katuschka

[katuschka]

Yeah, but I don't think it's just because they're not touring. I think it's a combination of several factors...

anyone else noticing how dead gvf tumblr has gotten...

[katuschka]

Damn! I KNEW it must have been something like that the moment Josh said that Jake was trying to protect him. Heartbreaking... and so well written!

This is a continuing Jaketober collaboration with the lovely @pavartijanuswrites!

Warnings: Jake/Danny, 18+, paranormal, explicit language, violence, gore, medical horror, angst, alcohol abuse, major character death, trauma, ptsd, mental health struggles, feelings of isolation and loneliness, triggers and emotional reactions, hidden love, hospitals, needles, surgery, near-death experiences, grief, loss

Read Chapter 10 here

Jake steps forward, then halts in place, frozen in the linoleum prison of his hospital room. He isn’t sure if he should make pursuit and follow the muscular wall of Danny’s retreating shoulders—not now, when he’s powerless to stop him. He can’t grip him by the arms and beg him to stay. He can’t force him to understand.

There’s nothing Jake can do now, except watch him slip away like sand through his fingers.

He’d been so full of hope only moments ago. Jake had been lulled by the naive perception that his body had been healing. He’d watched the numbers on the screens improving and watched his family gain optimism.

But perhaps that had been a lie, only one glimmering moment of promise before an inevitable spiral. Only the bait in a trap.

Now, Jake can feel each fleeting second tick by in the pregnant silence, beating in time with the heartbeat pounding in his throat. He can feel the robotic, ragged breaths of his body behind him as its fragile lungs function on a constant loop. He can almost feel the solitude and despair in the room around him like a smothering coat as Danny’s absence carves a hole in him.

The frustration all crashes down on him at once. The fear, the helplessness, the confusion, and spiraling sense of doom—all of it drops on his heart like stones laid over his grave, sealing him away from the light of day. He’s on the wrong side of death, his soul mere moments away from disappearing. He’s suspended in limbo. Free falling. He’s screaming for help, and the single person who can sense him—that beautiful drummer with the strong, majestic features—refuses to hear.

Jake screams in anger, his overwhelm tearing in his throat. And as the broken, anguished sound of his own voice explodes around him, the room drops into darkness.

Jake’s breath catches as he’s plunged into inky black. Then, half a heartbeat later, the same bleached fluorescents flicker and regain their unfeeling glow.

Jake’s terror is a knife in his chest as he whirls to see his body. He is sharply aware that Vader’s very life rests on the electronic devices suspending its biological functions, and if he’d somehow tripped a breaker and cut off all electrical communication, he might be responsible for his own abrupt demise.

But the machines carry on their ritualistic duties, maintaining Vader’s breath in an ongoing loop. That chest continues to metronomically rise and fall behind its blue gown. The tubes still pump fluids directly into his blood.

Vader lies there like a corpse, skin pale and smooth as plastic. His once-beautiful features hardly resemble the man he’d known, his face expressionless and blank in its comatose state. The only sign that he is alive at all is the faint shadow of facial hair growing in and the shifting colors of the gradually healing bruises.

IV lines still flow like vines to imbed themselves into limp arms and a slack, porcelain neck, while blankets conceal a battleground of injuries. The aqua green shackles have returned, sealing his imprisonment like chains.

He is terribly, perhaps irredeemably, broken.

��Please hang on, Darth,” Jake begs, “It can’t end yet. Not like this. I promised I’d fix this.”

The horrific image still plays on a loop behind his eyelids—of the way his body had turned rigid in the bed and his limbs had rattled with convulsions. Something had happened in that brain to set off a flurry of electrical activity, his neurons racing and triggering a terrifying cascade.

Something that might still be directly connected to Jake’s soul. Because now, Jake connects the dots, realizing that Vader’s convulsions had seemed much too coincidental. They’d been too closely tied to the events unfolding around his unconscious form, like the way Jake’s heart had twisted in pain as he’d watched Danny flee.

And if they’re still connected—however weak that connection might be—there might still be a chance.

“I’m gonna fix this,” He adamantly declares to the lonely room, “I’m gonna fucking fix this.”

But his voice rings stronger than his conviction. Inside, he still feels like a lost kitten in a dangerous minefield, and any misstep could deepen Vader’s descent into death.

Jake strides out into the hallway. He isn’t sure how to reassemble all these broken pieces, but he knows he needs to find those dark, corkscrew curls and striking eyes. Danny is the only one Jake has left.

But he stops short in the hallway, encountered with a small cluster of people. There is a nondescript figure in a long white coat, leaning against the gray ribbon of the nurse’s station countertop. Facing him are the shocked and confused expressions on both his twin’s and his mother’s face, their posture braced as if to fight an invisible threat.

Josh’s fists curl at his sides, brows creased into a deep ravine as his disbelief carves lines on his face. Karen stares emptily past the doctor, but behind her disguise, Jake can see the trembling of her jaw as the storm of her emotion waits beneath the surface.

“He’s stabilized for now, but he had a pretty major seizure,” The White Coat man explains flatly, as though any emotion will shatter the fragile humans before him, “We’re drawing more labs now and running a couple tests soon. Then we can try and correct whatever caused it, but…this is a bit of a setback.”

“He…” Josh begins, his voice hollow and lost, “He was getting better, right?”

“We were seeing some improvements, yes,” The doctor answers, “And he may keep on improving, but it’ll take time.”

“How much time?” Karen’s words tremble on her tongue, deep brown eyes focusing sharply on his.

“I just want you to have the information.”

“How much time?” Karen pushes, ignoring Josh’s steadying arm around her shoulders.

The doctor sighs and bows his head, “I don’t want to give any definitive timelines, because we just don’t know yet—”

“—How long does he have?” Karen barks fiercely.

Another long pause.

“It’s been a few days now. Let's wait a few more, and hopefully this bump in the road will be far behind us.”

“I know you’re stalling,” Karen’s small stature holds a tempest of fear, and in the space between them, Jake can almost feel the air chill, “Please? Tell me your best guess.”

He sighs. Then, “Well, he has no spleen now. He took a pretty big hit, and because of that, his immune system is compromised,” The doctor concedes, “That, combined with his past medical history, well… The longer he stays intubated, the more risk he has of developing pneumonia.”

Both faces tighten in wait, their expressions walling off as though in defense of an incoming impact.

“His white blood cell count is rising, which could mean it’s already starting to take hold. We’ll fight it off as long as we can, but let’s start with a couple more days. Take each one as it comes,” The doctor fidgets with the chrome barrel of his pen light as though avoiding their eye contact, “The good news is: he’s young. He’s strong. He’s fighting hard. He has a good chance of pulling through this.”

Josh only pulls his mother closer against his side and rests his temple against her head.

Karen nods slowly, “Couple more days…”

“And my team will do everything we can to bring him through it.”

“So what’s keeping him alive is also slowly killing him,” Josh murmurs tightly, and his words cause a choked sound to throb from Karen’s throat.

He has no spleen now. The words repeat in Jake’s head as he grasps for details. His immune system is compromised…Couple more days…Slowly killing him…

“Danny, where are you?” Jake strides past the forms of his loved ones as they hunch in agony. The clunk, clunk, clunk of his ghostly boots seem to echo with finality as he follows the endless hallway, “Where the fuck did you go?”

A new sense of urgency stabs in his chest. He is running out of time.

Jake half-expects his movement to be futile, his path only leading him to the same paradoxical loop of endless hallway. He almost expects to circle back past his own hospital room and re-encounter his crying mother and his barely composed twin, standing there like sentinels outside his door.

But this time the hall gives way to an alcove, where an open doorway exposes rows of padded chairs. Inside, Jake sees a familiar set of sneakers connected to a lanky pair of legs.

“Sam?” He steps nearer, entering the quiet purgatory of the ICU waiting room.

There, the space is empty, save for only two souls. Sam reclines deeply in his chair, legs extended and arms and ankles crossed, his head relaxing crookedly on one shoulder. His eyes are closed and his lips have slackened enough to form a slight gap, his sleepy breaths whispering through the crack between his teeth.

The other person sits fully awake at Sam’s side, torso hinged forward and elbows propped on his knees.

“Hi, Dad,” Jake smiles sadly.

Kelly doesn’t answer. He only stares straight ahead. The dancing motion and bluish hues of a television screen reflect off brown eyes and a smooth, hairless head. Coarse facial hair hides a gently curved jawline and soft, weathered neck. His expression looks flat and weary, tanned skin drawn and merry eyes dulled.

But Jake now sees the genetic resemblance between himself and his beloved old man. Suddenly, he sees a future projection of himself, a possible iteration of his middle-aged form, should fate choose kindly and grant him some semblance of a future.

“I miss you, Dad,” Jake bites his lip and crosses between his stony-faced father and the pastel tones of the television screen—something that would’ve normally won him an indignant shout. He can almost hear it now, Kelly’s “Move it, kid!” echoing in his head. Except now, he almost longs for those words to become real.

Kelly sits silently, a somber shadow in a lonely room.

“All I wanted was to make you proud,” Jake can feel his throat tightening, “I just wanted to make music. Make people feel things, you know? I never wanted any of this to happen.”

Jake feels like he is talking to a wall, for all the emotion his father is displaying. He is reminded of how much distance has been carved between them, how invisible he is to the ones he loves most in this world. Jake can only watch them, only speak to them in lonely, one-sided conversations.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” He murmurs. Tears tickle in his sinuses and warm the backs of his eyes, “I wish I knew what happened. I can’t imagine what kind of accident did this to me, but…” He draws a hiccuping sigh. Then, “Josh said I was protecting him.”

Jake envisions the moment when tragedy had struck. He sees that twilit horizon, moments before the impending disaster. He recalls the bloody droplets, raining down on Josh’s jacket like scattered rubies. The pain. The harrowing wounds.

“I don’t wanna go, but if I was protecting Josh from this, it was worth it…” He nods in acceptance, his hand sliding beneath his jacket to find the place where his body had been punctured. There is only smooth skin now, but Jake remembers when it had been a bleeding chasm full of jagged shards, “If he’d been hit, I’d wish it was me, so… Maybe I’m supposed to make my peace with it.”

Then there’s a voice from the television behind him. It’s strict and official, the words clearly pronounced and hurled urgently over a newscaster’s desk. The woman on the screen is pretty, with meticulous hair and makeup and a crisply ironed blouse, but her face is grim and stoic.

“…More details about the deadly attack are arising as eyewitnesses give their testimonies and firsthand film recordings surface online…”

Jake slowly turns toward the screen, a sense of foreboding alarm rising inside him. Again, he can almost hear Kelly scolding him in that animated, endeared, “Think I can see through the back of your head or something?”

Attack? Jake swallows.

“…Sources say that three of the band’s members escaped with minor injuries, but the fourth remains in critical condition…”

The screen fades to a professional recording of the face of a familiar hospital, the unfeeling monolith glowing with lights against the darkened sky. Somewhere in its belly hides the small, mutilated form of Jake’s soulless body, barely clinging to life.

“…The web is flooded with an outpouring of love and support from adoring fans, with monuments to Kiszka’s legacy decorating the sidewalks…”

There is the sprawling collection of trinkets that Jake had seen outside the hospital doors. His name is spelled over and over again, emblazoned on vibrantly painted stones, immortalized in lovingly painted artworks, and written across candles lit in reverent vigil. Interspersed throughout are dozens of photographs of his own smiling face in the throes of the thing he’d loved the most: making music with his brothers.

The brothers he’d protect with his life—which perhaps now he has.

Jake turns to see his father. Finally, the emotion seems to be breaking through his stony front as his face creases with agony and a single tear slides into his brown, graying beard.

Turns out you can see through my head, old man. Jake smiles warmly, despite all the clashing, conflicting feelings.

The woman on the screen reappears, and behind her is a new film recording, where four bedecked men shine under stage spotlights. There’s Josh in his pearly coat, Sam cloaked in scarlet, and Danny in silver and kohl.

“…Footage taken only moments before the strike…”

That’s the stage, flashing before Jake’s eyes—the very same one from the photo on Danny’s cell phone.

The warm gush is back as Jake’s stomach drops within him, but he doesn’t dare look downward. Instead, his hand instinctively claps against the warm, pulsing wound under his ribcage. His eyes are trapped on the screen, but his fingers sink into his body, once again finding shards and splinters and the viscous, slippery sensation of his own rapidly exsanguinating bloodstream.

Jake sees himself, brightly smiling, the embroidered sword across his breast glinting in the light. His beloved cherry red guitar—his most prized possession—hangs against his hip, his fingers curled around its delicate neck.

“…The drone was reportedly piloted from outside the venue, and the open-air auditorium meant the aircraft bypassed the security system long enough to stage the strike. While the true motive is unclear, some sources speculate if it was a hate attack on frontman and vocal LGBT advocate Josh Kiszka. Officials say the suspect is in custody for further questioning…”

He can hear droplets striking the floor around him, feel the blood gushing freely with the pounding of his heart.

“…According to some eyewitness accounts, the band's guitarist and Josh’s twin brother stepped into the line of fire. Some say it was by accident, and some say it was a conscious choice…”

The Jake on the screen looks strong, happy, free. He crouches low over his instrument, fingers flying over the frets and silken hair drifting majestically in the gusty breeze. His naked chest shines with sweat, his suit glistening under spotlights.

Jake’s fingers close around a shard embedded into the mutilated wound in his side, then he withdraws the foreign object. But he doesn’t look yet, unable to tear his eyes away from the beautiful man on the stage—that man who is still whole, his body and soul together as one.

The screen zooms closer to that Jake’s face. Dark brown eyes—the ones that match the teddy bear under Vader’s arm—pass upwards into a distant horizon.

Jake rolls the shard between the bloody pads of his fingertips. It’s splintery, wooden, with the cold length of a horizontal bar awakening the muscle memory in his nerves. He knows the feeling of this wood against his calluses. This metal bar.

Stage Jake frowns, squints, then mortified alarm crosses his features. A split second later, that man straightens and steps forward, with Josh at his back and eyes to the horizon.

The screen explodes into light.

And Jake looks at the shard in his hand, affirming what he already knows.

There, he holds a fragment of a guitar.

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[katuschka]

This weekend...

Jake Kiszka x reader

Yeah, so I decided to write this little Christmas piece. I got inspired while baking linzer cookies, and it's been both fun and struggle ever since. :) I plan on posting this one during the weekend, maybe even tomorrow, depending on how life goes...

If you're on my taglist for "smutty one shots", you already received this notification and you will also be notified once the fic is posted.

If you want to be tagged for this one, just let me know and I'll add you Or do it here: Taglist

And now, a teaser!

Oh, life…

How ordinary and boring it can get when you stick to thinking that there aren’t any other options. As far as I remember, it never made sense to me. And as far as I remember, I was being raised and forced to embrace conformity. My mind surrendered for a while, but my vagrant soul just kept resisting. I never wanted to fit in. I always wanted to fly.

When I left home three years ago, I didn’t take much with me. My parents didn’t approve of my choices and the only person who would’ve supported me in my decisions was already gone. My beloved grandma. She was the disruptive force that kept me on my toes, always challenging me in the most loving way, knowing too well that it was exactly what I needed. She gave me my first guitar, too. Even though sclerosis made her homeward-bound, her dreams and fantasies always kept her wandering. I loved that. She was always there to spark my imagination and in return, I wanted to be her legs and eyes one day. When I was little, my friends used to call her fairy godmother. “Keep your sails up sweetheart, the wind is whimsical.” That’s what she used to say. “All you need is that air in your lungs and love in your heart.” 

“You must never leave me, oma,” I said to her once. “I need that love in my heart forever.”

“Someone else will fill it, darling,” she replied. “I’m only here to make sure it is open. But one day, you won’t need me anymore.”

To be continued...

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep   @takenbythemadness   @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickitty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable

[katuschka]

How it started...

... but it's getting late...

[katuschka]

I know, I know...

Sorry to break it to you, but it's not going to write itself. So you might as well get to work.

[katuschka]

Whoa, that was intense. Yeah, I can see how this could get even worse than it already is. I also really appreciate how you didn't try to turn Finn (or even Josh) into a two-dimensional character, despite the groundless, anonymous critique you were receiving. While I feel absolutely no sympathy for Finn at this point, it's really nice to read a good, complex story.

Looking forward to more. xoxo

Tender // Ch. 8

MASTERLIST

word count: 4300+

Friends, this has been a wild rollercoaster ride. I can't begin to explain how appreciative I am of the readers that stuck with me on this one (and the ones who gave it a shot, even if you didn't keep reading). With that being said, this is the last chapter of Tender. HOWEVER, it is not the end of the story, and it is not the last time we will see Finn. Things are going to get much worse before they get better, but good things are coming Josh's way. (I promise I'll stop bullying him soon ;-;) Keep an eye out for the next installment in this shitshow, Right on Time.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: language; angst; social drinking; alcoholism; mentions of rehab; post-traumatic stress disorder; other unspecified undiagnosed mental illness; fever; vomiting; nightmares; mentions of previous child abuse; some scary images; unintentional self-harm; dissociating; mentions of cheating; toxic and manipulative behavior; physical violence; domestic abuse; fisticuffs; injuries; blood; panic attack; desire to die but not necessarily suicidal ideation

When I was in rehab, the psychiatrist alluded to the possibility that I had post-traumatic stress disorder. I had gotten defensive, telling him he was grasping at straws and just trying to get me diagnosed with something so they could pump me full of drugs. The more he pestered me, trying to pry into my life and delve into my childhood, the angrier I got, until I eventually blew up on him. I didn’t get physically violent, but I said quite a lot of hurtful things to the man, who was just trying to do his job.

Some time later, when Josh was fast asleep and I couldn’t get my mind to shut up, I got curious and did some of my own research.

Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a mental health condition that is caused by an extremely stressful or terrifying event – either being part of it or witnessing it. Symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares, severe anxiety, and uncontrollable thoughts about the event.

Once I started reading about it, I couldn’t stop. I just kept digging that hole deeper and deeper.

Emotional numbness. Avoidance. Hypervigilance. Sleep issues. Difficulty concentrating. Feelings of hopelessness. Negative thoughts about oneself or the world. Ongoing negative emotions such as fear, anger, guilt, or shame. Feeling detached or numb. Irritability and having angry outbursts. Behaving recklessly or in a self-destructive way.

I didn’t care to look through the treatment, because in my mind, that meant I would have to admit the psychiatrist was right. It would mean I was actually sick, that there was something legitimately wrong with me and it wasn’t all in my head. But the part that scared me the most was it meant Josh wouldn’t be able to save me.

~

“You’re burning up, baby.” Josh frets as he feels my forehead with the back of his hand. “Hang on, let me find the thermometer.”

“I’m fine,” I try to reassure him, but I’m fatigued and don’t have the energy to make it convincing. I close my eyes and will the pounding in my head to stop. Josh returns with a thermometer, a glass of water, and Tylenol.

“101.1. We’ll have to watch it. If it gets higher, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I don’t want to go to the fucking hospital,” I mumble.

“If it gets worse, I’m not giving you a choice. Here.”

I take the pills without too much of a struggle and chug the water before lying back down. “I just need sleep.”

“I know, babe. Get some rest. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” He kisses my head and leaves me alone to sleep off whatever bug I caught.

My sleep is fitful and plagued with nightmares. Every time I drift off, I end up in the same place – at the front steps of that godforsaken house, in the dark shade of trees I never wanted to see again. Sometimes it’s quiet and empty, abandoned and dilapidated. Other times, I see a light on inside, the ugly yellow lamplight I’d grown to hate. My heart drops when the front door creaks open and she steps out, a bundle of leather straps in her hand. I try to run but my legs won’t move. I’m too weak to fight her off, as if I’m a child again, just trying to survive the wrath of a sick and deluded mother.

A part of me knows I’m dreaming, but everything seems so real. She drags me up the steps and through the front door before everything goes dark. I know we came into the house, but now I don’t know where I am. The cellar, maybe? It’s all very unclear. There are things clawing at me, tearing into my skin; I can’t tell if it’s her or something else, something inhuman. There are things wrapping around my limbs, pulling me in different directions, making my joints burn from the strain. I make another attempt to run, but I stumble and fall, my face hitting the cold, hard ground. I feel the weight of something crawling on top of me, hot breath in my ear, something wet being dragged along my neck, and a boy’s voice that is unknown but somehow familiar…

I’m drenched in sweat when I wake up but still can’t help the shiver that runs down my spine. I can taste blood in my mouth. Everything is spinning and the nausea hits me full force. I jump up and stumble to the bathroom, just in time to empty the meager contents of my stomach into the toilet.

Josh must have heard the noise, and I hear his rushed footsteps approaching. I blindly reach up to flush the toilet and rest my head on my arm. I’m not quite quick enough and I can hear the panic in Josh’s voice. “Fuck, are you throwing up blood?!” He drops to the floor next to me and tries to lift my head.

“I think I just bit my tongue. I’m okay.”

“Jesus, what the hell did you do to your neck? Did you scratch yourself?” He stands to find a washcloth. While he’s holding it under the running water, I reach up to touch the side of my neck, where I can feel three decent sized scratches. My skin burns and there is blood on my hand when I pull away.

Josh gets to work cleaning them up and I sit silently, letting him take care of it. I’m still in a haze, where nothing feels quite real yet. He puts another cool, wet washcloth on the back of my neck and feels my forehead again. “You still feel really warm,” he says. “Finn, I know you don’t want to, but I think you should go see a doctor.”

I groan and shoot him a glare. “Not fucking happening.”

“I’m worried about you,” he whispers.

“Don’t be.” I avoid his eyes as I sit up, moving the cold compress to my forehead, and promptly leaning against the wall. I’m not ready to move yet, much less try to walk anywhere. I can’t even formulate enough of a thought to string together anymore words that make sense. When I try to speak to Josh, my speech is slurred, which only makes him more concerned. The only thing I’m sure of is I don’t want to go back to sleep. I don’t want to go back to that place.

Still, I let josh help me back to the bedroom, once I’m sure I won’t vomit again. He leaves a small trash can next to the bed, though, just in case, and a fresh glass of water on the nightstand. I consider asking him to stay, but I’m vaguely aware that I’m still sweating like a stuck pig and in desperate need of a shower. I also don’t want to give him whatever bug I have, assuming he hasn’t caught it already.

I fight sleep as hard as I can, but I don’t have the energy to win that battle. Over the course of the next two days, I am stuck in this blurry, dream-like state. I’m in and out of consciousness and mostly unable to differentiate between the two. I’m only slightly aware of Josh checking in on me, offering food and medicine. I should be grateful he’s here, putting everything on hold to take care of me, but I find myself wishing I was alone.

The fever does finally break, but I still have no answer for what brought it on in the first place. Josh doesn’t get sick, so whatever it is must not be that contagious. Or maybe I did it to myself. Maybe all the terrible things I’ve done are finally catching up to me, whether it’s karma or some god I don’t believe in.

Even though my body is starting to recover, my mind doesn’t feel right. I think I’m stuck in a dissociative state. It’s like I’m watching from the sidelines, with no real control over myself, but I’m all too heedful about how dangerous this can be, and how dangerous I can be. Josh is still fretting over my well-being, but when I look at him, it feels like I’m looking at a stranger. His home, that should be familiar and comforting, is foreign to me. I don’t really know how to explain it; it’s almost as if that part of my brain that knows him, that loves him, has been disconnected. I want out, but I don’t know how, and it terrifies me that I don’t understand why. I’ve wanted nothing in my entire life as much as I’ve wanted him. I went to rehab for him. And now I feel suffocated. Maybe I just need space, and perhaps I could simply ask him for it, but when have I ever done the simple thing? So I ask him to go to the store to grab me something, and while’s he’s gone, I pack a bag and run.

~

JOSHUA

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. And you need to get out of the house.”

Josh stood in the kitchen, pretending to search his cabinets for something to cook, and sighed at Sam’s insistence. “I can’t. What if Finn-“

“Fuck Finn,” spat Jake. “It’s been three weeks. If he wanted to be here, he would be. You need to stop worrying about someone who can’t even spare you a fucking phone call.” Jake was done pretending, done being civil for Josh’s sake. Too many times he’d watched his brother cry over a guy that wasn’t worth his time.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Way I see it, you have every right to let loose and have a little fun. Hell, go get laid.”

Josh snorted. “I’m not gonna do that.”

“Why not? He probably is.” Sam didn’t mean for his words to sound so insensitive, and guilt washed over him at the look on Josh’s face. “Sorry, that was shitty,” he mumbled.

“I’m just saying, maybe you need to move on from this. He’s not good for you.”

“He’s sick, Jake. It’s not his fault.”

“He’s using it as an excuse to treat you like shit,” Jake scoffed. He stepped closer to Josh when he didn’t respond and placed a hand on his twin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. We’re just worried about you. Whatever the hell Finn’s going through, he’s got to figure it out. You can’t fix him, and you can’t let him drag you down with him.”

Josh mulled over his brothers’ words for days. He was hurting. He felt abandoned and lost. He couldn’t wrap his head around why Finn would just leave; they hadn’t argued, and he’d been doing so good at working to stay sober. But Josh could tell something had been off when his boyfriend fell ill, he just didn’t know what and frankly, was too afraid to address it. He reached a point where he thought he’d be okay if this was really the end of their relationship, but the uncertainty was killing him. He prayed for some type of closure, anything to solidify what he thought was already happening – Josh was losing him.

Thursday marked four weeks since he’d seen or heard from Finn, and Saturday he agreed to tag along to a house party with his brothers. They had pestered him about it until he finally just gave in to the peer pressure. It seemed wrong; he felt guilty for attending a party while Finn was still MIA, but Jake was right. He probably needed to at least think about moving on.

The party was on the other side of town, hosted by one of Daniel’s friends. Most of the attendees were people Josh had never met in his life. He wasn’t even sure what the occasion was, if there was one. There was a big enough turnout that it was difficult to move through the crowd without bumping into someone. The music was loud; partygoers had to practically yell to be heard over it. It reminded him of a stereotypical college frat party. Josh started by cracking into the seemingly endless supply of alcohol, in hopes it would help him relax a little.

He stuck with Jake at first, mingling with a few people and finding his bearings until he felt comfortable enough to wander off on his own. Between the alcohol and the good company, he began to unwind. He got roped into a game of beer pong, which he drastically lost, but more importantly, he was having fun. If nothing else, it was a very welcome distraction from all the pain and stress he’d been suffering of late.

Hours flew by in a flash. Josh found himself actually enjoying the socialization, joking and laughing with some newfound friends. Since Finn had disappeared, he’d been compulsively checking his phone every chance he got, but he hadn’t looked at it in hours. He didn’t even notice it buzzing in his pocket.

It was getting late, the night starting to creep into the hours when most people are in bed. Some of the guests had begun to filter out but there was still a significant crowd. A few of them were passed out in whatever empty spots they could find. Danny and Sam were playing a card game with a few friends when Danny saw something that made him do a double take. He tapped Sam’s leg to get his attention.

“Am I imagining things, or is that Finn?”

Sam scanned the room until he found who his boyfriend was looking at. “Nope, definitely Finn. Did he talk to Josh?”

“How else would he have known where we are?” Daniel frowned. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, Sammy.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

The pair excused themselves from their card game and stood to look for Josh. “Shit, where’d he go?” Finn had disappeared from Danny’s view so quickly he wondered if he’d imagined it. They found Jake first and pulled him aside to let him know what they saw.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he swore.

Josh was on the opposite side of the house, drinking and chatting with some newfound friends. At the sight of recognizable red hair in his periphery, his head shot towards it. “What…?” When his eyes met Finn’s, his heart dropped. In a matter of seconds, his confusion and shock turned into anger, and he jumped up to make his way to his boyfriend (or whatever he was now). He didn’t give Finn a chance to speak before he grabbed the taller man’s arm and was practically dragging him to the back patio door.

Most of the guests stayed inside due to the cold weather, so the deck was mostly empty. The air nipped at Josh’s nose and fingers; he’d forgotten to grab his jacket but that was the least of his concerns right now. “Finn, what the fuck are you doing here? How did you even know I was here?” Josh was fighting to keep his voice hushed to not attract the attention of any nosy onlookers.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll explain everything, but… not here.” He looked around at his surroundings, feeling very uncomfortable about the number of strangers nearby. “Can we go?” He reached out for Josh’s hand, but Josh pulled away.

“No. You don’t get to ghost me for four weeks then come back and call the shots. You tell me now, or you leave.”

“Josh, c’mon. I don’t want to do this here. And you’re drunk. Let’s just-“

Josh cut him off with a scoff. “I’m drunk? I’m not the one with the fucking problem! Don’t pretend like I can’t smell it all over you!”

Finn gritted his teeth. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t understand.”

“Of course I don’t understand, because you won’t talk to me! You’d rather just run away. You’d rather disappear and leave me with no idea where you are, if you’re dead or alive, who you’re fucking.” He choked out the last few words, his emotions getting the better of him. “Do you have any idea what that does to me? How much that hurts?”

He expected Finn to get defensive, to swear up and down that he never cheated, but silence speaks louder than words sometimes, and Josh took a step back. “Seriously?” He dropped his gaze to the ground for a moment, then fixed it back on Finn. If he was going to do this, he was going to look the other man in the eye. “I think we’re done. You should go.”

“You can’t… you can’t just abandon me, Josh. I need you.”

“No, you need help. Help that I can’t give you.”

“Don’t do this. I’ll get better. I can still get better. I just need more time. It won’t happen again, I can-“

“Stop. You say that every time, ya know. And it keeps happening. I can’t keep doing this.” There was a knot tightening up in Josh’s stomach and his chest ached. He hated this feeling; he never wanted to hurt Finn, but he knew it was something he had to do. “It’s not that I don’t love you, Finn. I stayed with you when… when I probably shouldn’t have because I love you. I gave so much to you. But I gave you everything I have, and I don’t have anything left. I need to take care of myself for a little while, okay?”

A multitude of emotions ran through Finn as he processed the other man’s words. It was like a spinning game show wheel and when it finally stopped, the little arrow landed on rage. He didn’t really plan on reacting the way he did, but once he started moving, he couldn’t stop himself.

Neither one of them noticed that Jake, Sam, and Daniel had found them and were making their way outside. So, when Finn’s fist collided with Josh’s jaw, any calmness that was left in the atmosphere completely dissipated. As Josh stumbled backwards, Jake lunged and landed a few blows of his own on Finn. He wasn’t as strong, but he was certainly fast and could do a decent amount of damage. Sam rushed to check on his oldest brother as Daniel tried to wrestle the other two men apart. Some bystanders had begun to file outside to get a better look at what was causing the commotion.

Everything happened so fast, but at the same time, to Josh, it seemed like it was happening in slow motion. He could taste blood in his mouth where his lip split and his jaw was throbbing. His voice cracked as he yelled for them to stop, and his cheeks were wet with salty tears he didn’t even realize were falling. Sam held him back as he tried to get to them, begging them to quit fighting. He didn’t know if he was more worried about Jake or Finn.

Danny managed to separate the two men, and he shoved Finn away to create some distance. He prepared himself to block (or take) some more blows, but they didn’t come. Finn stood back, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He held the back of his hand under his broken and bleeding nose. Jake, still livid, made a move to close the breadth between them again, but was held back by Danny. He was sporting what would eventually be a black eye and his knuckles were bruised and cut open. Finn looked between the two in front of him, Sam behind them, and realized he was outnumbered.

Josh was suddenly all too aware of the group of partygoers that were staring at them like it was some kind of free show. “Jake?”

Jake hesitated, not wanting to take his eyes off of Finn, but slowly turned to face his twin. Noticing Josh’s injury had him seeing red all over again. His base instinct was to go after Finn for a second time, to keep hitting him until he was sure he wouldn’t get back up, but the look on Josh’s face kept him still. It was a silent question, a plea: Can we go home?

He glared back at the redheaded man, mostly for good measure. “You ever touch my brother again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Finn spat blood out of his mouth. “This is your fault, Josh. You did this.”

Sighing, Josh answered quietly, “No, you did this to yourself. I hope you can get some help.” He didn’t wait for a response before turning and walking away, his brothers close behind.

He wasn’t interested in going home; he wanted to be with his brother, where he felt safe. He also figured Finn would return sooner or later to get his belongings that he left at Josh’s house.

The car ride back to Jake’s was quiet, save for the music coming through the speakers. When the four of them entered the house, Kya was on the couch. “Hey, you guys are back early. What… holy shit, what happened?” She took in the twins separate wounds and bruises and frantically stood.

“Finn happened,” grumbled Jake, walking past her and into the kitchen.

Josh offered her a sad smile. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s over.”

Jake returned with an ice pack and shooed Josh into the downstairs bathroom.

“What about your hands?” Josh asked as he sat on the toilet lid and held the ice pack on his jaw.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of it after.” He got to work cleaning Josh’s busted lip and applied some antibiotic ointment. The silence was unsettling; it was never like Josh to be this quiet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just… I feel so stupid.”

Jake sighed and leaned up against the countertop, crossing his arms. “It’s not your fault. And don’t let him make you think it is.”

“I knew he wasn’t good for me. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I had the balls to leave the first time.”

As Jake registered the words, he stared at Josh, face painted with concern and anger. “The first time? He’s hit you before?”

Josh kept his eyes on the ground as he spoke. “He’s never decked me like this, but he… yeah.” He hadn’t wanted anyone to know what really happened. In truth, he was humiliated for letting it get to this point. But he’d resigned himself to the fact he couldn’t hide it from Jake anymore. He briefly recounted what really happened when he hurt his arm, and the incident before he went to New York, along with a few others he had swept under the rug in hopes that if he pretended they didn’t happen, they would just go away. “Don’t tell mom, please. She’s gonna ask why we broke up. I don’t want her to worry.”

Jake silently agreed, not really knowing the right words to say. He knew nothing he said would change anything. The only thing he could do was be a steady hand for his twin to hold onto while he healed, physically and mentally, however long that took. Jake wrapped his arms around him and held Josh’s head as the sheer anguish the older twin felt hit him like a freight train, and he was no longer able to hold back his violent sobs.

~

I’m sitting in my car, pulled off to the side of a dark, empty roadway. My knuckles ache and my nose is definitely broken, so clogged with dried blood that I can’t breathe out of it. I don’t know what compelled me to hit him like that. I’m disgusted with myself. I never wanted to turn into this person, this worthless, poor fucking excuse for a man. I never wanted to turn into them, into the very people I hate. When I was old enough to understand it, I made a promise to myself that I would break the cycle, but clearly, I already failed.

I put all my energy into wishing I had been better for him, that I had taken care of him like he deserves instead of hurting him. I tell myself I would have done things differently if I could do it all over again, but I don’t know if that’s true. I see his face every time I close my eyes, and the way he looked at me. He will never trust me again.

I check the tracker app on my phone. No data found. He must have figured it out and deleted it. With a frustrated scream, I throw my phone against the dashboard so hard it breaks. I ignore the shooting pain in my hands as I slam them on the steering wheel. I tried so hard to love him. Why did he have to throw it in my face like that? I know I fucked up, but he has to know that I only did those things because he drove me to. And setting his brother on me? That was a low blow. Things could have been different, if he’d been strong enough.

No, that’s not right. I know this isn’t his fault, and I’ve never been able to comprehend why I keep trying to convince myself otherwise. I’m suddenly short of breath; it feels like something is squeezing the shit out of my lungs. My vision blurs and my fingertips are going numb. I think, for a moment, that I’m having a heart attack, and maybe that isn’t such a bad thing. I can’t feel guilty if I’m dead. I can’t hurt him if I’m gone. I lean back and close my eyes, begging my heart to simply stop beating. It doesn’t, of course. It’s just a panic attack, and it eventually fades, when my brain physically cannot handle being in emergency mode anymore.

///

I stay in this spot all night, in the dark, freezing Tennessee winter. I’ll pass out at some point, and will sleep it off, the only thought in my mind – I’m not ready to let him go.

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[katuschka]

GAME. SET. MATCH. - Chapter 2

Pairing: Jake x fem!reader

Please read the warnings. Your consumption is your own responsibility. General Warnings: 18+ minors DNI / Intense Rivalry and Conflict / Sexual Tension / Emotional Manipulation / Pressure and Anxiety / Family Drama / Alcohol and Marijuana Use / Sexual Content

Series Summary: In the high-stakes world of professional tennis, Y/N and Jake are rivals forced into an uneasy partnership under the same coach. Their fiery animosity spills over both on and off the court, where biting sarcasm and tense encounters define their relationship. However, as they’re paired for doubles matches and begin climbing the tournament ladder, the line between hate and something far more complicated starts to blur. But the closer they get to their shared goal, the harder it becomes to deny the tension that threatens to upend their careers and personal lives. Will their undeniable chemistry lead to victory—or destroy everything they’ve worked for?

- Y/N POV -

The hotel room felt suffocating. The air conditioning hummed softly, but it did nothing to cool the heat of anger and disappointment that radiated through me. I sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at my racket bag in the corner. It looked as battered as I felt.

Losing was one thing. Losing because we couldn’t keep it together was something else entirely.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking the silence. It was a text from Mark.

📱Mark: We need to talk tomorrow. 9 AM in the lounge.

I groaned, tossing the phone aside. I knew what was coming—a post-mortem on the match, a lecture about teamwork and accountability. The last thing I needed was to sit across from Jake while Mark dissected every mistake we made.

Still, the thought of Jake lingered, unshakable. His bitter laugh before he walked out of the locker room played on a loop in my mind, mocking me.

I couldn’t sleep. At 1 AM, I gave up trying and wandered down to the hotel gym. It was empty, the lights dimmed to a soft glow. I stepped onto a treadmill, cranking up the speed, hoping to outrun the storm in my head.

But it didn’t work.

Every step, every stride, I saw Jake—his frustration, his anger, his words cutting sharper than any backhand slice. And underneath it all, something even worse: the nagging feeling that maybe I’d been unfair.

I hit the emergency stop button, the treadmill jerking to a halt.

“Running away from your problems?”

I whipped around to see Jake leaning in the doorway, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. His hair was messy, his face shadowed in the dim light, but his eyes were as sharp as ever.

“Funny,” I said, grabbing a towel. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He stepped into the room, his movements slow, deliberate. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, wiping my face, “some of us can’t sleep after a loss.”

He winced at that, but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he sat down on a bench, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward, until finally, Jake broke it.

“You’re right.”

I blinked, sure I’d misheard him. “What?”

“You’re right,” he repeated, his voice low. “About me being self-centered. I let my ego get in the way, and it cost us the match.”

The sincerity in his voice was jarring, disarming. I didn’t know how to respond.

“I wasn’t exactly a saint either,” I admitted, sitting down across from him. “I let my frustration with you cloud everything. I didn’t trust you out there. Not really.”

He looked up at me then, his eyes searching mine. “Why not?”

I hesitated. The answer was complicated—layers of rivalry, resentment, and something else I didn’t fully understand.

“Because you make it hard,” I said finally. “You’re cocky, reckless, and half the time I don’t know if you even care about anyone but yourself.”

He flinched, and for a second, I thought I’d gone too far. But then he spoke, his voice quiet, almost vulnerable.

“I care more than you think,” he said. “About the game, about winning… about us.”

My breath caught, the weight of his words settling over me like a storm cloud.

“Jake…”

He stood abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No,” I said quickly, standing too. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut down.”

He turned to face me, his expression raw. “What do you want me to say, Y/N? That I’m sorry? That I hate how much I get under your skin, or how much you get under mine? Because I do. But saying it doesn’t change anything.”

The air between us felt charged, like the moment before a serve—the pause before everything explodes into motion.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Neither do I,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine.

For a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of us, the distance between us shrinking in ways I couldn’t quite explain.

But then he stepped back, breaking the spell.

“Good night, Y/N,” he said, his voice hollow.

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone with the chaos he’d left behind.

The next morning, I walked into the hotel lounge to find Mark waiting, his expression grim. Jake was already there, slouched in his chair, his arms crossed. He barely looked up as I sat down.

Mark wasted no time. “I don’t care what’s going on between you two off the court,” he said, his voice sharp. “But whatever it is, it stops now. You’re professionals. Start acting like it.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Mark held up a hand.

“Save it. I’ve had enough of the blame game. You don’t like each other? Fine. But you’re stuck together for the rest of the season. So figure it out, or I’ll make sure neither of you sees a doubles match again.”

My stomach sank. It wasn’t an idle threat. Mark had the connections and influence to sideline us both, and he knew it.

Jake finally spoke, his voice flat. “What do you want us to do?”

Mark’s eyes narrowed. “I want you to train. Together. No more excuses, no more snide comments. You have another tournament in two weeks, and I expect you to be ready.”

“Mark,” I started, but he cut me off with a glare.

“This isn’t up for discussion.”

That afternoon, Jake and I found ourselves back on the practice court, the tension between us thicker than ever.

“You want to start?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay even.

“Whatever you want, captain,” Jake muttered, picking up a ball.

I gritted my teeth, biting back a retort. “Fine. Let’s run volleys.”

We settled into a rhythm, the sound of the ball hitting our strings filling the air. But it wasn’t long before the cracks started to show again.

Jake missed a routine forehand, and I couldn’t help myself. “You’re pulling across your body again.”

He spun around, his frustration spilling over. “Maybe if you’d hit a decent approach shot, I wouldn’t have to save it!”

I felt my temper flare. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?”

“Isn’t it always?”

The words hit harder than they should have, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak.

After practice, I headed to the gym to clear my head, only to find Jake there, too. He was on the rowing machine, his face set in a mask of determination.

“Didn’t think you’d still be here,” I said, leaning against the wall.

He didn’t look up. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of skipping workouts.”

The jab stung, but I let it slide. “Look, I don’t want to fight anymore.”

He stopped rowing, his chest heaving, and finally met my eyes. “Then what do you want, Y/N? Because this,” he gestured between us, “isn’t working.”

I hesitated, the weight of his words pressing down on me. “I don’t know. I just… I want us to figure this out.”

His expression softened, just slightly. “Me too. But it’s not that simple.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “But maybe we start by actually listening to each other.”

Jake sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “All right. Let’s try. No more assumptions, no more cheap shots.”

“Deal,” I said, holding out my hand.

He stared at it for a moment before shaking it, his grip firm but warm.

For the first time in weeks, it felt like we were on the same page.

Our fragile truce lasted all of three days. For seventy-two hours, we managed to train without biting each other’s heads off, even exchanging a few dry jokes during drills. It wasn’t friendship—not even close—but it was progress.

Then the storm hit.

It started with the press conference.

Jake and I had just finished a light practice when Mark called us into a media session with the tournament organizers. “Keep it professional,” he warned as we headed inside.

I thought we’d done a decent job, answering the usual questions about our training and chemistry as a team. Jake even cracked a few jokes that didn’t make me want to strangle him.

But then one reporter—always one, isn’t there?—decided to stir the pot.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice dripping with faux curiosity, “there’s been some chatter about a rivalry between you and Jake. Do you think that tension affects your doubles game?”

I froze, glancing at Jake. He shifted in his seat, his jaw tightening.

“Rivalry?” I said, forcing a smile. “I wouldn’t call it that. Jake and I push each other to be better. It’s part of what makes us a strong team.”

Before I could move on, she pressed again. “But isn’t it true you’ve had disagreements in the past? Some sources say it’s a constant struggle for dominance between you two.”

Jake leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “What sources?” he shot back, his tone sharp.

The reporter shrugged. “Let’s just say people close to the tour have noticed the tension.”

Jake scoffed, leaning back. “Yeah, well, people close to the tour should focus on their own games instead of gossiping about ours.”

It was the right answer—but his tone was just confrontational enough to make headlines. And by the time we left the room, the damage was done.

The next morning, I woke up to chaos.

My phone was flooded with notifications—texts, missed calls, and social media mentions. When I opened Twitter, my stomach dropped.

#TennisDrama was trending, and our names were all over it.

“Jake Kiszka and Y/F/N Y/L/N: Tension or Chemistry?”

“Inside the Rivalry of Tennis’s Most Volatile Duo”

“Kiszka Snaps at Reporter Over Y/N Feud Question.”

I groaned, scrolling through the comments. Fans were divided, some speculating about secret drama, others insisting we were destined to end up together. One account had even compiled a montage of every time Jake and I had argued on court, complete with dramatic music.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, tossing my phone onto the bed.

I didn’t have time to process it before my phone rang again—this time, it was my mom.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” she asked, her voice laced with concern. “I saw the headlines this morning. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, even though I wasn’t. “It’s just the media blowing things out of proportion, as usual.”

She sighed. “You know I’m proud of you, but maybe it’s time to focus on your singles career. Doubles is great, but if this partnership is causing so much stress—”

“It’s not that simple, Mom,” I interrupted.

“Why not?” she pressed. “You’ve always been better on your own. You don’t need a partner, especially not one who’s dragging you into tabloid nonsense.”

Her words stung more than I wanted to admit. “Jake’s not dragging me into anything,” I said, though it came out defensive.

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, he seems like more trouble than he’s worth.”

“Mom,” I said firmly, “I have to go.”

I ended the call, my chest tight.

Practice that day was a disaster.

Jake showed up late, his expression stormy. I didn’t ask why, but I could guess. He was probably dealing with the same avalanche of media frenzy I was.

We ran through drills in tense silence, neither of us willing to be the first to speak. But by the time we started playing practice points, it was clear our heads weren’t in it.

“Y/N!” Jake snapped as I missed an easy volley. “You’ve got to be ready for that!”

“Don’t start,” I shot back.

“Don’t start what? Expecting you to play like a professional?”

My temper flared. “You want to talk about professionalism? Maybe show up on time next time.”

His jaw clenched, his hands tightening around his racket. “You think you’re the only one dealing with this circus? Newsflash, Y/N, I’m just as sick of it as you are.”

“Then maybe stop giving them something to talk about,” I snapped, stepping closer.

Jake glared at me, his eyes dark and flashing. “You really think this is all on me?”

“Maybe not all of it,” I said, my voice cold, “but you don’t exactly make it easy, Jake.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and heavy. For a moment, neither of us moved. Then, without a word, Jake turned and walked off the court, leaving me standing there, the weight of everything crashing down on me.

Would you like to delve into Jake’s perspective briefly or focus on how Y/N processes this growing strain in their partnership?

- JAKE POV -

The headlines wouldn’t stop.

Everywhere I looked, there we were—splashed across sports blogs and gossip columns like some kind of soap opera. Tension or chemistry? Volatile duo? The speculation was relentless, and the worst part was, I couldn’t decide which version of the story I hated more.

Y/N thought I didn’t care. About the game, about the team, about her. And maybe I’d let her believe that because it was easier than trying to explain the truth.

But the truth was messy.

I didn’t plan to show up late to practice, but after the call with my dad that morning, I couldn’t think straight.

“Your brother’s school fees are overdue,” he’d said, his tone clipped. “I thought you were handling that.”

“I did handle it,” I snapped, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I sent the money last month.”

“Well, it’s not enough,” he said. “You know how expensive his program is. If you can’t keep up—”

“Don’t,” I interrupted, my voice sharp. “Don’t even start with that.”

He sighed heavily, the kind of sigh that made me feel like I was fifteen again, sitting in the kitchen while he lectured me about wasting my potential. “Jake, you’re not a kid anymore. You need to think about your family.”

As if I wasn’t already.

I hung up before I said something I’d regret, but the weight of it stayed with me. The pressure to perform, to win, to make enough money to keep everyone afloat—it never went away. And now, with this media circus painting me as some reckless, hot-headed jerk, my sponsorships were already starting to pull back.

I showed up to practice late, my head pounding and my patience already thin. And then Y/N had to go and push every button I had.

“You think you’re the only one dealing with this circus?” I snapped, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Her eyes flashed, sharp and accusing. “Then maybe stop giving them something to talk about.”

Her tone was ice cold, but beneath it, I could hear the hurt. And it cut deeper than I wanted to admit.

I turned and walked away before I said something I couldn’t take back.

I didn’t go far.

I ended up sitting on the edge of the practice court, my racket resting across my knees as I stared at the net. My mind raced, a storm of frustration, guilt, and something I couldn’t quite name.

Y/N didn’t deserve the brunt of my anger, but she didn’t understand—how could she? To her, tennis was about climbing rankings, chasing titles, and proving herself. For me, it was survival.

Every match, every tournament, every paycheck—it all fed into this endless pressure to keep my family afloat. My dad’s medical bills, my brother’s education, the mortgage on the house they wouldn’t sell even though I’d begged them to. And now, with my reputation taking a hit thanks to the media, the walls felt like they were closing in.

I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to push the thoughts away. But instead, all I could see was Y/N’s face—the way her eyes had burned with anger and disappointment when she’d called me out.

The truth was, she wasn’t wrong.

I didn’t head back to the hotel right away. Instead, I wandered down to the players’ lounge, hoping the noise and chatter would drown out my thoughts. But when I walked in, I immediately regretted it.

The lounge was buzzing, players huddled in small groups, phones in hand. I caught snippets of conversation as I passed.

“Did you see the clip? They’re always at each other’s throats.”

“Honestly, I think it’s all an act. They’re probably hooking up.”

“No way. Y/N would never put up with someone like Jake.”

I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to snap at them. Instead, I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and turned to leave, only to run straight into Mark.

“Perfect timing,” he said, his tone clipped. “We need to talk.”

“Let me guess,” I said, forcing a bitter smile. “Another lecture about professionalism?”

Mark’s expression didn’t budge. “Sit.”

I reluctantly dropped into a chair, bracing myself for the tirade. But instead, he leaned forward, his voice low.

“This thing with Y/N? It’s spiraling out of control. The media loves the drama, but the sponsors don’t. And if your performance keeps slipping, they’ll pull the plug on you faster than you can blink.”

“I know,” I muttered.

“Do you?” he shot back. “Because it sure doesn’t look like it.”

His words stung, but I bit my tongue.

“Look,” he continued, his tone softening slightly. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate. But if you want to salvage this partnership—and your career—you need to get your head in the game. Whatever’s going on between you and Y/N, figure it out. Fast.”

Back at the hotel, I hesitated outside Y/N’s door.

Part of me wanted to turn around, to avoid the inevitable argument. But Mark’s words echoed in my mind, and I knew he was right.

I knocked, and after a long pause, Y/N opened the door. She looked as tired as I felt, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, her eyes shadowed with frustration.

“What do you want, Jake?” she asked, her tone wary.

“To talk,” I said, stepping inside before she could shut the door.

She folded her arms, watching me carefully. “About what? How I’m ruining your life? Or how the media thinks we’re one argument away from killing each other?”

“Neither,” I said, meeting her gaze. “I want to talk about how we fix this.”

Her expression softened slightly, but her guard didn’t drop. “And how do you suggest we do that?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’m tired, Y/N. Tired of fighting with you, tired of letting everyone else control the narrative. If we don’t figure this out, it’s only going to get worse.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You think I don’t know that? This whole thing—it’s messing with my head, Jake. I can’t focus on the court. I can’t sleep. And now my mom’s telling me to drop doubles entirely because she thinks you’re dragging me down.”

The admission hit me harder than I expected. “I’m not trying to drag you down,” I said quietly. “If anything, you’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart.”

Her eyes widened, surprise flickering across her face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means…” I hesitated, unsure how much to say. But then I thought about my dad’s call, the weight of everything I was carrying. If I wanted this partnership to work, I had to be honest. “It means I’ve got a lot going on off the court. Family stuff. Financial stuff. And sometimes, it feels like tennis is the only thing holding it all together.”

Y/N’s posture softened, her arms uncrossing. “Jake…”

“I’m not telling you this to make excuses,” I said quickly. “I just… I wanted you to know. I’m not trying to be the bad guy here. I just don’t always know how to deal with it.”

She nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “I get it. I mean, I don’t get all of it, but… I know what it’s like to feel like the whole world’s watching, waiting for you to screw up.”

For the first time in weeks, it felt like we were on the same side.

“So what do we do?” she asked, her voice quiet.

I shrugged, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “Maybe we start by not hating each other for five minutes.”

She laughed softly, the sound breaking through the tension like sunlight through clouds. “I think I can manage that.”

- Y/N POV -

The flight to the Regional Championships was quiet—too quiet. Jake and I were trying to be cordial, but the effort felt like walking a tightrope over a canyon. Every conversation had to be carefully measured, every word chosen with surgical precision.

“So,” Jake said, glancing at me over the in-flight meal. “What do you think of our first-round opponents?”

I paused mid-bite, surprised he was asking for my opinion. “They’re solid,” I said cautiously. “Fast net play, decent serves. But they crumble under pressure.”

Jake nodded, his expression thoughtful. “High-risk players. We just need to keep the rallies long and let them make mistakes.”

“Exactly.”

The exchange was simple, almost too normal, and it left me feeling unsettled. I wasn’t used to this version of Jake—the one who listened, the one who didn’t throw in a sarcastic jab to undercut me.

The first few days of the tournament were a blur of practice sessions, team meetings, and pretending like we were perfectly in sync whenever the media was around. Jake was making an effort—I could see that—but the awkwardness between us still lingered.

We had moments where things felt almost… easy. Like when I made a bad joke about how all hotel gyms smelled the same, and Jake actually laughed—a real, genuine laugh. But then there were times when the tension bubbled back up, like when he criticized my serve placement during practice, and I snapped at him for overthinking everything.

Still, we were trying, and that had to count for something.

The night before our first match, the tournament hosted a social for the players at a local bar. I wasn’t planning to go at first, but Mark insisted. “You need to show face,” he said. “It’s good for the team, good for the sponsors.”

Jake, of course, had no objections. “Free drinks and no curfew? Count me in.”

The bar was buzzing when we arrived, the air thick with laughter and music. Players from different teams mingled, their rivalries temporarily set aside. I stuck close to a few familiar faces, sipping on a soda and trying to ignore the growing knot in my stomach.

That’s when I saw her.

Serena Valdez, one of the rising stars in the game. She was tall, stunning, and had a smile that could light up the room. She also happened to be standing way too close to Jake.

I watched as she leaned in, her hand brushing his arm, her laughter loud and melodic. Jake, to his credit—or maybe his detriment—didn’t seem to mind. He was grinning at something she said, his posture relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen in weeks.

It shouldn’t have bothered me. It really shouldn’t have. But there was a tightness in my chest I couldn’t ignore, a sharp twist of something that felt uncomfortably like jealousy.

“You okay?”

I turned to find Lauren, one of the other doubles players, eyeing me curiously.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Lauren smirked, her gaze flicking to Jake and Serena. “No reason. Just… interesting dynamic you two have.”

I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she said innocently, though her expression suggested otherwise. “It’s just… you know, some of us were taking bets on when you two would finally admit there’s something going on.”

“There’s nothing going on,” I said sharply, my cheeks flushing.

Lauren raised an eyebrow, but thankfully, she didn’t press the issue.

I told myself I wasn’t going to think about it, that Jake could talk to whoever he wanted. But when I saw him walking toward me later, Serena’s laughter still ringing in my ears, I couldn’t help myself.

“Having fun?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.

Jake looked at me, his smile fading slightly. “It’s a social, Y/N. That’s kind of the point.”

“Right. Of course.” I folded my arms, trying to act indifferent. “Seemed like you and Serena were hitting it off.”

His eyebrows furrowed, and for a moment, he looked genuinely confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Forget it.”

But he didn’t let it go. “Are you seriously mad because I talked to her?”

“I’m not mad,” I said, even though the words came out tight and unconvincing.

Jake tilted his head, studying me with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “You’re jealous.”

The accusation hit like a slap, and I bristled immediately. “I am not jealous.”

His smirk returned, infuriatingly smug. “You totally are.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I snapped, the heat rising in my cheeks.

Jake laughed, the sound low and almost teasing. “Relax, Y/N. It was just a conversation.”

“Whatever,” I muttered, turning away.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. “For what it’s worth, I’d rather be talking to you.”

The comment caught me off guard, and I froze, my heart stumbling in my chest. When I glanced back at him, his expression was unreadable—somewhere between sincere and cautious, like he wasn’t sure if he’d said the right thing.

I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t. Instead, I grabbed my drink and disappeared into the crowd, my mind a tangled mess of emotions I wasn’t ready to face.

.

.

.

.

Taglist: @katuschka @edgingthedarkness @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @its-interesting-van-kleep @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @nlookedbacknfearedncried @fleetingjake @shes4twnksinatrnchct

Please let me know if you'd like to be added! And don't be shy - send me your thoughts and comments! I love receiving them and chatting. 😊

[katuschka]

This!

But let's not forget it took them a year to release Red Rocks...

so when are they gonna post the RAH full concert live on youtube

[katuschka]

Fine, here we go...

No pressure tags: @psychedelectable, @josh-iamyour-mama, @hailthegodsong @irenereedcane-mamagreta

Well, it's been a year! I'd like to know what your top albums of 2024 were. Here are mine:

I tag: @defkisshalen @snowpeachgirl @only-a-heartbeat-away @onevisionanthem @writingcold @this-will-remain-untitled @sanguinebats @holdingup-fallingsky @jjwasneverhere @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @somberlily @dreamcastgirl99 🌲

[katuschka]

Yeah, it's a burden. I can't cope either sometimes. My husband looked at these yesterday and literally said "Kitten, you're just super weird... Have you already shown these to your fellow greta bitches witches?"

It's that time of the year again... Does this qualify as fan art? :)

[katuschka]

It's that time of the year again... Does this qualify as fan art? :)

[katuschka]

Wroclaw Christmas market, my pics.

[katuschka]

I think this applies to literally everything. Just keep going.

[katuschka]

Oh so good.

DIRTY DIANA - Chapter 8

Pairing: Jake x Diana; Jake x fem!OC

General Warnings: 18+ minors DNI / 18+ minors DNI / Infidelity / Psychological Abuse and Gaslighting / Cyberbullying and Harassment/ Unwanted Pregnancy and Abortion / Sexual Content / Paranoia and Mental Health Decline / Toxic Relationships / Revenge and Threats / Emotional Distress / Invasion of Privacy / Substance Use

Summary:  Jake finds himself caught in a dangerous game with Diana, a seductive and relentless woman who targets high-profile musicians.

One night, as Jake slept beside her, Liv couldn’t stop herself from going through his old messages. She scrolled through years of texts, emails, anything that might give her answers. It felt wrong, invasive, but her desperation overpowered her guilt.

And then she found it.

A string of old emails between Jake and someone named Margo, a lawyer, dated nearly two years ago. The subject line read: “Diana J: Agreement and Payment Confirmation.”

Liv opened the thread, her heart racing.

Jake,

I’ve received confirmation of the payment and Diana’s signed agreement to terminate the pregnancy. Let me know if there are any further questions. As discussed, this will remain strictly confidential.

The room seemed to tilt as Liv stared at the words. Her stomach churned, bile rising in her throat. Her hands trembled as she searched for more, piecing together the fragments of Jake’s life before her.

The buzz of her phone jolted Liv out of her spiralling thoughts. She blinked, disoriented, as the screen lit up with a text from an unknown number.

The message read:

“Thought you’d like to see this. Just a reminder of who Jake really is.”

Below the text was a video file.

Liv’s heart pounded as she hesitated, her thumb hovering over the play button. She didn’t want to open it, but her curiosity—and dread—overpowered her better judgment. Taking a shaky breath, she tapped the video.

The clip was poorly lit, the scene obscured by shadows and flickering light. The shaky camera work made it hard to tell where it had been filmed, but the muffled sounds of heavy breathing and low laughter were unmistakable.

As the camera steadied, Liv’s stomach churned. She recognized Jake immediately, his shirtless figure illuminated briefly as he leaned back on a disheveled bed. His head tipped back, a lazy grin on his face, the familiarity of his expression twisting something deep inside her.

Another figure appeared in the frame—Diana. Her dark hair was unmistakable as she crawled toward Jake, her movements slow and deliberate. She looked directly at the camera for a moment, her lips curving into a wicked smile as if she knew she’d be watching this later.

A third figure emerged—unrecognizable at first but unmistakably female. The two women flanked Jake, their hands roaming his body, their movements becoming increasingly intimate. The audio picked up faint murmurs and laughter, though the words were indistinct.

Liv felt bile rise in her throat. She dropped the phone as if it had burned her, the video still playing on the screen. The tangled limbs, the unmistakable intimacy—it was all there, laid bare in damning detail.

She stumbled away from the bed, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The image of Jake with Diana—and another woman—seared into her mind.

Liv paced the room, her mind racing. Her chest felt tight, and tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.

“Why now?” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling.

Her phone buzzed again. Another text from the unknown number:

“I wonder what Jake would say if you asked him about this? Don’t worry—I still have the full version.”

Liv sank to the floor, clutching her knees to her chest. She wanted to scream, to throw her phone against the wall, to confront Jake. But what would she even say? The evidence was right there, undeniable.

Her phone buzzed again. Another message:

“I wonder if Jake still keeps the pictures from that night on his phone.”

The confrontation came the next morning. Jake was in the kitchen, making coffee, when Liv stormed in, her phone clutched in her hand.

“What happened in LA, Jake?” she demanded, her voice shaking.

Jake turned, startled. “I already told you—”

“No,” Liv cut him off, throwing her phone onto the counter so he could see the email. “You didn’t tell me everything. Did you?”

Jake’s face went pale as he glanced at the screen, his hand gripping the counter for support. “Liv, I can explain—”

“Explain?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You got her pregnant? You paid for an abortion? And you didn’t think I deserved to know this?”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “It wasn’t something I was proud of. It was a mistake—a stupid, drunken mistake from years ago.”

Liv’s chest tightened. “What else, Jake? What else haven’t you told me?”

Jake ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “Fine. You want the truth? I used to drink too much and try different drugs and used to hook up with Diana when we first hit the road. And yes, I did hook up with Diana in LA. It was… complicated. It wasn’t just her. There was someone else—”

“A threesome,” Liv interrupted, her voice flat.

Jake froze, his eyes widening in shock.

Liv let out a bitter laugh, tears streaming down her face. “Yeah, I figured it out. Diana’s been dangling it in front of me this whole time, and you let her. You let her stay in our lives, in the band, knowing what she’s capable of.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Jake said, his voice pleading. “I wanted to leave it in the past. I thought if I ignored her, she’d move on.”

“Move on?” Liv shouted. “She’s been tormenting me for weeks, Jake! And you gave her the ammunition to do it! SHE SENT ME A VIDEO OF YOUR THREESOME!”

Jake reached for her, but Liv stepped back, shaking her head. “I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Liv left the house, needing air, needing space. She wandered aimlessly, her mind racing with a mix of rage, betrayal, and heartbreak.

Diana’s words came back to her: “Have you asked him about LA yet? Has he told you everything?”

This was her plan all along. To plant seeds of doubt. To make Liv question everything she thought she knew about Jake. And it had worked.

But why? What was Diana’s endgame?

That night, Liv returned home, her exhaustion outweighing her anger. The house was eerily quiet, Jake sitting on the couch, his head in his hands.

“Liv,” he said softly as she walked in.

She didn’t respond, moving to the stairs without a word.

“Please, let me explain,” he called after her, his voice breaking.

Liv stopped but didn’t turn around. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Jake. I don’t know if I can believe you.”

His silence was deafening.

The torment didn’t stop. Over the next week, Diana’s psychological warfare intensified. Subtle comments during band meetings, knowing glances in Jake’s direction, and messages to Liv that left her questioning her sanity.

One day, Liv found an envelope in her purse. Inside was a photo—grainy but clear enough to see Jake, Diana, and an unfamiliar woman in a dimly lit room. Jake’s arm was draped lazily around Diana, his shirt half-unbuttoned.

On the back of the photo, Diana had written: “The truth always comes out.”

Liv confronted Jake with the photo that evening.

“She’s lying,” Jake said, his voice desperate. “She’s manipulating you.”

“She doesn’t have to, Jake!” Liv shouted. “You already did that yourself.”

Diana watched from the sidelines, her plan unfolding perfectly. She knew Jake wouldn’t be able to contain the truth forever, and Liv’s unraveling was the key to everything.

It wasn’t just about Jake—it was about control. About power.

And as Liv’s trust in Jake crumbled, Diana’s satisfaction grew. She wasn’t just breaking them apart. She was breaking them entirely.

Over the next week, Liv felt like she was living in a waking nightmare. Diana’s presence loomed everywhere—at the studio, at Jake’s shows, even in her dreams. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Diana was always watching, always scheming. Jake insisted that nothing more would happen, that Diana couldn’t hurt them if they didn’t let her.

But Liv wasn’t so sure.

Every time she tried to bring it up, Jake grew more defensive. “I’ve told you everything, Liv,” he said, exasperation lining his voice. “She’s just trying to get inside your head. Don’t let her.”

Liv wanted to believe him. But then, why was she still finding notes? Why was she still hearing Diana’s voice in her mind, whispering all the ways Jake had betrayed her?

Diana played her role with perfect precision. To the band, she was a hardworking social media manager who was revolutionizing their online presence. Management adored her, praising her strategic mind and her ability to connect with fans. To Liv, she was a shadowy figure, her words and actions designed to torment without leaving a trace.

One afternoon, Liv was sitting alone in the green room, trying to clear her mind before Jake and the others arrived. She was scrolling through her phone when Diana suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“Relax,” Diana said, holding up her hands as if to show she meant no harm. “I just wanted to talk.”

Liv stiffened, gripping her phone tightly. “What could we possibly have to talk about?”

Diana’s lips curled into a smirk as she stepped inside, letting the door close behind her. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe about what Jake hasn’t told you yet.”

“I know everything,” Liv snapped, though her voice wavered.

Diana chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Oh, Liv. Sweet, naïve Liv. You think you know everything. But you don’t. And Jake? He’s too much of a coward to tell you.”

Liv stood, her pulse pounding in her ears. “Get out.”

“Have you asked him about the woman in the photo?” Diana asked, her voice laced with mock concern. “The other one from LA? Or about the promises he made to me afterward? You should, Liv. You really should.”

“I said get out!” Liv shouted, her voice breaking.

Diana’s expression turned cold, her smirk fading. “You’re so easy to break,” she said softly, almost pityingly. “No wonder Jake—”

“Leave!”

This time, Diana relented, slipping out the door without another word. Liv sank back into her chair, trembling. She hated how Diana always seemed to hold the upper hand, how she always knew exactly what to say to cut her down.

That night, Liv finally brought up the woman in the photo.

“Who is she?” Liv asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She slid the picture across the counter to Jake, who had been nursing a beer in silence.

Jake stared at it, his expression unreadable. “Her name was Marissa. She was… part of the wild nights in LA.” Jake sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It was all a mistake, Liv. A stupid, drunken mistake before we got together that I’ve regretted ever since. It didn’t mean anything. None of it did.”

Liv stared at him, her heart breaking all over again. “And you didn’t think I deserved to know this? Before Diana decided to use it against us?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Jake said, his voice pleading. “I didn’t want you to think less of me. And I didn’t think she’d ever come back into my life.”

“But she did,” Liv said bitterly. “And now she’s using everything against me, against us. And I don’t know if I can take it anymore.”

Jake reached for her, but she pulled away, tears streaming down her face.

Diana’s torment didn’t stop there. Subtle notes continued to appear in Liv’s bag or jacket pockets. Messages that no one else could see.

One evening, Liv found a message scrawled on the bathroom mirror in lipstick: “You’ll never be enough for him.”

She screamed, throwing the bathroom door open and calling for Jake. But when he arrived, the message was gone. The lipstick tube sat untouched on the counter, as if mocking her.

“Liv,” Jake said cautiously, “are you sure you saw something?”

Liv turned to him, her hands trembling. “You think I’m making this up?”

“I didn’t say that,” Jake said quickly. “But Diana’s not even here. Are you sure it wasn’t…” He hesitated, clearly trying to choose his words carefully.

“Wasn’t what?” Liv snapped.

“Stress. Or your imagination,” Jake said softly.

Liv felt her stomach drop. “You think I’m losing it?”

“No, I’m not saying that—”

“Yes, you are!” Liv shouted, tears streaming down her face. “You’re saying I’m crazy. You’re saying this is all in my head!”

Jake tried to reach for her, but she pushed him away, running to the bedroom and locking the door behind her.

From her vantage point, Diana watched as the cracks widened. She heard Jake’s hesitations, saw the doubt in the others’ eyes whenever Liv lashed out or seemed distracted.

Liv was unraveling, just as Diana had planned.

Diana’s next move was subtle but devastating. She began planting rumors among the band’s management team, suggesting that Liv’s “erratic behavior” was becoming a liability. She hinted that Liv might be struggling with mental health issues, that perhaps she wasn’t the supportive partner Jake needed during this crucial time.

The whispers reached Jake, who confronted Liv about it.

“People are talking,” he said one night, his voice tense. “They’re saying you’re not okay.”

Liv stared at him, her eyes wide. “And you believe them?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Jake admitted, his voice breaking.

Liv’s heart shattered. Diana had succeeded in planting a seed of doubt not just in her, but in Jake. And now, Liv was truly alone.

Diana smiled as she scrolled through her phone that night, crafting her next move. The pieces were falling into place, and soon, she would have exactly what she wanted.

Diana’s torment of Liv became more insidious. She escalated her attacks, careful to remain undetected by everyone else. Notes became whispers. Whispers turned into tangible signs of her presence. Liv would catch glimpses of Diana’s reflection in mirrors when she was supposedly miles away. A faint but familiar perfume lingered in the air long after she left a room.

But Diana was too smart to get caught. Every note, every haunting encounter vanished the moment Liv tried to show Jake or anyone else.

One evening, Liv entered the kitchen to find a single glass of wine poured and placed at her seat at the table. It was her favorite vintage—the same one she and Jake shared on their first date.

She froze, staring at the glass, her breath catching in her throat.

“Jake?” she called out, her voice trembling.

Jake appeared moments later, a dish towel in his hands. “What’s wrong?”

Liv gestured to the table. “Did you pour that for me?”

Jake frowned, looking at the glass. “I didn’t pour anything.”

Liv’s heart raced. She knew she hadn’t poured it either.

“I didn’t…” Liv trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jake’s expression shifted, concern etched into his features. “Liv, are you sure you didn’t forget? You’ve been… distracted lately.”

Her stomach churned. The implication was clear: he thought she was losing her grip on reality.

“I didn’t pour it,” she insisted, her voice firm.

Jake exhaled, shaking his head. “Maybe you should talk to someone. About everything that’s been happening.”

“You think I’m crazy,” Liv accused, her voice rising.

“I think you’re under a lot of stress,” Jake replied carefully.

Tears burned in Liv’s eyes as she stared at him. The man who was supposed to have her back now looked at her like she was a stranger.

The band was starting to notice the tension between Liv and Jake. During rehearsal, Jake missed cues, his usually sharp guitar riffs sounding offbeat. Sam and Josh exchanged glances, but no one said anything.

Meanwhile, Diana hovered nearby, her presence like a storm cloud. She always seemed to be in the right place at the right time, offering a sly comment or a lingering glance at Jake that left Liv’s blood boiling.

“Liv’s not looking so good,” Sam muttered to Josh one afternoon.

Josh shrugged, keeping his voice low. “She’s been through a lot lately. Maybe it’s just stress.”

“Or something else,” Sam said, glancing toward Diana, who was busy on her phone but seemed to be listening.

Diana caught Sam’s look and smiled sweetly, as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

Late one night, while Jake was still at the studio, Liv’s phone rang. The caller ID read “Unknown.” Against her better judgment, she answered.

“Hello?”

There was silence for a moment before a familiar voice spoke.

“Do you ever wonder what’s really still happening between Jake and I?” Diana’s voice was smooth, taunting.

Liv’s grip tightened on the phone. “What do you want from me?” she hissed.

“I don’t want anything,” Diana replied, her tone light. “But I thought you’d want the truth. You do, don’t you, Liv? Or are you too afraid to hear it?”

“I know the truth,” Liv said, her voice trembling.

Diana laughed softly. “Do you? Did Jake tell you what he did to keep me quiet? Did he tell you about the promises he makes?”

“Shut up,” Liv snapped.

“You should ask him,” Diana continued, ignoring her. “Ask him what he offered me to make this all go away. Ask him if you were ever part of his plan at all.”

Liv hung up, her heart pounding. She stared at the phone, her breathing ragged. She wanted to believe Jake. But Diana’s words clawed at her resolve.

The next morning, Liv confronted Jake.

“Did you offer her something to stay quiet?” she demanded, her voice shaking with anger.

Jake froze, the coffee mug in his hand hovering midair. “What are you talking about?”

“She called me,” Liv said, her voice rising. “She said you made promises. That you… that you offered her something to make her go away.”

Jake’s face darkened. “She called you?”

Liv nodded, her chest heaving. “Answer the question, Jake. Did you?”

Jake set the mug down, running a hand through his hair. “I paid her off,” he admitted finally. “After the abortion. I didn’t want her to go to the press or cause trouble for the band. I thought it was the right thing to do.”

Liv stared at him, her heart breaking all over again. “You bribed her.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Jake said, his voice desperate. “She was threatening to ruin everything.”

“And now she’s ruining us,” Liv whispered.

Diana’s grand finale came two days later during a band photoshoot. While the photographers adjusted their equipment, Diana casually walked over to Liv, who was standing off to the side.

“Rough couple of weeks?” Diana asked, her voice dripping with fake concern.

Liv glared at her. “What do you want?”

Diana leaned in, her voice low. “Just to see how far you’ll go before you break.”

Liv clenched her fists, fighting the urge to scream.

“Oh, and by the way,” Diana added, her smile wicked, “you might want to check Jake’s messages. There’s a little surprise waiting for you.”

When Liv checked Jake’s phone that evening, her heart sank. Among his recent messages was one from Diana.

“Miss me? I know you think about me. About our nights together. Maybe we should relive it… just for old times’ sake.”

Below the text was a photo—Jake and Diana, close enough to look like lovers.

Liv dropped the phone, her body shaking with rage and heartbreak. Diana’s plan had worked. Liv was at her breaking point, and she had no idea how much more she could take.

Liv sat on the edge of the bed, Jake’s phone lying abandoned on the floor where she had dropped it. The image of him and Diana burned into her mind—a moment too intimate to dismiss as a coincidence. The text, laced with provocation, felt like a dagger.

Her thoughts raced. Was Diana lying? Twisting the truth? Or was there even more Jake had kept from her?

She couldn’t bring herself to confront him immediately. The fight earlier had drained her, and part of her was terrified of what else he might admit.

The next day, while Jake was at rehearsal, Liv decided to take a walk to clear her head. As she passed the coffee shop near the studio, a soft, mocking voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Liv turned to find Diana lounging at one of the outdoor tables, a sly smile playing on her lips.

“Go to hell,” Liv snapped, turning to leave.

“Wait,” Diana called after her. “Don’t you want to hear the rest of the story? I mean, you already know part of it… but Jake always was selective with the truth.”

Liv froze. Against her better judgment, she turned back to face Diana.

“What now?” Liv asked, her voice barely concealing her rage.

Diana leaned back in her chair, studying her nails. “Did he ever tell you about the time in Phoenix? How he ‘auditioned’ me for his little band?”

Liv frowned. “Auditioned?”

Diana’s smile widened. “I was going to be their backup vocalist. Or at least, that’s what Jake said when he flew me out there. But guess what? It wasn’t my voice he wanted.”

Liv’s chest tightened. She could hardly breathe. “You’re lying.”

Diana tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Am I? Ask Jake how many hotel rooms he booked that week. Ask him why he suddenly decided I wasn’t right for the band.”

Liv’s stomach churned. She wanted to storm off, to scream at Diana to leave her alone. But the seeds of doubt were already planted.

That night, Liv couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Phoenix,” she said abruptly as Jake walked into the kitchen.

Jake froze, his brow furrowing. “What about Phoenix?”

“Did you fly Diana out there?” Liv demanded, her voice sharp.

Jake sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Liv, where is this coming from?”

“Just answer the question!” she snapped.

Jake hesitated, and that moment of silence was all the confirmation she needed.

“I can’t believe this,” Liv whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “Was she supposed to join the band?”

Jake stepped closer, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “It wasn’t like that. I thought she might be a good fit, but it didn’t work out. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Liv laughed bitterly. “She told me you brought her there for… other reasons.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. “Don’t listen to her, Liv. She’s twisting everything. Yes, I made mistakes with Diana, but I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?” Liv cut him off, her voice rising. “Sleep with her in Phoenix too? Make her more promises you didn’t keep?”

Jake’s silence was damning.

Her throat felt tight, and anger burned in her chest. She thought she might be sick, but she couldn’t keep this inside any longer.

Without a word, she stalked over and tossed her phone onto the counter in front of him. A paused video stared back at them, the dimly lit image unmistakable—Jake, shirtless and sprawled out on a bed, Diana’s face hovering inches from his, her smile predatory. Another woman’s hand—God, Liv couldn’t think about that part—rested possessively on his chest.

The colour drained from Jake’s face. He sat frozen, his eyes locked on the damning image. Jake swallowed hard. “Liv… I… where did you get this?”

“Does it matter?” she snapped, tears brimming in her eyes. “It’s real, isn’t it?”

He raked his hands through his hair, his breathing uneven. “It was… it was before us.”

“Was it?” Liv demanded, her voice cracking. “Was it really?”

Jake’s mouth opened, but no words came out. The truth sat heavily between them, suffocating.

“That was Phoenix, wasn’t it?” she pressed, her voice lowering, thick with betrayal. “Last spring.”

His eyes widened at her specificity, confirming everything she already feared.

“That’s when we were—” She broke off, her breath hitching. “We were talking, Jake. We’d already gone on a few dates. You were texting me every night, telling me how much you missed me when you were on tour.”

“Liv,” Jake pleaded, standing up and taking a step toward her. “It didn’t mean anything.”

She backed away like he’d struck her. “It didn’t mean anything?” Her voice rose, sharp and disbelieving. “I was falling for you. I thought you were falling for me too!”

“I was!” he insisted. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think we were serious yet. You were in New York, and I was on the road—it was stupid, reckless. I didn’t know what we were going to be.”

“So you slept with her.” The word dripped with venom. “And someone else. While you were sending me I miss you texts like some lovesick liar.”

“It was the worst mistake of my life,” Jake said desperately, his voice cracking. “I was drunk, and—”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” she spat, wiping furiously at her tear-streaked face.

Jake stepped closer, his expression pleading. “Liv, I swear, it never happened again. After Phoenix… I knew. I knew I wanted you. I thought if I could just leave it in the past—”

“You thought I’d never find out,” she finished bitterly. “And you let her work with you. You let her get this close to our lives.”

Jake’s face twisted with regret. “I didn’t have a choice. Management hired her, and I didn’t want to drag it all back up—especially if it would hurt you.”

“You were trying to protect yourself,” Liv snapped. “You were hoping this skeleton would stay buried.”

“I didn’t think she’d—”

“What, Jake?” she cut him off, seething. “That she’d hold it over you? Use it to rip us apart?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “How stupid do you think I am?”

Jake’s shoulders sagged, and for the first time, she saw real fear in his eyes. Not just fear of losing her—but of losing everything.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I’ve only ever loved you.”

Liv’s breath hitched at the words she’d once longed to hear—but now they felt hollow, too late. Her chest ached from the weight of it all—the betrayal, the lies, the history she hadn’t known she’d been competing with all along.

Her phone buzzed again on the couch, making them both flinch. Jake’s gaze flicked toward it, his face twisting in anger.

Liv didn’t even have to look to know it was her. Diana.

The message likely held more venom, more destruction—another calculated blow.

Liv wrapped her arms around herself, her voice small and broken. “You should’ve told me.”

Jake took a step closer, desperate. “Liv, please—”

“No,” she whispered, backing toward the doorway. “I can’t… I can’t do this right now.”

Before he could reach her, she turned and fled up the stairs, leaving Jake alone in the silent, suffocating room—haunted by the consequences of secrets that could no longer be buried.

Diana’s next move came in the form of an email sent directly to Liv. Attached was a scanned copy of a financial transaction—proof of the money Jake had transferred to cover Diana’s abortion. Along with it was a chilling note:

“Funny how love works, isn’t it? He said it was for the best. That we couldn’t ‘complicate’ his career. Wonder if he’d say the same about you.”

Liv felt the room spinning as she stared at the screen. Jake had mentioned the abortion in passing, but he had framed it as a mutual decision, one made under duress. This note painted a different picture.

Two days later, Diana upped the stakes. During a band meeting, she casually mentioned an “upcoming project” she wanted to spearhead—an intimate behind-the-scenes documentary chronicling their journey.

“I think the fans would love it,” Diana said, her gaze flickering to Jake. “Something raw, emotional. Maybe even a little vulnerable.”

Jake’s bandmates seemed intrigued, but Liv’s stomach dropped. She knew exactly what Diana was doing.

“Liv,” Diana said suddenly, turning to her with a saccharine smile. “You could be part of it too. The fans love seeing the personal side of their favorite musicians. You and Jake would make such a great centerpiece.”

Liv forced a smile, her hands clenching into fists beneath the table. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Diana’s smile didn’t waver. “Oh, don’t be modest. You’re practically part of the band’s brand now.”

Jake glanced at Liv, sensing her unease. “We’ll think about it,” he said quickly, trying to diffuse the tension.

But Liv knew Diana wouldn’t let it go that easily.

Over the next week, Diana’s torment reached new heights. She began sending anonymous tips to gossip sites, hinting at a “love triangle” within the band. Speculation about Jake’s loyalty and Liv’s mental health began circulating online, adding another layer of pressure to their crumbling relationship.

Liv started withdrawing from everyone, including Jake. Her sleepless nights were plagued by nightmares of Diana, her mocking laughter echoing in the darkness.

One night, Liv found another note slipped into her purse.

“You can’t outrun the truth. He’ll always come back to me.”

.

.

.

.

@edgingthedarkness @writingcold @thewritingbeforesunrise @katuschka @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @vanfleeter @shes4twnksinatrnchct @musicislove3389

[katuschka]

Oh god, the last two paragraphs already break my heart. That said, keep it coming!

Tender // Ch. 7

MASTERLIST

word count: 2300+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: language; alcoholism; rehab facility; prescription medication; anxiety; unspecified undiagnosed mental illness; hallucinations; allergic reaction; small mentions of previous physical domestic violence; marijuana use; and the reminder that this is a story about DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND DOMESTIC ABUSE - please do not read if those topics are triggering for you, if you just prefer not to read about them

The best rehab facility we found in the state of Tennessee was mediocre at best. It was expensive, but Josh insisted on helping me pay for it. I considered quitting before I even began, but Josh’s optimism kept pushing me in the right direction. His hopeful determination was encouraging, and it kept me moving when I felt I had nothing left.

Josh kept his word and stayed with me as much as he could. The facility didn’t allow visitors the first week, but Josh was there nearly every day during the allotted visiting hours after that. I still find it hard to grasp his unwavering support, after everything that happened.

The reason visitors aren’t allowed for the first week is because you’re most likely going through withdrawal. I knew it would happen and that I’d probably be nauseous and irritable, but I hadn’t prepared myself for everything else. I was plagued with fever, confusion, and my heart wouldn’t stop racing. They mentioned a state of delirium characterized by vivid hallucinations, and that only about five percent of people going through alcohol withdrawal experience it. Unfortunately, hallucinations aren’t new to me, so they were a given. When they got bad and I couldn’t escape them (being locked up all), the doctor prescribed me benzodiazepine. I’m sure normally it works great to alleviate some of those withdrawal symptoms, but alas, nothing can ever be easy with me. Turns out, I’m allergic to the benzos, so a nice surprise dose of epinephrine later, my airway was cleared, and I was finally able to sleep.

I’m also not confident that a lot of my symptoms weren’t just side effects of the sheer panic I was feeling. That place made me anxious; I felt trapped, surrounded by people I couldn’t trust. Plus, I was bored. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop. They’d wake us up early for breakfast, and they pushed a strict schedule for group sessions (I would rather have stuck my arm in a bear trap), and individual therapy (also a fucking nightmare). They tried to encourage time in the day for silly arts and crafts like we’re children, and things like yoga or meditation, which isn’t quite my speed either. I took advantage of the indoor gym, though, and spent a lot of time reading.

Josh could tell I was constantly on edge. He’d hold my hand across the table and tell me how proud he was of me, his words filling me with confusion. I just couldn’t understand why he was still here with me. Being sober and bored out of my mind gave me plenty of time to reflect on everything I did, everything that led me to this place, and all the things Josh doesn’t know about. But despite my own internal conflict, he is still here, and for once, I don’t think there’s any ulterior motive. He only wants to help.

At Josh’s behest, I requested to be prescribed anxiety medication. I hated taking them; the side effects were frustrating, and I was constantly tired. But once I got the dosage figured out, they at least helped take the edge off. Whether or not I’d continue to take them afterwards was yet to be determined.

90 days. I was locked up there for 90 days. Three months sober, medicated, and numb. I didn’t know what would happen once I got out. I completed their ridiculous program, and they set me up with a shrink and anxiety meds before they released me, like an injured animal being freed from rehabilitation and back into the wild. Maybe I should have chewed my own leg off instead of letting myself be captured.

~

“Mom and dad are coming here for the holidays this year. Jake doesn’t wanna fly with the baby, and nobody wants to make that drive. Is… is that okay?”

Josh is watching me, nervous but hopeful. He’s been so careful with his words, worried he might trigger something in me. But for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m being chased and grabbed at by something dark. “Yeah, of course. It might be nice to meet them under better circumstances.” When I first met Josh’s parents, it was at the hospital after Sam’s car accident, so things were less than ideal. With everything less tense now, it might be a good opportunity to get to know his parents. I feel like I might be able to stick around, and I plan to, if Josh will keep me.

“And remember, tomorrow is-“

“Movie night. I know.”

He smiles and approaches me where I’m sitting at the dining room table. He makes sure my laptop is out of the way before sitting on my lap and kissing me. I place one hand on his hip and bring the other to his cheek. I’m already getting lost in him and for the first time, it feels right.

“You promise you’ll let me know if it’s too much, if you start feeling bad?”

It’s a simple enough request, one he’s asked me countless times since getting out of rehab. All he’s asking for is an open line of communication, and not to be afraid to lean on him for help if I need it. “I promise.”

“It’ll be an easy night. No strangers, just movies. And Jake’s making dinner.”

“I don’t know, Jake might poison me,” I joke.

Josh laughs and rolls his eyes. “He’s not going to poison you.”

“He doesn’t like me.” It’s not a secret, and Jake certainly doesn’t try to hide it. But from what I understand, Josh never told him everything. I wonder how much worse it would be if Jake knew I was the reason for the scar on the back of his twin’s arm, or that it wasn’t the only time I’d let my rage get the best of me.

“He’s just protective. All of us Kiszkas are,” he shrugged. “I didn’t like Kya much in the beginning. I thought she was annoying and mean. But look at us now.” He kisses me again and nuzzles his nose against mine. “Just give him time. He’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Figure what out?”

“What I see in you. Why I love you.”

“Sometimes I’m not sure I even have it figured out.” I can’t help the despondent tone of my voice.

He’s gotten quite good at sensing when the guilt is starting to eat at me, and in turn, trapping it. “You’re bigger than your mistakes.” He leans into me, his arms around my shoulders. “I’ll admit it hasn’t been easy. What part of love is? But you’re so much more than the piece of you that made those mistakes, and that bigger part of you, the real part, that’s who I fell in love with.”

I can’t find the words to reply, so I press my forehead to his and hold him close. I revel in his familiar vanilla scent and the feel of his weight on me, grounding me. He’s my lifeline, maybe the only one I really have, and I’m holding onto it as tight as I can, for fear if I let go, I’ll drown.

~

“Hey, you okay?” Josh nudges me as we park in Jake’s driveway.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m just… a little drowsy from the meds.” I give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m good. I promise.”

We make our way inside, where we’re greeted by the amazing smell of whatever Jake is cooking. He doesn’t speak to me, and I don’t try to force it. Kya hugs me tightly. “I’m so glad you could make it.” Sam and Danny extend their greetings from where they sit in the living room. When the anxiety starts to bubble up in my throat, Josh places a hand on my shoulder, just to ensure I know he’s still here with me.

Dinner is great; if there’s anything I can give Jake credit for it’s that he’s an excellent cook. The brothers bicker about who gets to pick the first movie, Jake eventually winning with the “It’s my house” argument, and they settle on a pirate movie. Josh claims us a spot on the couch and swipes a throw blanket to curl up under. He snuggles up into my side and keeps a hand on my thigh for the duration.

At some point in the evening, Sam pulls out a joint and makes a move to light it.

“Hey! Not in the fucking house,” Jake scolds.

“But it’s cold outside,” Sam whines. “You always used to let us smoke inside.”

“Except now there’s a baby in the house. Out.” He points to the back door, firmly planted on his decision. Kya’s letting Jake handle it, but the pointed look she gives Sam tells me she agrees.

Sam doesn’t want to argue with that, so he groans and stands to retrieve his jacket before heading to the door. “Would anyone else like to partake?”

Josh moves to take him up on the offer, but stops and looks to me, as if to ask my permission. “Go on. I know you want to.” I give him a soft smile, letting him know it’s okay.

“Oh, shit.” Sam’s staring at me with wide eyes. “Dude, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think…”

He glances at the joint in his hand then back to me, and my confusion shifts to understanding. I’m careful to hide the irritation that they all know, and that Josh must have been the one to share my business with them. “Oh. No, it’s okay. It’s not weed that’s the issue, I just don’t care for it.” He seems to relax, no longer worried that he’s singlehandedly threatening my sobriety. “I’d go with you, but it’s fucking freezing outside.”

Kya snorts in laughter. “You can say that again.”

“You guys just need thicker skin,” Josh taunts, playfully sticking his tongue out before following Sam and Danny outside, shutting the door behind him.

Jake decides to take the opportunity to clean up the kitchen a little, leaving me and Kya alone in the living room.

“How are you holding up?”

I catch myself picking at my cuticles and focus on a loose string from the blanket still draped over my lap. “I’m okay.” I don’t particularly want to talk about any of it, but I have a feeling she won’t be satisfied with my vague non-answers. And I’m correct.

“You know you can talk to me, right? You’re my friend. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. Really okay.”

I sigh and try to hide the annoyance that might be present in my voice. “I’m good, Ky. I’m working on just feeling normal again. Just trying to move on.”

She gives a small half smile, and I notice for the first time how tired she looks. “You promise you’ll let me know if you need anything?”

“Yeah, I promise,” I say, for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s an empty one, though; she’s got enough on her plate with the baby and doesn’t need the added responsibility of taking care of me.

The little one chooses this moment to wake up, her cries coming through the speaker of a baby monitor. Kya doesn’t complain as she gets up to tend to her daughter. “You wanna come see her?”

I nod and follow her into the room they had designated as the nursery. My desire to tag along was rooted less in wanting to see the infant and more in not wanting to be left alone with Jake. I’m not sure I can handle the tension right now, and I would hate to cause any friction where Josh is involved.

We chat while she changes and feeds the baby. It’s mostly small talk, catching up with her and her life. She doesn’t push me for more than I’ve already volunteered, but I can see in her eyes that she’s worried. I’ve known her long enough to know when there’s something on her mind, even if she won’t voice it. And what I recognize in her eyes makes my chest ache. She knows something, and she doesn’t trust me anymore. It hits me that none of them do, and I won’t regain it from them. But then again, maybe it’s just my own paranoia talking, so I do my best to push the thought away and let myself enjoy the night.

I hear Josh’s voice ring out as he comes down the hall behind me. “Um, excuse me. You know the rules. I must be invited to all baby-snuggling parties. To exclude me is obviously treason, punishable by death.”

“Oh, my mistake, our great and powerful leader.” Kya laughs and rolls her eyes before placing the baby, now content, in Josh’s arms. He smiles at her like she’s the most important thing on the face of this planet. Hell, she probably is. I shake off the gross feeling rising up in me. I’m not going to be jealous of a baby; that’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard. Plus, seeing the way Josh’s eyes light up as he coos and grins at the tiny person he cradles in his arms makes my heart swell.

It’s not awfully late yet, so once Kya gets the baby settled and back to sleep, someone picks another movie, and we resume from our previous spots. Josh only lasts about 30 minutes before he falls asleep, his head in my lap and legs spread across the couch. I let him sleep, gently brushing my fingers through his curls.

I’m not even paying attention to the film. My focus is entirely on Josh. He’s so peaceful when he sleeps, and he seems almost fragile, like one wrong move could break him. I keep myself still so I don’t disturb him; I know he needs the rest. It doesn’t bother me. I’d stay like this forever if it meant he’d be safe, and that he’d get to stay mine.

The wind’s always changing, though, pushing in the storm clouds that hover ominously, threatening to steal away everything I’ve worked for, to take him away from me. And when the time comes, I know I won’t be able to stop it.

///

TAGLIST Let me know if you want to be added!

@hollyco @fleetingjake @musicislove3389 @hailthegodsong @josh-iamyour-mama @katuschka @lilbitx

[katuschka]

What a gem. I was patiently waiting for chapter 2 and it's even better than expected.

We’re back with the second installment of ‘these two idiots pining over each other’ but now they’re stuck in a cabin together. The mastermind behind it all? My bestie @kultavalo 💕

Also, give this a listen if ya want

Pairing: Josh Kiszka X Danny Wagner *slash!

Warnings and tags: 18+ only! No minors! Adult themes including: some angst, adult language including name calling and very brief sexual mentions, idiots pining, Sam being a bad wingman

Word count: 8.5k

The cabin had been rented far in advance. The tour had been droning on for months now so the long weekend they had managed to get off in between shows was to be filled with nature.

Josh loved nature.

He looked forward to the hikes, and the swimming, and the campfires, and the coffee on the porch at sunrise.

What he didn't look forward to was the awkwardness he had created.

He hadn't meant to kiss Danny.

Or well… he had.

He meant to kiss Danny every time those beautiful hazel eyes locked on his for more than a second. Every time the younger man smiled, or talked, or even just moved in his general direction. He had wanted to kiss him for months. Maybe even years at this point.

But he never thought he'd actually do it.

Or at least he'd imagined it being way more romantic. The chapstick excuse was lame as hell, Josh could admit that. But Danny had sacrificed his whole free day for him. Had let him swatch every color of makeup known to man right onto his skin. And the way he had looked in the back of that van… The late afternoon sun streaming through the windows turning his eyes to honey and making his freckles pop. Those lips that Josh knew would taste like watermelon…

He simply couldn't contain himself.

He knew it was the dumbest thing he'd ever done, which was saying a lot, but he had to know what Danny's lips would feel like against his own.

He'd tried to play it cool but ever since it happened Danny kept shooting him these looks and Josh was uncertain what they meant.

The drive up to the cabin had been quiet. Jake had been behind the wheel of their rented car for most of the trip, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the music pouring out of the slightly outdated car radio.

Sam and Danny were in the backseat, talking about everything and nothing, filling the time until they got to their destination with words.

Josh was in the passenger seat simply staring out the window as the landscape rolled by. It gradually changed from cityscapes to more rural towns to hills covered with trees and shrubs.

He could feel Jake's eyes on his face every once in a while. He knew his twin had noticed something was up. Josh wasn't usually this quiet during car rides. Often commenting on any and everything he'd see on their drive, or singing along to the radio, or getting into some dumb argument with Sammy much to the amusement of Danny and Jake.

The fact that he hadn't said anything in over an hour was worrying Jake.

In his head Josh kept playing the kiss over and over again. He tried to analyze Danny's face from his memories but with every loop his expression seemed to change. At first he seemed angry, and then confused. Or maybe it was surprise? Was that a smile creeping around his lips? Or a frown tugging at his eyebrows? He knew he was driving himself crazy. There was no way of knowing how Danny felt until he actually got the courage to just ask him. But until he did that, overanalyzing was all he had.

Josh sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He caught Jake's questioning look this time. His eyes asked “what's going on with you?” but Josh just shook his head in a way that told Jake he'd tell him later.

After another thirty minutes in the car the four boys finally reached their destination.

The cabin was situated on a rocky hillside surrounded by lush evergreens. The air smelled like pine and soil. Josh closed his eyes and breathed in deeply as he got out of the car and stretched his back. The smell of nature instantly helped calm his nerves. Maybe this trip would be fine after all.

When he opened his eyes again he caught Danny looking at him. The other man looked away quickly but Josh still saw.

The rock in his stomach that had been lifted slightly as he inhaled the smells of nature was dropped once more with full force.

He sighed again as Jake called him towards the trunk of the car to come and collect his bag.

Sam and Danny had already grabbed their stuff and were racing each other up the steps that led to the cabin's porch which meant it was just the twins still standing at the vehicle.

“What's going on?” Jake asked quietly as he handed Josh his backpack.

“You haven't said a word all the way here. It's honestly a little creepy. You're not getting sick or something are you?” Jake was trying to sound light hearted but the concern in his eyes was real.

For a moment Josh considered lying but he knew it was no use. Jake could see right through him. With one last sigh he finally spoke for the first time in over three hours.

“I'm not getting sick. I kissed Danny and now I think he might hate me.”

He didn't look at Jake as he spoke. Not really wanting to see his reaction. But when Jake stayed quiet Josh had no choice but to look up. A mix of expressions were dancing across his twin's face. Confusion, shock, anxiety, and maybe even amusement?

Before Jake could even reply to the bomb Josh had just dropped, Sam's voice rang out from the porch.

“Hey! Who has the key? Come on guys I need to piss like a racehorse and I really don't wanna go in the bushes when there's a perfectly functional toilet inside!”

Josh slung his bag over his shoulder and picked up another that held some of the groceries they had bought for the weekend. He shot Jake another look that meant “I'll explain later” before climbing the steps up to the cabin to let the two younger boys in.

As soon as the door opened Sam shot inside. He kicked off his sandals and dropped his bag in the hallway as he frantically sought for the bathroom.

Josh made his way to the kitchen in order to start putting away the groceries - and if he had to be honest, to avoid having to interact with Danny as much as possible.

Unfortunately for him, Josh realized a little too late that Danny had grabbed the other bag of groceries and was now following him to the kitchen.

Panic washed over him and as soon as he entered the tiny kitchen area Josh dropped his bag on the counter and turned back around, trying to exit the room as quickly as possible.

The space however, didn't quite allow for that, and soon as he turned he nearly crashed into Danny.

“Shit uh…sorry I uhm.. I- I also have to pee..” Josh managed to mumble out as they both shuffled left and right, trying to let the other pass. They kept moving in the same direction and after a few seconds of shuffling awkwardness Danny let out a gentle laugh. He set down his own shopping bag and grabbed Josh’s hips and swapped their places so that Josh could exit the room.

“Go,” Danny said with a shy smile. “I'll get started on putting the food away.” He added as he turned and started rummaging through the bags of food.

Josh could feel his cheeks reddening. He turned and almost walked into the doorframe of the kitchen. The fact that that little interaction left him so frazzled was almost more upsetting than the interaction itself.

Jake was staring at him as he walked into the living room. It was clear he'd been able to see into the kitchen from where he was standing and the amused look on his face told Josh that even if he might not fully understand what was going on between his twin and their drummer, he was thoroughly enjoying seeing Josh all flustered.

Josh simply rolled his eyes and shook his head. He'd deal with Jake later…

—

In true Jake fashion, he would not wait to be dealt with however.

It had been about ten minutes since Josh had found his room. He'd barely had the time to dramatically drop his bags next to the entrance and flop face first onto his bed before the knock at the door came.

He yelled out a muffled “go away Jake.” into his sheets but he could already hear the door open behind him.

He didn't bother to look up as he heard the door close again and felt the bed dip next to his head a few seconds later. Either Jake would wait for Josh to acknowledge him or he'd just start talking. Josh was quietly hoping for a secret third option where Jake would just stay silent and leave but he knew that was out of the question.

“Care to explain why you've suddenly turned into an emo teen with a crush? Jake asked nonchalantly, clearly unbothered by Josh's attempts to ignore him.

Josh sighed and shifted his head slightly. He still wasn't looking at Jake but at least his voice would be less muffled like this.

“I already told you, I kissed Danny.” He spoke to Jake's thigh which was resting next to his head.

“Yeah and?” Jake said “Sammy kisses Danny whenever he's had more than one beer, I don't really see what the big deal is here.”

Josh huffed.

“Well unlike Sammy I'm not a huge slut. When I kiss someone it means something.”

Jake let out a snort at that.

“First of all you're definitely a bigger slut than Sam.”

“I resent that”

“Shut up. What does it matter anyway? Did he say something bad?” The tone in Jake's voice finally let slip some of the concern he was feeling. It was strange and slightly upsetting to see his twin like this and no matter how much he loved Danny if he had said or done anything to make Josh uncomfortable Jake would give him a very stern talking to.

“No, we haven't really talked since it happened…” Josh confessed and for the first time he realized that he literally hadn't spoken to Danny about anything but band related issues in a week.

“Hmm… do you want me to talk to him about it?” Jake asked.

Josh shot up, nearly knocking Jake over in the process. The look on his twin's face wasn't as teasing as he expected, there was genuine concern there and obvious care. It was also still a little teasing.

“Absolutely not!” He exclaimed as he now fully sat up. He grabbed a pillow and hugged it tightly to his chest as he rested his back against the headboard of the bed.

“So what then?” Jake sighed “you're not gonna talk to him, and I'm not allowed to talk to him, so you're just gonna avoid him and keep pining? That's gotta be great for the band dynamic.”

Josh knew Jake was right. He had to confront Danny at some point. He couldn't avoid him forever, it would tear the band apart in the long run and destroy whatever relationship he and Danny still had left.

“I just wish I knew how he felt…” Josh muttered into his pillow. If Danny had kissed him back or pushed him away things might have been easier. At least he would have known where he stood. But Danny had barely reacted. He just looked shocked but that was neither positive nor negative.

Jake could see the turmoil in Josh's face and his own expression softened.

“How long have you been in love with Danny?” He asked, keeping his tone as soft as he could.

Josh's gut reaction was to deny everything, declare Jake crazy and have a good long laugh at the ridiculous suggestion. But he could never lie to Jake, and the look in his twin's eye told him there was no point in denial.

Josh looked away. If he had to confess his dirty little secret he couldn't do it while staring at that face that looked far too much like his own.

“Quite a while…” he admitted. “I don't even know how it happened. One day we were just friends and the next day he looked at me and my heart nearly lept out of my chest.”

Jake's gaze softened. He'd seen Josh have crushes before but he'd always been confident and headfirst while pursuing them. This shy and uncertain side was new.

“Well, he's the best thing that could ever happen to you.” Jake said as he put a reassuring hand on Josh's knee.

Josh finally looked up at that. “Do you really think so?” He asked.

Jake smiled and nodded gently. “Yeah, Danny is a great guy! He's kind and caring, not to mention he's hot as hell. I'm just wondering what he's gonna get out of this relationship.”

Josh scoffed and threw the pillow he was holding at Jake's face.

“Love the vote of confidence. He's gonna get the best dick of his life, obviously.”

Jake deftly caught the pillow and feigned vomiting at Josh's words.

“Absolutely disgusting, I'm going to kill you now.” he said before attacking Josh with the pillow he'd just caught. Josh let out a shriek and quickly grabbed the other pillow to launch a counter attack.

After about ten minutes of intense pillow fighting Jake had managed to pin Josh down and was giving him a noogie as he said “Have you ever considered that Danny might feel the same? Do you really think he wouldn't have told you if he disliked the kiss?”

In the back of his head he knew Jake might have a point but currently he was too busy freeing himself from his twin's attack to reply.

After a bit more struggling Josh managed to slip out of Jake's grasp and finally kick his brother out of his room.

As he caught his breath he reconsidered Jake's words. Danny was definitely the type to gently but sternly inform people of his boundaries. The fact that he hadn't told Josh the kiss was crossing a line could be a good sign…

𖤓 - ☾ - ☆

Meanwhile, across the cabin Sam was unpacking his clothes into his dresser. Whenever they stayed anywhere for more than a day he always preferred to live out of dressers rather than bags or suitcases. It gave him a sense of normalcy that the road didn't often provide.

Music was softly playing out of his phone's speakers and he was putting away his shirts when there was a sudden knock at his door.

As he turned around to answer it the door already flung itself open and a panicked looking Danny walked in.

He barely paid Sam any attention. Danny simply paced around the room, chewing on his thumb nail, quietly muttering something to himself. It was a little unnerving to watch.

“Daniel? What's going on?” Sam asked as he closed the door behind his friend. His voice sounded like someone trying to calm down an animal in a trap. He'd never seen Danny like this before.

Danny stopped his pacing in front of Sam's bed. He was still chewing his thumb nail to absolute shit and avoiding eye contact. In his head Danny was trying to decide if this was a smart move. He was freaking out about having to spend a full four days in the same house as Josh which honestly felt ridiculous. They had just spent months on the same tour bus together, hell once they left here they'd just spend even more time with just the four of them often in close quarters. There was no reason that this change of setting should freak him out so much.

Except of course that on tour there was the constant pressure and anxiety of traveling from venue to venue, being on time and performing shows. There was so much more stress and an entire crew of other people to hang out with and focus on.

Now it was four days with just the four of them and there was no way he could avoid Josh.

Not that he wanted to avoid Josh. In a dream world he'd never part from the singer. Always by his side, kissing him, holding him, just basking in his glow. But this was no dream world. If anything it started to feel more like a nightmare.

Sam had slowly approached him. It was clear that without context he was uncertain what to do. When Danny finally looked him in the eye he could see concern and maybe even some panic of his own reflected back.

“Sammy I have to tell you something but you have to promise me you're not gonna be weird about it or freak out.” Danny said as he tightly hugged his own chest.

Sam frowned slightly but nodded nonetheless.

“Of course, you can tell me anything buddy. What’s going on?”

Danny let out a deep sigh and let himself fall onto Sam’s bed. He rubbed his face with his hands as he spoke.

“I think I’m in love with your brother. I know you probably think it’s gross but he kissed me and I feel like I’m going insane.”

The room was silent for a second before Sam spoke. “I mean yeah it’s a little gross but I guess you and Jake would make a cute couple.”

Danny shot up at that. “Jake?! Sam, I’m talking about Josh!”

Sammy’s eyes grew wide at that. “Dude ew what the hell? How the fuck did you fall for that little gremlin?”

Danny would have probably laughed at that if he wasn’t so head over heels.

“Gremlin?” Danny exclaimed, the slight insult to Josh snapping him out of his panic. “You shouldn’t call him that Sam, he’s sweet and beautiful and like a little ray of sunshine and he kissed me and it was amazing but now we haven’t talked in like a week and I’m freaking the fuck out.” he rattled. He wasn’t exactly angry at Sam, it made sense he didn’t see the same things in Josh that Danny did. But Danny never did take kindly to people insulting the ones he loved, no matter if they were related or not.

Sam blinked at him in surprise for a second. He was used to making fun of the twins with Danny. This sudden outburst caught him slightly off guard to say the least.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you.” Danny sighed as he let himself fall back onto the bed. “I'm just driving myself crazy here. We haven't really talked since it happened and it just feels like the longer we wait the more awkward it gets but I also don't know how to bring it up.”

Sam took a seat across from Danny in the armchair that was facing the bed. He pondered his words for a moment before he spoke.

“Can you tell me exactly what happened? Cause I'm a bit at a loss here. I didn't even know you were into guys, let alone Josh.”

Danny rubbed a hand over his face. “I didn't know either to be honest. I didn't think I was but then something changed and Josh was there and whenever I look at him now I get giddy and nauseous at the same time.”

Sammy nodded absentmindedly. Not that Danny could see it, his hands were still covering his eyes, something about the total darkness made it easier to confess to his best friend that he was in love with his brother.

“So you kissed.” Sam continued. “So what, we kiss all the time, you've never had this kind of reaction before as far as I know.”

“It's not the same, when we kiss it's just for fun but there's nothing really behind it. This was different.” Danny groaned.

“Well, way to make a guy feel special Wagner.” Sam scoffed but there was a joking tone to his voice.

“So did you kiss him? Come on, spare no details and I promise I'll try not to puke.”

Danny quickly recounted the entire day. Jen confronting them and sending them on their quest, the mall, the chapstick, the milkshakes, and the ride back to the hotel.

Sammy listened intently and stayed quiet while Danny talked. Once the recap was done he stroked his chin for a second before shrugging and simply stating “yeah Josh probably has the hots for you.”

Danny shot up like an arrow and gave Sam a bewildered look. His friend casually shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

“I know my brother, Daniel. Josh is worlds biggest flirt if he has no actual interest in you. If he's head over heels he's gonna be awkward as shit. The fact that he kissed you out of nowhere and then ignored you for a week tells me he's got it bad.”

All Danny could do was blink in confusion. He knew Sammy was smart and observant but this kind of analysis was new.

“Don't worry Daniel,” Sam continued while getting up out of his chair. He patted Danny on the shoulder before slowly ushering him out of the room.

“I'll make sure you two love birds end up together. As disgusting as I might think it is, you are still my best friend and I want you to be happy. Plus you'd be good for Josh, make an honest man out of him and all that.”

Sam opened the door and gestured into the hallway.

“Now get out, I clearly have some scheming to do.”

𖤓 - ☾ - ☆

The rest of the evening went by relatively quietly. Everyone was still tired from the last few days of touring and the drive up to the cabin. They made some dinner and ate in silence, each kind of lost in their own thoughts.

After dinner Jake excused himself to his bedroom to go read and decompress. Josh mumbled something about finishing unpacking before scurrying back upstairs. Sammy went out onto the porch for a smoke, which left Danny alone in the livingroom, unsure what to do with himself.

He hated feeling like this. He had always felt at home with the Kiszkas but the awkwardness that hung in the air and the shifting dynamics made him feel like the new kid at a birthday party. Why couldn’t he have developed a crush on anyone else? They traveled so much and saw so many people, he could have fallen for anyone. Why did it have to be Josh?

Before he fully plunged himself into that spiral Danny decided it would be more productive to at least clear the dinner plates away and take a shower. If he was gonna have an existential crisis he’d at least want to be clean and in bed by the time it fully hit.

As he walked back up the stairs he could hear the shower already running. Probably Jake, also getting ready for an early night he thought to himself. Jake’s showers usually didn’t take too long though so Danny simply continued to his room to gather his shower bag and a towel before walking back to the bathroom to wait outside the door until his bandmate was finished.

As he stood outside the door, idly scrolling on his phone and lamenting the fact that this was apparently one of those few times where Jake truly did an hour-long everything shower, Danny’s ears suddenly perked up. From the other side of the door he could hear the muffled sound of someone….talking? Was Jake talking to himself? Danny got closer to the door to make out what exactly it was he was hearing. The still running water drowned out most of the words but he could have sworn he heard moans and grunts mixed in between.

It took him a second too long to figure out what was happening. By the time Danny was just about to start knocking on the door to tell Jake that if he wanted to jerk off he could do that in his own room, the ambiguous noises from the other side of the door congealed into a voice that was very clearly Josh, not Jake.

The sound of water raining down onto the tile made it difficult to make out words.

But the human ear has an uncanny skill to pick up on your own name being spoken. No matter how muffled it may be.

Danny decided his own shower could wait until the morning. He currently had more pressing matters to attend to.

𖤓 - ☾ - ☆

The morning was calm. Danny awoke to the smell of bacon and fried eggs wafting up from the kitchen and the sound of laughter and conversation.

For a moment as he lay in bed, still blinking awake in the soft morning light, he could pretend that everything was normal. That, when he got downstairs he’d be able to joke and laugh with the others like before and that there would be no awkwardness or difficult feelings.

But as he shifted and stretched under the blankets the dried cum pulling at the skin on his stomach told him otherwise. The scene from last night rushed back into his brain once more. Josh in the shower, jerking off and mumbling his name. The way Danny had nearly lost it on the landing, almost cumming into his pants before he could even make it back to his own room.

The franticness with which he had ripped off his clothes and the speed with which he had ejaculated all over himself had honestly been a little embarrassing.

He let out a sigh and got up. His shower supplies still laid abandoned by the door where he had thrown them down last night. He gathered them up once more and set out for his second attempt at washing up.

Thankfully the bathroom was blissfully empty this time. The shower he took was quick but thorough, making sure all the evidence from last night was gone. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to think about it again.

As he got out of the shower and wiped the condensation of the mirror he took a second to look into his own eyes. He looked tired. More tired than he would normally look this far into the tour. This whole Josh situation was taking a toll on him.

He quickly dried off and tied his hair up in a lazy bun. He didn’t know if the others had any plans for today but he doubted it required him looking stage ready. He got dressed and with one final sigh, stepped out of the bathroom and made his way downstairs. He told himself he was just gonna act normal. Avoiding Josh wasn’t an option so the best he could do for now was just act like everything was fine.

The scene that greeted him in the kitchen was one he had seen a million times before. Sammy was sitting on the counter, eating blueberries that were clearly intended to go into pancake batter straight out of the box, and laughing at the twins who were bickering by the stove.

“I’m telling you for the last time Josh, your pancakes are too thick, they’re still practically raw on the inside!”

“And I’m telling you I like them like that. Stop fat shaming my cakes Jake.”

Sam let out a snort as he continued to shove more berries into his mouth. As soon as he spotted Danny he waved him over and offered up the box of fruit. Danny smiled and took a handful of berries as he joined his best friend in watching the twins. After a few minutes Sam leaned over and whispered into his ear.

“I’ve got the scheme all schemed out, you don’t have to worry about anything.”

The smile that Sammy shot at him told Danny that this was supposed to be a positive and reassuring statement but if anything it made a chill creep up Danny’s spine.

He trusted Sam with his life. He wasn’t sure if he trusted him with his love life.

Just as he was about to ask what exactly the scheme would involve, Josh yelled out “Sammy pass me some of those berries!” to which Sammy quickly downed the last ones still left in the box, jumped off the counter, and ran out of the kitchen. Danny could still hear him giggling in the living room as Josh turned to look where his youngest brother had disappeared to.

Danny stood frozen for a moment. It was clear Josh hadn’t noticed his entrance yet. The two seconds of the careless lighthearted expression that he caught before his brain registered him and Josh quickly averted his eyes was enough to make Danny’s heart buffer. He loved seeing Josh smile. The fact that his presence made that smile falter hurt him more than if Josh would have just kicked him in the gut.

Danny quickly gathered himself, cleared his throat and sheepishly held out his hand containing the last remaining blueberries.

“Sam ate the rest.” he muttered.

Josh’s smile actually returned at that, albeit more subtle and a little awkward.

“That little shit.” he sighed before accepting the berries. “Thanks for saving these for me Danny.”

It seemed like the first time in forever that Josh actually looked him in the eye and if Jake hadn’t been there Danny wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from kissing the singer. To be subjected to Josh’s gaze was to be filled with sunshine. Something in the man’s eyes just radiated love. They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. Somehow it seemed like they were seeing each other for the first time all over again.

The moment was only broken by Jake gently clearing his throat and speaking.

“Josh, I think your pancakes are burning.”

—-

After breakfast Sammy suggested they all go on a hike. It was late October at this point, only about a week away from halloween, but the weather was still nice. The sky was slightly overcast with specks of blue still peaking through the clouds. The temperature was mild. Truly it was perfect for a walk. Danny simply didn’t know if he had the energy.

Before he could even utter his doubt Sam shot him a look that quickly and quietly told him that this hike was probably part of the scheme, and that if he hesitated Sam would have no issues kicking the shit out of his shins underneath the breakfast table.

Danny sighed to himself and then spoke up. “That sounds like a great idea Sam. I’ll go pack us some lunch.”

He picked up his empty plate and cup and excused himself to the kitchen.

As he stood at the counter assembling sandwiches he tried to figure out what Sam’s scheme would be. Going on a walk with all four of them didn’t exactly seem very romantic but knowing Sam there would probably be some kind of shenanigans involved. Doubt crept into Danny’s mind like an unwanted guest at a funeral. He wondered if confessing his feelings to Sam had been the right thing to do. He wasn’t exactly worried about Sam’s plan. Danny knew that no matter what, Sam would have both his and Josh’s best interest in mind. It was more the fact that after months of shoving everything into his ‘for future consideration’ corner he had finally said some of it out loud. Which meant that the future had probably arrived and the time for consideration had come right along with it.

As he put the sandwiches along with some grapes and sliced up apples in some tupperware Danny heard someone enter the kitchen behind him. Hoping it was Sam so he could confront him and ask what the hell this ‘scheme’ entailed, Danny was surprised to see Josh standing in the doorway, looking uncertain and holding a stack of breakfast dishes.

“Uhm, Sam and Jake are packing up the car. Can I help you with anything here?” Josh asked as he glanced at the already filled and closed tupperware.

Danny couldn’t keep a smile from forming on his lips. As awkward as the whole situation was, seeing cocksure Josh Kiszka, the superbitch and diva supreme, being reduced to a fumbling shy mess because of him sure was a sight to behold.

Danny gently took the plates from Josh as he said “How about I do the dishes and you make us some coffee to bring along. I haven’t really figured out how this machine works yet.”

Josh simply nodded and started on his assigned task as Danny loaded up the dishwasher. They worked together in silence for a while. It wasn’t quite as comfortable as either of them was used to, but it also wasn’t as awkward as they had feared. It was just quiet, and familiar.

Soon enough the dishwasher hummed to life and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. Both men now having to wait for their various appliances to finish their tasks, the awkwardness seemed to return. Josh was leaning against the counter near the coffee machine, picking at his nails, and Danny was wiping a towel across an already spotless countertop.

After a minute or so of silence Danny decided he could no longer deal with it so he opened his mouth to speak. Josh seemingly had the same idea.

“Nice weather for a hike.”

“I like what you did with your hair.”

Both of them startled at the other speaking but once again replied simultaneously.

“It sure is.”

“Thanks, I just washed it.”

They sheepishly smiled at each other. They knew they were being silly. Despite what might have happened they were still friends. They knew each other so thoroughly that the most awkward part of all this was trying to come up with small talk.

“Do you have my chapstick by the way? I can't seem to find it. Think I might have left it at the mall.” Josh asked, he was still picking at his nails but he did seem slightly more at ease.

Danny instantly blushed a deep crimson as he fished the tube out of his pocket. He'd been carrying it with him since that day, absentmindedly switching it from pocket to pocket every time he changed pants.

“Yeah here you go.” He said sheepishly as he handed the chapstick over to Josh. “Sorry, I did use it a couple times, I'll buy you a new one.”

Josh smiled at him as he accepted the stick.

“No worries, maybe I should buy you one instead. I know watermelon is your favorite.” He said as he uncapped the chapstick and ran it across his lips.

‘When you share chapstick it’s like you kissed.’

The words echoed through Danny’s mind as he watched Josh apply the balm. Josh was right, watermelon was his favorite. And knowing that his lips now tasted like that made Danny subconsciously move closer to him.

They were nearly within touching range when Jake popped his head around the doorframe of the kitchen, snapping Danny out of his trance.

“We're packed, how's lunch coming along?” Jake asked as his eyes scanned from his twin to his drummer.

“Snacks are done, just waiting for the coffee.” Josh quickly said, his voice sounding a little shaky. He had noticed the way Danny looked at him as soon as he applied the lip balm. The look in the taller man's eye could only be described as ravenous.

Jake craned his neck slightly to look at the coffee machine.

“Looks like it's done to me.” He said with a slight smirk.

Josh rolled his eyes and sighed.

“It literally just finished, calm your ass down you caffeine addict. We'll be out in a second.”

Jake chuckled lightly as he threw up his hands and exited the kitchen again.

“Can't have two fucking seconds to myself in this house.” Josh grumbled dramatically as he poured the coffee into a thermos.

Danny smiled softly behind him. Josh loved to play the overworked parent part but in reality he loved taking care of his brothers. It was one of his greatest prides as an eldest child to be able to say that he always looked out for his family and had managed to keep them out of trouble on more than one occasion.

He loved Josh’s caring side more than anything.

Danny packed the sandwiches and fruit into his backpack along with the thermos and some disposable cups.

Everyone assumed Jake would be driving. As much as he liked it he rarely got to do it on tour so whenever they rented a car Jake was usually their designated chauffeur.

Danny was surprised however when Sam called shotgun. Usually the two of them would simply sit back and relax as they watched the twins bicker like an old married couple over directions and playlists.

However one look at Sam's face told Danny that this too was part of his great big scheme.

The drive up to the trail was beautiful. The trees were a thousand shades of gold, orange and yellow and when the sun peeked from behind the clouds it shone down in dazzling columns of light.

Danny really wished he could enjoy the vistas but as Jake and Sam chatted in the front seat, all he could focus on was the warm feeling of Josh's leg pressed against his own.

Thankfully the drive wasn't too long. The cabin was already situated fairly deep into the forest and the trail started only about a fifteen minute car ride from there.

As they piled out of the car Danny looked up at the dark clouds that had gathered above them. It had been fairly sunny that morning but the color of the clouds and the speed with which they raced by was slightly worrying.

“Are we sure it’s gonna stay dry?” he asked as he grabbed his backpack out of the trunk.

“Yeah it’s gonna be fine, I checked the weather report before we left. It’s gonna blow over in like half an hour.” Sam replied as he grabbed a picnic blanket and started heading up the trail.

They walked in silence for a while, each enjoying the quiet scenery the trail had to offer. They were simply breathing in the much needed nature that tour life rarely provided.

Sam had brought his camera and was taking pictures of the scenery, the sound of his camera and the wind through the leaves was their only soundtrack for most of the walk.

After about an hour of hiking they reached an overlook point where they decided to take a rest. Sam put down the picnic blanket and Danny started unpacking his backpack.

As they all sat to eat Danny noticed Sam was getting kind of fidgety.

“Everything okay Sammy?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah no, I’m good…” Sam responded, but he kept shifting around nervously. After a few seconds he continued “Actually I really need to take a leak but I don’t wanna get mauled by a bear or something.”

Jake snorted at that. “There aren’t any bears here dumbass, just mountain lions.”

Sam threw up his hands in disbelief. “Yeah like that’s better Jake! You’re gonna have to come with me so I don’t get obliterated by a cat on steroids. I can already imagine the headlines,’Greta van Fleet bassists gets killed while taking a piss in the woods’ I could never live that down.”

“Bold of you to assume you’d make any headlines.” Jake snickered and Danny couldn’t help but snort at that.

“Josh! Tell Jake to stop being mean!” Sammy whined.

Josh sighed in the way only an overworked mother of three could, but Danny could see the smile creeping around the edges of his lips.

“Sam you’re not gonna get mauled to death. You’re way too skinny to be considered a meal for anything other than a tapeworm. Jake, stop scaring him and just go along so he doesn’t fall off a cliff or something.”

The two younger siblings grumbled out some half hearted sarcastic remarks but in the end both of them did get up and started making their way towards the treeline.

As soon as they were out of earshot Josh shook his head and chuckled before taking another sip of his coffee. He was staring at the luscious golden valley ahead and Danny was staring at him.

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” Danny asked. His voice was soft but he still startled Josh out of deep thought. The singer looked at him with a curious frown.

“Get tired of what?”

“Taking care of us?”

Josh’s face softened and filled with so much love Danny thought he might burst just by looking at him.

“Never,” Josh replied and his voice was soft as summer rain. “I love you all so much and I want to keep you safe and happy.” a slight blush crept its way onto his cheeks and he looked away as he continued “Plus I’ve always thought it was good practice.”

“Good practice?” Danny asked, unsure what herding the three of them like cats could be good practice for.

Josh’s cheeks turned a deep crimson as he softly muttered “For when I have kids of my own…”

Danny stayed quiet for a minute. Not because he didn’t know what to say but because there was too much he wanted to say.

He wanted to tell Josh he would make an amazing parent. He wanted to thank him for always keeping an eye out and keeping everyone safe. He wanted to tell him that he never really wanted kids himself but if it was with Josh he would find an adoption agency tomorrow.

What he said instead was “Did Jen ever forgive you for stealing her pencil?”

Josh snorted out a laugh at the sudden change in topic. His blush died down but he giggled as he said “Yeah we’re back on speaking terms. The extra eyeshadow palette I bought her definitely helped smooth things over, but we actually had a nice chat and she taught me some cool techniques I kinda want to try for the next leg of the tour.”

Danny smiled, relieved the sudden change in topic hadn’t made things more awkward.

“That’s so cool! I honestly haven’t even touched the stuff I got since we bought it. It all looked so pretty but I have no idea what half of it even does.” he admitted shyly to which Josh perked up with excitement.

“Would you like me to teach you? I’m no expert by any means but I brought some stuff to play around with this weekend and I know some basics now.”

Danny’s heart nearly lept out of his chest. Josh looked so excited to share his newly learned skills with him. And the thought of him intently studying his face and adorning it in whatever way he saw fit made Danny feel things that, up until very recently, he would have filled into his ‘for future consideration’ corner.

“Yeah, that’d be great Josh, thanks.” He managed to squeak out as he watched the smile on the singer’s face grow wider and brighter beyond what he’d ever thought was possible. Danny tried not to think too much about the fact that he had caused that smile. If he let his mind linger too long on that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from tackling Josh so he could taste what that joy felt like on his lips.

Thankfully Josh managed to switch the topic this time.

“Sam and Jake sure are taking their sweet ass time aren’t they?”

Danny snapped out of his musings on Josh’s lips and looked around, trying to see if he could spot them somewhere in the treeline.

There was no sign of the other men anywhere. The only movement in the trees came from the wind that was picking up slightly.

Just as Danny was about to ask if they should go look for them, a crack of thunder cut him off mid sentence. His glance quickly darted from the trees to Josh and then up to the sky.

As soon as his eyes fell on the clouds he knew they were fucked. The first drop of rain fell onto his right cheek and many more rapidly followed.

The sky had opened up and a warm, late autumn rain was absolutely pounding down on their heads.

Josh and Danny quickly scrambled up from their seated positions on the picnic blanket and frantically started shoving their lunch back into Danny’s backpack.

“Let’s go back to the car, I’m sure Jake and Sam will join us there.” Danny shouted over the sound of the rain and thunder.

Josh looked worriedly at the direction his younger brothers had disappeared to about fifteen minutes ago. It was clear he didn’t want to leave them behind but he also didn’t want to catch a cold. After this long weekend the tour would start up again and he really couldn’t afford getting sick.

Danny could see the doubt on his face as he picked up their blanket and threw it over his head and shoulders, holding one side of it up so Josh could share the quickly dampening shelter.

Josh hesitated for a moment but the pouring rain quickly melted away any reservations he might have had about huddling against Danny’s side in a semi futile effort to stay warm and dry.

Danny wrapped his arm around the shorter man’s shoulder, making sure he was covered with as much of the blanket as possible. He too was very aware that if Josh got sick they’d be fucked for the next leg of the tour.

“We’ll call Jake when we get to the car.” Danny said, trying to make his voice sound as reassuring as possible, not wanting to let Josh know how worried he was about the others too.

Josh shivered slightly at Danny’s breath, ghosting against his face. He knew it wasn’t intentional, their close proximity left little room for his words not to touch his skin, but it still made the hairs at the back of his neck stand up and his stomach churn.

Danny noticed Josh’s shiver and wrapped his arm around him tighter as they started walking back towards the parking lot.

After a few near stumbles Josh figured the best way for both of them to fit under this blanket and not fall was for him to wrap his arm around Danny’s waist. The movement caught Danny off guard slightly and he couldn’t help but shoot Josh a look. He wasn’t sure if the blush he saw on the shorter man’s cheeks was from the way they were clinging onto each other, or from the cold but he wasn’t going to ask after Josh simply said “So I don’t keep elbowing you in the ribs.”

The walk back to the parking lot was a lot faster than the walk to the lookout had been. With just the two of them walking downhill and neither of them stopping to look at the scenery they made it back to the car in about half the time the hike had originally taken them.

They were soaked to the bone once they got there, the blanket not having been able to stand up to the intense downpour. Thankfully they realized Jake and Sammy were already sitting in the car when they arrived.

Danny quickly yanked the backseat door open and let Josh crawl in first. As soon as he took his seat and closed the door behind him he started laying into the two men in the front seat.

“Where the fuck did you guys go?! Do you have any idea how worried we were?” he yelled as he threw the soaked blanket over the backseat and into the trunk. He grabbed his jacket which he had left hanging on the headrest of the driver's seat before they started the hike and absentmindedly wrapped it around Josh’s shoulders.

‘It started raining! We just ran back to the car.” Sam tried to defend himself but it was fairly useless. It wasn’t often that Danny got angry but when he did the others knew to sit down and shut up cause if they had managed to push him this far it was never without reason.

“Yeah no shit knucklehead, did you really think we didn’t notice? But did it ever cross your mind that we couldn’t see where the fuck you guys were so we might have thought something bad had happened? You both own a phone don’t you? Should I give you a crash course on how to actually use it for what it was made to do? Or should I write my damn number on your arms like a bunch of toddlers?!” he ranted as he subconsciously rubbed Josh’s arms to keep him warm.

Jake and Sam both mumbled out a ‘sorry’ as Jake started the car and began driving back to the cabin.

Josh stayed quiet too, but not for the same reason as his brothers. He’d seen the drummer blow up before sure. But this was the first time Danny had been taking care of him when it happened. He quietly shot a look at the taller man. His hair was soaked and clinging to the side of his face, his cheeks were flushed and the angry frown had yet to leave his forehead.

He had never looked more beautiful to Josh.

“Jeeze Danny give us a break, how many times has Josh wandered off and we all had to go looking for him?” Jake turned around to shoot his twin a look that said ‘help me out here, tell your guard dog to back down’.

Josh didn’t get the message though, because in this moment he was way too preoccupied with staring absentmindedly up at Danny as he scolded the other two in the front seats.

Usually when Danny had to lay down the law it was directed towards all the Kiszkas, but for this once he was safe on the right side of his scolding having done nothing wrong.

Well, maybe there was one thing on his mind. Coming from an innocent bystanders view, angry Danny was pretty hot. He might just have to snag the first shower when they all got back to the cabin.

Jake cleared his throat when Josh didn’t respond, too lost in his quickly spiraling thoughts to notice he’d even said anything. Josh snapped out of it just in time to see Jake’s brows raise in a suspicious challenge.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” Jake asked again now that he had at least some of his attention.

Josh spared one last glance to Danny, he still looked mad, but they could all already tell the true wrath was over and he’d be back to his usual self by the end of the drive. Quietly he then looked back to his brother and shrugged, the most mischievous grin playing across his face. Oh yes, he wasn’t innocent at all.

𖤓 - ☾ - ☆

Tags: @sanguinebats @gracev0609

[katuschka]

I simply love this fic. And the writing, it created wonderful visuals and moods for individual scenes. Spooky.

This is a continuing Jaketober collaboration with the lovely @pavartijanuswrites!

Warnings: Jake/Danny, 18+, paranormal, explicit language, violence, gore, medical horror, angst, alcohol abuse, major character death, trauma, ptsd, mental health struggles, feelings of isolation and loneliness, triggers and emotional reactions, hidden love, hospitals, needles, surgery, near-death experiences, grief, loss

Read Chapter 8 here

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Time passes in an agonizing, dragging slog as Jake paces the cluttered hotel room alone. His spirit is incapable of sleep, leaving him unable to join his brothers in their slumber, so instead his ghostly feet mutely pace the carpeting. Over, and over, and over again.

Minutes burn into hours as Jake’s thoughts wander. His fingers ache for his beloved crimson guitar and his head is buzzing with music. Ordinarily he would always be awake late into the night, using these precious hours of silence to write and tinker and play. Normally a creature of the night, Jake would’ve thrived off these moments of swollen silence.

But now, while his soul is disconnected from his calloused fingers, he is robbed of his ability to touch. There is nothing but a numb void around him. His guitar is somewhere far beyond his reach, its steel strings silenced and cold.

Now, Jake’s fingers tap idly against his palm, forming skeletal chords and quick runs of invisible notes. He fidgets constantly in the silence, nerves burning and hyperactive tendencies starved for stimulus.

He aches to hold a pen and write down his circling thoughts, to empty his mind onto a piece of paper as though vomiting poison. But the closest he can manage is sitting noiselessly in the desk chair and scribbling letters onto the complimentary note pad with one ghostly fingertip.

Just this one run of musical notes—he just needs to immortalize this one idea before it consumes him.

But of course, his finger leaves no trace across the paper.

His jacket suddenly feels too tight. His pants feel itchy, as though the fabric is suddenly made of nettles rather than satin. And every inch of his skin feels foreign.

“Hang on, Jake,” He instinctively whispers out of respect for the sleeping souls on the bed. But then his voice gains volume as he realizes how pointless it is. Nobody can hear him.

“You’re not gonna have a panic attack right now,” Jake assures himself, hands forming rigid fists around the fabric of his jacket flaps, pulling the shoulders of the garment firmly taut across his skin, “Calm down. Don’t think about your clothes. Or the meaninglessness of existence. Or the fact that your body is currently fucking maimed and dying and your soul doesn’t have a flying fucking clue how to get back.”

Rose sleepily lifts her head, regarding him with a kind of endeared confusion.

“Sorry, Rose,” He laughs tightly, “Didn’t mean to wake you up. Just trying not to start a doom spiral, you know?”

The dog whimpers quietly, then lays her head back on Sam’s thigh, eyes remaining fixed to Jake’s erratic motions.

“This whole thing is a mess,” Jake stands and resumes his aimless wandering, his legs repeatedly passing through a disemboweled suitcase sprawled on the floor, “You should’ve seen me there, Rose. I was disgusting, all pale and bloody and dirty. I looked dead. With a fucking tube down my throat keeping me alive.”

Rose whimpers in sympathy.

“And I had to watch my mom give me a bed bath?” He almost physically withers in shame, clutching at his chest as though he can feel it inside his ribs, “I hate this so much. I just want it to be over. I don’t know if I can take any more of this—watching everyone suffer because of me.”

As though Rose can sense his breaths heaving and his resolve failing, the dog rises from her place amid the warm bodies. She daintily hops down to the floor, then impedes Jake’s path with her dappled brown and black shape.

Jake sinks to his knees. He wishes desperately that he could ruffle her ears in thanks, but instead he places himself at her eye level.

“Hey, girl,” He smiles, drawing a long, hiccuping breath, “You’re right. I know—it won’t do any good to freak out.”

A high pitched squeal echoes in her throat.

“This is just so hard,” He pulls a mighty sigh. Then a swell of emotion tugs at his tear ducts, “See? Here I go, crying about it,” He helplessly drops his arms in his lap, “I think I’ve cried more over the last couple of days than I’ve cried in my whole life.”

Now Rose seems to have a warm smile in the facets of her canine features. Almost as though she’s saying It’s okay to cry. It’ll be okay.

Jake isn’t sure he believes that. But here, looking into this dog’s kind, soulful eyes, the growing feeling of dread almost seems to dissolve. Almost.

Suddenly, there’s a gentle sound of shifting sheets, and a dark, hulking form rises in the corner of Jake’s vision. Someone is sitting upright in the bed.

“Rose?” Danny’s voice breaks the lonely silence.

Jake’s emotion swells in him. Just this one sign of humanity feels like a lifeline in the dark. And that voice sounds so endearingly sweet and familiar, croaking thickly through his cloak of drowsiness.

“Hi, Danny,” Jake sighs.

“Is someone there?” Danny’s voice turns clearer, more solemn.

I’m here.

Rose points in answer, an obedient hound on the hunt.

Danny’s eyes shift slightly, following the line of Rose’s polished nose.

The breath in Jake’s throat clots with emotion as dark, gentle eyes meet the empty void where his soul kneels on the carpet. He knows that he’s invisible, only vapor on the air. But he almost feels seen again, and the rush of connection is almost painfully sweet.

“Hello?” Danny’s eyes stay there, pinned slightly left of the space where Jake’s eyes lie. Then the tone in his voice drops to a quiet murmur, his words light with wonder, “Is it really you, Jake?”

Jake’s organs seem to drop within him, his breath catching in stunned silence. Yes. Yes, it’s me.

“Are you still here?”

“I’m—” Jake chokes and brushes away the sudden deluge of tears as they blot out his vision, “Danny, I’m right here.”

Danny chews his lip in contemplation and his eyes stay planted to the same spot, even as Jake rises from the floor and approaches his disheveled form.

“Danny, can you see me?” Jake places his eyes within Danny’s line of sight. He longs for those eyes to converge and focus on his own, but instead they stay fixed on something past his head. He places a hand on the borders of his lukewarm thigh, “Dan, can you feel me?”

At Jake’s touch, Danny seems to slouch inward, as though the tension is slowly slipping away. “Must be fucking dreaming,” He rationalizes, then reclines back into the embrace of the mattress, his features falling still and his eyes slipping shut.

“No. You’re not dreaming, Danny,” Jake pleads, “I know it’s insane, and I know you’re gonna try and talk yourself out of it. I get it—I would do the same thing, because it’s fucking ludicrous. But for some reason you can… sense me.”

Jake helplessly watches as Danny descends back into slumber. He recalls all the moments where Danny’s ears had perked up and his eyes had hunted for him. He remembers calling his name in the hotel lobby and the subsequent way Danny had swiveled on his chair. He remembers the way Danny had shivered and searched the hospital room, as though the nape of his neck had prickled and his heart had felt Jake’s presence.

“You heard me. I know you did.”

The hospital room is cluttered with bodies when Jake rounds the corner.

Overwhelmed by the loneliness in the hotel, Jake had focused his efforts on transporting himself back to the endless white hallway. He’d aimed to reassemble his molecules back to the dim room where he’d left his hollow shell in the care of his weeping mother. And now, not only has Jake traversed space, but he also seems to have leapt across hours of time.

Daylight pours into the ICU room windows, their slate gray curtains flung wide open to let in the golden sun. Slots of yellow light paint squares on the linoleum floor and drench the many sets of shoes in warmth. After so much darkness, things feel lighter. The faces around the bed seem to soak in the friendly light, bronzing their skin and brightening the somber mood.

“He looks better today,” Josh pipes up from his place at his twin’s side, his hand clutching Vader’s and his eyes full of hope, “He’s getting a little color back.”

“Hey, let’s not get too excited,” Kelly remarks from where he stands, the stern patriarch overseeing the room’s activity. He is positioned behind one of the chairs someone had evidently dragged in, where Karen fills its metal arms. His protective palms rest firmly on her shoulders, fingers massaging her tense muscles.

“Yeah, we don’t have all the answers yet,” Karen finishes for her husband. Then she fondly cups one of his hands in her own, “But we should tell you all the news: he’s been improving.”

“Really?” Danny gushes joyfully.

“Then what’s with the handcuffs?” Sam frowns in disbelief.

Now Jake notices them: twin bands of soft, aqua colored fabric encircling his body’s wrists. Cream colored straps tether the padded velcro bracelets to the bed’s metal frame, forming a gentle set of restraints.

Jake echoes Sam’s confusion. He silently navigates through the figures, painstakingly avoiding each icy body until he stands, hands braced against the footboard and eyes fully confronting the image before him.

“They’re not handcuffs,” Karen explains, “Well—not really. See, he was…” She draws a trembling breath, eyes shining, “Last night…While you boys were sleeping, Jake moved.”

“What?” Sam strides forward, the disbelief on his face slackening into an awestruck gape.

“Yeah,” Karen nods, “A few times in the night. Not much—just a little movement here and there. But he doesn’t like the vent.”

Yeah, no shit.

“Those cuffs are just there for his safety,” Karen clarifies, “To keep him from unconsciously pulling lines out. Apparently that’s pretty normal in this place.”

Jake’s murmured “Oh,” matches the simultaneous ones from his brothers. And as his voice converges with theirs, he is reminded of how unified their souls are, even whilst he is separated from them. Three voices merge as one. But Jake’s heart falls as he remembers: only two are actually audible.

Sam and Josh share a glance, then share another unified voice: “Jinx.”

“Jinx,” Jake smiles sadly.

“He moved on my shift too,” The low tones of Danny’s voice warms the back of Jake’s neck as he draws near. “What does this mean?”

Jake can feel him approach. He can only feel him. He doesn’t feel Josh’s hand around his cuffed and limp one. He doesn’t feel the light on his legs or the black satin of his pants soaking in the sun. There is only numbness or him.

For a moment, he almost wishes that long, broad body would just step into the space he currently occupies. He wants to feel that warmth again, wants to feel his whole soul wrapped in the soft kiss of sunlight. He wants Danny to touch Vader’s hand again, if only to feel what it was to be human.

“I don’t wanna speak too soon, but…” Karen swallows a rush of emotion, but Jake can see it swelling behind her eyes.

Then Kelly finishes in her stead, voice solid and strong, “This might be over soon.”

The hospital is quiet again and the sun has died, bringing the room back into its bleached fluorescent sterility. A digital clock on the opposite wall displays a late hour, each second slipping into minutes. The loneliness has returned, hanging over the room like a noxious cloud.

But Danny warms the chair beside the bed, the only sign of motion in a room held stagnant in time.

He seems to have regained some of his youthful freshness after his restful night, his curls clean and voluminous and skin clear of those haggard wrinkles. His clothes are refreshed, his sweater and jeans hugging his form, and he adopts an easy, almost casual position in his seat. His lap is full of a worn acoustic guitar, and Danny’s fingers distractedly play at the neck.

Jake smiles as he watches on. Perhaps today’s news had eased Danny’s troubled heart.

He watches, mesmerized as long, dexterous fingers pick effortlessly at the strings. Chords and melodies build through the silence, flooding the room with the delicate tones of his music, and with it, Jake can almost feel that cloud of loneliness around him dissipate.

“Thank you, Danny,” Jake sits on his hospital bed, hardly caring that his hips pass through the borders of his own lap as though it isn’t even there. Here, he can watch the distracted angles of Danny’s face as he creates these gentle, folksy sounds, brow set in concentration and lip clamped between his teeth.

“Thank you for the music,” Jake continues, “And the flowers, and the company.” He can feel a fine mist of emotion swell in him. Then, “Thank you for staying so long. I know this is hard on you, but…I’m really glad you’re here.”

The corner of Danny’s mouth quirks into a gentle smile.

Jake returns it. He knows Danny hadn’t truly heard, but sometimes it almost feels like he can.

Danny’s eyes pass to Vader’s face, where he sleeps in the same blank, lifeless coma.

There, Vader’s positioning is different. Rather than lying flat with his torso at an incline, his whole body is canted slightly onto its side. Some nurse had thoughtfully wedged a collection of pillows beneath his hip and back, supporting him partly lateral while his limbs lie propped on cushions. But other than this small change, he seems just as doll-like. Just as lost.

“I wanna come back, Danny,” Jake sighs, “I wanna play with you guys again. I wanna make more music and keep traveling the world with you. We had everything.”

Danny frowns as if in sympathy. But he is only studying his own fingers as he attempts a difficult run across the strings.

“I just didn’t know it would all get stolen from me,” He finishes bitterly, “This is just so unfair—to all of us. And I’m so, so sorry.”

The concentration in Danny’s eyes dissipates and for a moment his music falls silent. He chews the inside of his cheek as though deep in thought.

Then, slowly, his fingers form a chord. Then another. And another.

Jake cocks his head, brow creasing into a deep frown. His chest squeezes tightly.

The chords repeat in the heavy silence—a pattern that is new, having never been heard by another soul.

Because it’s a pattern Jake had written.

“Danny?” Jake stands slowly, his disbelief like a flood of ice in his chest.

“Those sound like you,” Danny’s eyes cloud with emotion.

“Because they’re mine. I wrote those,” Jake touches the guitar’s face, his ghostly fingers passing through the solid wood, “Where the hell did you hear that?”

Danny leans forward, his arms hugging the body of the guitar to his chest. He waits, as if contemplating whether to speak. Then, “Jake, I saw something weird at the hotel. On the notepad. I didn’t want to tell the others, because, well...”

Jake freezes, eyes dancing between Danny’s features as he grapples with these implications. Jake remembers tracing letters with his fingertip in a desperate bid to empty his cluttered mind. He remembers Danny sitting up in bed and speaking his name, then convincing himself it was a dream.

“What did you see, Danny?” Jake barely manages through the tightening in his throat.

“I must be going insane,” He scoffs, “And I should probably check myself into the loony bin, but…it looked like your handwriting.”

Jake laughs, the sound sharp and absurdly out of place, “My handwriting?” This solidifies every suspicion he’s had, and now Jake can only laugh at the impossibility, “Danny, I think you and I are connected, somehow.”

It’s becoming more and more evident with every linked event. The warmth of Danny’s body, while everyone else’s is cold. The way Jake can feel the touch of his skin on Vader’s. The way Danny had seemed intuitive to the presence of Jake’s soul in the hotel room.

“And my body moved when I touched you. I know it,” Jake pieces together the facts. The way Vader had stirred when Jake had touched Danny in return, “Maybe you’re a medium of some kind, like in the movies. Maybe if I can figure out how to talk to you, it’ll fix all this.”

Danny seems solemn now, eyes round in fear. There’s something else he’d neglected to say, and now he seems to hold the words in his mouth. He sucks in his checks and thoughtfully strums the same chords again, each one unmistakable. They’re the very same ones Jake had scribbled down.

Then, finally, Danny opens his lips, voice low and shaky, “Why did you write it in blood?”

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