Heart Of Gold ( A Midas x Reader Fortnite Fanfiction)

Chapter 29 - Sticks and Stones (Part 1)

==Yes, this IS meant to be Midas when he was a teenager==

The world has never really been quite clear to you - you can never quite fully understand the twists and turns that people call life- you, however, would just call many illogical, unfair and cruel. Like your father, or Midas, for instance, one would call unfair, because, well, come on! You didn't deserve any of that!

But today, today was different. Today was different because it was the first time, the first real time, when the world had actually been blurry.

Your eyes flutter open as you stifle a groan, lights dancing across your vision as you sit up, blinking hard as you try to force the world back to its original colours. Eventually, you can eventually make out your bedroom, and that, that is enough for you to start panicking all over again. Stumbling out of your bed, you press a hand to the wall to steady yourself, the world flipping on and over itself, suddenly righting itself as you drop the floor, gasping in shock as you pat the space around you like a blind person. Had Midas damaged you permanently? What, did he damage something when he was choking you? The very idea is ridiculous, and you realise this more so as the world slowly starts to right itself, and you blame it on you passing out.

Passing out....

The memories flood back to you in an undigested lump, a torrent that makes you groan out loud, thumping your head against your pillow as your stupid, stupid actions fly through your head, a constant reminder of your stupidity. You remember Midas staring at you, his hands around your throat....

GlaringshoutingscreamingdesperationTNTinaSkyebreathingairwayshands

Choking.

The word sets off some sort of alarm within you, flashing throughout your brain, imprinted upon your mind as you pick yourself off the floor, rushing to the mirror as you tug at your top, eyes wide as you suck in your breath, feeling like you are going to be sick. Again.

Your neck is covered in large, purplish, red splotches that circle your neck like some sort of sick, horrific necklace, your skin swollen and inflamed. You can even see a bruise in the shape of Midas's hand, imprinted upon your skin, and you close your eyes in horror briefly, putting your head in your hands, rubbing the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb as you genuinely contemplate climbing into your covers and never leaving your bed. You start towards your bed, but a thought strikes you....you'll have to come out eventually, for food, for water, to go to the toilet, to do your job....your stare towards your bed, hiding no longer seeming like the most viable option.

You stamp your foot in frustration, wishing life was easier. Reluctantly, you cross over to your mahogany dressing table, throwing open the doors of the wardrobe and picking out a black halter top, which is very tight and revealing, but does the job of covering your neck properly. Finally, you tug on ripped army jeans, shoving on white pumps as you clack out of the door, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion. You cross into the bathroom, barely processing as you fix your makeup and hair; all of this just one big routine to you now, just another morning, another cycle. Well, at least you think it's morning. You glance out of the bathroom window, comforted by soft, morning sunlight, The Agency basked in sunlight, whilst, on the the grounds, you spot Skye and some other agents attempting to knock her hat out of a particularly spiky tree with a long, thin twig that she grips tightly. You stifle a smile as the branch snaps, showering her and her friends with wood chippings. You close the window, loud, harsh swear words following through as Skye throws her boot on the grass, face contorted into an expression of frustration. Thankfully she doesn't see you, and you tug on your collar once more, making sure your neck is hidden as you snap the window shut, shuddering as you imagine her reaction to your neck.