Marid Al-Ameen watches from the bar as some guy start to push around a teenager who looks around his age. He's seen this guy before, frequenting the bar with a few of his friends. He looks younger than them, with long blue hair and matching eyes. Marid wonders what his name is. The guy he ran into is big and burly and looks mean. Marid stands up, listening as the guy says: "Hey, watch where you're going, fuckhead!" before going to push the kid. Marid taps the man on the shoulder, putting on a smug grin.
"What's going on over here?" he asks, a lilt to his voice. The guy backs up, facing both him and the teenager.
"This rat ran into me," he points to him, slurring his words. Marid raises his eyebrows.
"And that's worth a bar fight? Wow, if I had a bar fight for every time someone ran into me, I'd have," he counts on his fingers, "no teeth. Which is what you're going to have if you keep causing this guy any more trouble."
The man sneers. "Oh yeah? And what's a little guy like you going to do about it?" He lets out a large guffaw. Marid laughs along, feeling the corners of his mouth stretch into a wider grin. The man is just about to start laughing when Marid socks him in the jaw, causing him to stumble back. The teenager's eyes go wide as he immediately starts to intervene and calm down the situation.
"Whoa, whoa," the teen says, "this isn't necessary. We don't have to fight."
"What the fuck was that!" the man yells, puffing up his chest as he stops towards Marid.
"It's called a right hook, maybe you've heard of it?" Marid baits him. The man takes a swing, but Marid is smaller and faster. He ducks and drives his shoulder into the man's stomach. The man lets out an oof of air before stumbling back. The teenager grabs at Marid's shoulders as Marid starts to march forward and continue the fight.
"Seriously," the guy says, his voice hard. "You don't have to fight for me."
Marid stops and blinks at him. "You don't want me to fight for your honor?"
"No!" The guy cries. "I don't even know you! If you continue, you're going to hurt your hands."
Marid looks down at his bruising knuckles. He frowns in confusion at the guy. "What do you care about my hands?"
The guy pauses, seeming slightly flustered before frowning back. "Your music. How do you expect to play the oud if you hurt your hands?"
"Oh," Marid says, feeling a flush start to brush over his cheeks. This guy knows him because of his music? He'd never had someone listen to his music and care that much about it. Care enough about it to want him to protect his hands.
Both of them stand there staring at each other in an awkward silence. There's a roar and Marid turns around just in time to see a fist fly at his face. He tries to dodge, but it still clips him in the side of the head. Marid spins around, ignoring the pain in his face, to counter attack when the owner of the bar, Hisham, enters the scene. He's as big as the guy Marid's fighting with, but more muscular and less fat. His face is severe.
"Marid…" he says in a warning tone. Marid smiles angelically up at him.
"This guy was about to beat up a regular, "Marid says, gesturing to the kid. "I couldn't stand by and watch."
Hisham makes a face like he knows Marid isn't telling the full story and he knows that Marid definitely baited him into a fight, but he also knows the type of guy that man is. He turns to the man. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We don't tolerate fights between customers."
"Oh, come on!" the man shouts. "You can't tell me you believe this gutter rat over a paying customer!"
"This 'gutter rat' happens to be an employee of mine, and a very good one at that," Hisham says. "And this kid over here's a regular?" he addresses the question to Marid. Marid nods.
"I recognize him," Marid says. The boy shuffles.
Hisham hums. "Right, well. You need to leave. Now, will you go on your own or do I have to make you?"
The man groans but exits the bar. Hisham turns to Marid once he's gone. "You can't keep taking matters like this into your own hands. You need to learn when to fight and when to get me or another one of the older employees. Your hands are delicate."
Marid frowns. "I can't stand by and watch people get bullied."
"I realize that," Hisham says, sighing in the way people do when they've had the same argument with someone over and over again. "Just… be careful. Your almost off your break." Hisham leaves, heading back behind the bar to take care of more orders. Marid turns to the boy.
He rubs the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I probably shouldn't have jumped in like that."
The boy sighs, but it doesn't sound annoyed or put upon. "It's fine. I can take care of myself, but it's nice to know someone would jump into the fray for my honor," there's a smug smile on his face. Marid feels his heart beat a little faster. "I'm Aladdin, by the way."
Marid shakes his hand. "Um, Marid. Marid Al-Ameen."
"Al-Ameen?"
"Yeah, I call myself that because it fits me. I'm pretty trustworthy, dontcha think?" Marid gives him a cheeky smile. Aladdin smiles back.
"Totally."
There's a lull in the conversation. "Uhh," Marid starts. "Do you want- um. I can buy you a drink if you'd like. To further apologize for my behavior. And not listening when you told me to stop."
Aladdin laughs. "I told you it's fine. I wouldn't turn down a drink though. As long as you let me heal your face."
Marid puts a hand to the side of his head that'd been hit and winces at the pain. "I wouldn't say no to that. Wanna come sit with me?"
"Sure," Aladdin says genially. He follows Marid to the bar where Marid pulls the chair out for him with a grand gesture. Aladdin sits in it and Marid sits next to him smiling. "Hisham, could we have two glasses of Moscato?"
Hisham raises an eyebrow at him and then Aladdin and then him again before getting out two glasses and pouring it in. "This is coming out of your paycheck."
"What paycheck?" Marid asks cheekily. Hisham puffs out his cheeks.
"The paycheck you're not getting anymore if you keep talking back, ya brat."
"Marid, don't lose your job because of me," Aladdin says, his eyebrows pulling together in worry. Marid laughs.
"It's fine, Aladdin. Hisham won't fire me. No one else around here knows how to play the oud. Or any other instruments, now that I think about it. No offense, but you guys are pretty lame."
Aladdin laughs. "None taken. I'm not from here, anyway. I've just been living in the area for the past year or so."
"Same here," Marid says. "But you've probably been here longer than me."
"Where'd you come from?" Aladdin asks him.
"Here and there," Marid answers. "I don't normally stay places long. You?"
A wistful look overtakes Aladdin's expression. "My life has been similar, though I have found a family through my friends."
"That sounds nice," Marid says genuinely. He wishes he had friends, but he doesn't say it, thinking it counterintuitive for wanting to know Aladdin better. Besides, he likes this little corner of the world, where he lives by himself in a small shack and works with Hisham and the others. He enjoys his job. "What brings you here?"
Aladdin seems a bit hesitant to answer. "We just wanted to get away from the… industrialization of the new world order."
"I getcha. I came here to try and find work, but be able to live by my own means without having to do whatever Sinbad wants me to. I don't really believe in the whole unifying the world thing. There's other things we need to think about before we try and unite everyone."
"Like what?" Aladdin asks, leaning forward. He hadn't touched his drink yet. He seems to be genuinely interested in what Marid has to say, but Marid still clams up under the attention. He's not used to attention that's not superficial.
"Um, I don't know. Like humanity and stuff, I guess," Marid says, taking a sip of his drink to give himself something other to do than talk. He doesn't like talking about himself, preferring to observe others and listen to what they have to say while disagreeing quietly. Aladdin senses Marid's discomfort and changes the subject.
"So, do you have any friends here?"
Marid laughs into his drink. How do I say 'I don't have any friends' and not sound like a complete loser? "I don't know many people here. I mostly keep to myself. You?"
"Well, I have friends from before I came here, but I don't know many people from the area. Do you see that dark haired guy and the red haired girl over there?" Aladdin points to the two a few groups of people away. Marid nods. He vaguely remembers seeing them around Aladdin, though he has to admit that Aladdin had kept his attention. "Those are my two friends, Hakuryuu and Morgiana."
"That's nice. You all live together?" Marid asks. Aladdin nods.
"Yeah, it's nice. We all get along well though it didn't used to be that way. Hakuryuu was kind of the black sheep of the group, but now he's really straightened out his act and become an amazing guy."
"He sounds like it. It's nice to see how much you love your friends," Marid says, tilting his head to the side with a smile. The way Aladdin's face lights up when he talks about his friends, and his general mannerisms all scream cute! really loudly to Marid. Marid straightens up when he sees the black haired guy -Hakuryuu -come over to them. Aladdin turns around when he sees the shift of Marid's posture and smiles up at Hakuryuu.
"Aladdin, we should probably get going soon," Hakuryuu says. Aladdin pouts but nods in assent, standing up.
"Thank you for the drink, Marid Al-Ameen," he says with a smile. Marid frowns.
"But you didn't drink it?"
Aladdin blinks, looking from the drink to Hakuryuu. "I didn't realize." He picks it up and downs it, blinking at the fruity taste of the Moscato and then the heat of the liquor as it settles in his stomach. Hakuryuu looks at him worriedly, putting a hand on his shoulder. Aladdin blinks a few more times and seems to sway a bit. Marid tilts his head.
"Not much of a drinker?" he asks, addressing his question to Hakuryuu. The man shakes his head. While Aladdin protests.
"I'm fine," he says before leaning in close to Marid. "I'll see you later," his fingertips dance on Marid's collarbone before Hakuryuu goes, "yep" and starts to lead him out of the bar. Aladdin goes without protest and the two boys meet with Morgiana at the door. She takes one look at the flush on Aladdin's cheeks, shakes her head and then lifts him up. The group then leaves. Hisham sidles over to Marid, with a knowing smirk on his face.
"So, Aladdin, huh?" Marid blushes and scowls at the older man.
"Shut up."
"I can't take care of you anymore," his mother had told him, passing him a bag and a blanket before pushing him out of the house. She looks back, over her shoulder, hearing the shouts between her master and his wife. "If they find you, they'll kill you. If you're able to make it to Baghdad, I have family there. My old teacher. She'll take you in."
"But mama, I'm only a little kid," Marid had said, his voice breaking and small. His mother smiles down at him.
"You're smart. You'll figure it out. This is the last thing I can do to protect you. You must leave. Hurry."
Marid does not understand why he will be killed. He hasn't done anything to their master, nor has his mother. All he knows is that his father had been taken away from them. He doesn't know why or how that should affect him. His mother told him that his father had been a good man, so why was Marid being punished? The eight-year-old wished he knew the answers to the universe.
His mother kisses him on the forehead and then the cheeks before embracing him. When she lets him go, she pushes him away and closes the door. Marid stares at it before hearing the yelling become louder and a scream. He'd never heard his mother sound like that, but he knew it was her. Fear rushes through his body and he turns and runs, his backpack bouncing against him and the blanket dragging in the sand.
The next time Marid sees Aladdin, is when he's performing. No one is necessarily listening to his song, but he doesn't care as he fingers stroke familiar patterns over the strings of his oud. Aladdin walks in and then directly over to him, sitting at the table nearest. He smiles up at Marid and waves. Marid smiles back before closing his eyes and listening to the way the intervals line up with one another. Aladdin doesn't move throughout the song, closing his eyes and listening as Marid plays to him. Marid wishes his song would reach.
It's a song of hope, of friendship, of loyalty.
When it's time for his break, he sets down his oud on the small stage and Aladdin stands to follow him to the bar. Hisham gives him a glass of wine and gestures with an empty glass to Aladdin. Marid raises his eyebrows at him. Aladdin flushes and shakes his head. Hisham shrugs.
"Sorry about last time," Aladdin says as they sit down. "I was so excited about talking to you that I forgot I don't drink. And then I didn't know what to do," his cheeks flush, though it may just be a trick of the light. "I guess I didn't want to appear lame for not drinking at a bar."
"Nothing wrong with not drinking," Marid says. "I sometimes feel like I have to drink since I work here. Like it wouldn't look good for an employee at a bar not to drink, you know? But anyway, I never drink enough to get drunk."
"Since I don't drink, I don't know my limits," he laughs with embarrassment, "Though I guess now I know that it's one glass of white wine."
Marid chuckles. "That's fine, too. Like I said, no shame in it. Anyway, how are you?"
"I'm good," Aladdin says, then smirks. "Very good, now that I'm here with you."
The two boys flush. Aladdin covers his face with his hands. "That was embarrassing."
"Yeah, a little bit," Marid says with a flustered laugh. "Is this how you usually make friends?"
"I haven't made any friends since I was ten," Aladdin says, completely straight-faced. "I'm a little out of practice."
"Well, I'm way more out of practice than you because I haven't made any friends like, ever," Marid says, trying to lighten the mood. His words catch up to him and wants to stab himself in the throat with a fork because what the fuck was he thinking? That sounds so lame!
"You can't say that anymore because I'm your friend," Aladdin says decisively. Marid grins.
"Did you just go ahead and decide that on your own?"
"Yeah," Aladdin says. "And you don't have any say in it. You're my friend now."
Marid laughs. "Great. Good to know I'm friends with a friendship dictator."
"You're welcome," Aladdin jokes. The two boys laugh before falling into some silence where Marid studies Aladdin's face. His skin is smooth and pale. His eyes are dark blue, like a night sky lit by the moon. He has a delicate nose and high cheek bones and a thin neck with a pronounced collarbone. He's beautiful.
"How old are you?" Marid asks, deciding that's an important thing to know. Aladdin raises an eyebrow.
"I'm sixteen," he says. Marid nods.
"Cool, I am, too."
"I've never had a friend my age before," Aladdin says with some amount of joy. "Normally my friends are much older."
"As I said before, I've never had a friend before, so, we're both out of our element," Marid says. They enter into a small conversation of things they like and things they don't. Marid learns that Aladdin will eat basically anything and that he doesn't like Sinbad very much, while Aladdin finds out that Marid's not a picky eater either and he's trying to get enough money to buy a new oud since his is a few years old and is getting harder and harder to keep in tune.
"If you ever want me to play for you and your friends, I will, free of charge," Marid offers, "since you seem to be a fan of music."
"I'm a fan of your music," Aladdin responds. "It sounds like you're telling a story without any words and I like that. Every time I come in here, it's different."
Marid blushes. "I try to tell stories even though Hisham won't let me sing. He says that'd be too distracting for the customers since they come here to party and socialize with one another and if I sing, they'll feel obliged to listen."
"You can sing?" Aladdin asks, his eyes wide. Marid feels more heat rise to his face at the attention.
"I mean, yeah. I'm not super good or anything. It's just. Something I do in my spare time. My mother was a minstrel for a wealthy family in Reim so I learned some things," he explains.
"Could you sing me a song?" Aladdin asks, a smile on his face. "I'm sure you have a beautiful voice."
"Not as beautiful as yours," Marid responds before he can stop himself. Both he and Aladdin flush again. He clears his throat, "but yeah, I can. If you'd like."
"Sing me something right now," Aladdin demands.
"I mean, I don't have anything to accompany me… but… okay." Aladdin leans forward to listen. Marid thinks quickly wondering what song he should sing, before he decides on one. "Oh father, tell me, do we get what we deserve? Oh, we get what we deserve. Way down we go… Whoa, let your feet run wild, time has come as we all go down… yeah, but for the fall, ooh my, do you dare to look them right in the eyes? Yeah… 'cause they will run you down, down till the dark. Yes, and they will run you down, down till you fall. And they will run you down, down till you go; so, you can't crawl no more. And, way down we go…" He pauses. "That's basically it. It feels weird to keep going without music."
"I love it," Aladdin says. "Your voice, the emotion, the lyrics. You have a gift, Marid."
Marid blushes. "Thank you. It's one of the first songs I wrote."
"Do you mind me asking what it's about?" Aladdin asks, curious. Marid hesitates.
"Well, um, I guess to make a long story short, I wrote it about my past. Where I come from," he explains. Aladdin nods, not pushing for more details than Marid's prepared to give. Marid has never talked about what he's been through to anyone. "Basically, when I wrote it I was in a place of confusion about fate and destiny and karma. I decided that those things exist, but they are meant to punish not to reward."
Aladdin hums, thoughtful. "I think that there's a duality to destiny. It can punish but it can also reward and sometimes what we perceive to be punishments may be a way for us to receive something greater later on. That's not to say whatever you went through was bad for a cosmic reason, but I guess I tend to look at things with a silver-lining."
"That's admirable," Marid says. "I wish I was able to see it that way."
"There's no shame in being more pessimistic," Aladdin says, repeating back Marid's earlier words. "Maybe when I was younger I would have thought positivity equals goodness, but I know better now. You shouldn't be ashamed for how you feel."
"You're wise, for a sixteen year old," Marid says.
"We're literally the same age," Aladdin says. Marid shrugs.
"My point still stands," Marid takes another drink of his and glances at Hisham who's staring at him. When they make eye contact Hisham nods towards his oud. Marid downs the rest of his wine and stands up. Aladdin looks up at him.
"Do you have to go back to work?"
Marid nods. "Duty calls. Are you staying or going?"
Aladdin looks through the crowd to try and find Hakuryuu and Morgiana. When he doesn't see them immediately, he shrugs. "I have time."
Marid runs and runs and runs until he finally reaches Baghdad. It's far away from Reim, all the way in Balbadd. He didn't know where Balbadd was until he got there and the dialect changed and people started to say King instead of Emperor. Marid isn't sure how to look for his mother's teacher or even where to stay. He bums in the streets, finding shelter in alleys, under overhanging roofs. He sniffs and lays with his arms over his knees, curled into a tight ball and doesn't cry. He has no more tears to shed.
In the daytime he goes around and does odd jobs. No one looks sideways at a lone child without someone to care for them. There are other children, too, but Marid doesn't talk to them. He doesn't know how. Marid goes from house to house, saying his mother's name to try and find her teacher, but to no avail.
Maybe they're dead, Marid thinks, Maybe I'm truly alone.
It takes three days to find the teacher, an older woman who was once a famous minstrel. She takes one look at him and brings him inside her home. She gives him food and shelter and an oud. A new way of life.
"Tell your story," she tells him, once she'd shown him the basics. Marid, now ten, is a fast learner. Adaptable.
One year later.
"Tell me what you've seen."
He does.
There are tears glistening in her eyes. "You are taught."
Marid leaves in the morning.
"Aww, Marid has a crush!" Halima, Hisham's daughter, coos as he packs up his oud for the night. The tavern is clear of customers and it's only him and the other employees left to clean up. "That's so cute."
"What do you mean, Marid has a crush?" Khadija, a barista, cuts in. "Is it on that blue haired boy he keeps talking to?"
"Totally," Halima responds. "He totally has a crush on him."
"I'm so glad my little Marid's found love," out of nowhere, Jamil, a server, wraps his arms around Marid and picks him up off the ground with a squeeze. "I'm so proud of him."
"Oh, lay off, guys, can't you see you're embarrassing him?" Layale, Hisham's oldest daughter chastises them. Marid is put back on the ground where he frowns deeply at Jamil and the rest. Except for Layale. She's nice. She can stay. "Besides, what's the point of teasing him now when his crush isn't even here?"
Never mind, Marid thinks as his coworkers all yell about how Layale is so right, she's the worst of them all.
He quickly straps his oud to his back and starts to rush out of the tavern. He gets a few feet out onto the road when Jamil exits the bar as well, calling for him.
"Hey Marid," Jamil starts, walking towards him. "Are you sure you don't want to come and stay at my place? My wife won't mind. You'd have a good meal."
Marid ignores the rumbling in his stomach. His allowance for food only lets him eat four times a week. "No, it's fine. I'm taking care of myself. You don't have to worry."
Jamil looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn't, his eyes raking over the bones of Marid's wrists and the shoulders. "If you're sure. You wouldn't be imposing on us. You don't have to do everything alone, you know?"
"I appreciate the offer, but it's fine, really," Marid says. "Don't worry about me."
"I can't stop," Jamil laughs, but it's soft and not happy. "The others are worried about you too, but I have more agency to help. We care about you, Marid."
Marid's heart stops at the words and he feels a lump in his throat. Someone cares about him? That can't be right. Marid's a ghost.
He needs to leave.
"Thanks," Marid says. "Have a good night, Jamil."
And he's gone down the road, heat stinging behind his eyes in a way he hasn't felt in years.
Feelings.
They're making him soft.
Do you love me?
I don't know if I love you.
Do you love me?
The words are on his tongue as he strums his oud. Aladdin hasn't arrived at the tavern yet. His notes fall harmonically, descending and ascending, expressing feelings of confusion. Does he like Aladdin? Or is it just the intrigue of making friends with someone? He wishes he knew. At least then, he wouldn't feel so upside down-inside out whenever they talked. After he'd sung to him, he'd seen Aladdin a few other times, each time singing a different song that he'd written while by himself.
After I see myself abandoned, day after day, I am not there and tomorrow is not there either.
Maybe when the sun goes down, lately you're my sole surround, say my name.
And never can you take it back and never can you make it right.
The fact that he sang those songs to Aladdin honestly embarrasses him. He doesn't know what it is about him that makes Marid want to spill his guts about everything. Is that love? Marid thinks it's weakness. He's made it six years without a home, travelling by himself, not needing to rely on anyone and then suddenly some boy comes along and his feelings are like "this one! This one! You like this one!"
What the fuck?
Marid plucks a dissonant chord, falling into a descending pattern of dissonance. It's how he feels, anyway. Out of order, different, jarring. Jarred.
I want to see you, the stars in your eyes.
I want to see us, to smile and be happy.
The doors open and Aladdin walks in, chattering with his friends. He gestures to Marid and Hakuryuu makes an expression of recognition. Morgiana stares at him with an unreadable expression. She's probably great at poker, Marid thinks to himself. Aladdin brings his friends over to sit at the table nearest him. They sit there for a while chatting and listening to the music. Marid pauses his song to take a drink of water from the glass next to him. After he takes a swig, he addresses them.
"Any requests?"
"Something I can dance to," Morgiana says in a voice that's calm and firm. Marid decides he likes her authoritative tone.
"Coming right up," he says. He thinks for a few seconds before his fingers dance over the strings, bringing to life an upbeat and peppy song. Morgiana stands and begins to dance. She's really good, Marid thinks. He enjoys watching her dance, something he wishes he could do more but he's just the musician. When she dances, all the eyes of the people in the bar are drawn to her, encouraging others to dance as well. It's cute watching the couples sway and laugh with one another, friends cheer each other on through embarrassment. Hakuryuu stays sitting next to Aladdin. He seems to be more rigid, while Aladdin sways to the beat from his chair.
After a few minutes of frenzied dancing and partying and playing, Marid starts to slow down the tune to something calmer. Morgiana returns to her seat next to Hakuryuu and the other patrons return to mingling with one another, buying more drinks. It was fun while it lasted.
"Could you sing something?" Aladdin asks him over the sounds of the oud. Marid chuckles.
"Aladdin, didn't you know? My words are only for you." Aladdin flushes at Marid's flirtatious comment but doesn't respond, only rolling his eyes before saying,
"I'm holding you to that. Sing me a song when you're done."
Marid shakes his head. "Don't I always?" He keeps playing, watching Aladdin and his friends and the others in the bar, seeking inspiration for his tunes. His eyes keep being drawn back to Aladdin. Of course, he's always been attracted to him. They're the same age and Aladdin is pretty and Marid likes men. He thinks about the way Aladdin smiles. Marid likes that about Aladdin. When he smiles, Marid feels like he's being blessed by the sun.
Marid likes the way Aladdin speaks, as if he knows everything, he likes the way that Aladdin speaks to him. Softly, assured, comforting. He likes the way Aladdin explains his world views and gives Marid a new way of thinking. When they speak, Marid feels like it's okay think like him. Marid likes how Aladdin looks at him when he sings, almost fond (but Marid's probably projecting) and then the way he speaks about the lyrics. Marid understands him. He likes the way they look at each other in the silent din of the bar, in the candle, the way it reflects in his eyes. Marid feels like Aladdin sees him.
Frankly, that terrifies him. The idea that someone can see him and understand what they're looking at.
He opens his eyes, which had closed while he played and thought and expressed, and looks at Aladdin. He's staring at Marid with his mouth slightly open. Marid wonders what Aladdin has understood in his song. Marid strums the tune to a natural cadence, a closing point in the music. In the silence sounding after the cadence, Marid lets himself feel, for a second.
He likes Aladdin.
if I could add footnotes for citations I would. songs i reference in order:
Kaleo. "Way Down We Go." A/B, Elektra, 2016. (this is a fucking good song and an amazing album so please listen to it)
Maître Gims. "Est-ce que tu m'aimes ? (Pilule Bleu)." Mon cœur avait raison, Wati B., Sony Music, 2015. (I translated the last half of the chorus but I decided to put the citation in anyway just in case. Also as a song rec.)
Seo Taiji and Boys. "Come Back Home." Seotaiji and Boys IV, Bando Eumban, Yedang Company, 1995.
Peking Duk. "Say My Name (feat. Benjamin Joseph)." Songs to Sweat to -EP, RCA & Sony Music Entertainment, 2015.
Everything Everything. "To the Blade." Get To Heaven (Deluxe Version), Geffen, RCA, Vinyl Junkie, Cult Records, 2015.
Grégoire. "Toi + Moi." Toi + Moi, My Major Company, 2008.
(adding citations because I'm not a pleb and plagiarism is not cool kids lol)
I would really appreciate if you guys review! And if you'd like to check out my other fic, I welcome you to it!