man before he could leave the car park. His reaction was normal, a simple nod before raising his eyebrows at his partner.

As she got closer, he called out: "[Y/S/N]. What results did you get?"

"Seven point six." She said blandly, earning a sympathetic smile from him.

"Well, it's better than last week's." Shrugging his shoulders, he stretched his back - his hand placed over the top of the Aston Martin next to him. "Plus, you're still better at decoding and knife work."

[Y/N] blew a jet of air from her mouth, letting her body relax for a bit. At times like this, it was heaven for her and other trainees to just relax and let go of their own mental shields. Her pout was prominent - and he cheekily grinned.

"So a little birdy told me that you tried to go find some files, again." Marino winked.

[Y/N]'s face lit up ever so slightly, and she let out side-smile. "Aw, are you and Lovasz getting together now? He does have girlfriend you know..."

"Nay," He swatted back at [Y/N] who laughed back. "Me and the IT department do not get along. Have you seen me with computers?"

"Yes," She simply replied, amused. "And that is why they put you and me together, Giovani."

He then gestured back, telling her that he needed to go back or else his girlfriend might already burned the house by trying to cook some of his favourite meals from his country. [Y/N] joked back, but she did hope that Giovani's girlfriend didn't actually burn their house down...

But nevertheless, she brought back herself to reality and walked over to her car - driving out of the compound and back to her temporary home.

The following month consisted of self teaching and heading over to Cambridge for her studies. Training was still on going and she often seen Marino and his girlfriend, Lovasz (who still joked at how little she was in comparison to the rest of the trainees) and her uncle. However, whenever she had any free time - which was very rare - she hadn't thought of coming to make a new friend outside her work.

He lived just down the road from hers. It was this large manor house with these large black gates that prevented any of the public to just waltz down their driveway. To say their meeting was a miracle, [Y/N] would say it was an understatement.

"I'll just have a pint." [Y/N] thanked the bar woman from across the table and she watched her glass fill up. Handing over her money, [Y/N] thanked her before letting her fingers swirl over the rim of the glass.

The night was still young, and no one suspected a nineteen year old to just sit down and spend their Saturday at the pub. It was a small village anyway, so it was easy to get away with anything. Also, if you were any person walking in - she would have looked to be in her early twenties by her attire.

After taking a sip, her eyes darted over to the side - finding a young man (of her age) slide onto the next seat beside her. She looked down at her drink, focusing carefully at the bubbles rather than back at him.

He was quite tall, his pale complexion contrasting the dark dingy pub. His fingers combed over the dark brown curls on his head whilst he took the glass on his other hand. [Y/N] deduced very well over him. 'Loose flannel over shirt, but the shirt is quite high quality. Denim jeans that was very much in trend, with the brand plastered on the back. His shoes had some muddy splotches over them, but never too dirty of worn out. His fingers were incredibly poised, and he sat up instead of lunching over the table.'

"Can you not stare at me like that."

She spluttered over her drink, causing the beer to go over her jeans. With a curse, she placed back the drink over to the table and mentally sighed at herself. She couldn't believe that she let her guard down.

Then the teenager said, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry...I-"

"It's fine," She let out a short breath, and then pointed out at the window. "It's raining anyway, so I'm bound to get soaked." Adding a joke, the air in the room began to light heartened, the man sighed and his shoulder slouched back when he placed smile over his lips.

He took another sip of his drink, and [Y/N] mentally felt confused as to why he bought a drink and couldn't even stand the alcohol. She caught his eyes, and the blush in his cheeks began to redden even more.

She asked lightly, "First time?"

"Yeah," He coughed out and hit his chest with a fisted hand. Even when he cringed, he seemed to relax and laugh along - making [Y/N] quite curious of his actions. "I shouldn't really be drinking. But almost everyone knows me around here..." The man's eyes set on hers, a faint smile on his lips once more.

"I don't recall meeting you," He blinked, confusion written across his expression so easily that [Y/N] wanted to feel bemused and deduce him straight away. "I've never had anyone move into the village for a while."

But it was always this sort of urge to deduce people, to try and tell their most deepest secrets and information by just a glance. Inside her head, she could have done this - tell him everything she had seen with only one glance at him. But something in her chest almost paused for a fraction, as if [Y/N] had led a bit of her heart control this moment.

[Y/N] thought carefully, before she then took her hand out and shook it before him. With her signature side smile: she greeted herself, "Well...It must be your lucky day. I'm [Y/N]."

"I'm Harrison-George Kingston," He firmly gripped hers and a grinned cross his path - eyes shining in warmth. "But I go by George."

____

It took a further five minutes than usual to get to work, stopping by at the post office to grab some orders I got from Amazon. I haven't bought Pippa and Jordan and wedding present yet, but I doubt they'd need anything that was vital for their house. The whole house had everything, and they didn't need some flimsy coffee maker that any ordinary wedding guest would gift.

So I bough them some trolling gifts.

Martyn and I were talking about the wedding gifts during our lunch break. And when I mentioned them, he burst out laughing with me. No one could resist the thought of some Minecraft foam Diamond pickaxes and swords.

Speaking of diamonds, we planned to head over to the city centre due to Martyn's odd request. And that had meant entering a jeweler's store down at the high street.

I simply mentioned, "You know you're an idiot." He turned around and gave me a confused look.

Martyn coughed, "W-what, why?"

"Me!" I explained. "Out of all of your friends or family: you'd bring me to go choose your engagement ring?"

What was worse was that Martyn told me that he wanted me to go with him in the first place. If I had a coffee to drink, I would hold as much liquid in my mouth and splutter it out like a spout all over myself. He had got to be joking.

He shook his head with a grin, "You're great at knowing people what they like, so why not?"

That hadn't bought me so I could carry on being patient, but it was equal for me to give out options. I knew Martyn was relying on some assistance instead of getting advice from the old man behind the counter, but with the topic of weddings always being mentioned: I was getting a bit itchy.

We exited the store, with now an extra piece with us. Since I was being my stroppy self today, I urged him to come with me for lunch. He agreed and the two of us headed down to Five Guys and got some burgers to go. I wasn't hungry, but I forced myself to be kind enough for my friend.

Just before we headed back, the blonde and tall man recommended to have our food at the park. The first fifteen minutes was mostly hearing the sounds of biting the crease of plastic wrapping. He slurped from his straw whilst I wiped my mouth with a tissue.

I called out, "When are you going to propose?"

We were sitting on the grass, under a tree whilst Martyn answered back, "I wanted it to be during the Summer."

A married man could almost seem too likely for someone like him. He was obviously fit for the typical relationship. Two people interested with each other and met under fallen consequences, and then going for several dates until all the bullet points of dating were checked up.

Therefore, when Martyn gleamed over his plan on proposing on the beach during his holiday with Netty, I expected it so. But I was surprised I felt my chest lilt as well to the thought.

I think I was so caught into the returning warmth in my chest that Martyn's face startled me.

"I think someone's thinking of someone..." Martyn grinned, lifting the pitch of his voice before singing his comment in repeat.

The next thing happened, and it sent him in the fit of giggles before forcing me to smile as well. No matter what, it has been harder everyday to hide it, but even without mentioning it: the topic raised all back to Lewis. Even with a single question of a comment on what I looked like. This was what Martyn and George felt I guessed.

I resulted that I was thinking about Lewis, the man who've literally placed himself between my unsure files.

"I swear," Martyn started. "You two look like you've been friends for years."

After taking another sip of my drink, I asked: "Does it look that way?" His eyes wandered about, thinking before humming in agreement. "Oh..."

"Well," He scrunched up the empty wrappings with his hands. "You look at each other, but one of you seem so lost, so sad. Whereas with the other...you look so conflicted."

With the tone of his voice, it seemed as if Martyn could easily begin knocking on the doors of my mind palace. His worried voice made me fold my legs up. I then placed my chin on my knees, using my hand to hold them tight as I glanced back.

How could small words can describe my whole situation here? To tell from my actions and easily tell that I was in conflict; love could be identified so well at such a quick deduction. But love can't always be honest.

As I adjusted my position, I watched the petals flow through the wind. Spring looked too beautiful, and yet so fragile. One gently breeze can bring down many.

It was then I spoke. "Martyn. I've done things...that I've never been proud of." There was a pause in my words. "Does that define what my future is going to be?"

"No." Martyn shook his head.

No?

He then explained, "Not always...I always thought of it like a path."

Martyn turned around and picked up a stick. The dry ground enabled him to begin drawing two points far from each other, writing out points A and B on the dirt.

"So you've kind of got two points, past and future." Martyn explained, and drew a straight line from A and B. "So the first path, it straight forward. Easy, but it get you to the other point quickly."

I nodded, before watching him draw another line that curved, creating a semicircle.

He then said, "The next path, it's a little longer: but you get to the same point." Martyn glanced up at me and spoke, "But what if we added another point?"

Okay now I was confused.

As he saw my face, he held his hand up - signalling me to be patient. Afterwards, he drew another point, much further from the rest of the drawing he made before drawing another line from point A to now the newly appointed point C.

"Now we have two points to go to," Martyn gestured. "And this one is much longer to the rest, but now...it isn't the same future."

He picked up a fallen petal, placing the pink floral object on the last point. It was then I realised his concept well.

He then wryly said, "I know it's cheesy, but this is how I think of my life in general. I could follow my past, take the easy route and carry as much of my past as possible. Or, I could take a longer route, ignoring my past. But it's not definite that I could ignore it and it'll always come back."

As he talked it over, I looked over to the last point in wonder.

"But with this path, I could begin changing my past as well as my future." He concluded. "Does that sound right?"

I nodded, "Yes." My fingers trailed over the route, reminiscing the winding path that was coarse and rough.

"The right path isn't always the easiest, [Y/N]." Martyn quietly mentioned.

And with that: I kept myself silent - enough to think through on the thought of maybe...I could change this around. Possibly take the chance to accept what was my past to begin with. If I was ten years younger, I would have ignored what Martyn had just said.

However, now I thought of it: not all words make people bleed.

I thanked him, faintly smiling. "When have you been so philosophical, Littlewood?"

"When you asked me if being in a relationship with the most complicated man I've ever met." He laughed. "And with you, I'm not surprised. You and Lewis might fit together well."

Towards that comment, I mentally rolled my eyes and pretended to agree. Martyn would never know how simple everyone's lives were in comparison to my own.

____

A/N: Hello everybody, and welcome back to Four Hundred and Twenty! It had been such a long time since the previous update and I would like to apologise for the long delay.

As you all know by the previous note: I had began my exams. And from now, I have officially finished (Yay *confetti*)! So I have the whole summer to literally chug as many chapters as possible. Another reason I had taken a while to update is that I have been constantly changing and scrapping the rest of the plot for ages. (I'll make some note by the end of the story).

On the other hand, this chapter slowly revolves around what happened with Zylus on the previous chapter, which is very important still. And now: it begins the trail of [Y/N] descent to the good action part and the drama shit :).

I really wanted to add more Martyn since for the past several chapters, he hasn't really been added. I think the last time was when the two talked about Christmas (22?). As well as that, I finally set the slow departure of George Kingston. I wanted the character to finally realise her independence with social ties.

What's going to happen next (ps. Wedding shit goes down.)

-SierraOwls