Simon Gruber - Tumblr Posts

Simon Gruber Pt.2: A Savior

Pt.1 Continuation of "Simon Gruber - A Stranger":

It has been a few years since Hans' death. We weren't able to bury his body, so I made a memorial to him on my property. I visit it every year on his birthday, as well as on the day that I lost him.

I don't think I will ever move on from his death, after all, he was my childhood and all-time best friend. We were so close, never having any secrets except our darkest memories, we relied completely on one another, and now I've found that my sense of direction has been taken away.

The first year was spent feeling drowned, everything was dull and bland, I no longer felt like I was real.

It had seemed as though I had died with Hans, but I think Simon saved me.

He stayed with me the months after Hans' death, helping me to heal both my physical and emotional wounds. I probably would've committed suicide had Simon not been there.

He kept his distance, visiting daily, but usually leaving before evening. At first he just made sure I left my bedroom and ate at least one meal, but that slowly morphed into staying the whole day with me; drawing or reading books, that fondness led to him comforting me when I would cry myself to sleep.

I didn't realize it at first, but Simon saved me, he saved me from myself, saved me from the darkness that was encompassing my mind.

I don't know specifically when I fell in love with him, but I do remember when I realized it.

_______

(Flashback/Dream in quotations)

(This is set in Germany, but I am too lazy to write the speaking parts in German)

I had awoken that morning the same as always - hoping to fall back asleep and never wake up. However, because of Simon, I had started to take care of myself a little more, actually leaving my room instead of just wasting the whole day; but today felt exceptionally difficult. The first thing that came to mind was my dream:

"It was a time in high school when Hans and I were in geometry class. I've always had a tough time with geometry, but today I seemed to be exceeding in stupidity, I just couldn't understand anything my teacher was saying, and he even yelled at me when I got an answer wrong.

I was fairly shy in high school, but I always seemed to become friends with the teachers. This teacher, Mr.Meyer, appeared to enjoy humiliating me on a daily basis, but today he even excelled past my expectations.

I had been asking Hans to explain how to do one of the problems, and Mr.Meyer apparently didn't like that at all. He called my name and asked me to come up to the front, telling me to solve the question on the board. I gave my best try, utilizing what little information I did know, but I naturally got the wrong answer. I wasn't that far off, but to Mr.Meyer, it seemed as though the world had ended.

The first thing he did was loudly sigh before aggressively banging his fist once against the wall. I had jumped up in surprise, and I definitely didn't expect him to turn and start shouting at me next.

"How stupid can you be? You've been learning this for a week!" I visibly shrunk away from his enraged form, I really don't do well in conflict, especially not after what my father did to me.

My submissiveness seemed to only enrage him further, he took a step towards me, to which I responded by stepping back. This continued for only a second longer before he roughly grabbed my wrist, yanking me forwards so hard I almost fell into him. The class was barren of noise, I was usually the one to receive most of his verbal abuse, but today shocked everyone into silence.

My wrist was aching in pain, my eyes stinging slightly with tears as I gasped and looked to his face. He looked like he was about to shout at me some more, but before he could, another hand grabbed my wrist, though this hand was much gentler. Both Mr.Meyer and I shift our gaze to the owner of the hand, immediately seeing the deceivingly calm Hans.

Hans' other hand quickly shoved Mr.Meyers back, causing him to lose his grip on my wrist and let me go. Hans immediately shifted us so that his body formed a barrier between Mr.Meyer and I. Glancing around him, I saw the frustrated face of Mr.Meyers, who was glaring straight at Hans, but Hans made no move to back down. Instead, he faced Mr.Meyers, straightening his posture and squaring his shoulders, almost as if challenging Mr.Meyers to try something.

Hans is an intimidating 6'1", and though he may look a little skinny, there was no messing with him; especially not when you are only a 5'9" out of shape 40 year old who teaches math for a living.

Mr.Meyers surveys this new situation before lowering his gaze and facing the class, beginning to explain a math concept as though he didn't just verbally and physically abuse one of his students. Hans turned around and placed a gentle hand on my lower back, turning me around and leading me gently out of the classroom and into the hall.

We walked for a little while until we reached an empty classroom, to which he shut the blinds and closed the door, sitting me down on the teachers desk before sitting next to me.

I didn't even notice I had tears practically flowing down my face, nor that I was beginning to hyperventilate. I didn't sob, I was a silent crier, but Hans knew that this had brought back some bad memories. My father abused me, physically, mentally, sexually. I didn't have a mother to save me from him, I had an absent older brother who knew about it and never did anything.

Hans' arms gently wrap around my shoulders, his warm body encompassing me, almost as though trying to shelter me from the effects of the world. I remember when I first told Hans about what my father did to me, I didn't want to, but he eventually figured out that there was a reason I never wanted to go home (he only really started to think about it after I nearly shouted out in protest when his parents suggested dropping me off at home). Hans wanted to kill my father when he found out, but I couldn't let him, I wouldn't let him. I would be put into foster care, probably just to experience the same things or worse.

I never expected Hans to actually do anything violent for me, but today he was willing to fight my teacher. He was willing to get hurt, and possibly get sent to jail for attacking a teacher, just because the teacher had yelled at me and hurt me."

When I awoke from this dream, my body ached for Hans' protective stature, his amicable personality.

A feeling of nausea overwhelmed me, knowing he would never again be there to save me from abuse and slurs thrown my way, he would never be there to comfort me when the memories of my childhood become too much.

All of this fell heavily on my shoulders, I felt like I was being pushed deeper into the mattress… Maybe I would finally suffocate and be free, but life is fraught with twists.

That day, like all the others, Simon had planned to stop by, he didn't have any plans in particular, he just knew that he was enjoying my company more and more, lord knows why. He opened the door to my home, expecting to see me eating a sad bowl of cereal and to jump up to greet him, but instead he was met with a silence that was almost eerie. It set him on edge as it had been months since my house had felt that cold.

He crept forward, calmly calling out my name.

"Y/N?" Tone raspier than normal, his voice echoing down the hallways. I heard him, but it only made me shiver and pull the blankets around my face; just hearing him reminds me of how Hans is gone. I would never wish Simon and Hans to switch places, but I did constantly wish for Hans and I too, for him to have gotten shot and sent back home, and for me to instead have been thrown out of the building to fall to my death.

I didn't notice Simon open my door, nor when he sat next to me on the bed, I only noticed him when his soft hand reached out and gripped my wrist gently. I was startled, after that dream, his touch only made the memories worse; I found myself subconsciously jerking away from him.

I only chanced one glance up, I have never flinched because of him, and the view I was met with made me feel indescribably guilty. His face seemed apathetic, but his eyes told so much more; they were flowing with concern, concern for my health, concern for why I seemed fearful of him.

I clench my eyes shut, swallowing heavily as I feel the need to sink deeper into this bed until I slip into a better reality. Instead, I push myself up, resting my torso against the backboard and placing my hands in my lap.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." My voice feels uneasy, my soul drained from just those few words being spoken. I know I must look just as emotionally tired as I feel, because though his concern remains, it is now joined by understanding.

We sat still for a few moments, his hand returning to its place on my wrist, thumb caressing the top of my hand softly, comfortingly. I avert my eyes from his, glancing instead at our hands, his warm skin soothing my frigidness.

"You had a dream, didn't you?" His question was vague, but I know what he means. He knows all about my nightmares, he knows about the memories that resurface in my subconscious. It all makes me want to go and hold a gun at some policeman or take the 30 oxycodone pills I have leftover.

"Yes." He doesn't do anything for a few moments, taking his time to contemplate what to say next.

He surprises me by abruptly standing up from the bed, my mind immediately assuming he's just going to walk away and back out my front door. I am, however, pleasantly met with an outstretched hand, palm open for me to grasp. I look at it for about five seconds before sighing, lazily placing my hand into his, allowing him to pull me up.

"Let's go for a walk, darling."

_______

That was when I knew he was the one for me. He didn't force me to talk, he didn't need to know everything that happened to me. He just needed me to know that I could tell him anything I wanted to, or not tell him anything at all.

That day, we’d walked all around my property, through the forests that surround my home and down to the stream I love to sit near.

He had sat me in the kitchen before we left, packing a few things and placing them in a bag before leading me out of my home. When we were finally sitting by the stream, he opened the bag and pulled out two notebooks, and a pencil and pen. He placed the pen in my hand gently, my body warming slightly; I was honestly surprised he remembered that I don't like drawing with pencils.

Looking from the pen to his face, I am met with a smirk, not a smug one, more like a pleased one, pleased that he impressed me. I returned his smirk with a smile, not a wide one. Today I knew wasn't going to be easy, but my smile reflected that he was making a shitty day better.

We sat there for hours, just drawing and listening to the stream, softly speaking in the moments when we would get caught gazing at one another. After a while we had shifted to laying on our backs on the blanket. We started a foot or so away from each other, and somehow that changed to our arms brushing, eventually with his arm wrapped around my shoulder and carefully pulling me into his side.

I don't know how to describe it, but it felt like the joy I experienced when I awaken to see a gorgeous cloudy morning with a mist falling. Like the days when you want to run around in jubilation and then go home at night to sit by a warm fire and sip hot chocolate... He was my comfort.

We stayed like that for a while. I was watching the clouds at first, but my head lazily lolled to the side to rest carefully on his chest, my body shifting sideways so I could wrap my arm over his abdomen. He tensed slightly when I started shifting, but quickly relaxed when he realized I wasn't moving away.

He took me home when the sun drifted towards the horizon, its orange rays burning streaks across the pink sky. When we got to my door, he swiftly opened it before I could grab the handle, only offering me a gentlemanly smile as he motioned me inside. I offered him a thankful smile in return before walking in.

The last thing I expected was to see a large bowl of popcorn sitting on my coffee table, the TV turned on with a paused movie awaiting me; and let's not forget the crackling fire and the thick blankets and furs draped over my couch.

"I hope you don't mind, but I figured you aren't one to enjoy a fancy dinner." My trance is broken by that German voice I have grown to miss when he leaves for the night. That voice that reminds me that my whole world isn't dark, and that I do have hope.

I turn around gradually, my eyes are watering, the smile upon his face seems to lessen as he fears he's made me upset. He opens his mouth to speak, but I pay it no mind as I rush forward and embrace him. He stiffens in surprise before wrapping his strong arms around me, my face bowing against his chest with his head resting atop mine. Only a few tears escape my eyes, but they are joined by a smile as these are tears of joy.

Pulling away slowly, his arms resting around my hips as mine lightly hold his arms. Backing up further, I grab one hand, allowing the other to fall; I pull him to the couch, quickly sitting down in the middle. His expression is one of surprise and curiosity, he clearly wasn't expecting this reaction at all.

He stands there for a few seconds, his hand still in mine as he contemplates what he should do now. I shake my head lightly as a sweet smile smooths over my face.

I gently tug him closer, lightly tapping the spot next to me as a sort of invitation. His surprised look quickly washes over, and a soft grin now forming as he swiftly sits next to me, one hand resting behind me and the other still in my grasp. I waste no time bundling the covers over me, hugging my legs to my abdomen as I situate myself.

Simon releases my hand slowly, reaching forward and starting the movie, both of us comfortably enjoying the film.

Half way through, the emotional exhaustion of the day finally hits me. I can feel myself drifting off every so often, but I defiantly try to maintain my consciousness. Simon must've noticed, because he pauses the film, glancing over at my barely awake form with his warm eyes before standing up carefully. I'm about to protest the movement, but am quickly silenced when he reaches down and scoops me into his arms.

The action barely stirs me, the exhaustion only allowing me to grab his shirt and curl into him in the hopes that he won't drop me. My eyes drooping shut, pushing my face into the crook of his neck, his masculine aftershave soothing me even further.

He carefully walks through my house, navigating easily to my room. The sheets are still pulled back from this morning, so he places me down softly onto the fluffy mattress, pulling the sheets and covers gently over me. He looks down with a gaze of warmth and familiarity, one I can feel even though I can't see it. He's in the midst of turning to leave, when my hand suddenly reaches out and grabs his. He immediately halts his movement, turning his head down to our interlocked hands.

"Stay." My vision is blurry, but my words are clear. He tilts his head slightly in contemplation, that slight squint in his eyes whenever he is thinking deeply.

"Of course, my dear." Ever the gentlemen, even if he wasn't, he knew he couldn't deny any of my requests. He slowly releases my hand, quietly walking around my bed to the other side. I don't turn around, but I can feel him pull back the covers, as well as the bed shift when he lays his body down. He stays on his side for a few minutes before deciding what he wants to do.

I am barely awake when I feel him shift again, this time on his side facing my back; next thing I know, I feel a strong arm delicately wrap around my waist, pulling me backwards until I am pressed against his chest. I, of course, don't object, simply cuddling closer to him as he rests his head above mine, his warmth slowly lulling me into a state of calmness. Just as I am on the brink of unconsciousness, I hear his gorgeous voice whisper something.

"I love you, Y/N." His voice was soft and quiet, as though not wanting me to hear. I pay it no mind, my brain immediately responding,

"I love you, Simon." Sleep encompassing both my body and mind right after.

Pt.1

Masterlist:

*Imagines that aren’t linked means that they aren’t published yet*

Original Stories:

Senseless Reality

Series

Imagines/One-shots:

Die Hard(Movies):

Simon Gruber Pt.1: A Stranger

Simon Gruber Pt.2: A Savior

Simon Gruber: Escape

Simon/Hans Gruber Pt.1: Alone

Simon Gruber Pt.2: I Will Protect You

Simon Gruber: Am I Worth Anything?

Simon Gruber: Vengeance

Simon Gruber: Lost

Simon Gruber: Fear

DH3 Cast: Anxiety

Star Trek:

Christopher Pike: You Saved Me

Christopher Pike: Arguments

Seven of Nine: Effigy

War Games(1983):

Dr. Stephen Falken: Enough Games

Dr. Stephen Falken: Living in the Past

David Lightman: Escape

David Bowie/Characters:

David Bowie: Sun Rays to Rainy Days

David Bowie: The Actress

David Bowie: Kid Sister

David Bowie: Confrontations

David Bowie: Determination

David Bowie: Don't Go

David Bowie: Security

Jack Celliers: Beautiful Eyes

Jack Celliers: Sadie

Jack Celliers: Alive

Rockstar: Your Story(Interview)

I Can't Stay Here Anymore

Jareth: Quelled Fear

Jareth: Twin Souls

Jareth: Lost Child

Jareth: Lost Queen

Jareth: Back Away

Mick Ronson:

Rockstar: Your Story(Interview)

I Can't Stay Here Anymore

Hannibal(TV):

Hannibal Lecter Pt.1: Antisocial

Hannibal Lecter Pt.2:Antisocial

Hannibal Lecter: New Patient

Hannibal Lecter: Protector

Marvel/DC:

Alfred Pennyworth: Alone

The Elder Maximoff(Series)

Animes:

Beastars- Pina: Leave My Lioness Alone

Beastars- L/Rouis: Scars

SpyxFamily- Loid Forger: Ease Up Old Man

TLOK- Kuvira: Safe

TLOK- Kuvira: A Friendly Face

TLOK- Kuvira: Prison Break

TLOK- Kuvira: Freedom

TLOK- Kuvira: An Uncertain Future

TLOK- Kuvira: Fury

TLOK- Kuvira: Ambush

TLOK- Kuvira: Sisters

TLOK- Kuvira: Bandits

TLOK- Kuvira: The Abused

TLOK- Kuvira: Fear

TLOK- Kuvira: Regret

TLOK- Kuvira: Sergeant

TLOK- Kuvira: Gone Astray

TLOK- Kuvira: Critical

TLOK- Lin Beifong: Family

TLOK- Lin Beifong: Lost

Black Butler- Sebastian Michaelis: Reaper

The Lion King:

Scar: What Did I Do?

Scar: Betrayal

Scar's Adopted Brother(Series)

Cats(Musical):

Munkustrap: The Beast He Made

Munkustrap: Why?

Broadchurch:

Alec Hardy: A Messed Up Situation

Alec Hardy: Correlation Does Not Equal Causation

Unraveled (Series)

Harry Potter:

Severus Snape: Siblings

BBC:

Doctor Who- 10th Doctor: Reunited

Doctor Who- 11th Doctor: I Didn't Mean To

Johnny Depp:

Johnny Depp: Bodyguard Bestfriend

Tom Hanson: Where is Y/N?

Sweeney Todd: Feeling Fatherly

John Dillinger: I Loved You

Jack Sparrow: Too Far

George Jung: Dangerous Affair

House MD:

Gregory House: Consequences

MASH:

Benjamin 'Hawkeye' Pierce: Decisions

Margaret ‘Hot Lips’Houlihan: Friends

NCIS/Criminal Minds:

Aaron Hotchner: Found Out

Aaron Hotchner: First and Last Phone Call

BAU: Team Member to Murderer

Jethro Gibbs: The Dangers of Pride

Peaky Blinders:

Thomas Shelby: The Blind Woman

The Dressmaker:

Tilly Dunnage: I'll Be Here

LOTR/The Hobbit:

Thranduil: Why Did You Run?

Thranduil: Abandoned

Thranduil: Nin Naur

Woodland Princess (Series)

House of the Dragon:

Daemon Targaryen: Daughter

Daemon Targaryen: Bastard

Daemon Targaryen: Unexpected

Daemon Targaryen/Matt Smith: Two Face

Aemond Targaryen: Blood Debt

Hazbin Hotel:

In progress

Simon Gruber Pt.1: A Stranger

Pt.2 Imagine being Hans Gruber's best friend, and him sending you back to Germany to stay with his brother before his death:

Losing Hans was one of the hardest things I've ever endured. I, of course, knew of his activities since I was his right hand man. We practically grew up together, staying best friends all the way through adulthood.

Most people assumed we would start dating as teenagers, but the love we felt for each other was much more of a brother-sister bond.

I was actually there with him at Nakatomi Plaza, but I had been shot in the abdomen by McClane. Blood was gushing from the wound, however I barely registered the pain, my focus remaining on the mission. Naturally, when Hans found out he had me rushed off to his private doctor, then having me immediately flown back to Germany where his brother awaited my arrival. I would have objected - fought even - to stay and finish the mission, but between blacking out and the pain medication, I was barely even conscious.

———————

Waking up in an unfamiliar room wasn't something I normally thought was unusual - after every mission, Hans and I would drink until we couldn't stand. I would always find myself waking up the next morning feeling groggy and uncomfortable, glancing around an empty and unfamiliar room until my eyes landed on Hans' figure slouched next to the bed. He would always be there, sometimes he would be asleep, but he was always there; having said that, today was the day that he wasn't.

The second thing I noticed was how expensive everything looked, which is something that I am used to seeing, as Hans does have expensive tastes. The curtains allowed a shallow light to filter into the room, painting the floor in a cold, pale yellow; the glare aggravating my sensitive eyes. My mind feels fuzzy, and my body numb, but I only focus on finding Hans.

Glancing around in a daze, I hastily push the covers away from me, not noticing the bandage, or the throbbing pain in my abdomen until I stand up. It hits all at once, nausea and lightheaded threatening my body, but the tearing pain forces me to stay conscious; stumbling slightly before falling against the frigid wall with an audible 'thump'.

My chest feels heavy, and I can't quite catch my breath. I'm practically gasping for air, but the weakness seems to beat my attempts to stay awake. The last thing I see is a blurry figure rushing through the wood door to my huddled form.

“…Hans..?”

———————

That was the first time I met Simon Gruber.

Hans had rarely talked about him, only mentioning the conflicts and arguments they had. From the description he gave, Simon was an overly-controlling older brother who never tried to understand or listen to anything Hans had to say. However, it is clear that Hans must hold some level of trust for him to entrust him with his dying best friend.

My first day was off to a very rocky start, I didn't even remember it the next time I awoke. But the second day was probably when I had the worst moment in my entire life.

Simon had taken to sitting by my bed, he wanted to ensure there wasn't a repeat of yesterday.

After he had found me, he immediately picked up my limp body and placed me back on the bed before calling for the doctor. I had managed to tear some of my stitches, which promptly started bleeding again, my blood pressure was already low, so this was quite worrisome. After a while though, the doctor had me stabilized again, giving Simon specific instructions for when I woke up. He wasn't to let me stand up again until I've rested a bit more, and he also needs to give me medication every 6 hours to fight infection and dull the pain.

When I awoke, I immediately noticed the figure to my right. My eyes were only partially open, vision distorted and blurry.

"Hans?" My voice felt broken, it pained me to talk because it didn't sound like me. The person was apparently asleep since they jumped in surprise when I spoke.

"Not quite my dear." His voice was different, the only sense of familiarity being that he was obviously German. He didn't sound like any of Hans' partners that I knew, and I know this definitely isn't Hans, so who is he?

I blinked my eyes a few times to readjust to my surroundings, attempting to sit up only to be gently pushed back down.

"I wouldn't recommend that." I couldn't help but feel a nagging sense of familiarity, but from where, I simply couldn't pinpoint.

I focused on his hand first as it was pushing me down, he has light skin, but not pale; and large hands. His arms are strong, strong enough that I feel more than uncomfortable being this defenseless and vulnerable around him. He's dressed in business casual, but comfortable, his short blond hair framing his face nicely. Lastly was his face itself, the expression looked permanently stern, but I can see the underlying glint of gentleness, and the smile he wore was wrought with mischief.

"Wer bist du?" I didn't even realize I'd switched from English to German until the man chuckled and exclaimed.

"Ah, are you the girl that Hans loved to talk about?" Though he said it as a question, it felt more like a statement, one which was immediately followed by a fond smirk. I don't know how to respond, I didn't really know Hans would talk about me.

"Who are you?" My voice is sharper this time, I'm done with his games, at this moment I just want to know who he is. His smirk lessened as a new emotion took over his features... grief. He looked sad, depressed even, but only a trained eye would notice the subtle micro-expressions.

"Call me Simon."

Pt.2

Simon Gruber: Am I Worth Anything?

Imagine being John McClane's youngest daughter, and running away to Germany after your parents start fighting again and your dad moves back to New York. What happens when Simon Gruber finds you on the streets:

-This is set after the second movie, but before the 3rd. I have the reader at age 12-

They'd started arguing again, everything was going so good too, Dad had moved here to LA and everything. I don't know what caused all of this, I thought they were happy, I thought everything was fixed... but I'm wrong as per usual.

Mom has us staying with her, but I'm honesty feeling so alone, even with my siblings around. They both are a few years older than me, so they either bully or ignore me, but neither is my friend. Dad was helping us figure this out, but that all went to waste after he left. They started being cold again, acting as if I don't exist. I know this separating is effecting them as well, but at least they have each other, I don't even have mom here to confide in since she's always working.

I try to call dad sometimes, but he's always drunk and usually thinks I'm mom, sometimes he doesn't even give me the chance to talk, just picks up the phone and starts cursing. He's never treated me like that before, sure, sometimes he just picks up the phone and responds that way before knowing it's me, but is that really an excuse? The separation must be hurting him as well... I wish I could help him, but I don't even know how to help myself. 

Sometime, late at night, I think about what occurred leading up to dad leaving. I remember them shouting at each other, trying to get my brother and sister to take sides. They choose mom either way, I just stood in-between, how could they make me choose? The looks of disdain coming from all sides made me wither, I felt hated, unwanted. Maybe things would be better if I leave?

_______

I left home, it may sound really stupid, but maybe things will be better if I stay at dad's for a little bit; surely things couldn't be worse than staying with my mother and siblings.

The train ride was costly and took around 3 days for me to arrive in New York; my packing was light, just my back pack with a few changes of clothing, all my savings, my ID, some food and a notepad and pen. I didn't want to pack to much because it would make it harder for me to slip out of the house unnoticed, so I just stuffed my backpack and went for it - I probably should've packed other things, but it's too late now.

New York was interesting, I was quite young when we moved to Los Angeles, so being back is a new experience. The buildings are tall and overbearing, they make you feel so small, and the crowded, busy sidewalks only emphasize that point. 

I pull out the map from my pocket, dotting what street I'm on, and then charting the best way to get to my father's apartment. His apartment is a bit away from the station, about 20ish blocks, but I've got enough daylight to make it before nightfall.

Before beginning my trek I pull out my walkman, restarting the CD, it's the Station to Station album by David Bowie - I hd to beg for a whole 2 months before my father finally gave in and bought me the walkman, he later gifted me this CD upon noticing how Bowie is my favorite musician. It's a nice reminder that my father cares for me, whenever I'm feeling lonely, I'll listen to this album.

I'm weaving my way through people, trying my best not to run into anyone. The sun seems to be setting a lot sooner than I thought it would, but that must be because of the time difference, I must've forgotten to account for that. Either way, I'm over half way there and the sun is just beginning to set, that last thing I want is to be caught after dark on the streets of New York - I especially don't want this as I am currently an unattended child.

I finally arrive at my fathers apartment, pressing the buzzer at the door, hoping he'll be home and let me in.

"Who is it?" I hear an annoyed voice answer, but I still sigh in relief.

"Dad?" My voice sounds so small, hopefully he still heard me.

"Y/N?" I don't know how to describe it, but it seems like so many emotions smashed into one word: relief, anger, happiness, anxiousness. So many that they overwhelm me.

"Yeah, it's me, can you let me in?" I don't get a verbal response, but hear the door being unlocked. I push open the heavy door, making my way inside the lobby. I head over to the elevator and push the up button, waiting patiently for the doors to open. I'm startled by the abrupt opening of the door from the stairwell, staring at the door as I watch my father come bustling out of it. He looks tense and rushed - a mess if I'm being honest, looking around quickly before stilling when he spots me. 

His movements are fast, he catches me off guard when he pulls me in unexpectedly for a tight hug. I'm surprised, but accept the contact, it's been so long since I've seen my father after all. As he holds me, I can't help but smell the alcohol on him, though I know mentioning it could be disastrous.

We separate and head into the now awaiting elevator, the ride up was quick but surprisingly quiet; I expected some sort of conversation, but maybe he's processing? The walk from the elevator to his apartment felt uncomfortably tense though, like something suddenly angered him. Either way, it made me feel uneasy.

As soon as I enter, I go to speak, but am cut off by the harsh slamming of the door.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" He questions in a raised voice, he's angry, that much I can tell.

"I-" I begin to respond, but have no time as I am immediately cut off.

"Leaving without telling your mother, wandering the streets of New York at night! How the hell did you even get here from LA, no airline would let you board unattended?"

"I-I used the amtrak." I explain in a shaky voice, averting my eyes from his gaze and staring down at the dirty floor.

"What were you even thinking? Coming over here?" His voice is solemn now, and it makes me more uncomfortable than when he was yelling.

"I thought that... maybe I could stay here for a while?" I respond sheepishly, but hoping - no, praying - that he'll let me stay.

"Stay? Here, with me?" He questions incredulously.

"Please?" I whisper, glancing at him hopefully.

"What? No, you can't stay with me." He looks at me like I'm crazy, I suddenly feel very out of place, like I can't find anywhere that I'm allowed to exist. It's an astounding experience, especially when I've always felt so comfortable with my father.

"But..." I begin, trailing off as I try to think of what to say.

"But what? Don't tell me, you thought you could leave your mother and come live with me, that it would be as easy as showing up on my doorstep unannounced?" I can tell he's making fun of me, his tone gives it away.

"I-" I begin once again, only this time I'm interrupted.

"Well it's not! I thought you were smarter than that? You're going back to your mother's first thing tomorrow, you understand?" His shouting is scary, he's never acted like this towards me, though I have seen a few interactions like this between him and my mother.

"Dad, no, I want to stay here!" I all but beg, wide eyed at his words.

"I don't want you staying here, I don't want you anywhere near here!" My hearing goes silent after that, but there's an obnoxious ringing... Did he just say that? That he wants nothing to do with me, that he doesn't want me anywhere near him?

He says a few more things, but I don't care enough to hear them, all I can manage to do is stare straight forward in a daze. I travelled so far, but not even my father wants me around anymore.

I was right, I should've just disappeared; I'm the catalyst of every fight, had I never been born, maybe they would still be together?

I don't remember much that happened after, just my father rolling his eyes as he drags his palm tiredly over his face. He walks me to the spare bedroom and tell me to get some rest, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep after the words we traded.

I'm not quite sure how long I lay in that bed before I hear my father talking from the living room, I tiptoe out of bed and look through the cracked door, he seems to be on the phone.

"You think I wanted her here! Listen Holly, I'm sending her back on the train tomorrow, alright? Make sure she doesn't comeback to New York." He sounds tired, annoyed, upset... I guess he really doesn't want me here, but I know my mother doesn't want me either.

I wait until my father's all but drunk himself to death, it's around 0100 in the morning before he's passed out on the couch, empty bottles on the coffee table. I cling tightly onto my backpack, walking to the front door as quietly as possible, opening the door slowly before sliding into the hallway and closing it with a dull 'click.'

The ride down was eerie, and it became even more so when I exited the apartment building. The darkness enveloping New York made the environment look quite scary, especially with only the light from the full moon and some blinking lamp posts to light my way. There was still some people out walking, most were either drunk or homeless, so I tried to pass by silently and unnoticed; my goal is to reach the airport before sunrise and buy a ticket out of the country, anywhere as long as it's not here.

I would've preferred to hail a taxi, but I can't risk not having the funds to afford a ticket, though neither of my parents want me, they still have an obligation to find me. Since I'll be paying for the flight in cash, there'll be no tracking where I went, unless the person selling me the ticket remembers my name, face, and flight destination; but I highly doubt they'll check the airports first.

When I finally arrive, the sun is just beginning to raise above the horizon, the streets are getting a little more busy with 6am traffic, and there is now light foot traffic along the sidewalks. 

I was coming up on the airport, I can tell because the planes kept getting louder and louder. I'd been thinking during my entire walk on where I wanted to go, it would be suspicious for a 12 year old to ask what flights are available to anywhere, especially without an adult present. 

I've chosen to go to Germany because I've always loved the language and have wanted to visit since I was 5; I've also formulated a story should I be asked any questions. I'm going to say that I'll be visiting family in Cochem, Germany. I remember reading about that beautiful place in a travel magazine, it looked nice enough and I also can't remember any other place. If they want more info, I'll say I'm specifically visiting my Uncle who lives there, that I'll be staying there for the summer. They shouldn't be asking much after that though, so I should be all good.

I push open the terminal doors, and immediately locate the booth where you can purchase a ticket. The lady behind the desk looks nice, she sounds polite as she finishes up talking with another employee before turning to me. She looks a little surprised to see just me, but she quickly recovers.

"Hello, how can I help you?" She questions sweetly.

"Hi there, I was wondering if you have any flights today heading over to Cochem, Germany?" I respond, I try to sound mature, but I'm not sure if it worked as I notice her raise her eyebrow humorously.

"Well, let me check real quick." She clicks a few times on her computer, tilting her head as she shuffles.

"There aren't any flights to Cochem since they don't have an airport." She states.

"What does that mean?" I ask, scrunching my eyebrows as I think my plan may be ruined.

"It just means we find the closest airport to their, and that looks to be Frankfurt Hahn Airport; it's only about 15 miles away." She states nonchalantly, but I'm sighing internally. 15 miles, after how long of a flight? I'll need to get a map too if I don't want to get lost.

"We have a flight leaving at around 0900 with a few seat openings." She continues, showing me the available seats.

"Alright, that works." I state, handing her the cash for the ticket, waiting as she prints it out and hands it to me. I smile in thanks before wandering off to check in and head to my boarding area, I've got a while before my flight, so I guess I'll make myself comfortable.

I don't remember the flight too well, I mainly slept through the flight, having sparse moments of wakefulness when they brought us food and drinks. The people I was seated beside were a kindly older couple, they kept me company and checked in on me; I think they just saw a child alone on the flight and wanted to make sure I wasn't scared or anything.

They would try to talk with me, but I think they realized how tired I was and just let me sleep. They were rather nice, even walking with me off the plane before they separated to go to baggage claim; I didn't need to as I only had my carry-on.

I quickly bought a map from the convenience shop in the airport before heading off on my trek, its around 5am and the sun has yet to rise. The temperature is around 60ºF, so I'm not too cold, I actually welcome the chill as the movement will warm me up in no time.

_______

I've been in Cochem for around 3 weeks now, and I must say that I really should have thought this through. I swapped all my USD over into euros, but I barely have enough to afford food everyday, not to mention I have no place to stay, hotels are far to expensive to even think of. Learning german has also been more complicated than I thought, I assumed it would be easier since I'm immersed in the culture, but it's all just been one big shock for both my body and mind.

Some of the shop owners have started to recognize me; I think they have their assumptions and know I'm homeless, sometimes they'll give me something to eat free of charge. I also can't risk speaking to them in english, I can't risk anyone knowing I'm from the United States, that would only heighten their suspicion on why I'm here instead of in the US. So, for the time being, I'll just have to come off as mute until I learn the language.

_______

It's been a particularly harsh past few days, the temperature has been dropping lower than usual, and my deteriorating clothes haven't been doing much to conserve my body heat. The local children have also taken to terrorizing me, I think they've been making fun of my clothing and muteness (I am now able to mostly understand them after some tutoring from a friendly shop owner).

Sometimes, they'll try to grab my bag, I've had a group of them chase after me just because I wouldn't let them steal my backpack. Their parents either don't notice or don't care, either way, I'm on my own.

They haven't caught me yet, and I can't say what they would do to me if they did. Would they just grab my bag and leave? Or would they want to hurt me for having the audacity to run? Maybe they just chase me because they find it funny, or maybe I have good reason to evade them?

It was actually during one of these chases that I ran into the man that would come to replace my father over time.

It was routine at this point, a group of 6 or so kids would spot me and give chase, I would see them coming and take off.  So far so good, I'm dodging the adults that go on with their lives, trying not to get hit by cars as I sprint across the road.

I'm doing really good actually, I turn around to catch a glimpse of them, they got stopped at the road by passing traffic, yes!

I look forward just as I turn a corner, running straight into someone, they are larger than me, barely being affected by the collision. I, however, had toppled down to the ground , scraping up my palms on the ground as the flail out to catch me.

Tears well in my eyes at the stinging pain, I can feel as the grit and dirt dig into the wounds as they rub against the cobblestone. I quickly glance up and see a tall man with short blonde hair, his eyes are a striking blue; they make me think of my father's eyes, how his aren't as striking as this man's.

I observe his expression, his eyes widen only slightly, showing his surprise about being barreled into so unexpectedly. He looks very professional in what I can best describe as a business casual suit, but something about him makes him seem like more than what he shows. This strange man, he holds an air of authority, power, I could almost describe him as threatening.

My thoughts are drawn away by the trampled footsteps behind me. I quickly scramble up from the floor, ignoring the pain in my hands as I snap my gaze to the corner I had rounded. I look just as the others come around, they halt as well at the sight of me and this adult. 

I lock eyes with the groups leader and immediately begin sprinting down the road, I can hear them giving chase immediately, shouting that no one cares enough about me to help. The tears already welled up in my eyes begin to cascade down my face; they're right, not even my own family wanted, how could I expect that strangers from a different country would want me either?

In my moments of self-pity, I step into a crevice, I was unprepared for the change in level and feel my knee giving out. I tumble to the ground in a flurry, scraping my limbs against the harsh ground. I curse at myself, attempting to stand, but this fall may have done me in, my legs feel like they are on fire, and my left ankle feels heavy and stiff, as though it was being strangled.

Looking up, I notice that I've fallen in a rather secluded area of town, almost no foot traffic here at all, so these miscreants will have a field day, I wonder what they'll actually do now that they've finally caught me.

They surround me, two of them ripping my backpack from me despite my struggle to keep hold of it. The leader marches forward and shoves me, allowing them to grab the bag away. They unzip it before turning it upside down, shaking everything out onto the floor.

We watch as clothes, food, paper and pens tumble out. They look disappointed when nothing else appears, what were they expecting, cash? As if I have any left...

The leader and his lackeys roughly lift me from the ground, having to hold me up since my legs have stopped functioning. Just as they're about to speak, a stern voice erupts from behind them.

"Aufhören (Stop)." They all freeze, the boys looking back to see who interrupted them. I look as well, though it took a lot of effort.

There, standing imposingly a few steps away is the man with the blue eyes, I ran into him, what is he doing stopping these boys from hurting me?

"Was (What)?" The leader questions, he tries to sound stern as well, but I can see him shrinking away when the man steps closer.

"Verpisst euch, lauft zu euren Müttern (Fuck off, go run to your mothers)." He growls in a deep tone, I can feel the disgust in his voice when speaking to these boys. 

They apparently don't need to be told twice, they release me, allowing me to crumple to the floor as they bolt away in the opposite direction. I feel dazed after everything that happened, but looking down at the ground, I can't help but feel despair swelling in my throat. Among the content of my bag was a picture of me and my parents, they're smiling and happy, and so was I. That was our last photo together before the fighting started again.

I reach out and grab the crumpled photograph, gently bringing it up so I could cradle it. I glance at the stranger as he steps closer before kneeling down. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't for him to begin collecting my belongings and putting them back into my bag. 

I can tell he has his suspicions upon viewing my dirty clothing, the toothpaste and toothbrush, as well as the bits of old food wrapped up for later. He finishes zipping up the bag before gently placing it in front of me.

"Wo ist deine Mutter? Dein Vater (Where is your mother? Your father)?" He questions with a concerned tone, I glance into his eyes before quickly looking away. He's very intimidating, even when he's being so nice.

"Weg (Gone)." I reply solemnly. My parents may not be dead, but I don't plan on ever going back, they're better off without me.

"Nun, wer ist für Sie zuständig (Well, who is responsible for you)?" He asks again, hoping that someone is out there looking after me. I sadly, can't give him that answer, it would be wrong to lie to the man who saved me.

"Nur ich (Only me)." I respond, avoiding eye contact at all costs. I'm terrified, what if he turns me into the authorities, or puts me in an orphanage? Or worse, what if he takes me back to New York! 

"Nur Sie? Hier draußen (Just you? Out here)?" He sounds shocked, his eyebrows scrunch up in worry, a distant look appearing in his eyes. He tilts his head in thought, of what, I'm unsure. He stands abruptly, and I'm sure he's going to leave, allow me to be alone again; but I'm the shocked one now when I notice his outstretched his hand.

I analyze it for a few seconds, wondering whether I should accept it, what happens if I do accept it? Is this a mere action of kindness before leaving me, or will this lead to more actions occurring? So many questions in my head silenced when I reach out and place my hand in his, allowing his firm grip to pull me off the floor. 

My legs are still regaining their senses, but he supports me as I try to remember how to stand. I look down at my legs and notice the scrapes and cuts along them, mostly localized around my knees as they are what I fell on during my tumble. I shift my gaze up to my hands, they are so small against his,  knuckles scraped and bleeding from sliding against the ground.

I tilt my head at them, so many injuries in such a short span of time, how will I fix them? I don't have any bandages on me, and I certainly can't afford to buy any.

"Komm, ich bringe das in Ordnung (Come on, I'll fix it)." I just nod my head, who am I to rebuke against his orders, especially after how he's treated me?

"Wie ist Ihr Name (What is your name)?" My words are slow as I try to remember what to say, I am doing better at understanding what is being said, but have trouble speaking the language. I can see the man raise an eyebrow, I almost think he won't answer me.

" Simon. Und du (Simon. And you)?" He states, walking with me through the town market, grasping my hand tighter when he notices the group of boys that had been terrorizing me cross the street.

"Y/N." I respond quietly, it's almost a whisper. It's been so long since I've spoken, let alone this much; I haven't said my name once during my stay here, so it's a strange feeling.

_______

After that day, Simon took me in, cleaned my wounds and bandaged them, gave me a hot meal to eat, and a room to rest in.

He unofficially adopted me after a year, explaining to me that I'm like a daughter to him, and that he want me to see him as my father. He didn't have to ask though, I've seen him as my father since the day we first met.

The first months were hard if I'm being honest, I had no idea how to act around a father figure, especially not after what happened with my actual dad. I was a lot more skittish, scared of maintaining eye contact, terrified by the slightest raise in his voice. Those behaviors began to melt away when I realized he wouldn't push me away, that he actually invited my company and tried to do things that I enjoyed - such as painting with me, or taking me into nature so I could write poems in the serene environment.

He asked me quite early on who my parents were and what happened. I was afraid that if he knew they were alive, that he would send me back to them; but I never was able to lie to him. I told him the truth about my parents, who they were, why I ran away, etc. He talked to me about it, and actually explained to me the dark history between his brother and my father.

He was empathetic towards me, explaining that he had similar feelings of displacement when he was staying with his family; it felt good having someone that could relate to me. He would reassure me during times of self-hatred, comforting me, stating that I was never the problem, that my parents should've never made me feel that way. He promised me that he will never allow them to treat me like that again.

The adoption was a quiet affair, he had documents for me falsified so that it stated I was a German citizen that he adopted out of the orphanage.

Yes, I know they were falsified, and I know all about his side of business; he told me the night beforehand what type of person he was, as well as the types of jobs he does. I'll admit, he caught me off guard since he's quite amiable, but I suppose everyone has sides that no one understands.

Some of his close friends that he works with were there to witness my adoption, they were polite and friendly as well. I had never felt more accepted in my life than I did when I was with Simo–my father, and I don't plan on ever letting go of this feeling. 

at any given moment

Yes that’s my emotional support character yes I’m aware he has killed 100s of people what he can’t have hobbies