Archive of Our Own

The thing about D.F is that nobody knew him.

They knew about his existence, yes—they all do. They're aware of D.F the way they're aware of how the mindspace existed. In general, it's more about him being a disease and less about being another person inside one body. After all, how could you explain to someone the existence of one body with multiple wholes? 

They knew he existed.

They didn't know he had a name.

Nor the fact that it's easier to keep him beneath than above. 

There's a reason his name is the way it is, after all.

Inside the mindspace, D.F is more of an influence than a person. Their shared place inside Christian's head acknowledges his presence the same way one acknowledges the suffocating atmosphere created by a tension in the room. He stays inside, letting the other alters take over to keep the mindspace peaceful and regulated. His existence—voided of humanity from the trauma he's born from, made Christian learn the hard way to keep him contained. His name that originally signifies “Don't Front” was not meant to be a name, but a warning. A warning not for the people around Christian, but for him and him alone.

Don't Front. 

Don't cause trouble.

Don't do anything.

He believes he's a monster. 

So, his name must remain unsaid—not a hush, not even a whisper.

“Remember what happened last time.” Christian once said, after giving him an identity to call even if no one will ever use it. The hurt reflected in the restraint in his voice, obvious by the way it shook, like he's trying his best not to cry.

And D.F, A ‘Balance’ by title—sugar-coated of how cruel he really was, can only do so much. 

He just wanted to help.

“What are your Alter's names…?”

The mindspace shifted, curious eyes being shared inside at the sudden mention of their existence. All the while Christian remains on front, probably surprised by the question, too.

The other alters inside restlessly took peeks to try and figure out the context towards that question. Dean—closer to front, muttered something under his breath when he figured it out, turning back inside when no danger was detected. Umi still hovers anyway, wanting to see what it was about.

“I wonder who it was…” Umi mumbled quietly, shifting around with silent determination and curiosity. D.F’s presence looms behind as he gently lifts Umi from under his arms, carrying him easily and resting him on his shoulders.

“Here. Better?” D.F’s voice echoed in its quiet depth, voice safe from Christian's awareness enough not to startle him. Umi clapped his hands in delight, before circling his arms on D.F’s head.

“It is! Thank you, Dear Friend!” Umi chirped, making D.F’s gaze softened naturally. Together, they shared Christian’s gaze in burrowed silence, keeping the distance so they don't accidentally take front.

“Eh? What's with the sudden question…?”

They can hear Christian's voice from afar, in that way the two are aware of. He spoke with natural ease—not the practiced charm he often used when offering his service, nor the one he used to mask his hurt—but the one he used when he's comfortable with someone; a friend, family, or lover.

That's when Dean knew it's safe.

And that's when D.F felt something familiar.

“Well… I'd like to know who they are. Blake introduced me to his alters, yesterday. Well—Indirectly, of course. I got to know their names, and understood their connections and ways of assisting Blake. I'd like to understand yours, too. After all… I'm your friend. I don't want to be clueless with this side of you.”

That voice…

It's the same as that night.

It was the first voice D.F heard when he's birthed to existence. Soft at the edges, calm and collected… deep and rich in warmth like it just welcomes everyone who hears it with a hug. It was a voice of comfort—something Chris had been blessed with during tough times with his grief of losing his mother. It's been a while since he had heard of it again… years, maybe?

“Interesting…” D.F muttered under his breath unconsciously. Umi noticed it with ease—his friend's focus. The sharpness of it, one that D.F only uses when he's guiding or helping Dean from inside the system, or when he's subtly warning Christian of potential threats the other might miss. It wasn't subtle—wasn't meant to. It's observant. Practical.

“What's wrong, friend? Had Dean miscalculated?” Umi asked with vigilance. D.F stills for a moment, before looking up at the youngling on his shoulders and shaking his head.

“No. Just… thought I remembered something.”

At the front, Christian blinks in surprise, snickering at his friend's sudden interest in his mindspace. 

“Xander… that's…”

Alexander smiled. Not sheepishly, not apologetic, just aware. Seeing.

“I'm sorry if the question made you uncomfortable. It's okay, you don't have to answer-”

Christian immediately cut him off, waving his hands in a no gesture. 

“No, no. I'm not uncomfortable, I just- never had anyone asked. Nor make it sound like they're human-beings of their own. It's just… weird.”

Alexander didn't answer immediately—didn't really have to. The silence around them was welcome and kind, so there was no rush for either of them to speak. After a while, Christian cleared his throat to speak again, a leap of courage filling dead air the right way.

“Okay, so… I have three alters in my mindspace. And each of them have different roles, including me. I am the mind. I regulate the system to consistency, and I'm the one identity that's actually born physically in this body.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

A pause. Alexander shifted quietly in his seat, turning his full attention on Christian now. No pressure, just that quiet interest he had always harbored over the other.

“One of my alters is named Dean. Dean is my Guardian. When… When there's threats around that are too much for me to handle… he does it for me. And makes it easier for me to survive. He does what's best for the mindspace.”

Alexander nodded once, looking away momentarily as if filing the new information and putting them somewhere safe and easy to reach. When he looked back at Christian with a hum, that's the only time Christian spoke again.

“Another one is Umi. Umi is a young memory holder. He's one of the main reasons I can remember when someone else fronts.”

“He holds memories for you to remember?” Alexander inquired like an echo.

“Yeah… Sorta. It's a bit complicated, but he basically keeps my memories intact even if I'm not conscious. I remember everything that happens from then on out.”

“I see…”

Alexander hummed, eyes steady on Christian without the need for awkward eye contact. It was a familiar habit, predictable. Predictable in a way that makes Christian feel safe around him, recognition in the way Alexander moves… even after seven years had already passed with gap in-between. 

Then, silence again. This time… the ambiance felt… charged. Like something's lacking. Missing. In the way the walls felt like they held their breaths, or in every nervous fidget Christian does with his hands, as if he's waiting for something…

Alexander noticed. Of course he did.

“You said there's three,” He finally mutters after a while, not realizing he broke the tension that held a mystery. Or maybe it's what they're both unconsciously waiting to hear… for reasons both can't name. 

Still… whatever the name holds…

If Christian can't seem to talk about it the way he does with Dean and Umi… 

Alexander will wait all day if it means the other will allow him to hold it gently, or deprived him of the knowledge for reasons he wouldn't question. Either way, he'll always respect what Christian decides anyways. He always has.

Until…

“I did…” Christian replied, voice barely above a whisper as he looked down in his hands. Something in his posture shifted—like he's between dissociating heavily from a memory, and internally panicking. Alexander noticed. But remained quiet about it.

Because if there's one thing he does as a mentor, it is that he never intervenes unless completely necessary.

“ …Chris.” He slowly starts, threading gently the way he would've six years ago, when a child stood stubbornly in front of him with bruises on his face, and determined eyes that hungered strength and resilience to protect.

“Don't, if it's not possible.”

The sigh didn't come from Christian's breath. It came from the way his tense shoulders slowly slumped, and his subtly wide eyes slowly softened. The little things no one understands or sat back to hear, Alexander did. Not because he sees Christian as incapable, but because he knows Christian needs boundaries.

Still, when Christian can… Alexander's assured that he will.

“The third one…” Christian paused.

“He's… a balance.” he murmured almost to himself. Alexander nodded along, urging him to continue. And Christian did.

“As you know… Balance alters are… pretty dangerous. Their purpose in the mindspace is to keep us regulated and stable. Any form of threats that are so bad it may potentially cause us a system blackout, the Balance often takes care of it. And when they do… they make sure to remove it fully. And out of existence.”

Christian didn't exactly know what he was waiting for when he finished explaining—but he knew his body was already braced for impact before his mind could register it. His shoulders tensed, the way it used to when he's getting scolded and with the possibility of getting hit. His eyes remained down, as if submission can counteract disappointment, and his figure looked smaller. Like maybe, it'll change the outcome of something if they knew he meant no harm.

But nothing came. Not from Alexander, at least.

The mindspace felt something in the atmosphere shifted. Maybe it was just Christian's guts telling him so, but that heavy feeling in his chest just settled further with the silence. 

He didn't realize that his alters are active. Nor the fact that the specific one he's afraid to mention, was listening in silent surprise that he's even partly being introduced. D.F can hear the shake in Christian's voice—the one that named him and looked at him in the mindspace with barely contained tears in his eyes. It wasn't spite, Christian never blamed D.F for existing. But he is forbidden of similar privileges to Dean, which is enough said than done.

D.F never questioned it, because he understood.

He understood that his way of protecting can cause more harm than good. That his way of helping can cost a life, even if Christian didn't want that life to slip from his fingers. 

That night, when the system almost shut down from the mental absence of Christian and Dean, and only D.F can take control… when his hands wrapped around the thin string attached to his neck tightly, before abruptly pulling it down thinking it's the only way to end Christian's suffering from the situation… It was all to help him. Because it's the only method D.F knows how.

Remove destabilizing variables. Always.

Relationships weren't meant to matter if Christian was under extreme stress that could potentially fragment him into another alter.

It wasn't meant to matter as long as it gets the job done.

But it did, anyway.

And what came with it, is the name given to him.

“I see.” was the only reply Christian heard after. No push—not really. And he didn't know why he kept expecting one to pop up anyways. Alexander remained neutral about everything, proving his trustworthiness without being tested. That, and maybe the fact that he has a brother that has it, too.

“What's their name?” Alexander asks after a while. Christian stilled for a second, his body responding before his mind could process the question. When he did end up processing it, however, his mind blanked on what to answer. He just ends up looking at the other with a complicated expression.

It felt new to him, all the unexpected replies Alexander gave and asked. The attention to detail that shouldn't matter, the enthusiasm, or even the subtle re-focusing on their existence rather than reputation. Any form of discomfort or uninvited force never came, and it kept catching Christian off-guard the more he continued.

“ …Chris?” A hand waved in front of his vision. Christian blinked once, then looked away. His expression thoughtful, pondering.

Then—

“D.F” A mutter. Loud enough to be audible, but quiet enough like it’s a secret passed down by one to another. After a moment, Christian stole a glance on Alexander, who only tilted his head—confusion, curiosity, or estranged, he didn't know.

“D.F?” Alexander repeated, more clarifying than a question. as if he couldn't believe a name like that exists—or acronym, at best. Yet Christian nodded, fully serious.

Silence. Not awkward—at least not to Alexander. He took the silence to his advantage and analyzed the name himself, or at least—to guess what the name could be or mean.

Nothing came.

“Well… does it mean anything? I can't think of a single scenario where one would be named D.F with nothing behind it.” Alexander attempted humor, but Christian's jaw only tightened, like talking about it would cost something more. When Alexander saw, he immediately straightened up and shook his head instead.

“Nevermind. D.F it is—”

“Don't Front.”

Silence.

Alexander sat there, a brow raised and head tilted. For the first time since listening to everything Christian had said until now—this was the only time he finally allowed himself to crack a reaction that wasn't so neutral.

Not when Christian was too skittish to mention his alters to him, not when the silence spoke louder and the pauses in-between his sentences reflected the risk he's calculating on whether Alexander understands or not—no.

It was at the mention of that name, if it could even be considered one.

“ … Don't Front?”

Christian winced a bit. Not from pain, but from the sudden awareness of Alexander's gaze. Judging, probably. Even if he doesn't have any intentions to. 

“ … That's not a name. That's more precaution than a name.”

Christian nodded again, swallowing like there's a thorn in his throat. Alexander followed easily and avoided staring at Christian after that. 

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but-”

Alexander raised a hand. Christian immediately stopped.

“No, no. I understand. You don't have to explain anything to me if it's out of your limitations. I'm sorry if it sounded like I was judging you… but thank you, for feeding my curiosity anyways. It must be a hard subject to tackle on your behalf.”

Alexander smiled. Not polite—genuine.

“Thank you, Chris.”

Christian stilled. Then shrugged it off like it's nothing—that usual smirk flashing in his face like a natural charm, both cocky and practiced. 

Deep down, he's just glad it's over.

“Pssh. It's nothing. Just caught me off-guard at first.”

Alexander knew. Noticed. but didn't comment any further.

After that, they've moved on to another topic. Not in Alexander's pace—in Christian's. Always Christian's. Alexander kept his ears open and observed the rest. ‘It's better this way,’ Christian thought as he easily slid back through normalcy—all charm and tease. He didn't realize that something settled in his stomach then, didn't notice that slight nudge, like something—or someone—inside his head wanting to be looked at, even if momentarily.

Christian didn't, not because he couldn't. But because he didn't have to.

Inside the mindspace, Umi felt something grow tense. Like the space had a heartbeat that suffocates. He felt the small fragileness of his temporary vessel being lifted up as he was slowly settled back to the ground quietly.

“Friend, where are you going…? Are you okay…?”

D.F didn’t answer.

The way he disappeared into the darkest corners of the system was answer enough.

This… wasn't supposed to happen…

Not now, not ever.

The system suddenly collapsed. Christian was nowhere to be found—or better yet, he's somewhere deep inside the mindspace where the lights of control and regulation are out of reach. He's hiding. Because something, somewhere, made it impossible for him to function. 

Dean followed him deeper inside the void—curses leaving his breath like flares of irritation. D.F tried to stop Dean, tried to remind him that someone needs to take control. But Dean barely listened. He shrugged D.F's hand with harsh ease, and trailed over Christian with no hesitation. 

“He needs me.” He justified and nothing else. D.F didn’t hold him further. He knew Dean. The man wouldn't stop for anyone but Chris.

Still… someone needs to take charge.

“Umi…?”

D.F attempted, one last time. They need anyone—anyone to take control over the front to avoid a physical shutdown. He looked at where he would usually spot Umi taking space, and the sight that welcomed him was far from anything he's ever seen.

Gasping and whimpering, Umi curled himself smaller as he cried in silence. The muffled sobs and messy tears was enough indication that whatever happened to Christian, Umi had remembered and instilled it in the memory—A curse holders such as the small boy had to suffer from.

“Hey, Hey… It's okay…” D.F immediately came to Umi's aid, kneeling beside him to make himself smaller. But Umi only turned away, overwhelmed by anything and everything that came his way. D.F hovered close, confused on what could've been the problem for the whole system to suddenly break the way it did now. Everyone is hiding, no one is taking the front, and if it stays this way…

Christian might fall into a coma.

“Get it out, get it out…” Umi whimpered in both panic and anguish. D.F could only do so much as helplessly place his hand on top of the other's small figure—a gentle firm pressure, even when he's also having a dilemma internally.

This scenario has happened before.

And when he took over and pulled the rope…

Christian only became worse.

Now, It's happening again.

This time, it's worse than before. 

No one can handle fronting, everyone's hurt beyond recognition, and for D.F who doesn't know what's going on, It's already hell just through observation. 

Christian named him in a way that's meant to be a reminder.

Today, he's forced to take action against that. It's either their safety, or his limitations.

He chose the system.

“Christian? Hey… are you okay?”

It's that voice again, deep and constant—a gentle pressure that's warm in presence and kind in touch. It's familiar. Predictable. The kind D.F could've sworn he remembered by name…

But only a blur in vision.

D.F took his time to open his eyes. The ringing in his head, the dull ache in his skull, The loud, distant drumming of bar music that vibrates even in what felt like a muffled space, and that dimly-lit neon lights that pulsed through the room and through his eyelids that contrasted what he had yet to see.

And when he finally opened his eyes—

He saw him.

Light hair, Ocean eyes, and his face etched with worry.

Him.

“Christian… hey…”

The man leaned in closer, eyes scanning the other with deliberate care. His hands landed on his body with nothing but safe touches—a hand combing his hair back, cupping his face and tilting it, or a light brush somewhere painful.

D.F flinched.

The man immediately stopped, and made distance.

“I'm sorry… I was worried about you…” 

D.F didn't answer.

Instead, he slowly sat up—swaying and wincing from mysterious injuries he didn't know the origins of.

“Hey, take it easy… you're safe now.” The man spoke, voice consistently firm and soft as he assisted the other with gentle stability.

D.F looked at him then—really looked. Properly, this time. Eyes less hazy and more recognizing. 

Then, he remembered his name. 

From a past encounter, from the way his name is as frequently uttered as Zeyn's and Micah's, and from a blurring memory that D.F wasn't sure if it was his, or Christian's. 

“Alexander…?”

Alexander nodded once, eyes never leaving him.

“I'm here. You're okay now… you're safe.”

D.F scanned his face, his expression.

Alexander wasn't the way he remembered looking like. His hair used to be longer… styled in either a ponytail or just down, covering his face. He remembered he used to be taller, bigger than them. How he used to be close but never hovered, used to stand confidently but never towered them.

How he used to teach them discipline and courage without hurting them.

Now, he sat there, and D.F can meet his eyes without tilting his head upwards.

How long has it been?

“Where… what happened…?” D.F asked, voice hoarse and slurred against his will—clearly disoriented. He didn't know what to ask or do at the moment, and it was the only rational question he could think of to try and navigate what happened to Chris without making it worse.

“Hansel refused to provide further information on what happened. But by the looks of it, I guess one of your customers were… a bit rough tonight.”

A pause.

“ … Do you have any memories of what had happened?”

D.F looked away, attempting to recall the events as much as he could without the help of anyone in the system. Unfortunately, all he felt was the heavy shift inside the mindspace. It was Umi purposely refusing to provide any further context from the hurt he's being put under. D.F didn't force it any further after that.

“I can't… seem to remember…”

Alexander only nodded, and didn't ask anything else.

“I see… that's okay. We'll get the police involved.”

D.F didn't spoke any further.

By the next few weeks or so, D.F remains in front. They figured out the cause of the problem, and it wasn't just one customer. It was a group of customers forcing themselves on Christian against his will, and when he fought back, they injected some unknown drug in his system. He stumbled back, attempting to run and call Hansel for help, but one of the members got ahold of him and abruptly pulled him, making him fall and hit his head at the corner of the table.

They escaped the scene, had Hansel not found Christian's body would he know what happened. Involving the police, The investigation remained on going, and Christian had to take a paid leave for his recovery. Despite the circumstances, however, and before Christian's traces slowly fades to nothing in the bar…

The now wanted criminals suddenly disappeared.

Not missing, not even in hiding. 

Just. Gone.

Days went by in a blur, at least from what D.F could acknowledge. The body felt unstable, the injuries painful in a way that’s disadvantageous. There were cigarette burns on his back and hips—familiar in a way that makes Dean shift internally. And with Umi's weak but insistent help, D.F found the reason Christian ran to the deepened state of his mindspace.

It wasn't because he was being trapped by the group.

It was because the pain, the sensations, and the scenario itself…

Was a ghost from the past that once made him endure and survive—a child who didn't grow from nurturing, but from a man's fist.

How could anyone ever stomach hurting a child…?

“Chris…?”

D.F flinched, abruptly facing Alexander with alertness in his eyes, cautious and guarded. The body is already hurt as is, he couldn't afford another destabilization. There, by the doorframe, Alexander stilled, surprised by the reaction, before his expression soften to something kinder—concern, compassion.

“It's okay, it's just me.” Alexander raised his hands in surrender—one busy holding a bag. D.F lowered his guard at that—though not fully.

“…Do you need anything?” D.F asks, polite but straight to the point. His voice was rough, tone deeper than Christian in an uncharacteristic way, but easier to justify as part of recovery—or at least D.F hoped so. 

Unlike Dean, it's the best impression of Chris he could mask. He doesn't really like the idea of getting caught now, not with the mindspace still unstable and him still adjusting to the front while trying to discipline himself with practiced self-control.

“I bought the doctor's prescribed ointments and antibiotics for the injuries.” Alexander replied as he rustled through the paperbag in hand. From there, he raised the pill bottle and a thin rectangular box—proving a point.

“Zeyn went back home to her mother. Micah called me to assist you while he went with Zeyn. So I thought I might as well buy some of the things you need.” 

D.F's gaze softened—just a bit.

“You didn't need to do that.”

Alexander only smiled.

“I wanted to.”

As Alexander slowly stepped into the room—hesitant at first, until D.F non-verbally invited him in—he slowly started setting the contents of the bag on the bedside table without being asked, reading the prescription out loud while he's at it—a reminder disguised in casual care.

“Antibiotics, 3x a day, to be taken every 6 hours.”

“Ointment, 2x a day—morning and night, after washing the wounds caused by the burns”

“Icepack treatment for the bruises, interval.”

“—”

D.F just stood across the other, listening. A safe distance managed in his own accord—one that Alexander respected even without a verbal request. Across the room, he listened to Alexander like a distant noise he couldn't feel. His focus keeps shifting to something inside him that seemingly settles in place… like a presence that decided a familiar voice like Alexander's is worth the calm for.

And then… without thinking;

“ … Do I need to take the medications in a pattern?"

He didn't mean to ask. It would be strange if he did. After all, such questions only exist meant to be answered with sarcasm. He was initially planning on asking Umi for help in lending him some memories Christian has that might help him navigate through the medications… but it slipped before he could stop it.

Still…

“Yes.” Alexander's reply was immediate. No ‘that's a stupid thing to ask’ or ‘why is that even a question?’ which would normally be a common reply to a question that can be answered by common sense. Except for D.F’s condition—the lack of fronting regulations makes him ignorant to mundane things.

“If you plan on drinking the medicine, keep the minutes in check. Drink the medications at 7:13, your next will be at 1:13. Not a minute early nor late, if you can. Every minute helps.”

D.F hesitated, now suddenly wanting to ask more but afraid to get caught if he asked too many questions that may be considered naturally learned. However for the system's safety—or at least… that's what he wants himself to believe… he had to take extra measures.

“ … How do you apply the ointment…?”

Alexander slowly turned to look at him now, and for a moment, D.F froze. Has he been caught? That couldn't be, right?

He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply as he shifted awkwardly—preparing a script in his head in case he had to explain who he is and what happened to the mindspace.

Instead—

“I can help you apply them if you'd like?”

He looked up, surprised. And Alexander was just standing there, smiling ever-so softly. Genuine. Real.

And something inside D.F felt… bitter.

That's not right.

“ … That would be appreciated.”

And so… Alexander did. 

Ever since then, it became a routine. Alexander would either occupy the guest room to keep time of Christian's timely medications, or would leave and come back the next day. D.F had to learn how to stop flinching when cold fingers met his back as if it was setting him ablaze. The burns hurt. Not painful enough to bind him down, but present enough to be hard to ignore. To add to it, Alexander's fingers almost contrasts and compliments that pain like torture.

“I'm sorry… we're almost done, okay? Just endure it a bit more.” Alexander would often say—gentle and reassuring, while his fingers tapped lightly on the fresh burns. D.F had grown accustomed to listening to it quietly, using it as an anchor because he knew there's at least a truth in it; It finishes fast and easily. Even if the pain stayed.

And Alexander had learned—unknowingly—how to set alarms to remind Christian to take his medications.

He didn't know it was an alter he's talking to, didn't take into consideration that Christian might've gone dormant inside the system. All he could think of was Christian suffering from the trauma he received. Hurt, and having difficulties to function properly.

He didn't take into account the possibility of being in the same room as danger. 

The same room as someone who took a life important to them—especially to Zeyn and Micah.

Or maybe… He just didn't have to.

One day, D.F held himself inside Christian's room in silence.

It was dark, nothing to see. Alexander left after he drank his final medicine for the day, and everyone else was asleep. His gaze shifts nowhere—no destination to land on, nor anything to keep his focus on. Just darkness, cold, silence—too quiet, and the company of a mind that was never at peace, even if their breaths are even.

D.F remembers that night.

Michael Damien Collins.

He didn't know who he was specifically, maybe that's why it was so easy for him to oversee that he was meant to be important to Christian.

Michael triggered Christian to pull away from the front due to the severe amount of stress. And Dean—like now—had prioritized Christian over the front. He always does in situations like this.

D.F took over before the front collapsed.

He only had one thing on his mind back then,

Remove destabilization. No matter what. 

And he did.

But when Christian came back…

“No… No… Michael…”

It wasn't what he wanted.

D.F made a mistake.

And that mistake, became a permanent title to his name—like a stain disguised in identity.

and when D.F finally closed his eyes—confused by his thoughts’ intentions, he took a deep breath before drifting off to rest.

The next day, D.F awoke to a presence in the room.

The curtains were tied up in a way he didn't remember leaving—allowing soft, golden lights to enter the room in shiny inevitable stripes. The body felt tired despite the clear memory of his rest—vulnerable and weak at the moment even with his restless and alert nature. 

With a soft, almost imperceptible grunt, he turned to his side.

And his eyes met with Alexander's figure.

He was sitting at an empty chair across the bed in a safe distance—eyes closed and breathing evened out while his head swayed subtly to the side, his hand the only thing stabilizing his head from tipping over. In his other hand was a crumbled paper bag with the logo of a pharmacy. Medicine again, D.F assumes.

But through the corner of his peripheral vision, he caught something new;

Flowers.

D.F slowly sat up, eyes laser-focused on the out-of-place colorful plants in the bed-side table. For what occasion could it have been for?

“Oh… you're awake?”

Alexander's groggy voice filled the room as his eyes opened blearily. D.F tilted his head.

“How long have you been here…?”

Alexander looked away momentarily, stretching his arms before yawning softly in his hand.

“I just got here at least 30 minutes ago… Micah left with Bitter to buy something, and they called me to watch over you again.”

“Did you watch me sleep the whole time?”

Alexander paused, eyes widening.

“What? N-no! Your room door was slightly open, I thought you were awake earlier, but when I saw you were still asleep, I thought I'd just wait for you to wake up…”

His hands waved defensively at first, before his voice weakened at the very end—realizing that even if he tried to justify himself, it would only sound progressively worse if he continued.

D.F's mouth thinned at that—not quite a smile, but something close. He knew since their first meeting that the other meant no harm in whatever he does for Christian, so he didn't think much of it.

“I see. Thank you for coming.”

He replied, before his eyes met the flowers again. Alexander followed his gaze now, a smile blooming in his face when he realized what the other was looking at.

“Do you like them? Hold on, I'll set them in a vase.”

Alexander was about to stand up, but a voice stopped him echoes away from his own;

“What are those…?”

A pause. Alexander's gaze went to Christian again, as if he's trying to figure out if the question was wrongly worded out, or if the other's planning to tease him.

D.F didn't. 

He just met Alexander's eyes with a steady yet gentle curiosity of his own.

“They're… flowers…? White Tulips, if that's what you're asking.”

“What for?”

Alexander shrugged, almost shy—ears reddening a bit under the shade of the curtains from sunlight.

“Flowers are meant to uplift your mood when you're feeling down, so I thought you might appreciate them.”

D.F's gaze unconsciously softened at that quietly.

“I see.”

The day went by slowly that day. 

Alexander made breakfast and lunch, and D.F stayed in his room—rarely coming out only if he needed to. The injuries on his back and head were like healing scars, like inevitable memories that forces themselves to be remembered. But knowing Chris, D.F knew the other can survive it through.

After eating, Alexander serves the medicine with a glass of water. He usually was the one who navigated their house with ease, like he actually belonged there. He washes the dishes, sweeps around when he knew no one was there but Christian, and at times, reads whatever book is on the shelves—one that he knew no one would be bothered if he touched.

The books he usually gets his hands on were the ones that talked about Christian's condition.

Paranoid Splitting Disorder (PASD)

“You know…”

Alexander started once—entering the room with a prior given permission—while his eyes remained on the book. D.F looked up at him, his back resting on the bed frame while he reminisce.

“I've read about Balance Alters today.”

D.F flinched at that, the weight of the title's responsibility heavy on his back.

“What about it…?” He asked, threading lightly at the topic. Alexander was silent for a beat more, his eyes roaming the book as if dissecting it undone. And when he finally spoke again, it was somewhere between enlightenment and wisdom—something D.F had unknowingly already expected of the other.

“I don't think Don't Front is a proper name for your balance Alter.”

Silence.

D.F could've sworn he can hear a pin drop from it. Much more on that thrumming in his chest that felt harder to control than he thinks.

“ …What are you talking about…?”

Alexander finally looked up at him, making that thrumming worsen even more.

“I think he's a very relevant aspect of the system. He's not called a Balance for no reason. His existence was there to keep you and Dean on your feet after exhausting days. He plays an important role in your life.”

Alexander raised the book in his hand, as if to make a point, then start reading it aloud;

“Balance Alters—as their name suggests—keeps the system stable even under extreme pressure when no one else could handle the fracture. They keep in watch for what the others needs, what's lacking or too much, and what should be done for the greater good of the system. Like Guardians, they know how to protect, but their way of protecting differs.”

D.F just sat there, quietly.

He almost forgot Alexander didn't know it was him.

How else should he reply to that, anyway?

How could a normal person like Alexander understand him, when he doesn't even know what Christian had to suffer because of him?

How could Alexander open this conversation like he knew D.F? Like he knew exactly who he's talking to at the moment?

D.F doesn't want Alexander to see him as he is. He didn't want Alexander to know who he is. That's the reason he wore Christian like a mask when Christian himself couldn't handle being in his own body—When the system couldn't handle doing so, too. 

Even he, who felt the skin cling to him like a parasite, felt the body’s inefficiency every time he wore it.

He hated fronting mainly because he didn’t know what to do with it.

And yet someone stood where he once held a life and crushed it with his hands… and still had the guts to try and understand what he is.

For a moment, he forgot he was Christian.

Or perhaps… for a moment, he wanted to forget he's wearing his face.

He wonders, silently, how a man like Alexander would react to knowing he's talking to the actual Alter he talks to now.

I am D.F he wanted to say.

He didn't.

Instead, he tilted his head, curious and suddenly interested.

“Then… if you were to change his name… what would it be?”

Simple. Careless, perhaps. But oddly… human.

Alexander didn't reply immediately. Instead, his eyes looked upwards, thinking—or perhaps, brainstorming of an answer.

“Well, since his nickname is just an abbreviation, why not just change the meaning of it? Like um…”

Alexander's eyes roamed around the room, mumbling words in his head as if testing it in his tongue, but when nothing sounded as meaningful as the others, he sighed in defeat.

“Hmm… If you were to hear my suggestion out… then I think I need to dig in deeper into it! I'll think of something, give me sometime!”

And with that, Alexander left the room in that excited pace, as if he was just given something close to priceless treasure. D.F didn't move from his seat from the bed, his gaze trailing off where Alexander once stood with that glow in his eyes. And after a long time of coldness, both inside and out… he felt less lonely than before.

Maybe allowing someone to make a change in parts of him doesn't sound so bad.

The next day was different than usual.

Micah was forcing Christian to go out and get some fresh air. With Christian, maybe that would've been easy, but D.F…

He could already feel the dread of it. 

Inside the mindspace, stimuli aren't really something you can feel if you're far from the front. Its absence was peaceful, while fronting felt like hell for many different reasons; including the feeling of the skin reacting to the world. The chill of the air, the wetness of liquid, and burns of both too hot or too cold.

D.F absolutely hated it.

Though, maybe that's just because he's still adjusting to the body from his long-term dormant inside the system.

Still…

“You don't have to force it right now. You can do it when you're ready.”

Alexander murmured from behind him, while gently tapping his back with ointment. The burns are healing and turning to scars, and his skin has adjusted well to the other's touch—even capable of blanking out and being vulnerable for a moment or two around him without realizing.

He tilted his head to Alexander's direction, trying to remain alert and focused. Alexander noticed—or maybe not the context—but he smiled at it anyways.

“What happened to you was painful and traumatic. Wanting to lock yourself away is understandable. However, that doesn't change the fact that you still need to relearn going out to desensitize yourself in order to function properly again. It's inevitable, but knowing you, I'm sure you'll manage. You always do.”

Alexander's voice was coaxing and confident, the same voice that praised Christian when his fighting stance was correct, and motivates him to try something he's reluctant to for the first time. D.F doesn't understand why it's familiar, but it is. And he doesn't mind it anymore.

Silence stretched between them in comfortable warmth for a moment. The afternoon glow seeped through the windows like golden streaks. D.F thought deeply about what he should do. With the alters inside the system all occupied, quiet, or dormant, It's hard to weigh decisions based on majority votes or ask them for help on what to do. Thinking about it doesn't sound so bad if it's in the perspective of someone who frequently fronts like Dean, but he's not Dean, which makes everything that's supposed to be easy to do, a struggle to accomplish.

Then, taking a calculated leap, he spoke;

“ …Will you go out with me, then?”

He felt the other's finger pause a hair too close from his back, clearly surprised at being asked. D.F bit his lower lip, preparing for the rejection and already accepting it. But instead, only a huff of breath that wasn't D.F's filled the quiet air, before a voice followed;

“You didn't even have to ask.”

Outside wasn't bad. It's worse.

D.F thought he had calculated every risk he had to take while outside—in other words, everything. Apparently, even that wasn't enough. The streets were loud, even when empty. The sun was too bright—too hot on the skin. In the park, The children's cries and laughter mingled together in a harmony that felt overwhelming to listen to. There's parents shouting here and there, teenagers talking, and dogs barking. Flying objects that are too colorful to look at, too abrupt in movement.

D.F absolutely hated it.

He tried to navigate the surroundings, but his eyes could barely open due to the sun. Alexander walked with him, making sure he walks on the further side away from the road while he walks beside him—subtly using his body as a shield between him and the cars passing by.

“Are you alright?”

Alexander asked just as a car sped by, making it harder for D.F to decipher.

“I- what? I'm sorry-”

D.F pointed to his ears, Alexander just smiled sheepishly at him. Even just the sounds of birds chirping made it hard for D.F to focus on one thing.

After a while, Alexander sighed quietly to himself, before holding D.F’s wrist, and gently guiding him away from the crowded place. 

They've reached a food hall somewhere near the park that was a bit isolated—making it less noisy. It was wide, less crowded with only people passing by or eating. It was a bit more peaceful, though the air still muffled their voices due to the wider space.

“Are you hungry? We can try and eat something you haven't eaten for awhile?”

D.F hesitated, but followed in the end. He's learned to trust Alexander by instinct due to exposure, and with the many meals Alexander had served him, he knew Alexander wouldn't mean him any harm using sustenance. 

They bought something filling from one of the stalls—a burger and a corndog of some sort. Alexander paid for all they bought, and urged D.F to eat more due to the portion he eats being small back at home. Since he's reaching full recovery, Alexander wanted for him to eat something more normal than just soup and bread—something both nutritious and filling and fun to eat.

But the second time Alexander slid a certain pastry in front of him—something with cheese and ham rolled together—D.F paused, brows furrowing a bit. Not from irritation—just confusion and a bit of shame that he didn't know the origins of.

“Alexander, I don't-”

“Are you full?”

D.F nodded his head weakly. A lie. Alexander knew. Of course he does. And D.F could've sworn he had never felt so small in front of someone who just gave him an unimpressed frown.

“Christian.”

Firm. A name called out like an order wrapped in something cold but still gentle. Like a parent scolding a child with ‘disappointment’ written in their face in clear bold letters.

“ …Fine…just one more…”

One more turned into at least 3 more D.F couldn't name and half of Alexander's burger when he realized he could eat more as long as his stomach allowed him to. Alexander kept slipping off and buying new foods—ones D.F doesn't even know the contents of, but trusts Alexander enough to eat. And as much as he hated to admit it, he actually did enjoy eating them. The bursts of flavors aren't overwhelming. They're gentle in a way that spreads on the tongue, instead of taking over all at once.

 Alexander smiled as he watched him eat everything clean. He didn't even eat much then, not really hungry, more proud and happy than hungry. 

“Better?”

D.F looked up from his last plate of pastry rolls—something like streetfood from what he remembered Alexander said, and nodded his head more enthusiastically now.

“Good. We can eat dessert a bit later on. Let's take a walk to digest the food better.”

They walked and walked towards other parts of the park. Some parts are actually quieter and easier to breathe on than others. Some are filled with trees as natural shades, some are plains of grass wide enough to move without feelings towered upon, and some are colorful and bright, where children play happily and peacefully with their parents watching over them.

“Wait here, I'll go buy us some ice cream.”

Alexander muttered once they passed a plaza amidst the park, gently patting the small of D.F's back as he ran up to an Ice cream truck. 

D.F stood there alone, but not lonely. He’s holding an umbrella in one hand, and now wears shades Alexander was carrying with him to avoid too much sunlight—making it easier to observe his surroundings without overwhelming his senses.

This part of the park is more radiant now. Not in a bright childish way, but with shades that screams maturity, attempting pleasant attraction in the eyes of the customers. There are many shops nearby with glass windows that reveals the interiors and products sold inside—clothes, perfumes, bags… 

D.F's eyes landed on something pretty and familiar.

Flowers.

They're not the same as the one Alexander places in Christian's room for him. But he recognizes their beauty the same way. His footing immediately led him through the glass window of the shop, gazing at the flowers with a mixture of curiosity, awe, and something much more mesmerizing than delight. 

Then his eyes landed on a certain bouquet. 

Their mixture reminds him solely of one person;

Alexander.

The flowers had two outstanding variations; something silvery-white as a base and small blue ones that spread evenly around the gaps like a river on the clouds.

He wants to have it.

But how…?

…

“Umi…?”

D.F's voice reached inward instead, almost like a natural reaction. Umi have all of Christian's memories, both bad, good, and fortunately, mundane. So he's the only person D.F knew can help him when he needs answers for something normal like this.

It didn't took that long, either. When he felt a pressure inside his head—not psychically, more mental in a way he's grown to familiarize with during sometime he got to spent on front, D.F learned to understand its implications.

He didn't waste a second too long before asking;

“How do I obtain something while in front? I'm sorry for waking you up… you can rest after this.”

And, like the sweetest and most reliable kid Umi is, he gave D.F stray memories up to the best of what he can—some are blurry, some are harder to interpret, but D.F can make something out of them. Ever since that incident, D.F can't easily obtain any autonomous memories that come to people easily after learning. The memory gaps are bigger without Umi's help or when he's weakening, which affects their overall daily and regular activities. But D.F adjusted to it with ease, and learned fast by observing. 

Anything to make his friend's life easier by lessening his load. Except for times when he really needed it the most.

“Got it. Thank you, Umi.”

Once D.F is sure he's capable of doing what was provided by the memory, he enters the bouquet shop with reluctance, but ease. He walked up to the staff taking care of some flowers at the front desk, and as politely as he could, asked for what he wanted;

“Umm… hello. I saw the flower bouquet at the window earlier, the one with the white and blue combination? Can I get something similar to that, please?”

It felt awkward, but it felt human, too. He scratched the back of his head like a nervous tic, vulnerability creeping at the back of his neck like goosebumps he can't shake off. He suddenly felt too aware of his surroundings, too out of place and too ignorant. He feels anxious about getting something without any assistance from Alexander. Something about being alone in a four-walled space with no one on his side.

Thankfully, the main staff—an elderly lady, soft, gentle and kind—just gave him a warm smile, and nodded her head with grace and enthusiasm. 

“You mean the white lilies and blue hydrangea combination? Of course, my dear. Why don't you take a seat for a while? We'll arrange one for you.”

And he did. The Elder's voice felt calming to him in a way that made him want to naturally obliged. Despite the reasons it shouldn't have, something in that soft maternal voice was… familiar. Like he's known something soft all his life even amidst days spent in darkness, away from consciousness, and desensitized to cold. 

So… why…?

“Christian… my angel…” 

“Live your life with joy, and love, and care… okay?”

“Even as I leave… even if I can't stay anymore…”

“I Love… yo…”

“Young man?”

D.F flinched, head shooting upward as he looked around in a panic.

Still there.

Still alive.

He slowly looked up to the elderly in front of him. She looked worried for a moment—probably from the way he reacted, but still smiled at him earnestly as she handed him the bouquet in a bag. 

“I'm sorry dear, did I scare you?”

The tension in D.F's shoulders eased, just a bit. He shook his head briefly, before gently taking the bouquet from the elderly—respectful and as kind as he can.

After he paid, He thanked the elder and exited the shop. The moment sunlight hits through his shades, his eyes immediately started looking around in search for Alexander. The line he once joined in to buy ice cream from the colorful truck was slowly dissipating into nothing as people starts getting what they want. Alexander was no different. He's gone from the line.

However, instead of feeling anxious from the thought of being left behind, D.F felt unusually calm instead. He didn't know why, but even without verbal reassurance, D.F feels secured enough to think Alexander won't leave him behind.

Alexander will look for him if he disappeared. 

He didn't know if the thought was his, or Christian's stray memory playing as influence, but one thing's for sure;

He's not wrong.

“Chris! There you are.”

D.F heard the voice first, followed by fast and abrupt steps rushing his way before he saw him. Still, his expression relaxed easier without realizing it was tense in the first place.

Alexander stopped in front of him, two Ice cream cones in hands as his breathing shallowed from jogging a bit. When D.F finally turned fully, Alexander gave him a sheepish smile, face flushed and a bit undone but steady nonetheless. He extended the Ice creams in hand, making D.F choose freely between the chocolate and the strawberry one. Almost immediately, D.F chose the strawberry one. 

“Thank you.”

They started walking from the plaza to other places in the park, going from arcades, to booths, to fest events. There were different entertaining spaces that felt both safe and exciting to hang around, and D.F found himself slowly getting used to the energetic environment that surrounds him.

“What's that you bought, anyways?”

Alexander finally asked, throwing the empty plastic bottle on a nearby bin. D.F's eyes fell on the bag where the elder placed the bouquet, hesitating for a moment, before subtly hiding it behind him.

“It's nothing…”

Alexander hummed and gave him a cheeky grin, but didn't push it further.

Because he saw his ears turned into a pretty shade of red, and didn't want him to feel embarrassed.

They spent the whole day strolling and eating and playing both games and rides before going home. Alexander made sure to get enough—if not subjectively more—photos of themselves in the rides and booths they went into. D.F came home with a Debatable amount of pictures enough to fill a photo album. 

But amidst them, wasn't just a color imagery with the replicas of their faces. 

The memories it preserved is what matters most.

The surprised expression D.F had as the swinging ship ride slowly and progressively gets higher, Alexander's face that was painted with both fear and excitement as they go up and backwards on the rollercoaster, or the peacefully delighted expression they both have on the ferris-wheel and on the photo booths…

It's what D.F holds onto now.

“I had a great time.” Alexander murmured, eyes satisfied and gentle in a way that's naturally him. D.F can't even reply with words. His heart felt full in a way only a soft hum that reflected what he felt could suffice. He hugged the bags filled with prizes and photos closer to him, along with a bag that didn't belong. The flowers.

As they entered Christian's home, Micah greeted them with a nod and a brief catch up. Alexander reported to him like an officer reporting to their sergeant.

“We took a stroll in the park, went on rides, played games, the kinds. It took a bit of adjusting, but it went well in the end.”

Micah glanced at D.F holding a bunch of bags in his arms, before taking a breath that's between a scoff and a smile, inclining his head in approval.

“Thanks for today, Xander.”

Alexander gave him a toothy grin.

“Anytime.”

When D.F finally entered his threshold, a heavy sigh of relief came out of him without realizing. He slowly placed the bags down on the bed, stretching his arms to avoid strain before removing his jacket. Alexander followed in a safe distance behind him.

“Next time, maybe we can go to the cinema, too. Less overwhelming.”

Alexander muttered, opening the curtains of the room to let fresh air in. D.F turned to him momentarily, taking in the view of the older, familiar frame in front of him.

He hesitated.

And then, in a small voice;

“Alexander…?”

Alexander replied with a soft mm? and focused his whole attention to D.F with one turn, smiling ever-so softly at him.

That made D.F even more nervous.

Slowly, with the tensed reluctance of someone wondering if he deserved something this kind or not—he took the bag he's been holding onto since before he won prizes, and gently pulled out the content of it; The bouquet.

Alexander’s eyes followed his hand—widening a bit in surprise, as D.F cradled it in his arms; the white lilies reflected the moon's soft light from the window, and the blue hydrangeas reflected with the same glow in Alexander's eyes. D.F extended his arms—almost shyly—as he handed the flowers to Alexander as if it's both a priceless possession, fragile trust, and vulnerability weaved into a message meant only for Alexander to understand. And Alexander…

Accepted it with care, like he always does.

“What's this for…?” He asks, voice soft like a murmured lullaby, afraid to break the moment if he spoke too loudly. D.F just stood there, eyes trailing the other like he's worth engraving to memory that only he could have. Not Christian, not Dean, not even Umi. Just his, even if it's selfish.

Because Alexander seemed to be the only good thing he could keep—even if temporary.

“ … they reminded me of you.”

Alexander’s eyes met his, wide in a way that's both in awe and surprise. The moon's celestial beauty looked entrapped in a silver bend with the way those ocean orbs glimmer, from gratitude or appreciation or maybe something more… D.F doesn't know yet. But what he does know is that he didn't mind looking at them.

Then, Alexander chuckled. Not loudly nor abruptly, like a soft huff of air mixed with a soft lilt of voice—making D.F tilt his head.

“Why are you laughing…?”

Alexander wiped a tear in his eye that attempted to fall, then he looked at D.F again, like he just saw through him.

“Dear Flower.”

He called out, like it's a name rather than just random words put together.

D.F stilled, his own eyes widening now.

“ … What?”

Alexander smiled at him, genuine, clear, and utterly him. 

“You asked me once what you should change your name on, when I told you ‘Don't Front’ doesn't fit you.”

D.F's breathing stuttered.

“You… You knew?”

Alexander’s eyes fell on the flowers. 

“I didn't know immediately. I knew because of the patterns of it.”

A pause.

“Ever since that day when I asked Christian about his alters, I started observing. I've met Dean on multiple occasions, mainly because he fronts a lot more than I imagined—though of course, I never confronted him. I guess it's in the way he's more serious and unhinged than Christian, and probably more malevolent, too.”

Alexander smiled awkwardly, a bit embarrassed at the idea that he probably sounds like a creepy stalker with what he's confessing.

“Umi—I realized—was a young, childish part of Christian that doesn't take over much, but influences Christian's personality when he's close. The sudden burst of energy, enthusiasm, and happiness that I-”

Alexander cut himself off before he could speak further, his throat bobbing, as if he's swallowing words not meant to be spoken aloud. Not yet, at least. D.F remained quiet. Waiting. He didn't intervene, he never did anyways. 

He waited as if he's always been waiting for him.

“And you…” Alexander finally continued, his fingers tracing the edges of a lily's petal, caressing it with the reverence D.F had already associated him with.

“You were… quiet. Tensed in a way that never trusts anyone fully nor easily. Confused with the world as if you’ve never been in it before. You regulate alone, when you think no one sees, and doesn’t ask for help unless offered.”

He finally looked up at him again, his eyes compassionate and kind, like an angel looking at something fractured and choosing to be kind to it.

“I realized it was you, when Christian would've been too prideful to accept anyone's help. When Dean would've pushed me away harshly when I get too close, and Umi would've cried hard if he took over.”

Alexander took a step towards him, and D.F—for the first time since taking over—didn't have the urge to run away. And he stayed in place, waiting.

“You lived your entire life with the reputation of a bad guy in your name, I think you deserve something beautiful, too…”

Oh.

D.F lowered his head, vision blurring despite himself.

So… was this what Christian feels when he's around the people he likes?

“How long…?” D.F asked.

Alexander smiled as if he knew what the question implied even without finishing it, and the answer to it like it's been so obvious all along.

“Since I stayed.”

And D.F finally allowed himself a small smile.

Because he didn't know how long he's allowed to stay outside. He didn't know how long before Christian woke up and took this moment away from him again and forever, but if there's one thing he can secure, is that he can at least allow himself to bask in this warmth, until his time is up.