Forget me not - Chapter 1 - Scandichick (2024)

Chapter Text

He visits him every day.

Or everyday they’ll allow it, at least.

He sits at his bedside, talks to him, doesn’t know if he can hear it but does it anyway.

Whether rain or shine, he sits there and tells him about his day, about all the mundane things he wishes the two of them could share again, same as they used to not too long ago.

His face is still, skin smooth and pale like a doll’s, his fingers unmoving upon a white sheet.

He’ll press his lips to those fingers when he says goodbye, promises he’ll be back soon, before he turns around and leaves the room.

He meets her in the hallway.


They don’t say anything as they cross paths.

Looks alone are enough to convey how they feel about the other.

She acts like she’s taller than she is, taller than him (which she definitely isn’t), and that all it takes is for her to raise her chin and she won’t see him.

She takes his place at that person’s side and talks to him, doesn’t know if he can hear but does it anyway.

And surely she knows, just as he does…

They’re both waiting for a day that might never come.


Things he notices are things like the little blonde hairs at the back of his head that won’t be contained in his ponytail; the elegant stretch of his slender neck as he pulls back his shoulders to adjust his posture; the fair, wispy lashes that frames the round shape of his sky blue eyes.

His name is Len Kagamine, which f*ckase finds out by sneaking a stealthy peek at the cover of his notebook. It’s entirely possible that the initial stealthy peek was followed by several others over the past five minutes or so, because f*ckase can’t seem to take his eyes of the real life fairy tale prince who’s seated next to him.

Len sits as if posed for a portrait, back straight and eyes and ears on high alert like the model student his meticulous note-taking would suggest he is. He is a bit on the short side though, and it doesn’t help that the student in front of him is about the same height as your average flagpole, which leads the young man to stretch his neck more than looks strictly comfortable.

It’s then that f*ckase comes up with his ingenious idea of how to woo this beautiful stranger. He’s just working up the courage to volunteer his much more desirable seat — preferably without making an ass out of himself and squandering his first impression — when another blonde pops into view and Len turns his head towards her.

It’s all but obvious that the pair are twins because they’re nearly identical, with the notable exceptions being that the newcomer wears her short hair down and has a pleated skirt instead of slacks. If there was still any doubt at all about their familial relation, their matching outfits puts the final nail in the coffin as they are each sporting a designer brand set that consists of a navy blue v-neck sweater, a white button up shirt, and black for their respective bottoms.

Fittingly for the fairy tale prince and his sister, they have an affluent, untouchable air about them, though the sister looks considerably more haughty as she scans the lecture hall with her head held high, pursing her thin lips so they almost disappear.

”You can change seats with me”, she tells her brother, indicating the spot she’s standing at which hasn’t got any giants as obstacles. ”You’ll see better from here.”

”What good would that do?” Len wonders skeptically. ”You’re not any taller than I am.”

f*ckase discovers that he’s nodding fervently in agreement and has to stop himself before either of them notice it.

”Yeah, but I'm not near-sighted like you are”, the sister replies. ”Why aren’t you wearing your glasses? You’ve got the prescription for a reason.”

Len juts out his bottom lip and furrows his brows. He’s sulking, and it’s terribly cute.

”I forgot them at home, but I don’t see how is your vision going to help you if you can’t see anything to begin—”

His sister puts down her foot, literally and metaphorically. ”Shush. Move over, you goat.”

Len grunts something about how this is stupid and unnecessary but moves over anyway.

It strikes f*ckase that he still has a chance to make his move when the sister settles next to him, smoothing out her skirt in the same motion. He offers up his best ”look-how-charitable-and-awesome-I-am-and-you-should-definitely-introduce-me-to-your-brother” smile (the name might have have to be revised at a later stage) as he taps the table top with his finger to gain her attention.

She glances over at him.

She looks annoyed, but f*ckase tells himself he’s imagining it and barges ahead before he thinks better of it.

”You can swap places with me if you like”, he says helpfully. The sister briefly examines his person with half-lidded eyes, then visibly turns up her nose at him.

”No thanks. I’m fine like this.”

She looks away and opens up her notebook, signaling loud and clear that the conversation is over.

f*ckase sits back in disbelief.



She didn’t need to do him dirty like that.

He grumbles a ”Whatever” and turns to the podium when the lecturer walks into the room.

As he consistently fails to pay any attention whatsoever over the course of the next hour, f*ckase wonders idly how that saying goes again.

”Man plans, God laughs?”

Yeah… that seems about right.


He gets his second shot at lunch about a week later.

For whatever reason, Ms. Pesky isn’t around and Len is sitting in the cafeteria by himself. He doesn’t look lonely in the slightest, but is fully engrossed by a book that’s methodically placed next to his lunch tray. Every one in a while, he tears his gaze from the pages so that he can make sure the food actually gets into his mouth and not all over his cream-colored polo sweater.

f*ckase silently agrees that it would be a great shame to ruin a sweater that Len looks so ridiculously good in.

Unfortunately, he’s not quite as silent as he slides up.

A chair leg materializes out of nowhere, one of his Doc Martens get caught up in it and it’s pure, dumb luck that he doesn’t fall flat on his face. He braces himself as he awkwardly tumbles against the back of the chair, attracting a room full of curious eyes that break away to behold the spectacle that almost happened.

Emphasis on the almost.

f*ckase quickly gathers himself and fires off a sheepish grin towards the spectators that lose interest and collectively get back to what they were doing before his ”Crash Course in Collision with Inanimate Objects”.

That is, all except one.

”Are you okay?” Len asks. Much like the chair leg, he’s also materialized out of nowhere and is standing in front of f*ckase in all of his fairy tale glory.

f*ckase realizes he has no idea how to talk to someone this pretty.

It’s a little late for that though.

”Yup”, he says, and that’s it. He can’t think of anything else.

Surprisingly enough, Len doesn’t seem to think he’s a total numb nut and steps aside, gesturing at the empty seat beside him.

”Do you want to sit?” he asks casually.

This is no big deal to him.

It is to f*ckase.

”Sure!” he blurts out, and thinks it’s a good thing he came up with something besides ”yup”. The voice crack is less good, but f*ckase reckons you can’t win them all.

His game of make-believe begins the moment he sits down next to Len, because now he’s forced to act like he’s not internally freaking out all over the place. As the sole of his boot taps an anxious rhythm against the floor, he tries to distract himself by searching for a topic of conversation and aims for the low hanging fruit that is Len's choice of lunch.

This turns out to be a mistake when he gets his first proper look at the blonde’s plate and discovers he’s eating something that very distinctly resembles baby food. f*ckase feels his gut reaction kick in as his face scrunches up in disgust and he has zero control of the words that immediately tumble out of his mouth.

”What the hell is that?”

Len looks back at him with bewilderment. He follows f*ckase’s line of sight and scratches absent-mindedly at his scalp.

”That’s, uh… my lunch?” he says. Amazingly, the fact that he’s eating literal slop doesn’t seem to faze him.

”I can see that, but what is it?” f*ckase reiterates. ”It looks like someone already chewed it and spit up.”

”You think so?” Len asks, and the question is so genuinely innocent it’s impossible for f*ckase to not start grinning. The blonde stares down at his plate and squints his eyes as to inspect it more closely. ”It’s the vegan option. The… lentil casserole, I think was called. Legumes are supposed to be really good for you, you know. The are low in saturated fats but rich in fiber, protein and many essential minerals.”

”Uh-huh”, f*ckase says, unconvinced. ”If you say so.”

Len forks another bite of food into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before he adds, ”It’s actually pretty well-seasoned. You should give it a try.”

”I’m gonna say hard pass on that one. Besides”, f*ckase gestures at the lunchbox he’s sat on the tabletop, ”I brought my own lunch.”

Leaning in, Len glances down at the lunchbox with a lopsided smile that could clear skies in nanoseconds. ”And what do you have that’s apparently so superior to my lentil casserole?”

f*ckase suddenly grows very aware that Len is extremely close to him and that those blue eyes with wispy lashes are looking straight into his face. A soon as his brain registers this, a bright blush spreads rapidly from the base of his neck to the tip of his ears, effectively dyeing his skin the same color as his hair.

There’s no way Len doesn’t see it, but he has the decency to feign either ignorance or partial blindness.

”I-I… uhh…” Officially tongue-tied, f*ckase gives up on talking and opens his lunchbox to reveal a boring ol’ turkey sandwich and a bag of chips. There’s a small apple in there too, but it’s mostly for show since he knows he’ll never get around to eating it.

Len reviews the presentation of his humble meal and lets out a low whistle. ”Impressive!”

”Shut up”, f*ckase grumbles. ”It’s convenient and it gets the job done.”

”Uh-huh.” Len mimics his earlier reply with a smirk. ”If you say so.”

At least it’s better than baby food, f*ckase ponders bitterly. His skin is on fire.

Half a triangle of whole-grain bread, turkey, tomato, lettuce and mayo goes into his mouth while he tries to save face. He scrambles for another topic to redirect Len’s attention away from his embarrassment and conveniently finds what he’s looking for in the book on the cafeteria table.

”What are you reading?”

It’s Len’s turn to look embarrassed. He’s noticeably reluctant when he slides a bookmark between the pages and closes the book to show f*ckase the cover. It’s really nothing out of the ordinary, and f*ckase’s surprise upon seeing the title stems primarily from how it so perfectly aligns with what he expected someone like Len to be reading.

”It’s a classic, okay?” Len says somewhat defensively as he stuffs his copy of ”Pride and prejudice” into his shoulder bag. f*ckase feels himself grinning again.

”I didn’t say anything.”

”Not with your mouth, no”, Len retorts. He scowls indignantly and goes back to eating his lentil casserole.

”Hey, look, I'm not judging you.” f*ckase rushes to smooth things over, worried he’s managed to make an ass out of himself after all (wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened). ”You like what you like and that's cool with me. Each to their own, as I always say.”

Len briefly sets down his fork to give him a mistrustful glare. ”You ’always’ say that?”

”Oh yeah, I live by it. It’s practically my personal motto”, f*ckase responds convincingly, brandishing a three-finger salute. ”Scout’s honor!”

The gesture is just over the top enough to coax a laugh out of Len and it’s bright and crisp like wind chimes in a summer breeze. The prettiest of smiles lingers on his lips when he extends his right hand towards f*ckase.

”I’m Len, by the way. Len Kagamine.”

f*ckase takes Len’s hand in his own and vainly tries to ignore how the softness of the other boy's skin sends tingles all the way up to his elbow. ”f*ckase Satoshi.”

”Nice to meet you, f*ckase”, Len replies and gives f*ckase’s hand a light squeeze.

f*ckase thinks it’s an excellent day to buy a lottery ticket.


At some point during those first few months, he decides that she is simply a miserable, miserable person. From the way she hovers around and tries to tag along everywhere and acts as if she doesn’t know that she’s not wanted, f*ckase has realized exactly why it is that Kagamine Rin doesn’t have any friends.

Len doesn’t see it, because Len loves his sister even when she behaves like a snarky, stuck up c-word. But then, he isn’t the one who has to deal with her shooting daggers at him every time he enters the room, or her rudely interrupting him whenever he tries to say something, or her generally spiteful attitude towards everything he is and does.

No, f*ckase is the one who has the honor of receiving that particular displeasure. He’s the one who has her as the perpetual thorn in his side, the infernal bane of his existence, and the one thing that’s intent on keeping him from getting closer to the beautiful boy with the sunny smile.

f*ckase wonders if it’s worth it sometimes, especially after she catches him smoking on campus.

It’s a nasty habit, he knows that. He’s been trying to kick it for a while now and thinks he’s been doing well enough even if the mounds of nicotine gum and patches he goes through say otherwise.

But to think that the one time after meeting Len that he gives in to the craving and sneaks off to take a hit, she just happens to stumble over him while he's busy blowing a wreath of smoke over his head.

Rin lays eyes on him like a missile locking on its target and immediately stops in her tracks.

”You’re a smoker”, she says, and f*ckase can’t quite tell if the look on her face is one of disgust or triumph. ”Figures.”

She walks away before he has the chance to say anything in his defense, not that he even wants to because he doesn’t owe her sh*t and he hasn’t done anything that needs to be defended.

Or so he thinks.

f*ckase realizes he’s wrong about that the next day when Len keeps giving him the cold shoulder.

They are still in that scratching-the-surface phase of their friendship where most of their conversations stays within the perimeter of harmless small talk. They don’t know each other that well yet, and f*ckase knows that whatever bonds have formed between them are too fragile to withstand much friction.

He braves an entire week of callous rejections before he loses his cool and chases Len down at the tail end of a Thursday afternoon, gripping his wrist and refusing to let go until the he stops trying to free himself.

”What did I do?” f*ckase blurts out. He sounds desperate and panicked because he is desperate and panicked and frankly he’s beyond caring whether Len knows about it. ”Why won’t you talk to me? Are you mad at me? Is it something I said?”

They’re outside, and Len looks down the wilted lawn to his sister’s frame some paces away. She’s making eye contact with him, and for a moment f*ckase’s sure that Len will give in to her expectant stare and follow suit.

But he doesn’t.

”I’m not mad at you”, he says, now facing f*ckase. ”I just think you’re being incredibly f*cking stupid.”

f*ckase has never heard him curse before.

It makes him nervous.

”Care to elaborate?” he says. In the distance, he sees Rin turn her back and march off, lacquered shoes kicking at dead leaves and pebbles to clear her way.

Len doesn’t seem to take notice of what his sister’s doing. He fidgets, fumbles and grapples with his words a bit awkwardly, isn’t as well-spoken as he normally is.

”You-… Are you-… Please tell me you’re trying to quit smoking.”

He ducks his head and looks up at f*ckase through bangs that could probably use a trim. The tremble of his blue irises has the redhead frozen to the spot and he clears his throat, hoping to avoid another voice crack as he responds.

”I am — honest. I just slipped up a little.”

Len nods and turns his head again, looks to where his sister was minutes ago. Then, in the span of one exhale, he mutters quietly, ”Our mom died of lung cancer.”

f*ckase goes completely white. ”Oh. Oh f*ck. I-I mean… I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

Len stands with his hands in his pockets, doesn’t say anything for some time. The strained silence stretches for miles and miles between the two as other students push past them, chatting, joking and laughing, having no clue how blissful their ignorance is.

After what feels like hours, f*ckase finally finds the courage to reach out and tugs gingerly at the sleeve of Len’s coat. The wind ruffles the blonde’s hair when meets f*ckase’s gaze. His nose looks a little red and runny from the cold, but his expression remains eerily blank as he extends his open hand towards his friend and waits patiently.

It takes few second for f*ckase to catch on, but when he does, he digs into his backpack and takes out what’s left of the packet of cigarettes as well as his lighter. The objects are placed on Len’s open palm and he slides them into his pocket while f*ckase makes a metal note to purchase more nicotine gum before he runs out.

He’s quitting for real this time.

”What are you doing now?” Len asks out of the blue. f*ckase pretends as if he’s not getting whiplash from the change of subject and shrugs indifferently.

”Dunno. I don’t have any plans.”

Len nods again, adjusting the strap to his shoulder bag. He hesitates for a bit, but it’s not long before the sunlight hits the corner of his smile and the warmth returns to his eyes as he jerks his head towards the parking lot.

”Do you want to come over to my place?”

Mouth six inches wide and counting, f*ckase stares at him.


”C-Come again?”


He has his own car, which is a luxury f*ckase might’ve been envious of if Len hand’t revealed to him why this is.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that the twins’ mother passed away after being in and out of hospital for several years, it turns out their father couldn’t handle the prospect of raising two preteens on his own, and so he simply decided to opt out of parenthood altogether.

f*ckase sits glassy-eyed in the passengers seat as Len recounts the morning after his mother’s funeral, on which he woke up and realized his deadbeat dad had made off without a trace, leaving him and his sister to fend for themselves.

”Luckily our aunt Meiko was able to take us in”, Len explains as he signals a left turn. ”She’s a lawyer and a textbook workaholic. Rin and I get to see her maybe once or twice a week these days, if that. I guess she buys all of these expensive things for us because she feels guilty about not being around and wants to make up for it.

”I don’t honestly mind that much. I’ve always been self-dependent anyway, even back when mom was still alive. Rin, on the other hand…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to.

Rin’s ”issues”, such as her borderline unhealthy attachment to her brother, are pretty self-explanatory as far as f*ckase is concerned. Even so, his sympathy for her continues to be practically non-existent, because having a crappy childhood isn’t a viable excuse to act utterly insufferable 24/7.

Case in point, just take a look at her brother.

Len’s likability far exceeds that of his sister, and it’s easy to see why. He’s genuinely nice towards most people, yet straightforward and outspoken about his opinions at the same time. He’s helpful, even-tempered and a really good listener. His natural curiosity allows him to engage with friends and strangers alike in a manner that doesn't feel stilted, and he never seems to think of anyone as below him.

That isn’t to say that he’s perfect.

f*ckase knows him to be an overachiever who easily gets frustrated when things doesn’t go his way. He’s excessively self-critical and often gets hung up on minor details instead of focusing on the totality. His knack for interpersonal engagement also comes with a drawback as he tends to ramble on about a specific topic without noticing that the other parties has lost interest (not that f*ckase ever does; he’d happily listen to Len talk about literally anything all day long if he could).

Last but not least, there’s his Achille’s heel: Rin Kagamine herself.

Len might not be perfect, but in comparison to his arrogant, entitled, attention-seeking narcissist of a sister, he’s virtually a saint.

Len's constantly forced to come to his sister's defense. He's the one who has to clean up her messes and gets stuck playing diplomat when she inevitably steps on someone’s toes and refuses to deescalate the situation.

Rin is a menace and a liability to everyone she comes in contact with, and f*ckase knows he’s not the only one on campus who thinks so. He’s not one to partake in mean-spirited gossip, but he can’t deny that it brings him some amount of personal satisfaction to hear other students refer to her as ”that rich bitch”.

That being said, he does feel a bit bad when Len casts a quick glance at his face and seems to read the subtext of his thoughts right out of his mind.

”Look, I know she can seem abrasive and difficult to get along with at first… She’s not good with new people. That’s why I’m telling you all of this, because if you’re planning on sticking around, you’re going to have to be patient with her. We’re a package deal, if you know what I mean.”

There are a lot of things going trough f*ckase’s head in that instant.

The twins’ tragic backstory aside, he has to try incredibly hard to not read too much into the phrase ”if you’re planning to stick around” and how Len has laid bare all this deeply private information about himself without batting an eyelid.

The trust f*ckase has been given in his aspect feels undeserved, which leaves him squirming in his seat as he struggles to think of something relevant to say.

Len takes his silence as a sign of discomfort and adds tentatively, ”I don’t mean to freak you out. It’s just… I’ve been through all this before, so I thought it better be upfront with you.”

Ah… gotcha.

So f*ckase isn’t the first person who’s tried to slay the dragon and get the prince.

Or rather, not the first person who’s tried to accept that the dragon and the prince has a complex, codependent relationship and that you’ll just have endure the dragon’s cattish comments about your choice of shoes and ear piercings if you want a chance with the prince.

f*ckase isn’t stupid. He knows what this means.

Best case scenario, Rin’s going to exacerbate her most uncharming personality traits in the hopes it will scare him away before he gets too snug with Len.

Worst case scenario, she’ll be going out of her way to actively sabotage Len’s and f*ckase’s budding friendship, which doesn’t seem that unlikely in light of the smoking incident.

Len won’t care which one it is. That’s basically what he’s just said, except not in as many words.

To summarize: If you don’t want to be sent to a no man’s land where happily ever afters are indefinitely out of stock, maybe avoid suggesting that Len might be better off without his lesser half attached to his hip.

Just a tip.

”I get it”, f*ckase says. ”She’s your sister. You’ve got to take care of the family you have left.”

It is, quite possibly, the biggest lie he’s ever told, but Len looks so immensely relieved that it’s all it takes for f*ckase to convince himself that Rin honestly can’t be that bad.

He eats his words not five minutes later when they’re in a mansion masquerading as a house and Rin Kagamine stalks into the hallway to greet them. Her relatively benign expression phases out of existence when she sees that Len isn’t alone, and she makes a face as if she’s bit into an unusually sour slice of lemon.

”Hope you’re not planning on wearing those filthy shoes inside”, is the first thing she says, her razor sharp eyes zoned in on f*ckase’s Doc Martens.

”Of course not”, f*ckase replies, all honey-tongued and saccharine. “I wouldn’t dream of dirtying your lovely house.”

Rin huffs and turns on her heel. As she disappears up the staircase, f*ckase leans down to undo his shoelaces and receives an appreciative pat on the shoulder from Len.

”So… what do you want to do?” Len asks as he puts away his shoes on a shelf by the wall. f*ckase follows his lead and manages to wedge his boots between Len’s sneakers and the pumps he saw Rin wearing earlier.

”I don’t know”, he responds. ”Do you have any video games?”

Len shakes his head and does a sort of half-laugh. ”Ah, no… Not really. We have board games and some card games, I think. Like… Scrabble, and Monopoly… a-and maybe Uno.” Blushing faintly, he rubs his elbow and mumbles the bashful admission. ”Sorry, I haven’t had anyone over in a while…”

Oh hell.

He’s adorable.

f*ckase feels like he needs to dunk his head in a bucket of ice water before he bursts into flames, but he has to settle for taking a deep breath and thinking about something disturbing.

Toenail clippings as ice cream topping does the job.

”I’m down for a round of Uno”, he says, and does so without any stuttering or post-pubescent voice cracks. ”As long as you don’t expect me to go easy on you. When it comes to Uno, I don’t take any prisoners.”

Len laughs again, a proper laugh this time, and f*ckase adds another notch on his scoreboard. He’s good at making people laugh and he’s fully willing to exploit the hell out of that talent, particularly when it comes to pretty blondes who makes his pulse race on a regular basis.

”Uno it is then”, Len confirms happily. He looks as if he’s about to show the way to wherever they’re heading, but reconsiders and steps in close to f*ckase instead, pointing an index finger to the redhead’s chest as he murmurs, ”Just so you know… I don’t take any prisoners, either.”

With a wink and an impish grin, he turns his back and walks up the staircase. f*ckase follows behind him, ever so slightly stiff-legged.


”You’re actually not supposed to feed bread to the ducks.”

”What? Really?”

”Yeah. Bread doesn’t have much nutritional value to ducks. They can become obese if they eat too much. It’s better to feed them things like oats, rice, or birdseeds.”

”Huh… The more you know.”

They’re standing on the islet, looking on from a distance as a 30-something man and his daughter toss leftover breadcrusts into a team of hungry ducks. The tiny girl is smiling from ear to ear and has her tiny hand wrapped around the man’s pinky finger. It’s a touching sight to behold, assuming you can disregard the nutritionally inappropriate bird fodder.

It's currently on the cusp of where late spring meets early summer and the grass is glittering with dew in the morning sun. f*ckase wasn’t too keen on the idea when Len initially suggested that his tobacco-inflicted lungs could use some fresh air and gentle exercise. But their Sunday walks in the park has turned into something of a weekend tradition, and f*ckase can’t deny that he’s grateful to be here, with his beloved friend at his side and nature thriving like crazy all around them.

Another thing he’s grateful for is that Rin likes to sleep in til noon when she can, which makes this one of those hard to come by occasions where she’s not trying to intrude on his and Len’s alone time. It’s not that f*ckase can’t handle the inferior Kagamine’s relentless onslaught of snark, but he much rather listen to the way Len softly hums to himself as they wanders the path that snakes around the pond.

They’re not to far from the father and daughter duo when f*ckase notices another figure, sitting on a picnic blanket not too far from the other two. It’s a woman with a large, round belly clearly visible under her maternity dress. She smiles and waves at the tiny girl whenever she glances over her shoulder, and the tiny girl waves back with that unbridled enthusiasm only young children seem to possess.

They look to be the quintessential, picture perfect family, and it’s precisely the kind of utopia f*ckase wishes he could’ve had for himself. In it’s place, all he knows is the dissonance he feels when he flicks through old photo albums and tries to remember a moment in time when his parents didn’t hate each others guts, and there was peace, love and quiet instead of the reining chaos that he’s grown so familiar with.

Not to mention how exhausted he is…


f*ckase doesn’t realize he’s fallen several feet behind until he hears Len’s voice calling out for him. He jogs slightly to catch up and they resume walking alongside each other.

”Is everything alright?” Len asks. f*ckase nods curtly.


Len doesn’t seems convinced though, and f*ckase can’t really blame him.

Try as he might to carry on as normal, he’s been having some trouble keeping up appearances recently. His smiles doesn’t quite reach his eyes, he can’t come up with witty retorts to hide the tedium of repeating the same old patterns again and again, and sometimes he feels physically nauseous at the thought of returning to the place he calls his home.

He’s not like this, he tells himself.

He doesn’t mope around. He doesn’t bitch or moan or fish for sympathy.

He’s just a happy-go-lucky guy who rolls with the punches and doesn’t let anything get under his skin.


However, the truth doesn’t feel nearly as shameful when Len’s fingers reach under his chin and titles his head up. Blue eyes pierce through his defenses, dissolving him, and all pretense comes undone.

”Talk to me”, Len says.

f*ckase does just that.


They find a bench overlooking the pond. Ducks and geese float by and spread ringlets on the water while f*ckase tells Len what his life has been like since the day of his birth.

The man and woman who conceived him are two highly volatile people with a relationship that’s unhinged and toxic beyond comparison. Between the constant screaming matches, physical altercations, property destruction and explosive bouts of separation/reunion, it must be a statistical anomaly that neither of them has ended up in the hospital, prison, or six feet under in their own grave.

The one silver lining of this sh*t show is that f*ckase’s parents never acts violent directly towards him. But he does occasionally get caught in the crossfire, and it shows.

The left side of his face is marred with the memory of his father throwing a cup of boiling hot water as his mother in a fit of rage, and f*ckase happened to be in the worst place at the worst time.

Len hasn’t asked about the scar before.

Even Rin, despite having no reservations about criticizing everything else about his appearance, hasn’t brought it up once. It might be the only reason why f*ckase doesn’t outright hate her.

”Why don’t you move out?” Len says. He’s pragmatic, so it’s natural that his first instinct is to search for a solution to f*ckase’s situation. ”You can apply for on campus housing, or maybe find someone who needs a roommate-“

He stops talking when f*ckase shakes his head. ”My folks aren’t paying for my tuition but they don’t charge me for food or rent. If I stay at home until I’ve graduated, I can save up a lot more money and pay off my debt quicker. I just have to stick it out a few more years, that’s all.”

He doesn’t say ”We can’t all have rich aunts”, which he might have done if Len wasn’t his friend and if his mom hadn’t died of cancer. He falls silent as he looks down at his hands, inspecting the sorry state of his jagged nails and tattered cuticles.

Unlike Len, he’s not blessed with pretty hands. His are decorated with nicks and marks and callouses and every other imperfection you can think of, and the rest of him is much of the same. He doesn’t consider himself ugly per se — he’s really not that bad-looking and his self-esteem isn’t so low that he can’t appreciate that — but there are still parts of his body that he prefers to cover up before he steps in front of a mirror.

The left side of his face is one of those parts, which is why he keeps his bangs long enough to hide most of it. He doesn’t like it when people stare at him like he’s some sort of circus freak, and he definitely doesn’t like it when their misguided fascination makes them believe that it’s okay to put their grubby hands on him without his consent.

Fact is, he’s not fond of people touching him in general, though exceptions could be made for the boy sitting next to him who incidentally has lifted his hand towards f*ckase’s face.

Len’s lips part. An open-ended question floats in the air between them.

”Can I…?”

f*ckase nods dumbly and Len brushes his bangs aside, exposing skin that hasn’t seen the light of day for some time. The somewhat uneven surface meets Len’s fingertips as they trace across f*ckase’s cheek, from his jawline to his ear, and then to sensitive the area below his eye.

f*ckase doesn’t move. He barely dares to breathe. Barely dares to anything besides stare into those blue eyes that watch carefully for his reaction, making sure they’re not hurting him or causing discomfort. Time slows to a halt as a rustling breeze whisks through the treetops and takes his senses with it, stripping everything away except the feeling of Len’s gentle touch on his skin.

”It must’ve hurt a lot”, Len says softly, resting his palm over the scar. f*ckase attempt a smile but can’t tell if he’s doing it right.

”It did. Like a motherf*cker.”

”How old were you when it happened?”

”Fourteen. It’s a shame it didn’t happen before I hit that growth spurt ’cause then it might’ve missed me completely. Some rotten luck, huh?”

Len removes his from f*ckase’s face and stands up. He doesn’t laugh or reciprocate his smile; he's dead serious.

”You don’t have to do that.”

”Do what?” f*ckase asks, even though understands perfectly well what Len’s referring to.

”Make jokes all the time. It’s not on you to make other people comfortable with your pain. Either they learn to deal with it or they’re not worth your time.”

f*ckase lowers his head. He doesn’t know what to say.

He doesn’t know there’s anything he can say that will make it past the lump in his throat and not come out all wet and soppy.

Then, there’s a pull.

He’s pulled towards a shirt that smells of laundry detergent. Arms are wrapped around his neck and he exhales against a shoulder that he gets to bury his face in.

The lump in his throat won’t stop growing.

Len says something. f*ckase can’t hear the exact words, but he can tell that it’s something comforting. It twists like a knife in his stomach and it hurts and feels good all at once.

He stifles a noise that he’s too embarrassed to let out and squeezes his eyes shut, tries to pull himself back together.

Len says something again and this time f*ckase hears him.

”If it ever gets to be too much, you can always come stay with me for a while.”

”Oh, I’m sure your sister would have no objections to that”, f*ckase says. ”She’ll be absolutely thrilled.”

Len doesn’t respond right away. f*ckase feels the arms around his neck tighten their hold briefly, and there’s a sigh breathed into his hair.

”Well… Rin can’t always get what she wants.”

With that, Len pulls back.

He doesn’t comment on the puffy eyes or streaks down the redhead’s face as he reaches out to rearrange his bangs to how they were before. His fingers hovers for a few second by f*ckase’s cheek, and something, some type of emotion, pools into his eyes.

It’s gone before f*ckase can grasp what it is, so he shrugs it off and decides it was probably just him seeing what he want to see.

But his heart doesn’t want to believe it.


It’s a balmy summer this year. The weather remains pleasantly lukewarm without any major heatwaves lasting longer than a couple of days.

f*ckase already has a part-time job at the local grocery store and spends the break taking on as many shifts as he’s allowed to. Partly because he need to make money, partly because he’d rather be anywhere else but at home with all the slamming doors and raised voices.

On the off chance that he’s not working, f*ckase will almost certainly be at the Kagamine house, happy to do anything or nothing if he can do it together with Len.

In a room with white, sheer curtains that billow by the window, he lies on his back on a fluffy carpet and listens while Len reads paragraphs from a novel he likes, then explains why he likes it while f*ckase hums intermittently as if he couldn’t agree more.

Sometimes, Len will put away his book and talk about a past. He tells stories of yearly family vacations and cross-country roadtrips; of camping sites in the mountains and sandy beaches by the ocean. There’s mentions of themed restaurants, picnics on passing fields, cheap motel rooms in the middle of nowhere, and that one sweltering afternoon in July when Rin, age seven, fell out of a tree and broke her arm.

”You should’ve heard her scream. It was really something”, he says with a chuckle, and f*ckase joins in because he can really picture it. ”What’s weird is that she didn’t cry at all, but I suppose she was in shock from the pain. Our parents bought her a bunch of new toys to keep her entertained for the rest of the summer, but she wouldn’t stop sulking until she got the cast off. I don’t think she ever climbed another tree again.”

A little while after that, Len asks f*ckase to talk about himself.

f*ckase doesn’t want to talk about his past, so he talks about his future instead.

For the very first time, he timidly unfolds his modest dreams and walks Len through the life he hopes of having one day.

He says he wants an apartment. It doesn’t have to be a big one or an expensive one, it just has to be his; a place where he can feel safe and at ease.

He says he want a job that he likes. It doesn’t have to be high-paying or prestigious, but he wants his work to feel important and fulfilling to him.

He says he would like to have a dog, and Len interjects to ask him, ”What kind of dog?”

”I don’t know what breed but I want really big and fluffy one”, f*ckase replies, smiling at the thought of his imaginary furry companion. ”I want it to get so excited when it sees me that it tackles me to the ground and jumps all over me. Then I can bury my face in its fur and just-… I don’t know… feel like I’m home?”

Len, sitting next to him with his back leaned against the bed frame, casually extends his hand and runs his fingers through f*ckase’s hair.

It takes a beat for f*ckase to realize what’s happened. He blinks slowly as he looks up at his friend, nonplussed.

”L-Lint—You had some lint in your hair”, Len explains, but fails to present any evidence of his claim. He turns away and coughs to clear the nervous falsetto out of his throat. ”Anyway, is there anything else you would like to have in the future?”

You, f*ckase wants to say. He doesn’t.

He draws a circle around his knee through a hole in his jeans and pretends as if he needs to think about it.

”Someone I can spend the rest of my life with.” He can’t read Len’s face from where he’s lying. He really wishes he could when his friend stays silent for a little too long. ”What about you? What do you want?”

”I… haven’t really thought about it”, Len says, pauses, and goes on, ”But I guess I’d want that too. Someone to spend the rest of my life with, I mean.”

”Someone who isn’t your sister?” f*ckase wonders, very stupidly and very impulsively. He’s lucky that Len takes the braindead comment to be a joke and snorts a laugh.

”Yeah, obviously. Although… whoever wants to spend the rest of their life with me will probably have to spend the rest of their life with her also.”

There’s no bitterness to his words.

Len isn’t the resentful type, and even if he was, his precious sister would never be on the receiving end of such unseemly emotions. His love for her is as blind as they come; it’s as if she can’t do anything wrong in his eyes.

f*ckase knows he’s a hypocrite for being so infatuated with this boy that he doesn’t care if Len comes with a pre-assembled third wheel. He can try to convince himself that he’ll eventually figure out how to remove this unwanted feature, but something tells him that Rin Kagamine won’t be disposed of so easily.

As he’s reflecting on this one night, he comes up with a fitting allegory for the twins that he’s actually quite proud of.

Len is the sun. He’s warm and nurturing and brilliant in his own right. His existence doesn’t need to be justified to anyone.

Rin is the moon. She only shines when Len is facing her, but even then it’s obvious that her surface is nothing but cold and inhabitable.

Speaking of the hellspawn, it won’t come as a surprise that she’s not happy about how frequently f*ckase has been trespassing on her property as of lately. It’s not until Rin runs out of quips that all follow along the lines of ”Your ugly face is here again” , and ”Are you homeless by any chance”, that she seems to realize he’s not going anywhere and learns to tolerate his presence.

Still, f*ckase reckons they won’t be making friendship bracelets anytime soon, because her glare is as sharp-edged as ever and she doesn’t talk to him unless he says something factually inaccurate and she butts in to correct him.

Somehow she’s always right, and it would honestly be impressive if she wasn’t so f*cking obnoxious about it.

Humility (noun) — does not exist in this girl’s vocabulary.

Smug (adjective) — most definitely does.

But whatever, she can have her consolation price.f*ckase knows he’s the real winner when Len starts to drop by the store during his shifts with some poor excuse like he had to buy pasta for dinner. This white lie quickly falls apart when he conveniently forgets to pick up the one thing he was there for, which means he has to come by again the next day, and the next day, and the one after that as well.

”Why don’t you just admit you miss me when we don’t see each other every day?” f*ckase asks when Len finally hands him a box of penne at the register. He expects to be rebuffed, nothing harsh but maybe a ”Yeah, right… keep dreaming” or something equally noncommittal.

What he doesn’t expect is for Len’s lips to purse almost thoughtfully, and then for him to lean in over the register and speak in a muted voice so that nobody but f*ckase can hear him.

”I guess you’re on to me.”

After that little stunt, he straightens up and gives absolutely no indication that he didn’t mean what he just said. He’s gone through the sliding doors before f*ckase can give him his change or the pasta he’s still holding in his hand.

Bucket of ice water, he thinks to himself. He feels a certain kinship to the ketchup bottle that comes sliding towards him on the conveyor belt. I should have one with me at all times, just in case.


It happens in September, not long after they’ve gone back to school.

They’re on their walk around the park, talking about how it looks like rain and how they didn’t think to bring an umbrella or a rain coat, yet neither of them suggest they should head back inside. These Sunday mornings are something they both hold dear and they won’t let it be spoiled by a light drizzle.

Until suddenly it’s not a light drizzle anymore.

Without a word of warning, the sky opens up above them and they’re in the midst of a violent cloudburst that drowns out everything around them. f*ckase intuitively grabs Len’s hand and rushes for cover with the blonde in tow.

They eventually come upon a cluster of maple trees that yields some protection from the rain. f*ckase raises his hands in an attempt to get his sopping wet bangs out of his eyes, but Len’s there before him, his fingers combing through dense, wavy locks of hair that won’t abide to the laws of physics.

The downpour is still going strong when f*ckase sees Len’s face appears before him in a haze of humidity. Len meets his gaze and breaks into a smile.

”You look like a wet dog!” he exclaims, his eyes crinkling with laughter as he tenderly thumbs at f*ckase’s flushed cheeks.

f*ckase can’t form a single coherent thought.

His eyes are fully fixated on a raindrop resting in the crevice of Len’s cupid’s bow. His head’s reeling, he’s short of breath, and he's only half-aware what he’s doing when he takes a step forwards, cups a hand around Len’s neck and closes the gap between them.

The kiss lasts for exactly three seconds before he snaps out of it.

Thinking he’s made a horrible mistake, he lets go, steps back, opens his mouth with one thousand apologies ready at the tip of his tongue—and Len tugs at his collar and recaptures his lips before he can make a sound.

This time it sticks, and f*ckase loses track of how long they remain pressed against each other, nudging noses and foreheads every now and then as they readjust to deepen the kiss. They’re both soaked to the bone and shivering, but it doesn’t matter one bit. f*ckase’s body is already generating more heat than he can handle when Len snakes his arms around his neck, sighs and whispers his name repeatedly until he’s weak in the knees.

He’s dizzy, delirious, can’t get enough air between kisses. He wants to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming but he can’t detangle his fingers from Len’s hair and he doesn’t want to let go because he hasn’t had his fill yet.

Not yet.

Not yet…

Just a little while longer…




Finally, a sliver of sunshine splits through the clouds and foliage.

f*ckase lips and fingers have gone numb when he slowly pulls away from Len, inhaling lungfuls of oxygen that tastes of freshly fallen rain.

Len does the same. His chest heaves shakily while the warmth from his face radiates into the palm of f*ckase’s hand. He turns his head to nuzzle against it, eyes fluttered shut with he kiss he presses against the redhead’s wrist.

It’s almost too much of a good thing and f*ckase stumbles before Len catches him, steadies him, holds him close enough for f*ckase to feel his heartbeat against his skin.

”I… r-really like you”, f*ckase stutters. ”Like… a lot. A lot, a lot.”

”You don’t say”, Len says and co*cks his head to the side. ”Not to burst your bubble, but I kind of figured that out when you kissed me.”

Growing more flustered by the minute, f*ckase gives a muffled grunt and buries his face deep in Len’s shoulder. ”Fuuuck… I really, really like you.”

”Guess what?” Len hums into the shell of his ear, smoothing a hand over his hair. “I really, really like you too.”

Yellowed leaves falls from the maple trees onto the ground, marking the arrival of autumn. Colder, darker days are lying in wait at the horizon, but all f*ckase sees are everlasting summers as he holds the sun itself in his embrace.

Grasping at sun-beams between his fingertips, he lifts his head to look into Len’s sky blue eyes, squinting at the residual freckles that are dotted across his button nose.

He smiles then, and Len smiles wider, and nothing in that moment makes more sense than for their lips to meet once again.

f*ckase thinks it's an excellent day to be alive.

Forget me not - Chapter 1 - Scandichick (2024)


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