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kissinginkitchens · 4 years ago

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You Bring Me Home—Chapter Two: Where the Heart Is

a/n: Thank you so much for all of the love you have shown to part one! I’m so glad to see that you’re enjoying YBMH so far, the story is just getting started. I hope you’ll stick around for the full thing, so without further ado, here’s chapter two! As always, my inbox is open so feel free to come chat with me when you have finished this part :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drug use

Word Count: 5.1k

read part one here

The phone screen flickers to life at the touch of Harry’s finger, flashing the exact same time that it had the last time he checked, though it feels like hours have passed since then. He sighs at the disappointing revelation and turns his phone over so that the screen meets the aged wood of the piano where it rests. In all honesty, Harry has no idea why he agreed to the interview in the first place. He had skillfully dodged the hundreds of requests for an exclusive tell-all following the untimely split of One Direction and successfully avoided the prying eyes of the general public for several months. So why had he indulged the first request from a girl he hardly knew without so much as a blink? The answer seemed a frustrating mystery to him, but to anyone else, the fluttering in his stomach when he caught a glimpse of her yellow Ford Bronco pulling up to the studio and the way he instinctively raked a hand through his hair gave the answer away.

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry!” Alani apologizes, emerging from the car with a notebook nestled under her arm and a smoothie in each hand. She closes the door with her hip before making a beeline to the studio entrance where Harry stands, his right shoulder leaning against the doorframe with the same stoic expression Alani recognizes as his signature look.

“I had to get my sister to cover for me at the café and then I got lost because Google sent me to a Napua restaurant instead of the recording studio,” she rambles in an attempted continuation of her apology. “But anyway, this is for you. A peace offering and a thank you for doing this.”

Harry gingerly takes the green smoothie from her outstretched hand and offers a curt nod in response before ushering her inside.Alani pushes her sunglasses up and settles them into her windswept waves, trailing behind Harry and taking in the space. In one corner across the room, she notices a couple of brightly colored tapestries thumbtacked to the wall with a microphone stand perched in the center, all encased behind a screen of plexiglass. The adjacent wall is lined with guitars all standing at attention and glimmering, despite the dim lighting. Harry stops at the doorway of another room with a couch and a coffee table, the floor littered with wires and pieces of crumpled paper. He motions Alani to step inside and then clears his throat, which catches the attention of two other long-haired men chatting with amused expressions on their faces.

“Sorry lads,” Harry crosses his arms with eyes glued to the floor to avoid their questioning stares. “‘Fraid I have to intrude. Can we have this room?”

One of the men grins behind a full beard, popping a peanut M&M into his mouth before standing. “Sure thing, boss man. Let’s bounce, Rowland.”

The other man, also bearded but smaller in stature with a thin, pointed nose nods silently. He continues twirling two drumsticks between his fingers and points one of them at Harry in passing. Alani offers polite smiles at the both of them, and a quiet “thank you” falls from her lips as they exit without another word. Harry closes the door behind them and gestures to the couch, which she takes as her cue to sit.

“I like the uniform,” Alani smiles, gesturing to her hair as a comment on the fact that the three men all share similar lengths and styles.

“Thanks,” is all Harry says, taking a seat across from hers and clearly dismissing her attempt at humor.

To pacify the urge to fill the uncomfortable silence, Alani sips her strawberry smoothie and steals a glance through her eyelashes at Harry who is doing the same. She clears her throat after a minute and sets the drink on the table in front of her; a notebook takes its place on her lap.

“Thank you again for doing this, I really appreciate it,” Alani offers while digging through her bag for her phone. “I’m gonna record this on voice notes, just for the sake of quoting you accurately.”

“Sure,” Harry replies, occupying his gaze with the condensation trickling from the cup onto his fading black jeans.

Dry retorts from everyone else, especially customers, have little effect on the way Alani conducts herself. But every short comment from Harry, or lack thereof, makes her feel like a bug under a microscope. She settles her phone onto the coffee table and takes a deep breath to calm the trembling that spreads from her chest into her fingers and toes.

“So first, I wanted to ask about your time in Hawai’i. Are you enjoying it so far?” Alani poses the question lightly, hoping to open him up just enough to extract the story that she’s really looking for.

“It’s nice,” Harry nods, finally meeting her expectant stare. When she doesn’t respond for a beat, he clears his throat and adds on to the statement. “Weather’s good,”

Alani musters a half-hearted smile and glances down at the questions on her page. This is going to take for-fucking-ever, she sighs.

“Is that what drew you here—vacation? Getting away?”

“Yeah, pretty much,”

The row of guitars behind the singer catches her attention suddenly and guides the next question.

“And to write or.. record?”

Harry shifts in his seat, calculating his response carefully. “Both,”

“Solo stuff?”

Alani watches as he takes a slow sip of his smoothie and crosses his legs, an action which tells her that she’s struck a dead end. Or, at the very least, a door that she hasn’t gained his trust to open yet.

“You were with One Direction for half a decade,” She recovers. “Constantly releasing new music and touring. But now you’re here, doing neither, and haven’t done so for almost a year. What is that transition like?” Alani isn’t sure if Harry will answer when she poses the question, but to her surprise he meets her gaze and nods, as if to say that he accepts the inquiry.

“It’s different than anything I’ve ever done, for sure,” he starts slowly. It’d be a lie to say that he hasn’t given the breakup and, subsequently, his future outside of the band much thought. He thinks about it every day, especially his bandmates and their supportive fans. That much he has been able to unpack privately, but the rest of it—the sudden need to escape and write new music— is still something he can’t quite put into words, so he leans into the nostalgia and hopes it’ll suffice.

“Like you said, it’s been non-stop for the past five years, so I guess it is a bit jarring to come to a sudden halt after so much momentum. Obviously, it’s nice to have the time off, but I love putting out music and touring it. I wouldn’t trade that for anything,”

Alani is grateful to have more than a couple of words of material, despite the fact that it doesn’t really answer the question or tell her anything new about the man sitting crossed legged and closed off in front of her. Looking through her notes, Alani selects another question and embarks on a new angle.

“You were really young when all of that began,” she starts, thinking about how she could never have left her family and home at just 16. Hell, she was 22 and still figuring it out. Hopefully, if all things went well with this interview and Rolling Stone, she would finally find the opportunity to do it. “Do you ever think about where you would be if you hadn’t auditioned for X-Factor?”

Harry knows that she’s playing it safe, trying to feel him out and test the buttons she can push. He also knows that he’s being difficult, much more so than usual due to his nerves. So with an unfamiliar pang in his chest, he decides to relent the tiniest bit.

“Well, I’m starting to think maybe I could’ve been a professional surfer,” he offers matter-of-factly which makes Alani flash an amused grin. Harry’s sudden humor makes the room a bit less suffocating for the both of them and she’s grateful for it.

“Surfing, huh? This I have to see.” she quips back, suddenly trying to picture him ditching the black skinny jeans for a wetsuit.

He nods with a faint smirk. “Maybe you will.”

Alani meets his gaze with a shy smile of her own and her eyes fall to his lips for a brief second. The almost imperceptible action sends another foreign jolt through Harry’s chest. She opens her mouth to resume questioning when a loud bang startles them both and causes Harry to spin in his seat, looking through the glass window of the sound booth.

“Sorry!” A man with short, blonde hair and a fading tie dye shirt laughs while lifting the tipped over drum cymbals. “Don’t mind us!”

The two men from earlier straggle in behind and poorly conceal their own fits of laughter. Harry flashes his middle finger briefly, mouthing something that Alani can’t see but knows is undoubtedly rude. She suppresses a giggle and sneaks a glance at her phone, which indicates only a few minutes worth of dialogue. When she lifts her head, the door opens and the blonde man peeks his head in.

“Hello,” he greets with an extended hand before entering and taking a seat next to Alani on the couch. “Tom Hull, or Kid Harpoon...or just Tom, whatever you like best,”

She accepts his hand eagerly, not missing the way Harry pinches the bridge of his nose in her peripheral vision. “Mahealani Hale, or just Alani. Nice to meet you,”

“Wow, beautiful name,” Tom compliments. “Sorry to interrupt, I didn’t realize you had company, H,”

“She was just—”

“I’m writing about-” The two speak at the same time, making brief eye contact before Harry turns his attention back to Tom.

“Did you need something?” He asks. Tom’s eyes dart between Harry and Alani before he clears his throat and reclines in his seat.

“Just dropping by to see if you wanted to go for lunch...” he trails off, which Alani takes as a cue to start gathering her belongings.

“Kind of busy here,” Harry offers with a glance back at the girl seated awkwardly across from him. “Another time,”

At this, Tom turns to Alani and ignores his friend’s protests. “Alani, do you eat lunch?”

Before responding, she casts an apprehensive glimpse at Harry who has suddenly become very intrigued by the drink in his lap, purposefully avoiding her eyes.

“Uh.. well yeah, but I don’t-”

“Great! Have lunch with us,”

“Mate—” Harry speaks up.

Tom grins, shrugging. “What? You plan on starving the poor girl?”

“I really can’t, but thank you for the offer,” Alani explains with a sheepish smile, standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “It was really nice to meet you Tom. And thank you again, Harry, I’ll see you around.”

The musician watches her shuffle out of the sound booth quietly and turns his attention back at Tom, who sits with an incredulous look on his face.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” He asks, standing. “Go after her, dickhead!”

“It’s not like that she’s-”

“I really don’t give a fuck about your excuses, go!”

Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes, looking out the window as Alani slips through the front door.

She fishes her keys out of her bag and sighs when a familiar voice says her name.

“Alani!” Harry calls from the doorway, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. He makes his way down the steps and over to the driver’s side where she ghosts the key over the ignition.

“Come have lunch...please?”

“It’s okay,” she purses her lips together politely. “I don’t wanna get in the way,”

Harry catches his lower lip between his teeth and runs a hand through his hair, choosing his next words thoughtfully.

“No, you’re not—you won’t,” he starts. “I would really like it if you joined us for lunch, especially since our time got interrupted. Please, let me make it up to you.”

Alani can’t help the way her stomach flips at the words “our time” that fall from his lips and she finds herself nodding in agreement before her mind has had a chance to intervene.

She makes her way to the passenger seat of the Range Rover parked behind the studio, which she learns is where all of Harry’s entourage keeps their vehicles. A variety of brightly colored vintage cars are neatly parked, and it amuses her that Harry skips all of them, instead going straight for the black SUV with darkly tinted windows. At least he’s consistent, she smirks. As Alani climbs into the car, she is met by the warmth of Harry’s scent—something woodsy and vanilla— and the fact that she recognizes it makes her heart pound.

“You can connect your phone,” Harry nods to the stereo as he buckles his seatbelt. “To the Bluetooth, I mean, if you’d like.”

“Really?” she asks, brow raised in mild disbelief.

“Only if you play something good,” he teases with a stony expression, adjusting the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Alani takes that as a challenge, scrolling through various playlists as Harry peels away onto the main road. Over the speakers, the beginning of “Don’t Worry Baby” by The Beach Boys surrounds the two of them.

“Is this to your liking, my liege?” Alani poses in an exaggerated British accent that makes Harry cringe, though the small grin on his face gives away his endearment.

“Yes, but please don’t do that accent ever again,”

“So you admit it, you’re the one with the accent,” she wiggles her brows, eyes peeling away from the view out her window to Harry in the driver’s seat.

“If it’ll get you to never do that one again, sure,” “Dunno, love,” she continues, watching the coast shimmer under the afternoon sun. “Think it kinda suits me,”

Harry shakes his head and checks the rearview mirror to make sure that he hasn’t lost Tom, Mitch, and Jeff in the car trailing behind.

“What’s it like?” Alani questions, studying the perfect slope of his pointed nose and strawberry pout.

“What’s what like?”

“England,”

Harry thinks for a second, recalling his London flat, lunches with his mum and sister, the streets of Trafalgar Square, and Abbey Road.

“Rainy,” is all he says.

Alani scoffs, which draws his attention over to where she lounges in his passenger seat, sitting comfortably as if it was exactly where she belonged. “That’s all?”

“What?” He questions, though he knows exactly what she means and is perfectly aware of his own stubbornness.

“Just seems like... I don’t know, such a generic description for a place you consider home,”

Harry mulls her response over, the word “home” especially catching his interest. It’s a strange concept in his mind because while, yes, England is where he has spent the majority of his life and where the people he loves most reside, he has never truly felt connected to just one place. And after spending his formative years traveling the world, who could blame him?

“It’s... safe,” he tries again, attempting to verbalize what he’s feeling. “When I’m there, I mean, I feel safe. Like I don’t have to be anyone or do anything specific, I can just... be. No expectations,”

Alani lets Harry’s words sit between them for a moment, sensing that there is still more he wants to say. When she doesn’t respond after a minute, he continues in an effort to clarify and fill the lull in the conversation.

“I used to think that London was just a starting point and that if I could make it to LA, it would mean that I had really made it, and I would feel more at home there,” he continues, slow and calculated. “But I dunno... when I’m there it still feels like an extended holiday, like I’m just buying time until I leave for the next place. London doesn’t feel like that, feels much more constant... so yeah, I guess it is home,”

As if she had read his mind earlier, Alani adds on. “Not to mention that’s where your family is, I’m assuming,”

Harry nods, once again thinking of his mum and sister. The image of their beaming faces brings the shadow of a dimple to his cheek. “Yeah,”

“What’s your family like?” She continues, truly interested and forgetting for a moment about the article she still has to write.

“Kind of small, I guess. S’really just my sister and my mum, but they’re,” Harry pauses, searching for the right words, “They’re the best. My mum’s probably the kindest woman I’ve ever met. Feel pretty lucky with that one, considering what a pest I was as a child,” he chuckles lightly and it’s a sound that Alani hadn’t heard up to this point, but one she knows she’ll replay in her mind over and over again.

“Gem’s pretty patient too—and brilliant, always the studious one,” he adds finally, a dreamy look on his face that Alani much prefers to the stoic one he always dons. .

“Ah yes, there’s always one,” she nods, catching the quirked brow he offers in response.

“Oh yeah? Are you the one in your family?”

“I guess so. School just seemed to come easily to me,”

“And what made you want to study journalism?” He questions, stopping to let a woman and her toddler cross.

Alani thinks about it for a moment while twirling a strand of fabric from the hem of her ripped shorts around her finger.

“I’ve always loved to write, ever since I was really little— like short stories and stuff. And I don’t know, I guess I like the idea of traveling and seeking out a story, too.”

Harry nods understandingly, pulling up to a curb across the street from a restaurant that Alani has frequented. It’s relatively empty at Pineapples for a summer afternoon, though most tourists don’t stray too far from the beaches, so Hilo maintains a healthy local population at all times. The pair climb out of the car and Alani makes her way to the rear where the rest of the group has parked. One of the men from earlier greets her with an outstretched hand while Harry chats with the other two that emerge.

“Hi I’m Jeff, it’s nice to meet you.” He smiles warmly, pushing his sunglasses into his hair.

“Alani. It’s nice to meet you, Jeff,”

“Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be rude by not saying hi it’s just-”

Alani dismisses his concern with a wave of her hand. “Oh don’t worry about it! I was kind of nervous then, too. I don’t know if he told you, but I’m interviewing Harry,”

“Oh, right! Yeah, he did mention that I think,” Jeff recalls, “Which magazine are you with?”

“None.” Yet, Alani thinks, her mind wandering to the Rolling Stone rejection letter. “It’s for a class, I’m a journalism major. Harry was just being nice and agreed to let me write about his music,”

Jeff nods. “Got it. You know, he’s not normally this serious. Just got a lot on his mind but he’ll loosen up,” he explains quietly just as Alani and Harry’s eyes meet. She quickly averts her gaze back to the kind, bearded man standing before her.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” she smiles appreciatively.

“Where’s Jeffrey?” Harry speaks up, catching her attention. She looks back to Jeff, confused, before he shakes his head.

“Other Jeff, his manager.” He explains.

“Probably already inside, he said he’d meet us here.” Mitch pipes up.

With that, the rest of the crew head into the restaurant while Alani stays a few steps behind to follow their lead.

“Y’okay?” Harry asks, shuffling along beside her.

Alani startles slightly at his unexpected presence, but relaxes as their strides fall into sync.

“Yeah, thanks. And thank you for the invite, too.” She offers, the corners of her mouth upturned softly. Harry responds with a tight-lipped smile of his own and clears his throat before holding the door open for her.

In the far corner of the restaurant near the open balcony, Harry’s manager Jeff waves the group over to the table he saved. Everyone exchanges greetings and settles into their seats, the two at the end facing each other remain open for Alani and Harry.

“Jeff, this is..Mahealani, did I get that right?” Tom gestures to Alani for approval.

She nods and waves. “Yes, but you can just call me Alani,”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeff calls from the other end of the table, glancing over to Harry in search of an explanation for her presence.

“I’m writing a piece about Harry and his music,” Alani offers. “But I’d love to talk to all of you, if you have a chance.”

Jeff nods, still shooting Harry a knowing look. “Yeah, sure thing.”

The two Jeffs, Tom, and Mitch engage in their own conversations, mostly inside jokes that go over Alani’s head. Harry watches, silent for most of the interaction and barely engaging the girl seated across from him, though he is overwhelmingly aware of her presence. When the server comes to take their order, warmth floods to Alani’s cheeks.

“Alani, hey!” the tall server greets, flashing a handsome, pearly-white smile. “Long time, no see. You’re looking good as always,”

“Mahalo, David. You look good, as well,” She smiles politely, catching onto the way that Harry sits a little straighter in her peripheral vision. David still pays no regard to the rest of the table, but his gaze momentarily flickers over Harry and sizes him up before returning to Alani.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were on a date,” he apologizes, which makes Alani’s eyes bulge and Mitch snicker beside her.

“Oh no, we’re not—“

“He’s just—” Alani and Harry speak at the same time, eyes darting to one another before she explains.

“I’m... working on something—an article,” she says, and David nods understandingly.

“Oh...right. Big-shot reporter, I almost forgot,” David teases in a snide way that makes Harry’s blood boil with annoyance. “Anyways, what can I get you all? The usual for you, right Alani?”

She nods curtly while the rest of the group take turns ordering. After the server has gone, Harry notices a shift in her easy-going demeanor and decides that it’s his turn to break the ice.

“Come here often then?” He poses gently, taking a sip of his lemonade.

Her lips press into a tight line as her eyes wander to the other patrons. “Yeah, kinda,”

“Asshole ex-boyfriend ruined that, I’m guessing?”

Alani lets out an amused breath and shakes her head.

“He’s not my ex. I mean we went out, like, once in high school... and maybe a handful of times in college but that’s it, really,”

Harry studies the uneasiness in her expression trying, and failing, to understand what she’s holding back.

“Seems like you dodged a bullet,” he confides, leaning in. Alani’s eyes meet his and her pursed lips ease into a small grin, which Harry mirrors with a simper of his own. As he rests his smooth chin in his palm, she notices a large, healing scab along the underside of his forearm, and her brows furrow.

“How’d that happen?” Alani asks.

“He jumped out a window,” Mitch intervenes. “Though to be fair, he was high,”

Harry shoots a deathly glare at Mitch and turns back to Alani. “It was a one-time thing.”

“It was shrooms,” Mitch replies with an amused smirk.

“Hardcore,” Alani giggles lightly.

Mitch swirls the straw in his mimosa with his index finger while extending a pinky at Alani. “You do drugs?”

She shrugs, taking a sip of her Mai Tai. “Smoked weed a few times, though not enough to consider myself a pothead, I guess,”

Mitch snorts and steals a glance at Harry. “Pot makes our boy sleepy, and hungry. Alcohol makes him giggly. Shrooms get him buzzed just right,”

Harry’s cheeks flush and he averts his gaze past Alani where families and visitors roam the streets outside.

“Jumping out a window’s ‘just right’? I’d hate to see what going overboard looks like.” she teases, watching the blush of embarrassment creep across the bridge of Harry’s nose and cheeks.

“Keeps things interesting.” Mitch shrugs, turning back to Jeff to join his previous conversation.

Alani feels a strange sense of endearment wash over her at the thought of a giggly Harry, dimples replacing a deeply furrowed brow. In the short time she’d known and served him at the café, she’d only ever seen him reserved—polite, at best. Alani had hoped that interviewing Harry would provide some insight into his mysterious background, but she didn’t imagine that she would want to know more than what could be penned in her article. In the few minutes spent mingling with him and his friends, she began to think that maybe there was something worth getting to know, not just professionally, but before she can give it a second thought, David returns with their food.

“Thanks, Derek.” Harry says, flashing a facetious grin at David who stands confused for a second before sauntering back to the kitchen. Alani laughs, quickly clasping a hand over her mouth, and Harry’s stomach flips at the sound. He immediately wishes he knew what else he could do to hear it again.

Alani scrapes the last bits of potato off her plate and leans back in her seat, patting her growing food baby.

“I’m thinking of naming mine Oliver, you?” She sighs contentedly.

“Anne, after my mum,” he quips back, pulling out his wallet.

Alani reaches into her bag for her own, but Harry shakes his head and speaks up. “Don’t worry about it, ‘s on me,”

“Oh, no Harry you really don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs, slipping his card onto the small clipboard attached to their receipts.

“Thank you,” Alani smiles, feeling warmth spread through her limbs, but she assumes that it’s mostly due to the rum in her system.

Harry pushes a lock of hair behind his ear and returns the wallet to his back pocket without another word. While there is no alcohol coursing through his blood, he refuses to believe that the burning in his cheeks has anything to do with the girl seated before him.

Alani climbs back into the passenger’s seat of the SUV while Harry settles behind the wheel. He braces his right hand behind the headrest of her seat and skillfully reverses, only becoming aware of their proximity when he turns back to switch gears. Alani peels her eyes from his and focuses on finding a playlist for their journey back to the studio, her mind racing as she clicks shuffle. Harry’s arm retreats, much to Alani’s disappointment, and his ears perk up when he hears the familiar chimes at the beginning of Fleetwood Mac’s “Everywhere”.

“‘S a good one,” Harry breaks the silence, tapping on the steering wheel. “Christine always says it’s her favorite,”

“Christine...McVie?” Alani questions with an eyebrow quirked. “You know Christine McVie?”

“Kind of,” he shrugs, the corners of his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Do you know Stevie Nicks?”

“Yeah. She lives in London,”

“Holy shit!” Alani marvels, covering her mouth in excitement.

Harry chuckles lightly, stealing a glance over at Alani still processing the news. “Big fan?”

She whips her head away from the window and scoffs. “Massive. Named my car Stevie, actually,”

“Hardcore,” Harry teases, echoing her own comment about his psychedelic escapades.

“Yes, Mr. Spider-Man. In my own right, I suppose it is hardcore,” Alani retorts.

“I thought Spider-Man climbed buildings. Don’t think he jumped out of them.”

“I’m sure he’s done his fair share of both.”

The two drive down the coast for a while without a word, Harry drumming against the steering wheel as the song dies out while Alani soaks in the view outside her window. Suddenly, she reaches over and taps him on the arm, drawing him out of his reverie.

“Turn right up there!”

“Why?” Harry asks, already putting his blinker on.

Alani doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. Harry saw it just seconds after turning into the lookout and it left him breathless. The car comes to a stop and Alani wastes no time unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping into the humid air, Harry close behind. Before them, the biggest rainbow either of them had ever seen shimmers in the high afternoon sun like a wall of unbelievable vibrant hues. Harry had never seen one this close, he felt as though he could reach out and feel each color slip through his fingers.

“Are you making a wish?” Alani asks reverently, as if raising her voice too loud will spook it away.

“I thought that was for shooting stars,”

“We’re literally staring face to face with a rainbow and you’re gonna argue with me about the logistics of a wish?”

“Okay, okay,” he relents, grinning to himself as his eyes flutter close.

Harry takes a deep breath and searches his brain for something, anything, but there is only one word pounding in his mind. He doesn’t know why it stood out to him when Alani first said it, but it struck a chord within him that hasn’t stopped reverberating, so it must mean something. Harry swallows the lump forming at the back of his throat and releases the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. When his eyes flutter open again, he steals a peek through the corner of his eye at the girl beside him and then fixes his gaze back on the rainbow.

“S’quite big, innit?” He remarks, breaking the reverent silence.

Alani snorts and shakes her head, turning on her heel back to the car.

“You’re so eloquent. Can’t wait to hear what lyrical gems are hiding in your new album,”

“Heyyy,” Harry pouts, climbing behind the wheel. “Who said anything about an album?”

As they peel away from the lookout, Harry can sense something has shifted in the atmosphere, though he can’t quite put his finger on it. He opts to ignore it and poses a lighthearted question instead.

“What’d you wish for?”

Alani narrows her eyes playfully. “You’re not supposed to tell. It won’t come true.”

Harry hums, trying to imagine what she could possibly wish for that would require such secrecy, but his thoughts wander back to the singular word that has haunted his mind since it left her lips.

Home.

Next Chapter

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x oc #harry styles writing #harry fic #ybmh

42 notes · View notes

joachimnapoleon · 4 years ago

Note

May I ask you the question on a rather delicate topic (which bothers me from time to time, when I stumble upon Murat’s mentions in Poniatowski’s biographies etc.)? It is often repeated that they resembled each other in some areas, like their love for parties, dances, horses and women...

So my question will be on that, latter topic.

We all know about Caroline, but what about other women in Joachim’s life? Did he have other significant “love interests”? Was Caroline the first woman he proposed to? Did he... cheat on her???

If you know anything on the topic could you please share it with us? ))) (Because I am very curious why did prince Murat earn such a reputation ;)

Thanks in advance!

Oooh this is going to be a fun one. :)

Murat did acquire quite a reputation for womanizing. Napoleon would say on Saint Helena that Murat "needed women like he needed food." On another occasion (and for some reason Napoleon returned to the subject of Murat's sex life on numerous occasions) he exclaimed "How many mistakes did Murat not commit in order to establish his headquarters in a chateau where there were women! He needed them every day, so I readily tolerated a general having a whore with him, in order to avoid this inconvenience." (From Gourgaud's diary, 3 April 1817.) Apparently Napoleon was quite fixated on this subject because Bertrand records similar remarks from him in an undated note assumed to be from some time in 1820: "Murat supposedly needed a woman each night, but every woman was good to him, and nothing stopped him, whether she had the pox or not." (Vol. 2 of Bertrand's Cahiers de Sainte-Hélène, pg 438) Which is likely a reference to one of Murat's more well-known mistresses, Madame Ruga, a lawyer's wife, whom he met (and possibly fell in love with) in Brescia.

But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. We'll get back to Madame Ruga.

Murat's early life is very poorly documented. Some of his early biographers allude vaguely to him womanizing while he was still a student in the seminary, and even claim that he fought a duel over a young woman before abandoning the seminary to become a soldier. Take it all with a grain of salt. The first actual evidence of Murat having an attachment to a woman, lies in his letters referencing a young woman named Mion Bastide, from his hometown. It's hard to tell how deep his feelings for her ran; he repeatedly asks his older brother for news of her--and also what her "intentions" are, and if she is flirting with the young men of La Bastide while he is away on his military duties. Perhaps they had spoken of marriage at some point while he'd been home. Anyway, he eventually got tired of her not responding to him and moved on. While a captain in the chasseurs à cheval, he apparently had an affair with a woman named Eléonore; I haven't come across any details about this, but his attachment to her was strong enough that he kept a pocketwatch with "Joachim Murat, capitaine de chasseurs à cheval: Eléonore to Joachim - do not forget her" inscribed inside; he only relinquished this watch during the 1812 campaign, as a gift to a Cossack.

During the Italian campaign, Murat had affairs with two men's wives; the aforementioned Madame Ruga, and one Madame Ghirardi (more on her shortly). Madame Ruga is described in Desaix's notes as "young, pretty; wife of a lawyer; like all the Milanese, loving pleasures, having suffered from the venom"--"the venom" (le venin) being a tactful way of saying she'd had venereal disease, which she soon passed on to Murat. "Murat is ill," Napoleon writes to Josephine on 22 July 1796; "the goddess of the ball, Mme Ruga, properly gave him une galanterie," which is another lovely old-fashioned euphemism for giving someone VD. Napoleon continues that Murat "is furious; he wants to put his adventure in the gazettes." But in typical Murat fashion, his fury burned out quickly, and he seems to have been quite infatuated with Mme Ruga--he continued the affair, which is probably what spawned Napoleon's later disgusted recollection on Saint Helena. He even temporarily neglected his duties, until Napoleon sent him a mild reprimand, to which Murat replied with indignation. "I have never had any idea which could be the least disfavorable to you," Napoleon responded drily on 21 June 1797, "but I thought that you were more necessary to your division than to your mistress in Brescia." When Murat was sent back to Italy in 1800--months after marrying Caroline--there's a very good likelihood that he resumed his affair with Mme Ruga. At any rate, they maintained contact for some time; she delivered a letter to Eugène de Beauharnais for him in 1805.

Now on to Mme Ghirardi. Apparently he also met this woman, wife of a General Lechi, in Brescia. Eventually Napoleon sent Murat to Rastadt for peace negotiations at the end of the Italian campaign. According to an article in the January 1908 Revue Napoléonienne, this is what happened next:

But Murat's conquest does not intend to let him go. Desperate to hold him back, she follows him. The beauty flees from Brescia, crosses the Alps and falls into Strasbourg; when Murat returns from Rastadt to Paris, she settles there with him and stays in the same hotel, rue des Capucins-Neufs, number 20. The adventure here is complicated by a comic novel. The husband, worthy and notable citizen of Brescia, makes a lot of noise about his misadventure and instantly demands the lost object. He brings his complaint to Milan; he comes as far as Paris to address a mournful petition to the Directory. He begs Barras and his colleagues to set themselves up as defenders of outraged morality: "Put this young woman betrayed by a vile seducer on the path of righteousness and virtue, give a mother to an innocent child; it is an honest husband who asks for this act of justice. He will be able to publish it throughout the Cisalpine and to his fellow citizens who expect it from you." (...) A singular crossover facilitated the outcome. While the husband brought his action in Paris for restitution of wife, Murat, perhaps judging that the follies of youth should not be prolonged, adopted the part of bringing the fugitive back to Brescia and resuming his military career in Italy.

Napoleon writes to Berthier to inform him that Murat is coming back to Italy to return "this heroine of Brescia," take a vacation in Rome, and then rejoin the army. And that is the last we know of Mme Ghirardi and her affair with Murat.

The short answer to your question as to whether Murat cheated on Caroline is, unfortunately, yes.

And, not to make excuses for him, but it's hard to see it turning out otherwise given that Murat was pretty set in his ways by the time of his marriage. He had long since gotten into the habit of flitting from one woman to another, and he was in his early thirties when he finally married. On top of that, his military duties made it inevitable that he would spend long periods far away from Caroline--which he did--and I just don't think he had either the self-control or the interest in remaining faithful after awhile.

(I'm just going to excerpt this next part from a post I did on Murat's relationship with Caroline awhile back, since it fits in perfectly here.)

They endured a long period of separation very early in their marriage–the first of many, adding up to several total years spent apart between 1800 and their final parting in May of 1815. Murat was sent to take command of a force in Italy in November 1800 while Caroline was pregnant with their first child; they did not see each other again until May of the following year. There are a couple of letters within Murat’s published correspondence that hint that, though he at first attempted to remain faithful to his wife during this interim, he may have given up on the endeavor prior to their reunion. The diplomat Charles Alquier, who befriended Murat in Italy, wrote to him in April 1801, lamenting not being able to spend a few days with him in Florence, teasing that he “would like to witness your gallant successes there and hear you talk about your marital fidelity, without believing it in the slightest.” The following month, after the arrival of Caroline, Alquier teases Murat again along these lines, in a postscript that reads “It was about time that Madame Murat arrived in Florence, or your hard-pressed fidelity was about to escape you.” He had almost certainly resumed his affair with Madame Ruga during this period.

There is a rather fascinating little affair that takes place early in 1806, in which Napoleon and Murat were having a simultaneous affair with a young woman named Éleonore Denuelle de la Plaigne, who was staying with the Murats at Neuilly at the time. Napoleon abruptly put an end to his affair with her when he discovered that she was also sleeping with Murat. Éleonore gave birth to a baby boy at the end of the year, and Napoleon believed the child was probably Murat's--up until he saw the boy in person prior to embarking for Saint Helena. What's particularly fascinating to me about this episode is the fact that Caroline pretty much arranged this affair for her brother--the Bonaparte siblings were so hell-bent on getting Napoleon to divorce Josephine by this point that some of them were acting like glorified pimps, hooking Napoleon up with girls left and right in hopes that he'd eventually produce a baby and prove that he wasn't to blame for the lack of an heir. But the timing of Murat, a man of proven fertility (he had four children by now), swooping in to plant a few seeds of his own at the same time that he undoubtedly knew Napoleon was bedding Éleonore just... let's just say I have theories about this. Suffice to say I think the Murats' sexual dynamic took some interesting twists and turns, and I'm fairly convinced that they each weaponized the other's sexuality on occasion--the Éleonore affair being the first example, and Caroline's affair with Metternich later on being another. This is totally, 100% my own personal theory and there's no way in hell to prove it either way, it's just my own reading of the situation given my current understanding of the personalities involved.

Anyway. The interesting thing about Murat's alleged affairs is that so few of his mistresses have been written of by name, the ones above being the exceptions. I've seen it written that he had a brief fling with the actress Mademoiselle Georges--who also allegedly had a short affair with Napoleon--but it's another one of those things that isn't well-sourced, at least from what I've found so far. As for his mistresses in Naples, I haven't come across the name of a single one. General Guglielmo Pépé only refers to them in the most general terms, remarking that King Joachim considered it dishonorable to refuse to grant a woman a favor "even were she not his mistress," and that he was especially susceptible to the "entreaties of the ladies about the Court". He also recounts Murat telling him once that "The Queen does not much like my giving audience to ladies," to which Pépé rejoined, "I pity the Queen if she notices the gallantries of Your Majesty." But I do find it extremely interesting that there seems to be absolutely no information whatsoever on any of Murat's alleged mistresses in Naples, which makes me wonder if his reputation in that area might be a bit exaggerated and if a lot of his so-called "gallantries" were simple flirtations. He never stopped being a massive flirt or enjoying having women's eyes on him. "He was very vain," Madame Fusil, an actress who met him in 1812, wrote of him, "and he liked women to watch out for him."

I hope I didn't forget anything! And thanks for the ask! ^_^

#asks #Joachim Murat #Caroline Murat #Caroline Bonaparte #Napoleon #Napoleon Bonaparte

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 5 years ago

Text

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 1)

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: You've woken up being hunted by an Alghoul. You were in a death race and hollered for help. Though, it seems like the human you've first seen didn't exactly appeared to look human all through out as his eyes glowed beneath the moon light. You've talked to him but he didn't seem friendly at all except for his awakened friend. The words coming out of their mouth seemed baffling because they were acting like they didn't live in earth, and deep inside you were in denial because they really weren't.

Warnings: Monsters? The word 'whores' and cusses? Blood? A lot of modern references because reader lives in modern day era in earth.

Words: 3,800+

A/N: Hello! Yes, this is my first Geralt fic! There will be eventual smut in the future chapters. I can just tell. LMAO. I ain't good with medieval things but I'm trying! I hope this isn't a failure nor a disappointment, spuds! 😅 Reader lives in modern day earth in this fic but magically woke up in The Witcher’s dimension, alright? This turned to be comedic because of the modern references from the reader. 😂🤣🤣 I had fun writing this! FOR REAL!

TAGLIST IS OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS FIRST PART! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters and said monsters aren't from moi as well. (GIF taken from Tumblr!)

MY WORKS ARE NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Tweaks of branches echoed around the unspecified woodland. The satisfying crack of the frail wood felt on the soles of your feet which wore some nasty pink Havaianas slippers as the night sky became colder than from what you were accustomed with.

You were running away from god knows what as you've heard a loud thud beside the tree you've woken up with. Taking a trip down the memory lane, your forgetful mind could only recall a lake in which you were drowning in and the sudden flash of lightning occurred above you as the water rested upon your face.

Then after that terrifying nightmare, you suddenly woke up in the middle of nowhere. A slightly dead looking forest before you've heard the rustle of some twigs and leaves beside you.

Having a vacation in the forest of Switzerland has never been a dream and considering how God smacked you in the head unconscious and teleported you in Switzerland was entirely bewildering from the start.

Your heart was hurriedly pounding out of your chest as you sprinted as fast as you can. Abnormal shrills whistled with the wind that made you mewl as you ran for your life. There has been cuts and bruises across your knee from how you've stumbled upon a large log that hid beneath the earth-like soil. No pain has been sent to your nerves yet because of the adrenaline rush rising in every part of your veins with the need for the hushed voices to stop.

"Ah!" Another loss of one's footing, you've tripped over a large rock and fell face flat. Face now covered in grime and soot as you've heard the intangible whisper of words for the tenth time.

"Leave me the fuck alone! If this is a prank, it's not funny because I'm hurt!" you shrieked in the night and no one in particular. Limbs were turning feeble and shaky, but you've offered all your will power to survive in the damn forest if you were about to get murdered and be found after a year where your body has already been eaten by some wild animal.

The hushed voices were coming closer to a definite scare that took your heart out of your chest. You've pushed yourself up and began sprinting with a limp as you saw the end of the forest; like a meadow was waiting for your damn demise as you won't be outrunning the murderers behind you.

You stood in the middle of a grass field. So, this was the end for you. The voices inside your head spoke as you've scanned the whole area and saw a peculiar wooden house in the middle of the vast area.

The wooden house seemed to be made of Hazel twigs, daub and wattle. Its whole structure was darn weird to be seen in the era you knew you were in. Year 2020. It looked medieval, old and superannuated. The house's structure had a timber frame with a light glowing inside the open panels of its windows.

Human. Someone can help you. Based on the clothes that hung on the sides of a wooden fence in logs, you knew there was someone living inside the peculiar looking house.

Then, you've heard a loud roar. It was enough for you to spun on your heels and see who had been chasing you like a wild boar.

Yet, it wasn't a normal wild boar that could calm you down just a slight because it was just an animal.

The one chasing you didn't seem a murderer nor an animal. Its body appeared to live on the ground, like a zombie who came to life and had no lower body. Though, it had a large stomach and uses his burly arms to chase you down the forest. With Bright cardinal eyes wrathfully staring you down as you stood rooted on the ground in the middle of the field; your heart seeming to run out of oxygen because of what you were witnessing.

You didn't know if it was an alien or a zombie. Proper thinking thrown out of the window as you were running away from the nightmare that was bound to kill you in your sleep, if you were even sleeping.

Your feet ran a trek to the house; looking behind. Focal point completely at the fast carcass crawling to where you were, tons of disgusting looking saliva dripping out of its eroding jaw and you were screaming for help as you skedaddle away.

Until your head hit a hard wall, but not enough for you to fall unconscious.

Vision falling like a kaleidoscope world, you blinked repeatedly and squinted you eyes up at the wall. Though, you were met with a clothed robust chest and a strong warmth he radiated through the crispy, cold Autumn wind. You've scanned him from chest to face and noticed a coin-like silver necklace just a meter away from your face that had a symbol of a wolf.

You didn't know if you were just still dizzy from your newly awakened-self but it was as if your world spun around you as the brawny, marvelous man towered over you like a lion over a mouse. His jawline impressively great enough to cut a bitch; a prominent, cleft chin that can be quite tempting to poke at and eyes that were glowing in Aurum like a star in the night sky or a pot of gold in the other end of the rainbow, with majestic half-tied hair that ended below his shoulders tinted in ivory that stood upon the Tartarean night.

Though, despite of how dashing, grimy and haggard he appeared before you. The scowl on his face was enough to take you to step back from how disturbed he looked like.

You've seen him somewhere. In the movies back in your laptop when you were having a marathon of something.

Lord of the rings. Right, you were dreaming about it in the middle of being chased in your nightmare. That explains why he appeared.

You clapped excitedly as you lifted your chin to stare into his beautiful blazing gold eyes. The grumpy looking man cocked his head to the side as he scrutinized and studied your filth-filled face and you couldn't help but notice the concealed scrunch of his nose if you weren't staring a little bit too closely.

"Hmm," it was the first word you've heard from this intimidating man standing in front of you and hearing such an impossible, low timbre of a hum that vibrated from his chest could get your knees weak from such a tone because you didn't know if it was scaring you or telling you to run for the hills instead.

"Legolas?" your voice croaked out loud, voice turning small when you've received only a grimace that wouldn't be considered as a fake smile, much to your dismay. Your scrutinizing eyes noticed something different from one of the Lord of the Rings character and it was the maturity of his face, "--a middle aged Legolas! Help me! Use your arrow thingy--" he pushed your shoulders to stay behind him, making you stumble from the impact but not enough to ignite another bruise to your knees. Your eyes staring weirdly at his back as you studied the long metal knightly looking steel wrapped around his thick, large, powerful looking palms.

"---Oh, a sword would suffice." you muttered, suddenly uninmpressed because you wanted him to have an arrow instead of a sword to live in your fantasies and continued to hid behind the large build of his body, taking a peek as you saw the bizarre looking creature who screeched so loud that it echoed all over the meadow. You've unconsciously held onto the hem of the wool sweater behind the first human you've ever encountered other than the creature who planned to eat you alive.

"There's a zombie!"

Geralt felt the hand tugging at his sweater. He was close to jumping from the sudden physical touch because of how sudden you've reach out for him regardless of meeting him just tonight. His eyebrows in a tough knot and expression unreadable as he eyed the Alghoul running towards you. The hand holding the hem of his clothing was instantly right out of your hands as he prepared his stance and tread towards the critter like he was confident enough he could eliminate him.

He swung the sword, aiming for the head using just one hand as he lifted it with no trouble; like it was his own weapon and you couldn't help but watch the whole scene unfold before you. The Alghoul jumped using its arms but he was stronger, faster, braver and definitely had no sweat with the upswing of his sword as he slashed the head off the creature with one blow.

Well, he was great. Too great with the sword indeed.

Black blood spurt as he'd cut his head off with no remorse, some of its blood flying off to your grimy sleeveless top and face as you winced from the gore and stared at the head rolling on the ground till it hit your toes.

You just wanted to scream out loud but it seems like your jaw has been stuck and you had no voice to start.

The man seemed to be unruffled at the fact that he just cut the creature's head off with his sword, turning his back at face front that you saw black fluids on the smooth wrinkle of his forehead and cheeks.

"It's an Alghoul," he abnormally grumbled so deep that you mistaken it as a growl. You could feel your tongue stuck in your throat and heard his heavy footsteps coming close. Your eyes still focused at the monster's head scratching your feet that you haven't realized that the man who saved you was actually in front of you already, grabbing its head and throwing it away to save you from another nightmare.

Faded set of footsteps came echoing in. Lighting up a startle from you as you heard a door swish out loud in the open. Until, a budding pitch of a man has said the name of your gory savior in the middle of the night.

"Geralt?" Jaskier hesitantly stepped on the creaking, wooden porch. Eyes still weary of sleep and fatigue as he blinked to the both of you who stood at each other in just an arm reach.

Your savior mumbled another distasteful hum as he observed the short woman before him who seemed to be in total shock; staring at the ground where he'd took the head of the Alghoul away before sighing and taking a step back and away from you to take a look at his bloody sword. "Why, who is this adorable, small grimy lady here in the middle of the night?" the light tone of the man's voice made you blink twice; snapping you out of your reverie.

You turned your head and studied the somnolent man standing outside of the porch, hair disheveled like he'd been disrupted by such a beauty sleep. He looked younger, like he was in his 20's and had a youthful beam with lean muscles beneath the white undershirt wore under a Tunic. Jaskier placed both hands on his hips before pointing a finger at you, sending you a bright smile other than the moue you've received from the man named 'Geralt,' "You came here for Geralt, I suppose? One of your..midnight sashays with him?"

Geralt didn't need to look at his friend and ignored everything he said by walking towards a beautiful brown horse, "Jaskier," he lowly reprimanded as he eyed his horse with an indecipherable expression of his.

Jaskier deeply sighed, his shoulders going up and down from how he did and you eyed him with a baffling twist of your eyebrows.

"First and foremost, you ruined his nap and now he can be as grumpy as an--an Alghoul! An amputated Alghoul!" he blinked in surprise, peeking behind you to see the creature who had its head cut-off laying on the muddy ground.

Geralt continued to pet his horse as your eyes snapped to him, his back on you as you heard his horse neigh, the man named Jaskier still rambling about the creature who laid dead on the ground.

"Alghouls appear in old necropolises and crypts," he scratched his temple with a finger, walking down the path till he was studying the corpse on his foot, "It's a miracle that they've hunted you down. They seldom appear in the forest! Also, they knock down their victims and eat them alive. Right, Geralt? You've taught me these!"

Geralt ignored him and continued petting his horse.

You eyed the man named named Jaskier and watched him walk back to you, a solemn smile on his face because of your unfortunate experience with the forest. Suddenly, realizing about the information he'd uttered, you were sure it was just like those creatures in the movies like Resident Evil or The Walking Dead.

"So, it's basically a zombie!"

Jaskier stared at you like you've eaten a dead mouse. Forehead creasing as he tried mouthing the word you've said, giving his friend a once over as he does, "A zom--what? please do enlighten me, Geralt as to what is a Sombre when I can see with my own splendiferous eyes that the monster he'd killed is an Alghoul--"

You've huffed and bit the insides of your cheeks, fists tightening on either side as you stubbornly bantered, "Z O M B I E. Zombie."

Thus, at the retort; Jaskier had his hands on his hips with his chest puffed out like he was trying to intimidate you. But, it was a failure because he never looked intimidating from the start, "A zombie. Alright. I understood you but not entirely, dirty maiden. Geralt--" he looked over his friend who was now already on the side of you, startling the both of you and sky-scraping from your side as you lifted your chin to see him oddly closing his eyes, breathing you in.

Was he smelling you?

You eyed Jaskier like you were finding it peculiar and he just gave you a shrug, "Your scent..It's...It's...otherworldly, " Geralt uttered, completely resonant and low-pitched that vibrated your calming nerves, "It attracted the Alghoul," he continued with a frown and another sniff before humming in disdain.

"Very out of the ordinary," the latter muttered beneath his chest, a snarl coming out of his mouth as you swallowed the butterflies wanting to come out of your mouth by how monumental he was and you feel so small, "Who sent you?"

You took a step away from the man, eyeing him weirdly as he stubbornly took a step close like personal space wasn't known to the world you are in, "Uhm, no--no one?" a pathetic stutter came out of your lips and felt the tremble of your fingers because of a thought running in your mind that he was also as dangerous as the Alghoul they were saying; maybe even more treacherous, "I came out from my mother’s reproductive organ? You know what, Geralt--"

Jaskier suddenly cut you off, crossing his arms behind him as he watched his friend tower over you, an amused grin etched on his face because you were actually crumbling like a rat before the ginormous cat, "Geralt. A letter G. Not a J. G E R A L T---"

"---Alright, GERALT!" you stopped taking steps back and declared out loud, mocking their accent that you couldn't distinguish. Your palms were outstretched in front of you, ceasing Geralt from pushing you away but not enough to be touching his torso. A pleading look in your eyes that made him breath out of his nose, "---Just please tell me where the airport is and I'm off to my country,"

The man in front of you stared you down, completely uncanny at what you were voicing out. You winced and realized you wouldn't get an answer from him and tried to ask help from his friend instead, but Jaskier was fast to distract you and criticize the clothes you wore, "What even is that clothing?"

You blew out air out of your mouth loudly, not believing their words. They were acting like they weren't actually living in earth at all, "It's casual! Don't judge!"

Jaskier also gave a huff, not believing the outlandish behavior from a lady and continued complaining to the Witcher who seemed to never have the decency to give you space, "Cas--what? Geralt, this woman is foolish. Don't even attempt to ravish her in any way. Utterly not worth it! She's a cuckoo with that flimsy short trousers, an odd looking footwear and a thin top like the Alghoul has taken all of her silk. Unless, this woman is actually your type, well--I wouldn't judge you for your taste in women because most of the time it is utmost round the bend--"

His spouts were cut short as you managed to get a proper look at the strangely, beautifully rugged man before you, giving him one of those tired, puppy eyes that made his frown much less more like it as he waited, "I just wanna go home," your voice sounded so vindicated and you were sure his eyes were really glowing under the night sky, "---please tell me where the airport is and I'll go, or you can probably help me with my wounds first before you shoo me away,"

You've felt the burns from your wounds and ungracefully tried to avoid those glowing eyes that seem to suddenly make your heart pound. Damn you and your horrid types, "Do you...have a car?" you asked no one in particular as you watched the stars that also seemed to be peculiar because of how many they were.

His horse neighed from a distance which gave you an idea that their house didn't have a garage nor do they have a car. You peeked behind Geralt and saw his horse standing behind the stables, "Oh, you have a horse. A beautiful brown horse, I take it we're in a province, I see."

Again, no response from him other than Jaskier's sighs. It was like taking to the wind, but actually talking to a corpse.

You could feel the heat of his stare and it was making you conscious of how you actually looked like, so you continued to avoid his eyes and looked at anywhere but him, "We're in Switzerland right? Or in a province in the U.K, Scotland or Australia considering your accents?"

The only response you've gotten from him was a mere seven word that made you scrunch your nose by how weirder they get, "You aren't from here, I can tell."

"Way to tell her that she's a woman and not a man, Geralt. Stop stating the obvious,"

You ignored their utterance as they've also ignored your question. All you needed was an airplane to get you back to where you came from and escape from this madness. Yet, they seem like to be beating around the bush which began to slightly irritate you because you were sounding like a broken record, "So where's the airport, gentlemen? I still need to feed my cat at home and I'll tell the entire universe that its the end of the world with the zombies. Gotta' tell them a zombie apocalypse is happening--my phone!" you patted the pockets of your shorts and felt your Android phone inside. You've fished it out and pressed the home button, the bright light gleaming beneath the night and both men couldn't help but stare at you in oddity.

"Your what?" was the only thing Jaskier has muttered, looking at what you were holding. Geralt observed the unfamiliar looking thing in your hand and squinted his eyes shut at the bright light, "It's--there's no signal! Where are we?" you tapped on your phone repeatedly and found the GPS not working as the results were indefinite.

Jaskier marched till he was beside his friend, clasping a cold hand on his burly shoulders, cocking his head to the side and clasping his other on his own hip as he gave you a look, "Not just simply absurd but also a strange one, Geralt. You definitely pick the best ladies, First was Renfri; the rebel princess, second is Yennefer; that cunning beautiful mage in which you’ve been in love with and the other hundred are your whores--"

Geralt cocked his head to the side, an unexpected small smile lifting his lips as he continued laying his golden eyes on you, "Year 1268. In the far north kingdom of Kaedwen,"

You nervously nodded, crossing your arms at how exposed you feel from the man before you especially that your clothes were also thin for a weather you were in. Fingers were feeling like ice and you couldn't help but shiver, "Kaedwen? Padawan? Star wars references, I see. Okay, okay, this is getting out of hand and I know you're still in character but please tell me that this is a prank and you're just fond of cosplay,"

"Hmm," His smile was quick to fall, like it has only been a hallucination of your imaginations. Geralt studied you from head to toe. Your breath catching in your throat at how barren you felt with just a simple scan of his eyes and also by how beautiful he looked. Such a pain but soothing for the eyes. He caught the bruises and wounds all over your body and heavily sighed another one before turning his back away from you and letting Jaskier lightly stumble on his feet after giving him a manly tap on the shoulder.

"He's letting her in," Jaskier mumbled to himself and watched Geralt walk away, completely amused as he couldn't believe it, "He really is!"

He scratched his disheveled bed-head and huffed another one, pointing at the retreating man who entered their wooden cavern. "Based on how long I've been a friend with this grumpy Witcher, that answer was either a yes, or a no."

"---Unfortunately, it seems like a no because he took off without a word," he gestured with a finger and used his other to welcome you like a humble gentleman giving way for a princess, "---but also an approval that you can stay in our humble abode to cure that wounds you have which is oddly strange because he never lets anyone in, yet here you are. A grubby ground breaker,"

He eyed the Alghoul's blood on your top and face, his face morphing into disgust as he pointed a playful finger at you, "---And you, small rat. Need a bath," before waggling them around to tell you his point, "---However, you don't get to take my bed,"

The hopes of having your sleep or tightly shutting your eyes, repeatedly wishing inside your head to wake up on your mattress back at your apartment would definitely be a difficult task especially from what you've witnessed. Though, maybe closing your eyes shut and having a nap was the only cure to the nightmare you were living in; taking note at how long this dream of yours have been occurring. It was technically a nightmare full of magical creatures and magic that promised you would only be a mere dream of yours.

That is, when you've opened your eyes after repeatedly wishing up at the sky to wake you up in your dream and saw Jaskier walking in, leaving the door open for you to make yourself at home completely answered your questions.

You weren't dreaming and it appears to be like you were in a different dimension.

"Oh, I'll be damned,"

A PART 2? YES? Y’ALL WANT THIS TO HAVE A SECOND CHAPTER? HEEEHEE!! TELL ME WHAT YA THINK ABOUT THIS!

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thinkingaboutyoungroyals · 3 years ago

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Falling For You But You Are Worlds Away: Chapter 2

A/N: So, I'm not Latino but I do come from an immigrant family so I may end up basing Simon's experience moving to a whole new country with my own experiences. I also consulted Hispanic friends on the language and culture I used here but forgive me if I get anything wrong. Please feel free to suggest or correct me on anything.

AO3

Simon had never been on a plane before. In fact, he had never traveled before.

It wasn’t like his family had copious amounts of money to spare for a fancy vacation. The most they probably did was spend a weekend in Stockholm, sightseeing and doing tourist-y stuff during one of his mother’s birthdays.

So, to say that he was overwhelmed by the process of traveling by plane, internationally, and as a minor, was an understatement. He was utterly terrified and anxious.

When his mother and Sara had dropped him off at the international airport in Stockholm (that place, alone, was overwhelming to see, even if he had looked at the pictures online beforehand), their hugs were long and teary. His mother barely let him go and Sara clung to his arm, crying silent tears into his jacket. They made sure he had enough snacks to fill him up on the 8-hour flight and his mother must have lectured the airport official tasked to escort him (because he was a minor) for so long that the woman had to gently tell her that Simon would miss his flight if they dallied any longer.

So, reluctantly, he said goodbye to his family.

Simon was given a badge to wear that indicated he was an unaccompanied minor and the stewardess seated him towards the front of the Economy class next to the window. She asked him if there was anything else he needed before leaving him to tend to other duties. No one was seated next to him yet so Simon took his time looking at all the knobs and buttons, familiarizing himself with them. He spotted magazines tucked into the little pocket in front of him so he took one out.

Just his luck, Wille’s face stared back at him. It was one of those tabloids and, fortunately, this one didn’t have Simon on it. The words on the cover spoke about the Royal Family’s Christmas celebrations.

Unable to help himself, Simon ran a gentle finger over the image of Wille. He missed him. He missed him so much. He missed his smiles. His hugs. The way he made noises when he was embarrassed. The way he tried to sing but was always off-key. Damnit, Simon really missed him.

When Wille first denied it was him in the video and Simon decided to break up with him, he was angry. So damn angry. Wille had promised him that they were in it together, that Simon wasn’t going to be alone. And he broke it.

But, now that he had time to think things through and see the situation from Wille’s position, he understood. Sort of. Maybe not completely. The Royal family’s need to stick to tradition and rules in a modern world that had no room for it would always baffle him. But, there wasn’t anything Wille could do. And coming out was such a personal and terrifying thing, Simon could speak from experience.

He wished he could tell Wille where he was going – he knew the prince would worry if he didn’t see Simon at Hillerska. But, Simon promised his mother to keep his whereabouts quiet from others aside from them, Ayub, and Rosh.

His best friends had been upset to find out that Simon was leaving the country. They had tried to appeal to his mother but when she made a decision, she was determined to see it through. Not even her soft spot and affection for Simon’s best friends could sway her.

Thus, here he was. On a plane. To New York.

Someone shuffled to the empty seat next to him, an older man who acknowledged him with a nod. Simon gave him a small, polite smile and tucked the magazine back into the pocket. Then, he took out his headphones and put them on as he waited for the plane to fill up and take off.

During the flight, Simon realized traveling by plane wasn’t too bad. It was probably one of the most luxurious things he had ever experienced. There were movies and snacks and interesting meals. He watched 3 movies, all in English, and snacked on the provided bags of pretzels and sodas. When he had finished those, he dug into his own backpack for the snacks his mother packed. He also napped for about an hour, leaning against the cold surface of the window. He took pictures of the clouds on his phone.

The stewardesses checked on him every once in a while. Then, when the plane was almost to New York, they were given little papers to fill in for immigration. The man next to him, clearly a veteran of flights and traveling, kindly helped clarify the places that confused him.

Then, when they landed at JFK Airport, while everyone else shuffled out of the plane, Simon had to wait for someone to get him. An airport official eventually arrived, a man who greeted Simon in Swedish and led him out of the plane. The official got him through immigration, Baggage Claim to collect his bags, and to the Arrivals area.

Simon scanned the crowd, looking for his aunt.

“Simon! Over here!”

A woman with dark curly hair, wearing a plain white shirt and jeans, waved at him, excitedly. His Tia Elena.

Feeling himself smile, Simon dragged his suitcases behind him as he hurried over to her. She fought through the crowd to get to him.

“Tia!” He was enveloped in her arms, immediately, the hug as tight and warm as his mother’s.

“Oh, look at you, mijo!” She pulled back to look up at him – he was at least an inch taller than her. “You’re so tall now! And so handsome! Look at those beautiful curls!”

Simon laughed. “Gracias, Tia. It’s good to see you, too. Thank you for having me.”

She placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “Of course. You’re family.”

She patted his cheek affectionately before turning to the airport official who had escorted Simon. After confirming who she was and her relation to Simon, they were finally allowed to leave the airport.

His aunt drove them in a red Toyota sedan, chattering and pointing out the window at buildings and signs, explaining what they were or where they led to. Simon nodded along, politely, watching New York pass him by. Being here, it finally sunk in – he was no longer home in Sweden. He was no longer going to see his mother, his sister, and his friends for a long while. He wasn’t going to see Wilhelm.

The longing made his heart grow heavy but he kept his face neutral, not wanting to worry his aunt.

At a red light, Tia Elena picked up her phone and unlocked it before handing it over to him.

“Why don’t you video call your mama?” she said. “Let her know you’ve arrived safely.”

Simon took the phone and scrolled through the contacts, looking for his mother’s name. It was probably late there now, as Sweden is 6 hours ahead of New York, but maybe they were still awake.

“Elena?” His mother picked up, immediately.

“Hi, mama. It’s me!”

“Mi amor!” She beamed. “I’m glad you got there safe! How was your flight?”

“Good! Mama, did you know they give you food on the plane? It was really good. Nothing like your cooking though.” Simon bit his lip. “I miss you and Sara, already.”

“We miss you, too, mi amor. Sara! Come here, it’s your brother! Where’s your Tia?”

Simon moved to show his aunt on camera.

His aunt waved at the phone. “Hi, Linda! Simon is here with all his limbs attached, don’t worry.”

Simon’s mother laughed. “I’m glad to hear that. How are you, Elena?”

His mother and aunt chatted for a bit, with Simon holding the phone. At some point, Sara showed up to say “hi” and announce the news that her grant from Hillerska had been approved. She was going to be a resident when the term started.

And, suffice to say, Simon was happy for his sister but was also a little bummed that he couldn’t be there for her. But, he also knew she was in safe hands with Felice and Madison.

“Who’s gonna feed my fish then? That was your job!”

“Mama will, duh!”

“I’ll take good care of them, Simon, don’t worry.”

Simon smiled. “Thanks, mama.” He bit his lip, feeling the longing stir in his chest again. “I… I miss you.”

His mother returned the smile, sadly. “We miss you, too, Simon. Take care, okay? I’ll call as often as I can.”

“Okay, mama.”

“Bye, Elena. Take care of Simon!”

“No need to tell me twice, Linda.”

Goodbyes took another minute or so and finally, Simon ended the video call. He could feel his right eye watering. He turned to look out the window again, not wanting his aunt to see. But, she must have those instincts all mothers had as he felt her pat his shoulder, gently.

The rest of the ride was mostly silent with only the radio and his aunt occasionally pointing out a store or a restaurant that she and his cousin, Ana, would frequent. He assumed he would be doing the same, at some point. But, right at that moment, he didn’t really care. He had only been in New York for an hour and he already wanted to go home.

They soon arrived at the home where his aunt lived with her only daughter. It was painted yellow, one story, and a few steps led up to the front door. A few potted plants and some large bushes decorated the lawn as well as patches of ice and snow.

As soon as Simon entered with his suitcases and backpack in tow, he was greeted by a shriek and arms wrapped around his neck.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here, Simon! Welcome to New York!”

The arms retreated and Simon looked down in surprise. His cousin, Ana, a year older than him and whom he remembered often led him around by holding his hand, was shorter than he was. She must have noticed it, too, as she scoffed.

“Ugh, why are you so tall now?!” she whined.

“Simon probably eats his vegetables and you don’t,” said his aunt, gently bumping her daughter in the head.

Simon laughed, shaking his head as he pulled his cousin back for another hug. He had forgotten how much he had missed her.

Ana, Sara, and he were thick as thieves and the best of friends when they were younger. They grew up together. That was, until Simon turned 11 and Ana and Sara, 12, that Tia Elena’s then-husband and Ana’s father, Ricardo, decided he wanted to try his luck in America and moved his entire family there. Two years later, he left them for another woman. But, that didn’t matter. He left his family but Tia Elena managed to keep the business that she worked hard to put up and grow.

“Take your cousin to his room and let him rest. I’ll start on dinner.”

Before Simon could protest, Ana grabbed his backpack and one of the suitcases before making her way through the house. Sheepishly, Simon followed behind her, eyes roaming around to take in the furniture and knick-knacks.

They walked through the living room with a sofa and armchair, T.V., and a collection of DVDs. A couple of photos on the walls of Ana and Tia Elena (none of Ricardo, of course). He surprisingly found one of his mom with him and Sara wearing their Hillerska uniforms. They had taken that on the first day of school back in September.

They passed by the dining room and he spotted the kitchen through a beaded curtain.

“That’s the bathroom.” Ana pointed to a small door at the end of the hallway. “Master’s bedroom is Mama’s room.” She pointed to a door on the opposite side. “She has her own bathroom so you and I will share. Mine is this one.” She pointed at the door they just passed that had a pink butterfly made from wire and what looked to be stockings stuck to its surface. “And you get this room.”

She opened the door and stepped aside to let him through first.

Pulling his suitcase behind him, Simon cautiously entered the room, still feeling like a stranger in what was supposed to be his home in the next couple of months. Or longer.

There was a bed, a little larger than his own at home, covered in green sheets and four pillows. A window with open blinds was above it (Simon itched to close it). There was a closet on the wall and next to it, a chest of drawers. There was also a desk with a wheeled chair and a lamp as well as an AC with another window with blinds above it.

“The AC is unplugged right now since it’s winter,” said Ana, entering after him and closing the door. She set his backpack on top of the chair and his second suitcase next to it. “There’s a heater but if you still get cold, let us know. We can get you an electric heater. I have one in my room, too.”

Simon sat on the bed. It felt nice. Soft. The sheets smell freshly washed.

“Thanks, Ana,” he said smiling up at her.

She returned the smile and sat next to him. For a moment, they were both quiet. Simon wasn’t quite sure what to say to her and clearly, neither did Ana. The excitement of seeing each other had worn off and the years of their separation finally settled. He wondered what she was like now. It wasn’t like they didn’t talk – they kept in touch through social media. But, it wasn’t the same as before.

“How are you, Simon?” Ana suddenly asked, sounding hesitant. “We heard about… you know… that.”

Heat filled his face and he immediately dropped his head into his hands. “Ana… please don’t tell me you watched it.”

She snorted. “Of course not! I wouldn’t do that to you! Plus, it’s weird! You’re my cousin!” She nudged him. “But… was it really the prince?”

He groaned.

“I mean… you don’t have to tell me or anything. But, I just want you to know that… whoever did that to you, guys, is really shitty. And, I hope they step on a pile of legos.”

The unexpected joke coaxed a giggle out of Simon. Ana was funny. He wondered when she developed this weird sense of humor, but he kind of liked it.

He raised his head to look at her. “Thanks, prima.”

“Anytime, primo.” She nudged him again. “You know that I’m always on your side. I even joined my school’s GSA Club in solidarity! And lemme tell you, we have lots of cute guys for you to meet!”

Simon groaned again. “Ana, I’m not really looking to… date.”

Or be with anyone ever again. Wilhelm had ruined him for anyone else.

“You don’t have to date them. Just meet them. Make new friends. Learn things about yourself.” She nudged his foot with her own. “I mean, I learned a lot about myself there.”

Simon turned to look at her, confused. “Like what?”

Ana couldn’t look him in the eye but she took a giant deep breath. “GSA doesn’t just have cute guys, you know. There’s also… cute girls.”

Oh… OH.

Simon wrapped an arm around her back, squeezing her to his side, like he often did with Sara.

“Does Tia know?” he asked softly.

Ana bit her lip and shook her head.

“Why not? You know she’ll be supportive. She supported me when I came out.”

“That’s different. You know it’s always different when it’s other people’s kids but when it comes to your own kids…” She scoffed. “I love her and I know that she loves me. But, I just don’t know how she’ll take it if I tell her that I don’t just like guys… I like girls, too. I mean, how can you not? They’re so pretty!”

He shot her a look.

“Right, you can’t relate.” She chuckled and then sighed. “It’s just… different. I don’t know how you did that. But, I wish I could, too.”

Simon understood. It was scary when he decided to come out to his mom and Sara when he was 13. He thought they would stop loving him. He thought things would be different after he did. But, nothing much changed, really. His mother and sister simply told him that they still loved him. Now, instead of teasing him about girls, they teased him about boys. He had never been so grateful to have had such a loving and accepting family.

He knew Ana was scared right now. So, if he could be a friend and comfort, he would. They were family, after all.

“You’re on my side so I’m on yours, okay?” he said, smiling, kindly.

She laid her head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Simon. And, I'm not even exaggerating. I’m really excited to have you here.” She patted his knee and stood up. “So… I’ll let you rest now. Mama probably needs help with dinner. It will take a while so you can nap or something. We’ll catch up more later?”

“Yeah, thanks, Ana. And I’m really happy to see you, too.”

She grinned at him before opening the door and closing it behind her.

The sound echoed in the room.

Simon looked around the room – his room – that was full of so many things for him yet felt so empty.

There was no fish tank for him to spend mindless minutes talking to his fish. No second-hand desktop with his Xbox connected to play games with Ayub and Rosh. He did bring his laptop and his game systems but he could no longer make their Friday game nights.

Not for the first time since he boarded the plane to New York, Simon felt all alone.

After taking off his jacket and shoes, he curled up on top of the covers and closed his eyes. Within minutes, he was asleep.

He dreamt of Sweden and all he left behind.

.............

The sky outside was gray. Winter was cold and cruel and it seemed like even the sun refused to come out and grace them with its warmth. Wilhelm thought it matched his mood, perfectly

“Your Royal Highness… Prince Wilhelm…”

Wilhelm tore his gaze away from the window and stared up at the face of his concerned-looking Math teacher. Mr. Englund raised an eyebrow at him.

“Your answer?”

Wilhelm looked at the board. There was an equation on it that he didn’t bother to try and answer.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, sir.”

Mr. Englund sighed at him. “See me after class, please.” He moved on. “Frederika, what is your answer?”

Wilhelm tuned out his classmate’s response, choosing to look back out the window again. He had no energy for school anymore.

After class, Wilhelm stayed behind. He stood in front of Mr. Englund’s desk and waited as his classmates filed out. When the last of them was gone, Mr. Englund finally turned to him.

“You’ve been distracted, lately, your Royal Highness. Is everything alright?”

Wilhelm shrugged again.

Mr. Englund cleared his throat. “If you need extra tutoring-.”

Wilhelm’s eyes flashed and his hands shook as he finally spoke, “I don’t need to bribe you to get a good grade in this class, sir.”

Clearly caught off-guard by this, Mr. Englund’s mouth opened and closed and opened again.

“That’s not what I-.”

“It’s illegal, you know,” Wilhelm continued. “To give special treatment to those who can pay when you should be treating all your students, equally. Not everyone has the means to bribe their way to the top.”

Wilhelm was running his mouth, he knew. He wasn’t exactly sure if it was illegal (he should probably look it up) but he knew it was wrong. He knew what the need to get a passing grade in this class did to Simon. He would be damned to let it slide.

He was the Crown Prince, damnit, so he might as well own it in some way.

“I won’t speak of this to the headmistress,” he continued as Mr. Englund continued to stare at him, mouth agape like a fish. “Though I suspect that she’s already aware of your little side business. But, I won’t be a part of it. Good afternoon, sir.”

With his head held high, Wilhelm walked out of the room.

As soon as he was far enough away, he stopped and leaned against the wall. His heart was pounding so fast, he wondered if he was getting a heart attack at the young age of 16.

“Your Royal Highness?”

He looked up to a concerned Malin hovering over him.

He managed a reassuring smile at her. “I’m fine. Sorry. Just… I need a minute.”

She nodded and stepped back.

He knew he was already late for his next class but, nonetheless, Wilhelm dug through his pocket and took out his phone. He dialed the already familiar number, not willing to forget this one thing, just in case. And, just like any other time, the call went straight to voicemail.

“Yo, this is Simon. I’m not available right now. Leave a message and I’ll try to call you back. Bye.”

“Simon,” Wilhelm said in a low voice. “Hey. Um… It’s me. Uh… I did something today. I think you’d be proud. I think. I hope.” He took a shaky breath. “Please call me back. I need to talk to you. Please. I…”

He meant to say, “I still love you. I never stopped. I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone else the way I love you.”

Instead, he said, “I miss you.”

Wilhelm hung up and thumped his head against the wall. It hurt a bit but not as much as his heart right now.

#young royals #young royals fanfic #simon x wilhelm

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lokidiabolus · 4 years ago

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Last Resort - chapter 1

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Thomas x Newt

Warnings: ex boyfriends, AU

Summary: Three years after breaking up with Thomas, Newt finally thought the past of hating each other was behind them, until Thomas asked him for a favour - pretend they got back together for a week while staying at his parents' home. Because it was an absolutely dumb idea, Newt was inclined to refuse, but then found himself in the house he used to visit when he was in love and happy and the bitter reality of only pretending for people he always liked made him miserable. But it was nothing against dealing with Thomas himself for a week straight and trying not to fall back in love that hurt them both.

Or: Prompt ch. 192 with added spice. Or something. I just needed to write for a while :')

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: Hi! I was really into writing something, like really, really hyped, but then couldn't find anything that would make me go "yaaas!". So I thought of just giving up, until I somehow vaguely recalled I wrote this small one shot about two exes falling back in love in parents' house, and just sort of thought: oh yeah. Angst, good. Could add some horny. Good. Let's try. So here we are. Trying. It's not exactly deep or anything. I just needed to get this out of my system :') And it's not like I can't write anything else but AUs... ha.

Unbetad!

Sometimes Newt felt like the world was against him in literally any kind of situation. Once he decided to commit to something, a sudden force worked against him immediately, completely ruining the plan, or at least derailing his confidence in it. For about a year he thought that maybe it was the Universe giving him signs, for another year it felt like a karmic backslash and this year he settled on the fact he was just being despised by whatever higher force was in charge.

Although last year wasn’t as bad, really, until November 12th on dot. If it was about to be documented anywhere, he was just getting out of his shower, quite sleepy already, in rather calm, peaceful mood, once his phone dinged with a new message and he, without knowing the consequences of reading it, opened it. Even though it had Thomas as a sender - he thought later it should have deterred him from ruining the night for himself. Yet, his stupid lizard brain just clicked on it, blissfully unaware.

ThomAss - [23:14] – This is a life-or-death matter, you HAVE TO help me out D:

Newt - [23:15] – HAVE TO even.

ThomAss - [23:16] – YES. Please. I’m ready to beg too, that’s how desperate I am!

Newt - [23:17] – Hmm. Tempting. On your knees?

ThomAss - [23:18] – It’s negotiable.

Newt - [23:19] – Might think about it. Go on.

ThomAss - [23:20] – I need you to come home with me. I mean to my parents’ home.

Newt - [23:21] – What…?

ThomAss - [23:22] – It’s an emergency. They’re being persistent, so I need to bring somebody over.

Newt - [23:24] – I don’t follow?

ThomAss - [23:25] – Somebody I’m dating, that is.

Newt - [23:26] – Yeah, no.

ThomAss - [23:27] – Pleaaaaaaaaaase! T^T

He refused to admit he was fuming when he tossed his phone on the mattress and ignored how it beeped several times with new messages. There was no bloody way he’d go all smiling into Thomas’ parent’s house and pretend they were dating when they broke up three years ago in bad blood and it took them over two years to recover enough to be able to at least talk in a civil way. Sure, these past few months were sort of… better than the rest, though Newt didn’t really know if there was a reason, or they just let go of the grudge.

Well, partially let go, at least Newt’s was still lightly festering sometimes, on bad days when he was stupid enough to let his guard down and remind himself of it.

His phone beeped three more times and then the silence of his flat got sliced to pieces by the obnoxious ringtone he put in spite to Thomas’ contact two years ago. They weren’t calling each other, so there was no way he’d hear it at any point back then, but now, when the sound filled his home, he had a fleeting thought of smashing the phone to pieces instead.

“I said no,” he answered anyway, cold enough for Thomas to definitely get shivers on the other side of the line.

“Newt, please, I beg you,” Thomas didn’t even bother with greetings and whined like a five-year-old. “You can’t possibly be that cruel, can you?”

“Minho,” Newt gritted out. “Why not him?”

“He’s in England! Drinking tea! He’d throw me off the Big Ben if I interrupted his super-secret-date-everybody-knows-about!” Thomas responded frantically and Newt pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Fine, he had a point, probably, Minho would rage at him if he tried to drag him back shit like this. He planned the totally-not-a-date for months, never introduced the person and then disappeared. Everyone knew why, but they didn’t know to who.

“Teresa.” Another possibility, and Thomas’ groaned into the speaker.

Oh, so he already asked her, and she turned him down. Not to mention…

“Brenda?”

Another groan.

“For fuck’s sake,” Newt had to force himself not to throw the phone against the wall. “Have you literally asked everyone and I’m the bloody last resort?”

“Sort of?” Thomas piped and Newt refused to acknowledge how it stung weirdly.

Am I being hypocritical?

It wasn’t like he was willing to go anyway, but somehow his pride didn’t like it. And his pride was a bitch, he knew, and had the power to overwrite his common sense.

“Look, it’s just…” Thomas sighed into the phone. “…embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” the blond repeated. He would say uncomfortable maybe, but embarrassing? “What is bloody embarrassing about it? I’ve heard you snore and fart and throw up and come, and you think this is embarrassing?”

“This is embarrassing!” Thomas whined like couldn’t hear the naked truth and Newt shook his head. They had their history, and it wasn’t just a week short fling. They lived together for three years and dated for seven, there honestly couldn’t be much of an embarrassment present anymore.

Although maybe yes, after three years of barely talking.

“You’re ridiculous,” he mumbled after, dropping a towel he was drying his hair with on the bed. “How’s this even a question, can you just tell them you’re single? Or. I don’t know, that the person you date had other business to attend to?”

“No,” Thomas answered immediately. “I can’t and I won’t. You act like you don’t know them, they’re onto me.”

“Cuz you’re a liar?” Newt tilted his head to the side and Thomas grumbled.

“Am not, okay.”

“So where’s your significant other that can’t attend?”

“On the phone right now, being difficult. Obviously,” Thomas delivered without ounce of shame and if he was standing right in front of Newt, he would have one in his face. “Look, I didn’t want to ask you, cuz of course it’s kinda weird, since my parents already know you and all.”

Of course he would rather bring Teresa or Brenda over, Newt thought and the bitterness surprised him.

“Well, at least they wouldn’t be as shocked,” he said in response, pushing the wave of reminiscing back down. “Imagine Minho, he would probably tear the place apart.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t break up with Minho,” Thomas reminded him, keeping the sombre tone despite Newt trying to lighten the situation.

“You don’t say,” he said instead. “And?”

“And they know we did,” Thomas continued. “So it’s gonna be awkward, you know.”

“Can imagine, yes,” Newt didn’t want to play dumb. “I already told you no though, so there’s no reason to torture yourself with the what if.”

“When did I ever want anything this important from you though!” The whine was back, and Newt sucked in a sharp breath.

“You want me to make you a list? Or would a text suffice.”

“I told you I’d beg on my knees, right? I will. I’m ready to go to your place right now and kneel for the whole night if that’d please you,” Thomas shot back, sounding too serious for Newt’s liking. His neighbours would hate him if Thomas spent the night in front of his door on his knees, serenading him just to make him cave in.

“For fuck’s sake, for how long am I going to be pretending I love your stupid face again then?” he growled unhappily and Thomas on the other side let out a small laugh.

“Well, mum said a weeklong vacation, but I’m sure like three days would be enough to sate her craving for whatever she actually craves when she forces me to do this,” he dropped like a week wasn’t a death sentence or could pose an actual problem with Newt’s remaining vacation days. Which was not. But Thomas didn’t know that.

“I know you have vacation days left, since you always hoard them,” Thomas immediately added like he could read his mind and Newt couldn’t stop the curse leaving his mouth. “It’s not so bad, right? Countryside, fresh air, great food and for free.”

“For the cost of my sanity, but sure, for free,” Newt grumbled and padded to the table to boot up his notebook. “When?”

“I’d pick you up on this Friday at 3? Work or home, your pick.” There was an obvious relief in Thomas’ voice and Newt kind of wanted to remind him they still broke up and barely talked to each other for two and half years, so it was not going to be a walk in a park at any point, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I work till 4,” he uttered while opening his e-mail and started to write a request for vacation. “So something past 4 in front of my workplace should be fine.”

“Four? Since when?” came a question and Newt rolled his eyes. “It used to be 3 max.”

“Three years ago, sure,” Newt decided to overlook Thomas’ weird habit of keeping shit like this memorized. “Things changed.”

“You work longer for the same pay?” Thomas guessed and Newt scoffed.

“I’m not an idiot, okay,” he commented sternly. “I got promoted. So I go to work a bit later, but work till later too.”

“Aaah,” Thomas voiced. “That’s pretty cool. Congratz.”

Year and half late, but I guess it’s the thought that counts. He just hummed.

“Then four it is,” Thomas got back on track easily. “Thanks, Newt. You’re a lifesaver.”

“You don’t know what it will cost ya yet, don’t be so happy about it,” Newt said grumpily. “I don’t work for free.”

“How’s pleasant company and free accommodation and full inclusive not enough for you? You spoiled little bitch,” Thomas faked an offended tone and Newt rolled his eyes.

“Pleasant company is questionable, since you’re going to be there,” he shot back, more out of habit than with an actual spiteful intent. “But I guess your family will do.”

“Oof, alright,” it didn’t take anything from the cheerful tone of his, “you can send me a bill after. Fucking high maintenance as always, aren’t you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Newt chirped and hung up. The moment he sent the mail to his boss he immediately regretted it.

***

Friday came so fast Newt barely noticed the week whooshing past him, and suddenly it was 3:50, he was basically done with his workload for the day, his weeklong vacation got a green light and a bag with his things was sitting mockingly on his table, reminding him he was an idiot who just liked to make himself miserable.

Thomas was already texting him since morning to not forget to pack undies like he was a mastermind of great humour and Newt’s eyes lingered a bit too long on a kitchen knife when he was packing yesterday.

But then again, Thomas’ mum definitely had much better cutlery, so the variety of murder weapons just multiplied.

He pointedly ignored how his stomach lurched at the sight of Thomas at his car in casual clothes and unzipped jacket like it was spring (the -4 degrees disagreed with him, and especially with Newt’s complete lack of proper thermoregulation), actually having a pleasant expression on his face Newt last seen… well, long time ago. He took Newt’s bag and put it in the boot of the car with such nonchalance Newt almost believed his parents might be tricked into thinking they really got back together, how smooth and easy he made it look. Newt refused to ruin it with sarcasm, so he just got into the passenger seat and let Thomas get them on the road.

“You know Christmas is still a month away, right?” Thomas commented once Newt got rid of his coat and scarf, since the car was warm inside, and tossed it onto the back seat, before putting on the seatbelt.

“Yeah?” he raised an eyebrow at him and didn’t like the smile Thomas had on his lips. He was going to nag, for sure.

“Just that you’re wrapped like a present,” came an expected comeback. “How many layers you even have? You took all of your winter clothes on?”

“Stuff it,” the blond glared at him. “It’s cold outside.”

“It’s not that cold though?” Of course Thomas wouldn’t let it go.

“Just cuz you circulate lava and not blood doesn’t mean others do too,” Newt’s glare intensified. “Like it’s something bloody new I’m cold as fuck all the time.”

“Yeah, it’s really not,” his companion shrugged with self-satisfied smirk and Newt wanted to stomp on the brake and just get out of the car. Why did he agree again?

Prick.

What even made him so happy? Still didn’t realize how many faked smiles he’s going plaster on his face through the stay? Or he didn’t care?

“What are we going to tell them?” he asked instead to bring them closer to the problem, since the resolution was only three hours’ drive away. He wouldn’t admit it, but since he agreed to help with this clownery, he couldn’t stop thinking about what to tell the people he genuinely liked and didn’t want to lie to. He could almost forget how rare it was to stay alone with Thomas these days – or months – or years – without an urge to strangle the brunet every time he got close and opened his mouth, when they were sitting in the car so peacefully now.

It was calm but utterly bitter.

The bitterness, Newt thought, was probably still the remnant from three years ago. Maybe not as vicious, but still accompanying him after all these years, every time they saw each other. The first year was catastrophic, the second they both calmed down a bit, and the third they actually managed to lead a normal, reasonable conversation with minimum insults.

Newt wasn’t shy to admit he missed his ex during quiet moments of his life; somehow. He was especially prone to it during his birthday, somehow spending the passing years without Thomas’ company hurt, despite the bad parting. Talking with Thomas with more ease was nostalgic. But his brain always helpfully supplied it was not going to last because they were still the stupid, broken up them deep down.

Not to mention pretending to be lovers just to get Thomas’ parents off his back was lame as fuck. He had no idea why he agreed. Maybe he was lame too.

“I don’t know. We bumped into each other on a party and made out in a closet,” Thomas responded, the smile finally falling off, his eyes glued to the road before him. “And decided to try it again.”

“Ugh.”

“What, you have a better idea?” Thomas shot him a look and Newt snorted.

“We managed to talk normally again and realized we’re still in love with each other?” he offered, just to piss him off. “Since, you know, it happens to normal people?”

“What, sex in the closet does not?” There was that annoyance in Thomas’ voice again Newt knew so well. They usually talked to each other like that – annoyed, nagging, angry, and it wasn’t hard to fall back into it.

“Probably to you,” he averted his eyes from his companion and watched the passing scenery instead. “But I’m not that easy.”

“That’s true,” he heard Thomas whisper, more to himself, and rather buried himself lower into the seat. The fact their intimate life sucked the last month they were together hadn’t been a secret and Newt was very much aware it just sped up the fall of their relationship. But at that point it all felt wrong, and the last thing Newt had wanted was having angry sex, or sex out of obligation, or basically anything intimate without enjoying the other person’s company. Because they sure weren’t enjoying each other for some time already.

Thomas didn’t like it. And he was pretty open about not liking it. But then again, so was Newt.

And then they broke up. It was outside during Christmas, under the lit-up tree on the city square, and Newt still considered it the most unpleasant memory of his life. They were furious, both of them, and the breakup was inevitable, but when it finally came, it wasn’t an explosion full of shouting or accusing as he expected.

Nope, it was quiet, cold and devastating. Seven years down the drain, just like that.

“Let’s go with your version,” he heard Thomas saying roughly. “It happens.”

“Yeah,” he piped, closing his eyes.

In fairy tales.

***

“Oh my god, I knew it!”

It was the first thing that hit them both when the door to the house opened and Thomas’ mother ran out, shrieking like a siren while going straight to Newt and almost suffocated him in an embrace. “I knew you two would get back together, I knew it!”

“There goes the surprise,” Newt managed from the rest of his breath and when she finally released him just to run back to the house to tell the rest of the family the big news, he gasped like he was drowning.

“Good to know she’s as strong as ever,” he croaked, and Thomas hummed and took both of their bags to carry it inside. He had gotten visibly darker and grumpier the closer they got to his hometown and now he almost visibly carried a dark, raining cloud above his head, looking like he just arrived at his own funeral.

Newt followed him inside with surprising ease though, like returning to this place somewhat negated everything Thomas tried to spoil. He had only nice, pleasant memories of this house, and those people, so even if Thomas ought to be a dickhead, he could always enjoy himself here.

“Newt!” a roaring voice welcomed him next, and another crushing hug lifted him from the floor. Thomas’ father was a big, broad guy who could probably lift the house itself, and his jolly personality apparently remained untouched as well.

“Hi there,” the blond greeted him right the moment he got back to the ground, trying to withstand the bear pat that followed. “Haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Likewise!” the big guy cheerily replied. “Glad to see he came back to his senses! Was seriously afraid he’d bring that gloomy goth girl here, I don’t think we have enough black around for that.”

Teresa or Brenda.

“Nah, he still has a thing for blonds,” he replied with a smile and immediately heard Thomas’ scoffing from the living room. The fact that both Teresa and Brenda turned him down must have scarred his ego a lot.

The jab was worth it though.

***

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Anna (Thomas’ mum) patted his arm for about fourth time already since they arrived, her face fond and eyes happy, and it made Newt guilty as hell. They all gathered in the kitchen, which smelled like fantastic food and happy memories. “I swear the breakup was so shocking, we didn’t want to believe it. Tom took it so badly too, I-,”

“Mum,” Thomas’ voice sounded threatening from behind them. “Stop feeding him useless stuff. He just got off work and spent three hours in the car, let him breathe a little.”

She made a face at him but sent Newt an apologetic smile and gave him a muffin. Still tasted as he remembered, and he had to admit those small welcoming bits were the only brakes he had from running away. It wasn’t like Thomas was nasty towards him or anything – he wouldn’t dare since they’d call him out on it – but since they had the talk in the car Newt could feel the uncomfortable tension between them that always ended in an argument.

“You want coffee?” Newt realized Thomas was looking at him now, eyebrows raised, and he just nodded, not trusting himself to say anything.

“I’ll bring it to you, you can go sit with others,” Thomas added as if he couldn’t get rid of him fast enough and Newt didn’t argue with that logic. The moment he left the kitchen and sat between Thomas’ dad and sister, relief washed over him, and he could finally breathe a little easier.

“I thought you’d already be married to somebody decent,” Hannah (Thomas’ little sister) commented while she plastered herself against Newt’s side like she used to do when she was little. Newt haven’t seen her for about four years, give or take, and now she was 14 and apparently full of opinions. “And not wasting your time with him again.”

Him, pointedly looking at her brother who was sneering at her while entering the living room with Newt’s coffee, was seemingly normal occurrence lately, judging from zero reactions from the parents.

“I know, I’ll never learn,” Newt piped in anyway, which made Thomas sneer at him for a change, and almost spilling the coffee on him, not even trying to mask it as an accident.

“Do I have to be the target of your bad jokes?” he glared at them collectively and when Anna arrived after him with dinner, Newt felt nostalgic, like literally nothing changed, and he relaxed into it with more ease than he expected.

He was just glad Thomas was sitting further from him and didn’t need to force himself to act natural. When he reached for the coffee, his favourite taste of it surprised him, but he didn’t meet Thomas’ eyes.

***

“I have to say, you got even cuter,” Anna suddenly said once they were past dinner, Newt couldn’t eat or drink anymore or he would explode and decided to walk it out while helping her bringing dishes to the kitchen and putting them in a dishwasher.

“Anna,” he chuckled. “That’s not what a guy wants to hear.”

“I’m just saying,” she had a genuine smile on her face. “I feared I’d never get to see you here ever again. I know you don’t really want to talk about the breakup and all…”

She stopped for a second, her eyes searching, and Newt hated how strangely painful it made him feel. He sincerely hoped it didn’t show on his face.

“I just want you to know I’m happy you two got back together,” she concluded, which meant it definitely showed on Newt’s face and she saw it. “I know you must have your reasons back then and everything, but I’m just… so glad for you two. And I wish you’d visit more often as well.”

Newt’s chest tightened like he was about to have a heart-attack and he had to push the guilt back down with the power of his sheer will alone, right in front of her trusting, hopeful eyes, like he was disarming a ticking bomb with 10 seconds on the countdown. He expected maybe some initial awkwardness, or some of them poke fun at how they finally got their shit back together after three years, but this wasn’t the plan and he hated how he wanted to hide behind Thomas’ back and just push him to deal with this instead.

“Yeah,” he gulped down the rising agony. “We absolutely should.”

Liar.

“You were always such a great kid,” she pushed herself from the kitchen counter and pulled him into a tight, heartfelt hug. Tears almost spilled out of Newt’s eyes when she squeezed him with loving gentleness he didn’t want to feel again to know what he was missing. “We all love you so much. Thank you for coming back.”

He couldn’t stop the guilt anymore and quietly wept into her shoulder, praying to any higher power for her not to notice.

***

It wasn’t an escape. He did not run away like a coward the moment he could. He didn’t light up his cigarette outside on a porch with trembling hands because he couldn’t get his nerves under control. It just happened. He just felt like it. He just needed the fresh air, nothing else.

He thought, maybe if he kept telling himself that, the tears would eventually stop and he wouldn’t be sniffling anymore into the night, with sky sprinkled with stars and air cold enough to make his face feel like ice.

He heard the door opening only vaguely, his eyes stinging, until the automatic light flashed above him, signalizing a movement nearby. He noticed Thomas too late, he realized when he started pathetically wiping away tears into his sleeve.

“You okay?” Thomas asked a bit abundantly, seeing the state of his, but Newt had to admit there weren’t many other questions to ask anyway.

“Yeah,” Newt sniffled, trying to get his feelings under control, but failing miserably. “Sorry… just. Give me a few, I’ll be fine.”

Thomas took a step closer, and Newt hated how he flinched at that.

“Mum told you something?”

He had an unreadable face, Newt thought. Neutral and careful and Newt couldn’t say what he was thinking. He hated how the ability of reading this man just disappeared like the rest of their history.

“Nothing bad,” he shook his head and brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling shortly. His hands still trembled but not as badly anymore. “Are they worried?”

“Not yet, I think,” Thomas replied quietly, glancing towards the door, then sighed. “I guess it’s… kind of painful.”

“Kind of,” Newt agreed softly. “But it reminds me how nice it was when it lasted.”

“Yeah,” Thomas finally glanced at him, his eyes a bit warmer. “It was amazing.”

Newt felt a lump in his throat forming, and the more Thomas was looking at him, the worse it got, until he couldn’t really stand it. So he offered a small, apologetic smile, put the cigarette out and returned back to the house with buzzing in his head and weird pressure in his chest.

The mischievous grins Thomas’ family gave him once he reappeared in the living room never felt so wrong.

***

Newt didn’t really plan on it, but since the night progressed and his company slowly started leaving for the night, he eventually fell asleep on the couch in the living room. He thought he heard somebody trying to wake him while softly saying his name, but he was too exhausted to rise to the challenge and just let his eyes close shut.

The last thing he noticed was sudden warmth engulfing him, like being hugged by a fluffy animal and then he was out like a light.

He dreamed of first loves and heartbreaks.

***

“You’re being 17 only once in your life, man, cheer up a little!”

Newt grumpily looked at the shot he was given with liquid of unknown origin and then back at Minho, who was grinning at him encouragingly, already drunk enough to be considered not the most reliable source of what fun is. Newt couldn’t say he liked the taste of any alcohol he tried so far, and even though Minho made it look like it’s the most delicious thing he ever had, every cup tasted like spirit and burned unpleasantly.

Sure, he was 17 today. Sure, he tried alcohol because everybody did to celebrate, but every time they looked away, he just poured the rest of his cup into something that could hold it (the cactus probably wasn’t happy about it and Newt mentally apologized to the plant when he disposed of the rest of his beer in its pot).

“Lemme take that from you,” a sudden movement on his side caused the small glass to be taken from his hand, and then a brown-haired boy downed the drink like it was water. Newt had no idea who he was, but since he saved him from possible vomit-inducing moments, he immediately liked him.

“My saviour,” he grinned once the boy tossed the empty glass back to Minho who barely caught it. The boy smiled back at him, his big, brown eyes warm and honestly really pretty.

“Thomas,” he introduced himself. “I take it you’re the birthday boy. Newt, right?”

“Right,” the blond nodded in agreement. “You here with Ben?”

It was just a guess, but he vaguely remembered Ben mentioned something about bringing friends over and Newt didn’t mind. The more people present, the easier would it be for him to disappear at some point to avoid being cornered with other alcoholic beverages.

“Yep,” Thomas nodded with a cute smile. Newt wondered if he was already at least a little drunk to be so easily charmed. “I know I should have brought a gift, since it’s your b-day and all, but I kinda came empty handed. Sorry about that.”

“Preposterous,” Newt faked a shock, hand on his chest and laughter bubbling in his throat, but Thomas was already fishing through his pockets as if he was searching for something to give, and that made him laugh for real. “It’s fine, Tommy. You saved me from alcohol poisoning, you have a free pass.”

“That’s lame though,” Thomas objected unhappily and then finally found his phone in his back pocket, looking at Newt expectantly. “Can I at least get your number? I swear I will make it up to you.”

Normally Newt would argue he didn’t need anything, for real, don’t sweat it, but the more he was looking into Thomas’ eyes, the more his common sense refused to work, and caving in was so, so easy.

“Sweet,” Thomas smiled happily when he saved the contact and then slung his arm around Newt’s shoulders, leaned close and took a quick photo of them both on his phone. “You won’t regret it.”

“I know I won’t,” Newt said, and he meant it.

***

He woke up with his head painfully pounding, like he slept too long or too short. In a moment of confusion of his whereabouts one glance across the empty but messy living room from yesterday’s festivities gave him the answer he sought – he was in hell and it smelled like pancakes.

He gingerly sat up, analysing the situation carefully, until his eyes stopped at the clock showing 12:04 and Newt refused to believe them. He couldn’t have possibly slept till noon, right? Thomas was playing a prank at him by rewinding the clock or something, there was simply no way. He usually woke up at 7, if he really had a deficit then 9 the latest and felt guilty about it. Twelve sounded like a bad joke.

Then again, his body was so sore it made sense. He had a crick in his neck, his legs felt wooden and stiff and there were creases from the couch everywhere on his naked skin. He had a soft, fluffy blanket draped around his body he didn’t remember even seeing yesterday but was grateful for anyway.

“Fuck,” he breathed out in mortification. “What am I even doing?”

“Having a zombie march, I’d say,” a voice interrupted his inner freak out mercilessly and he turned around too fast for his poor head to comprehend and world spun for a moment. “Thought you died or something, geez. Since when you sleep so long?”

Thomas was slowly walking towards him with a tray, trying to balance the cups with coffee on it, and once he successfully set it down, there was only a small puddle under one, so still a success. He brought pancakes and muffins Anna baked and Newt didn’t feel like his appetite was up to this.

“I dunno,” the blond rubbed his eyes sleepily. “I guess I wasn’t really sleeping as much these past few days…”

“Your back must hate you though,” Thomas glanced at the sofa pointedly. “Only sitting for too long on this torture device is painful.”

“Eh,” Newt shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“Well, you look like shit, so not much worse,” Thomas didn’t spare him, smirking at Newt’s apparently dishevelled appearance and he just flipped him off.

“Have a pancake, you’ll feel better,” Thomas pushed the tray closer.

“Maybe later,” Newt untangled himself from the blanked instead. “I need a bath.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Newt mentally slapped Thomas so hard his face landed in the pancake cushion. In reality he just scoffed and wobbled out of the living room at the sound of his ex’ snickering.

***

Nobody really commented on Newt’s faux pas of passing out on the couch until it was time for lunch, but they did comment on his food habits (or better on having none). He barely ever ate breakfast in the morning, so he didn’t eat the fluffy pancakes, or the muffins Thomas brought him, but he did drink the coffee. Before he could even properly digest that Anna was already serving lunch and he had no way how to wiggle himself out of that one.

The rest of the day passed like a blur and when the evening came Anna was chasing him to the bed the first moment he yawned.

“You’re not going to ruin your back on this monstrosity!” she was pushing him up the stairs with Thomas behind her, laughing at them. “I don’t understand how we didn’t buy a new one yet, but now we have to, or you’d wreck yourself on it!”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Newt tried to argue, but she was having none of it and finally stopped in front of Thomas’ room, which… was an obvious choice, but Newt felt his blood running cold at the sight of the familiar area.

“I prepared clean towels and everything,” she pointed at a fluffy pile on Thomas’ desk. “Good night!”

“Yeah…” the blond barely got that out and she was already leaving, calling to others downstairs to help her choose a new couch so she could immediately order it online.

“Well, at least we’ll get rid of that relic,” Thomas commented while entering the bedroom as well, all smiles like he didn’t realize there was one bed, them broken up and Newt’s absolute horror.

“We’re not sleeping in the same bed, are we,” Newt ignored him with eyes fixed at the lodging in the room and Thomas crossed his arms on his chest, his lips in a wide grin.

“What, I clearly remember you saying there is nothing embarrassing about me anymore, since you heard me fart and all.”

“Oh god, shut up,” Newt wished his words were a spell and came true, but of course they didn’t work on Thomas, since he started laughing like a hyena. Anna naturally would let them both sleep in Thomas’ room, it was an obvious choice, but he sure hated it.

Thomas’ room was the same as Newt remembered it, but it made sense, since Thomas had his own place in the city for years. His family had no reason to change it, let it be the queen-sized bed, the blue-ish walls and sleek black furniture hugging the place. It had no sofa, which was the core of the problem for one of them and Newt’s regret of saying yes returned in full force.

“It’s not like it’s a small bed,” Thomas commented matter-of-factly once he had his fill of fun and sat at the edge of the incriminated furniture, obviously taunting him.

“It’s not like I care,” Newt bit out and circled the bed in disdain. “Sleep on the floor for what I care.”

“But it’s my bed,” Thomas argued with badly concealed glee. Newt guessed it was because now he could make fun of him now, which must have made him feel good after being a target of little quips from his family for two days. “If you don’t like me in it, you go sleep on the floor.”

“I’m a guest in here,” Newt crossed his arms on his chest. “Don’t you have any manners? Not to mention you owe me for coming here and playing your lying game.”

“It has nothing to do with manners or me owing you, you’re just being a stubborn ass as always,” Thomas corrected him and clearly didn’t feel like being merciful, especially when he just flopped onto the mattress and looked at Newt expectantly. “So, let’s calm down and get some sleep. I promise I won’t attack you until you’re awake again.”

“Shut up, jerk face,” Newt barked at him and grabbed the towel Anna left there, turning to leave for the bathroom, definitely not running away. “As if I’d bloody let you.”

“Mhmmm.” Thomas’ face was grinning, and Newt wanted to set his guts on fire.

Goddamn, fuck this all.

***

Of course Thomas already laid under the covers, one arm under his head, other holding his phone and leisurely scrolling through it. The room was bathing in darkness, outside of the small lamp on the bedside table. Newt still remember that lamp from years ago, and how they almost broke it when Newt accidentally knocked it over when they were having sex… here… okay, that particular memory really didn’t need to resurface right now.

“I know right,” Thomas suddenly spoke, looking at Newt pointedly. “I was surprised that thing still works too. Got banged so badly.”

“Hmm…”

“Not the only thing that got banged though,” of course the fucker had to add, and Newt tossed his shirt he was holding at him. Only got small laugh in response and then his shirt got dropped carelessly on the floor, left crumpled there like trash. Newt wanted to kick Thomas’ ass so bad he almost reached for his whole bag to hit him with it.

“Going to stand there whole night?” Thomas was acting smugly because he had an upper hand for now, the blond knew the tactics very well. Just milking the moment until one of them snap, he sure hadn’t changed. Newt seriously considered to just leave and sleep in the car if he had to.

“Are you going to be this insufferable the whole week?” he seethed, and Thomas shrugged.

“Define insufferable. Don’t feel like I am any of that.”

“Alright, then I’ll leave tomorrow,” Newt countered him, because he was honestly too tired already and couldn’t think of anything that would make Thomas to fall from his high horse for just one second. Or just show some understanding, because the moment they got in his room he made sure to make Newt as uncomfortable as possible. “You can tell your parents whatever you want, I don’t care.”

“Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over us sleeping in one bed?” Thomas sat up while putting his phone away and he had this old Star Wars shirt Newt got him for his 20th birthday and it was like a punch in his gut.

“Yes,” Newt just said and the warmth from the bath was slowly dissipating from his body, leaving him chilled and miserable.

“We slept together for 7 years,” Thomas objected with a small frown. “It’s not like you don’t know me. Or how I sleep.”

“It’s not like it matters in this situation.”

“I told you I won’t do anything,” another argument and Newt shook his head. He wasn’t even worried he would try anything; they were way past that phase anyway. It was just… so uncomfortable. “Jesus, Newt, please be reasonable. It’s cold, you’re shivering like a wet dog over there, I have perfectly normal, warm bed and we won’t even be touching. I don’t know what kind of block you have in your head, but can you just let it go for tonight and come here before you catch a cold and blame it on me too?”

“I-,” Newt couldn’t even start when a soft knock stopped him mid speech and the door opened few seconds later with Anna between them, smiling. Probably chaperoning, he would guess if he had a coherent thought.

“Just wanted to ask if you want chicken or steak for tomorrow lunch,” she chirped and Newt could almost see the loading screen in front of his eyes, for how much he couldn’t comprehend the sudden topic change.

“Go lie down, you’ll freeze out here,” she immediately noticed him standing there barefooted and pushed him gently towards the bed. “Do you want another blanket? I know you’re always cold. Thomas brought the fluffy one downstairs yesterday, should I fetch it?”

“It’s fine, I have two in here already,” Thomas interjected immediately and before Newt could react anyhow, Thomas reached for his hand and pulled him onto the mattress. “Will warm him up if that wouldn’t be enough.”

“Just try to be quiet, will you,” Anna seized them both in disapproving stare and Newt felt sick in his stomach. “So what. Chicken or steak?”

“I vote for steaks!” Thomas immediately shot out and Newt still didn’t understand what was even important about food in this situation, so he just nodded dumbly, and then Anna was leaving with good night and disappeared behind the door again, plunging the room into silence.

He could hear Thomas’ breathing close to his own and finally understood he lost this fight without much of a battle happening.

“Can we sleep now?” he heard Thomas ask, so he just slinked under covers and turned his back towards the man, feeling vulnerable and stupid at the same time.

***

They didn’t talk about the night. They didn’t really talk at all during the day, since when Newt woke up, Thomas was already gone, and Hannah mentioned something about him and his dad leaving early in the morning for whatever reason.

Newt hated how relieved he felt.

He spent most of the day with Anna making lunch and dodging questions about him and Thomas’ breakup and reconciliation. Anna didn’t pry as much as he feared she would, but she obviously wanted to know what happened three years ago and he had no nice answer for her, so he just kept it vague.

We stopped talking to each other properly.

We felt like we needed a break.

No, there was no bad blood between us, really. Absolutely no arguments that would cut too deep, I assure you. We just needed some time. We’re back together now after all, right.

The lies twisted so painfully on his tongue he was grateful when Thomas finally got back at 4PM and Anna’s attention turned to him instead. When the day progressed, Brian (Thomas’ dad) sat them all in the living room in the evening and opened his favourite bottle of whiskey he kept for special occasions.

They lit up fire in the fireplace and Anna brought over snacks, and just sitting there and chilling felt soothing to Newt’s guiltiness eating him up from within.

“We just sealed the deal with a new partner today,” Brian said in a booming voice when he was pouring a glass to Newt who was sincerely relieved his special occasion wasn’t Thomas and him dating again. Because that sure would send him out of the room quick, he could handle only that much before snapping.

“That’s fantastic,” he gingerly accepted the glass and watched Thomas doing to same when offered, wondering if he could somehow dump his own drink into his glass without being suspicious. They sat too wide apart though, with Thomas between his parents and Newt felt the gap deeply.

“That’s right! It means more work, but it’s going to be worth it!” Brian nodded happily and poured glass to Anna as well. When Hannah came with her own, he shooed at her to get juice instead, at which she pouted. “We were dealing with them on and off for about a year, so when they agreed to be a permanent supplier, it’s gonna make a difference.”

“You should invite the CEO for dinner,” Anna added to it and Brian immediately agreed. “But for now, cheers!”

Newt smiled and raised his glass as well, but his throat already hated it in advance. Once he sipped the wood-scented drink, he forced himself to remain passive and not make a disgusted face that was forcing its way up, grateful Anna and Brian were too busy planning what food to choose for the business dinner.

“Oh my god, can you stop shouting in my ear?” Thomas suddenly stood up when his dad leaned over him to his mum for umpteenth time. “Go sit next to her! Geez. I’m not a cushion you can bulldozer over.”

Brian laughed and pushed himself towards his wife on Thomas’ spot, which left Thomas to sit next to Newt with an unceremonious plop.

“I thought maybe cream cake for dessert?” Anna was brainstorming loudly in meantime. “Right, Newt? You always liked the cake.”

“Oh yeah, loved it,” Newt quickly switched his attention to her from Thomas’ sudden warmth next to him. “Think it’s a great idea for the dessert.”

“See!” Anna beamed at Brian happily and Newt flinched when his glass got bumped suddenly and he almost dropped it before he realized it was Thomas’ own glass touching it now.

“Pour some over,” he mumbled towards the blond quietly. “Before they notice and start pestering you about quality of well-aged alcohol.”

“Thanks…” he piped gratefully and hastily splashed most of his glass’ contents away. He noticed Hannah was looking at them, but she only rolled her eyes and started arguing with the parents that beef was no better than pork for the main dish.

“She’d drink it instead if she had a chance,” Thomas whispered towards him. “Going to be a fucking alcoholic before she reaches twenty.”

“Weren’t you the same though,” Newt objected automatically, and Thomas sipped his now almost full glass with a smirk.

“Never minded the taste, yeah,” he shrugged while licking his lips. Newt would believe from his expression the drink tasted good, if he didn’t know better. “I still like beer more though. This can easily knock me out of my socks if I’m not careful.”

“Mm.”

“You slept well?”

Newt stiffed at the question, as he expected he would if Thomas was going to breach it, and then forced his body to relax again while gripping his almost empty glass firmly.

“Fine,” he only uttered.

“Are we going to have a problem again tonight then or is it fine?” he heard Thomas asking in low voice and refused to meet his eyes. The night was alright, he slept more or less okay too, but that didn’t pose a problem in the first place, and Thomas knew it. Newt couldn’t say if it was Thomas’ way of being petty or getting revenge, but it sure bothered Newt like a thorn in his side.

“Can’t possibly kick you off, when your mum likes to check up on us,” he mumbled with a quick glance towards Anna, still in heated debate over food with the rest of the family. “So let’s pretend it’s fine.”

“I’m not pretending anything,” Thomas scoffed. “I don’t mind sharing a bed. It’s not like you’re a stranger.”

“Sure.”

“Hmm,” Thomas let out and then moved again, lifting his legs and deposited them rudely on Newt’s lap while leaning against the side of his dad who barely even noticed.

“Sure then,” he was grinning when Newt shot him a glare. “Love of my life.”

“I swear I’ll murder you,” Newt gritted through his teeth and refused to acknowledge how his heart thumped when Thomas smiled at him like he just said something overly sweet.

“Looking forward to it,” the brunet responded instead while sipping their shared drink and Newt twisted his big toe in revenge. Sadly, it didn’t have much of an effect.

***

“What the fuck happened to you over those years, jesus fuck!” If anybody asked, Newt didn’t sound like a naggy wife scolding her husband, no sir. “You can’t hold your liquor for shit!”

“Whaaa-,” Thomas’ attempt to sound offended interrupted a loud burp and then fit of laughter, all that when he was plastered over Newt’s back who was unceremoniously dragging him back to his room.

“If you throw up over my back, you’re dead,” he warned the drunkard coldly and Thomas let out hehehe but didn’t deny it. Newt suspected him he could walk just fine but wanted to be as obnoxious as possible, so Newt would have to take care of him in front of his amused parents who left them to it. Newt would be much happier if Thomas’ dad would toss his son to the bed one armed, because he definitely could, and wouldn’t leave Newt to fight with the deadweight all alone, but then again maybe it was for the best.

True enough, Thomas had in total of four and half glasses full of whiskey, even though Brian laughed at him to get drunk after three shots. Naturally didn’t know every time he poured Newt a fresh batch, even though Newt tried to tell him no thanks, he secretly dumped it into Thomas’ glass who drank it, just to get refilled from Brian again as well, and that went until the bottle was empty and Thomas started giggling.

Which led them to the situation at hand – with Newt dragging his ex up the stairs and to his room – their room – while swearing like a sailor, and then just dumping him onto the bed like a sack of potatoes where Thomas landed with soft oof.

“Why’s the room sp’nning…?” he heard the muffled question shortly after, looking at Thomas’ boneless form of a dead drunk with his face half buried in covers. “Make it stooop~.”

“You feel like barfing?” he asked instead of reacting to the drunk observation and Thomas groaned, then tried to push himself up, just to fail miserably. He tried two more times until he realized he really couldn’t get up because his arms wouldn’t support him, and just had to worm his way up to the pillow by crawling. Which was almost painful to watch, honestly.

“Neeeewt.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” the blond buried his face to his hands until another whine of his name came and he walked to the bed and pushed Thomas on his back instead. That got him a sloppy grin in return in a drunk haze.

“Hi,” the drunkard slurred. “How’re ya?”

“Sucky,” Newt answered while crossing his arms on his chest.

“Oh noooo…” another whine. “Whyyy?”

“Have to take care of one smashed idiot,” Newt nudged Thomas’ side with his knee, earning another giggle. He couldn’t say he had experience with drunk Thomas – or at least with this much drunk Thomas. If he ever got inebriated enough to be considered wasted, he just passed out, usually. But today’s drunk Thomas sure had some annoying stamina and kept himself awake for too long.

“I’ll protect you from ‘im,” Thomas managed to reach out with his hand, grabbing at Newt’s sweater. “C’me to the bed.”

“I think you need a bucket first,” Newt let him pawn his sweater with a sigh.

“Mkay.” The hand on his sweater stayed, grabbing randomly, until it dropped to Newt’s thigh where it lightly squeezed, and Thomas let an appraising hum. “You got thinner.”

“It’s just your imagination,” Newt pushed the hand away and it bounced back onto the mattress. “Get changed, I’ll be right back.”

“Nooo…”

He ignored the whine and left the bedroom with a lump in his throat. Drunk Thomas could be bad for his conscience.

***

He got back half an hour later, after a bath and finding a bucket he could deposit at the edge of the bed, in hope Thomas didn’t manage to throw up in meantime. He found him sleeping sprawled over the mattress, right in the middle, still in the same clothes and smelling like a liquor store. There was no barf anywhere at least.

“Sweet,” he sighed while putting the bucket near Thomas’ possible trajectory of his head if he felt like bending over and vomiting. “Glad we had this talk about sleeping together, huh.”

He slowly crawled onto the bed, careful not to wake Thomas up (though judging by his occasional snores it wasn’t happening) and slid under the blanket as much as Thomas’ weight allowed him.

In hindsight… there was no way he could be mad at him anyway, for today. No matter how drunk the man got, he still remembered how Newt didn’t like alcohol and Newt hated how it warmed his jaded heart.

He fell asleep eventually, dreaming of grabby hands and sad smiles.

***

“Your mum is going to hear us, you ass!”

“Don’t care.”

“Tommy!”

No response, only hot lips on his neck, licking and biting and pampering it with kisses and Newt just remained pinned against the door of Thomas’ room, taking the weight of his boyfriend against his body and roaming hands grabbing at his butt and then traveling to his thigh, hiking it up to settle against Thomas’s hip. His heart was beating so loud he couldn’t hear anything else, just thump thump thump of his blood roaring, and Thomas’s sweet nothings he was murmuring to Newt’s ear in a rough voice.

“I want you so much,” Thomas whispered when unbuckling Newt’s pants, sliding his hand under them against hot, naked skin, and Newt couldn’t hold back a moan, he just needed him closer, he needed to kiss him, to touch him, to get him inside-

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Thomas bit out, voice strained, and Newt let him to lift him up and carry him towards the bed, their lips meeting in a messy, frantic kiss. It was painful, it was rushed, but it was what Newt needed, the brutal strength of Thomas’ body pushing into him and his own breathy moans coming out when their lips parted, and he heard a dull thud at some point when he was trying to hold onto the bedpost once Thomas thrusted into him so strong it made him see stars, but he didn’t care about anything else but pleasure and pain and adoration he felt when he was with him-

Newt woke up with a start, his body hot and aroused, and he felt on fire and caged and painfully hard. He could barely catch a breath when he noticed arms slung possessively around his torso and waist pushing him insistently against warm body behind him, waking up all his senses one by one like Christmas lights.

It took him a moment, the initial confusion clearing like a fog from his mind, making him realize Thomas was cuddling him from behind, one of his hands got under Newt’s shirt and was spread across his naked belly possessively.

“Shit,” he couldn’t stop himself from cursing and attempted to disentangle, but it only made Thomas to clutch to him harder, like a defence mechanism, unwilling to let go. He tried to push away one of the arms holding him, but Thomas slung a leg over his hips in response, trapping him even more.

“Don’t leave,” a sleepy voice sliced the silence and Newt stiffened once he felt hot lips on the back of his neck, mouthing there persistently.

“Thomas-.” He tried to turn around but couldn’t move an inch and Thomas bit down slightly, sending shivers down Newt’s spine.

“Mmm…” he heard the hum, and then the tense weight relaxed once Thomas fell asleep again, and Newt didn’t dare to move anymore.

It was going to be a long night and Newt refused to acknowledge the little voice in the back of his head screaming for relief by Thomas’ hand.

#newtmas #tmr #the maze runner #Last Resort series #newmas

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froggy-beans · 4 years ago

Text

See You (Not Too) Soon

by me! (cold_nights_summer_days) for @gracefulpanda12

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker and Tony Stark, May Parker and Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Happy Hogan and Pepper Potts and Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan, Original Female Character

What if he wasn’t quick enough and – they’re in critical condition – and they were gone before he got there? Before he got to say goodbye?

Don’t think like that. Everything is going to be fine. They’re at the hospital. Accidents happen all the time. Tony thought to himself. Then, another voice in his head said, Yeah. And people die from accidents all the time, too.

---------------

Written for the third Friendly Neighborhood Exchange! Prompt: Tony is Peter's Emergency Contact

Link to story on ao3

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Tony got the call around midnight. As midnight calls go, this was definitely not one of the pleasant ones. He’d been sitting in the living room, catching up on paperwork for the company, when his phone rang next to him. Tony had actually almost missed the call, having set his phone to silent while he worked to avoid being distracted.

“You should answer the phone,” Friday said vaguely.

“Who is it?” Tony asked, finally looking up from his work. He glanced briefly over at the clock, shocked that it was nearly midnight.

“Mount Sinai Hospital, sir.”

Without any more questions, Tony picked up his phone from the coffee table and pressed answer. He was already freaking out but tried to reassure himself. May works there. Maybe she’s just calling me from the hospital number—

“Hello? Is this Tony Stark?” said a tentative voice on the other end of the call. Tony cleared his throat before speaking.

“Yes, it is. Has something happened?” He asked. He already knows something has, because the voice on the other side is definitely not May Parker, and it doesn’t sound positive.

“Yes. You’re listed as an emergency contact for Peter Parker, and he’s just been in an accident. If you could come down to the hospital—”

“Did you call his aunt? May Parker?”

“No, sir. She was in the same accident. They’re both in critical condition.”

It was like Tony’s brain couldn’t comprehend the words, so he just sat there holding the phone to his ear.

“Hello? Sir? Are you there?”

“Y—yes,” Tony said. There were a million thoughts running through his head. May—Peter—in an accident. Critical condition. He needed to get to the hospital.

“Are you coming?”

“Of course, um, Mount Sinai, right? I know that’s what you said but now I’m freaking out a little bit and I don’t want to show up to the wrong place and—”

“Yes, that’s right. Someone will be waiting for you at the front desk.”

“Thanks,” He said roughly before hanging up the call and running to the hall closet. If he was going to leave the house he obviously needed shoes, but he hated every minute of trying to put them on. It was like now that he needed to be fast, he was doing everything slowly. Even getting to the elevator and pressing the button for the first floor seemed to take minutes.

It briefly occurred to Tony that he should call Happy because he wasn’t in a state to drive, but Happy was asleep. He wouldn’t be at the tower any sooner than thirty minutes, and that was just too long. What if he wasn’t quick enough and – they’re in critical condition – and they were gone before he got there? Before he got to say goodbye?

“Get it together,” He whispered to himself, twisting his keys in the ignition. The engine roared to life, and not for the first time, Tony was so glad every car he owned was built for speed. If Pepper were there she’d be worried that he’d also get into a wreck. To be fair, that was a very valid fear.

Suffice to say, the trip to the hospital was much shorter than the average GPS would have you believe. So much shorter, in fact, that the nurse who’d been sent to wait for him was shocked to see him so soon. Part of it was probably the fact that yes, he was actually Tony Stark.

“Can I see them?” Was the first thing Tony asked the nurse upon meeting her. The nurse shook her had sadly.

“Why don’t you come with me for a moment? I think it would be better to talk in private, especially because there are other matters that need discussed now,” She suggested. Tony nodded and followed her to an empty room. The bed looked freshly made, and Tony briefly wondered who’d just vacated it. Did they get to go home?

The nurse, who’s name Tony learned to be Alyssa, encouraged him to sit down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. He listened, and she took a seat in the other one.

“They’re both in critical condition still. From what I heard last, it’s uncertain whether May Parker will make it out of surgery. She sustained major head trauma, so even if she makes it out of surgery, it’s possible that she won’t wake up.”

“Won’t wake up?”

“She might be in a coma due to brain trauma. It’s not certain right now, but you need to know that that’s a possibility. If that does happen, the hospital will need to contact her attorney and acquire her living will. I don’t know if you know what’s written in hers, but we’ll have to do what it says. Whether her family – you – agree with it or not.”

“Okay,” Tony said slowly, trying to understand what the nurse was telling him. It made sense on a surface level, but part of his brain still couldn’t move past they’ve been in an accident.

“Do you need me to repeat anything, or would you like me to continue?” Alyssa asked politely. She seemed to anticipate his questions; this was definitely not the first time she’d had to deliver news like this.

“You can—what about Peter? Is he going to be okay?” That was the question Tony had been dying to ask since he picked up the phone. The one he wanted answered, but also the one that he was terrified to hear the answer to. Because while he loved them both, Peter was the one he spent hours with. Spent hours watching movies, talking about things, teaching him things. They were both family to him, but Peter was the one he saw as—no, don’t say it – his son.

“He’s still critical as well, but he’s in better condition than his aunt. She tried to protect him during the accident, which is why she ultimately sustained more injuries than he did. He suffered a bit of head trauma as well as a few broken bones,” Alyssa continued explaining.

“Can I see him?” Tony interrupted. He didn’t want to be rude, but she seemed used to this kind of thing. Worried parents.

“Not yet. I’m sorry,” She responded. “He’ll be out of surgery soon, but he’ll have to remain under strict surveillance until his condition improves. Until then, you can wait in the lobby, or I can arrange to let you wait here. It might be easier.”

“Easier than having everyone staring at me and trying to figure out why I’m here so they can sell the story to a tabloid? Thank you,” Tony tried to make the last bit sound sincere, but he just sounded empty. His voice held no trace of the worry and anxiety and panic and fear that he felt so acutely in his head. Years of media training, perhaps. Don’t let the audience know how you really feel because they’ll twist it and use it against you.

Alyssa left the room, locking the door behind her. Alone with just his thoughts, Tony glanced around the room. It was meticulously clean and smelled of antiseptic. There wasn’t much else to do besides sit, pace, or mess around on a phone. Tony supposed he could turn on the TV if he really wanted to, but he doubted anything playing on it could hold his attention.

Tony finally settled on pacing and calling Pepper to tell her what happened. She was in Japan for a business deal and insisted on flying back once she’d heard what happened. Her and May were really close, after all, and she didn’t want to miss anything. Like her death.

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait to book a ticket because Pepper had just taken the private jet. The soonest she could be back was around six that evening. Tony was relieved that Pepper would be coming home early. He wasn’t entirely sure he could keep it together on his own. To be honest, he wasn’t even sure he could keep it together if he wasn’t alone.

Next, he called Happy. Since it was now nearing one in the morning, Happy didn’t answer, so Tony left a voicemail asking him to call back as soon as he woke up. Despite what many would think, Happy was closer to Peter than he let on. He even tagged along for his Acadec competitions. Tony put calling Ned and MJ on a list of things to do once it was later in the morning. He planned to call them and let them know that Happy would (unbeknownst to him) be able to pick them up if they wanted to see Peter once he was out of surgery.

Until there was more news, there wasn’t much else Tony could do besides the one thing he hated doing; waiting.

Tony felt himself start to nod off in the plastic chair around three. He fought it as best as he could, but he was exhausted. He’d barely slept the night before because . . .well to be truthful, he just didn’t go to bed. He didn’t want to fight with himself over trying to fall asleep. It just wasn’t worth it.

Before he could truly fall asleep, though, a sharp knock on the door shocked him awake. He jumped up, body ready for a fight, before he remembered he was in a hospital and it was probably the nurse again. Tony unlocked the door and sure enough, standing on the other side, was Alyssa. She looked more tired now.

“Peter is out of surgery now,” She said, straight to the point. Tony was grateful. He sighed in relief.

“Can I see him?” He asked, afraid that she would still say no. He didn’t want to spend any more time in that room. His phone was close to dying, and there was only so much staring at a wall that one person could take. More importantly though, he wanted to see Peter. He wanted to make sure with his own two eyes that he was still alive.

Alyssa nodded. “You can come see him, but he isn’t awake yet. And I have to warn you, it isn’t pretty. There’s still quite a lot of bruising at this stage, as well as various cuts. It’s okay if you need a minute before going in. That’s actually pretty common.”

Tony followed her quietly through the halls until they reached the room Peter was currently staying in. Tony knew he couldn’t go back once he opened the door. He would no longer have the option to pretend this wasn’t happening. Alyssa offered to let him go in first, to give him a moment alone before she came back to check on them. Tony graciously took her up on the offer. He didn’t want anyone to see him fall apart, and he felt so dangerously close.

With a deep breath, Tony pushed the door open and walked in. He was careful to shut it back behind him before he really, truly, looked at Peter. It was . . . awful, for lack of a better word. Peter’s skin was marred with deep blue, purple, and black bruises. His face had several cuts, some deep enough to warrant the use of butterfly bandages. On top of that, his wrist is in a blue cast. At least they picked his favorite color.

Tony can’t help the tears that start to fall. Not that none of this hadn’t felt real before, but now, seeing his kid looking so small and battered in a hospital bed? It was very, very real. And very, very scary. Tony didn’t want to admit it to anyone else, but he was fucking terrified. What happened if the nurse is right and May doesn’t wake up? What happens to her nephew, who has had to live his whole life losing family member after family member? What happens to Pepper if she loses her best friend? What happens to Tony if he loses one of the few people he considers family? What happens to her friends? What happens to all the people that she’s built her life around?

Sitting down in one of the chairs across from Peter’s bed, Tony tries to take deep breaths. I need to calm down. May could just as well wake up and then everything will be fine. Peter won’t lose another parent. They’re both going to be fine.

For Tony, this mantra is what one might consider an empty reassurance. It was like a parent telling a child that everything was going to o alright, not to worry, even though the child knew the parent was lying. Even if – not if, when – they did both wake up, there were long term repercussions to this sort of thing. Tony could take care of most of them (like buying a new car, the hospital bills, insurance, etcetera), but there would be some things he just couldn’t fix. New nightmares, for example. Or lasting trauma.

Eventually, Alyssa came back with a doctor to go over Peter’s condition in greater detail. Tony tried to listen, and mostly he did, but he couldn’t stop looking at Peter. Even in sleep his face was pained, and Tony knew they weren’t giving him enough pain medication for his metabolism. He also knew that the thin hospital blanket wasn’t enough for him because Peter always, always slept with at least two blankets even in the summer. He knew these things because Peter was such a big part of his life and – don’t think like that – what if that was gone? What would Tony do with the extra blankets he keeps in the closet? Nobody else ever uses them. They would just sit there.

The doctor left and Tony felt like he knew less than he did before. Alyssa assured him that once he was ready, perhaps after sleeping for a bit, she could come back and explain it all again. This is normal, she said, many times parents are too shocked the first time to remember or understand what the doctor says.

Tony nodded numbly, and Alyssa left. He knew that he should take her advice and sleep. He would need it tomorrow, most definitely. But despite almost falling asleep before, sleep was nowhere in sight for him now. All he had was worry. And grief – but that was wrong because nobody had died yet. No, not yet. Not at all.

So with nothing else to do, and nowhere to be, Tony had nothing left to do but think and play the role of watchman. When he could no longer sit in the uncomfortable chair – either because his back was aching or because his mind couldn’t take it – he wandered down to the hospital gift shop. He was surprised to find it open at such an early hour, but glad, nonetheless. He milled about in the aisles, looking at little trinkets and get-well cards. Eventually, Tony picked out a small throw blanket to bring back up to Peter.

The cashier didn’t even spare Tony a second glance while he checked out. He was thankful. Once he had finished and made it back upstairs, he quickly unfolded the blanket and laid it out over Peter’s still sleeping form. There wasn’t much else Tony could do for him at the moment, but this small thing made him feel less useless.

Tony stayed in Peter’s room the rest of the night (morning). He drifted off every once in a while, but then nightmares of Peter and May dying shook him awake. Peter never once stirred. Tony wondered if his body was keeping him asleep so his super-healing could work. There didn’t seem to be much change in the color or size of his bruising, and none of his cuts looked remotely healed. If his super-healing was working at all, it must have been focusing more on the internal injuries.

Tony called Ned and MJ at seven. He was surprised to find them awake so early on a Saturday, but they weren’t exactly the type to sleep in anyway. Ned promised to be there as soon as he could manage, and MJ said she would be on her way once she could get away from family breakfast. Tony offered to have Happy pick both of them up, but they seemed okay with finding their own way here. It was possible that Ned’s parents would come with him, too. Peter was almost as close with them as Ned was.

Happy called him back sometime after seven-thirty, groggy but awake enough to function. Even still, Tony had to repeat the part about the accident. Happy was briefly silent on the other end of the line, and then said that he would come to the hospital as soon as he got dressed. He also asked Tony if there was anything else he needed him to bring.

“Um, yeah actually. Do you know where they keep the spare key to the apartment?” Tony asked him. He doubted that the other man didn’t know, but it was still better to ask.

“Above the door frame, right? They should really move it.”

“Yeah. Can you stop by there and pick up a few of Peter’s blankets? The ones they have here suck, and I’m sure he’d feel better if had a few from home.” And I’d feel better if he felt better.

“Of course. I’ll grab a few things for May, too.”

“Thank you so much, Happy. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Tony said sincerely. He sighed and dragged a hand through his already messy hair.

“Not very much, I’m sure. I’ll be there soon.”

Happy hung up, and Tony was left alone with his thoughts once more. I’m going to have to tell the hospital about Peter’s . . . condition. Otherwise they can’t treat him properly. Or maybe I should have them transferred to the Tower. That might be better.

Following that train of thought, Tony sought out the advice of Alyssa and the doctor. When he inquired about possibly having them moved, the doctor shook his head solemnly.

“May Parker isn’t stable enough to move right now,” He said. “If you’d like to have some of your own medical staff brought in, I’m sure we could arrange it, but I don’t think she should be moved.”

Tony nodded. He briefly considered having Peter moved anyway, but he knew that wasn’t what was best. They would want to be in the same place as the other. In case . . . In case one of them died and there wasn’t time to say goodbye.

He tried to ask them more about May’s condition, but some of the words just flew over his head. But there was that sentence again: She might not wake up.The doctor said it like he didn’t believe, not even a little bit, that she would. It made Tony angry. May Parker had to wake up. There was no way she’d let go of her life that easily. Tony knew she’d fight God if that’s what it took to stay alive. If not for herself, then for Peter.

That was something they had in common. They both had other reasons to live, of course, their lives didn’t revolve around a certain spider-kid, but he was the biggest. They wanted to see their kid grow up. Graduate high school, fall in love, go to college. They wanted to be there for that.

Come on, May. I know you can do it.

May’s lawyer showed up while Ned and MJ were visiting Peter. MJ brought flowers to put on the nightstand. Ned brought a card. They both promised that they were capable of keeping Peter company while Tony dealt with some of the more legal matters. Peter wasn’t even awake anyway, but Tony still didn’t want to leave.

“My name is Mr. Tyler,” The lawyer said, sticking his hand out for a handshake. Tony shook it quickly, slightly embarrassed at how clammy he was sure his hands felt. Mr. Tyler made no indication that he noticed, which he was grateful for.

“I’m sure you know my name,” Tony replied, trying to lighten the mood and utterly failing. His voice came out more bitter than sarcastic. Oops.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Stark. Now, I’ve taken the time to read through May Parker’s living will before speaking with you. She didn’t appoint anyone as her medical proxy, but she does specify that in the event of a coma, she would not like to remain on life support. Since her condition has not been explicitly named a coma, and she has not been declared brain dead, that doesn’t mean anything yet,” Mr. Tyler explained. Tony felt worse knowing that she wouldn’t want to be kept on life support. It was not a surprising decision coming from her.

On the slightly less dark side (for it certainly was not bright) it removed the pressure of the decision from his and Peter’s shoulders. This way would feel more like being a bystander than the one pulling the trigger. Because if it came down to him to decide whether to pull the plug or not, Tony wouldn’t be able to do it. He didn’t want—or need – May Parker’s death on his conscience.

“So, what does it mean?” Tony asked. He wished he’d called one of his own lawyers to help explain the more tricky bits. He might be a genius, but right now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to solve a simple addition problem if he were asked.

“It means that until either of those things happens—”

“Unless,” Tony cuts in. The lawyer looks at him for a minute, and then amends his sentence once he realized how insensitive it must have come across.

“—unless either of those things happens, she will remain on full life support. If she is declared legally dead, I’m under instruction to discuss her final will with you and Pepper Potts. Her nephew, Peter Parker, is only supposed to be present once his guardianship has been discussed.”

It’s not as if the thought hasn’t briefly crossed his mind, but the word guardianship felt like a smack across the face. If May died, Peter wouldn’t have anywhere to go. Of course he has somewhere to go. He has me, Tony thought. But that little voice, the one that’s always contradicted him, came back with a vengeance.

And why would he want that? It questioned. It’s not like you had a very good role model. Who says you’re going to be any better than he was?

I’m not Howard, Tony thought back angrily. I’m not him.

You’re right. You’re not Howard. But that doesn’t mean that you’ll be better than he was.

I’m already better than he was.

Says who? Chirped the little voice. Says who?

The rest of the day passed slowly. Ned and MJ leave. Peter slept. Happy arrived not long after the meeting with the lawyer. He came in holding an entire bag worth of stuff, and Tony asked if he was the new Santa Claus.

“No,” Happy sniffed. “I’m just prepared. I brought what you asked for, but I also brought you a phone charger and something to eat. Don’t lie – I know you, and I know you haven’t eaten since dinner yesterday. I also brought coffee for you.”

“Oh my god, you’re a life saver,” Tony said.

“I’m not done yet. I also brought you a change of clothes because in case you haven’t noticed, yesterday’s suit really isn’t that fashionable.”

Tony laughed sarcastically and took everything Happy offered to him. He changed quickly in the adjoining bathroom before coming back out to eat the food Happy brought him. Happy had taken to sitting in the other plastic chair and watching Peter.

“He’s in really bad shape,” He commented idly. Tony sighed.

“Yeah. May is worse, but they won’t even let me in to see her yet. I’ve been asking since I got here.”

“Did you call Pepper and let her know what’s happening?”

“Yeah,” Tony said in between bites. “She’s on the jet home right now. She’ll probably be here around six or seven. Knowing her, she might not even stop at home first and come straight here.”

“Probably . . . You know, Tony, I can stay here for a little while if you need a break. You can go home for a bit and rest. I doubt you’ve slept at all sitting in this chair,” Happy gave Tony a knowing look that said You need it.

“I’m fine,” Tony assured him. “You know I wouldn’t be able to really rest, anyway.”

“I know, but if you decide you do, I’ll stay here and call if there are any updates with him and May.”

“Thanks, Happy. I appreciate it.”

Happy and Tony sit in relative silence broken only by the beeping of the monitor. Peter was hooked up to so many machines and tubes that it hurt Tony to even think about how bad he must be. He wanted nothing more than for Peter to wake up and make some stupid joke to try and lighten the situation. He wanted to see Peter’s big brown eyes open and search for someone in the room with him. He wanted to hear Peter ask where he was, what stupid thing has landed him in a hospital bed this time.

But there was nothing but the steady rhythm of the heart monitor. That was better than it being silent, because it might mean that Peter wasn’t alive at all.

Pepper arrived at the hospital at six thirty on the dot, dressed in sweatpants and one of Tony’s old sweatshirts. It was an odd sight for the public who’d never seen her in anything less than business formal, but it helped her blend in with the nightly hospital crowd. A polite nurse showed her the way to Peter’s room while catching her up on the situation. A third chair was dragged in from some other empty room, and the phrase “three’s a crowd” came to Tony’s mind. Technically there were four people, but could the cliché still apply if one of them were unconscious? Yes, Tony ultimately decided, it did.

Thirty minutes later, Alyssa came in to find the three of them talking about anything and nothing to keep the silence from being too loud. Tony was the first to notice her presence. He was so desperate for information on either of them. He just hoped that Alyssa wasn’t coming to tell them May had been declared legally dead. She would not like to remain on life support.

Tony’s heart started to race in anticipation and his hands shook. Pepper placed a calming hand on his shoulder, but he knew it was as much for her as it was for him. She loved May and Peter dearly, too. Peter’s heart monitor beeped steadily in the background.

“May is finally stable enough to perform brain scans. The doctors are going to take her back in a few minutes, but if you guys would like a moment with her before they take her back, I’ll take you over,” Alyssa said. For a moment, all of Tony’s worry melted away. Stable. You can see her.

This relief was short lived, however, because when Pepper asked if that meant May was awake, Alyssa shook her head. They still wanted to see her, anyways, and Alyssa took them to May’s room. It was bare, and Tony felt guilty. There were no flowers, no extra blankets, no cards for her. As if Pepper could read his mind (let’s be honest, she definitely could), she whispered, “Nobody was allowed to see her before now. It’s not your fault.”

May had more bruises and cuts than Peter did, and they were more severe. She looked more peaceful than Peter did. Even with the bandages and even a cast on her right arm (yellow, this time), Tony could convince himself that she would recover, and they could go back to life as usual. The voice deep inside his head thought differently.

She won’t make it, and you’ll be left to take care of Peter. Did I say take care of? I meant screw up. You’ll disappoint him just like you disappointed Howard.

Tony shook his head to clear the voice and focused all his attention on May. There was so much he wanted to say to her, even if she couldn’t hear him, but none of the words wanted to leave his mouth. They stayed in his throat, and Tony thought he might choke on them.

Pepper stepped forward first and lightly grasped May’s hand in hers. Tears were in her eyes, ready to overflow, but Pepper wouldn’t let them. She would save her tears for later, when there was nobody there to see them but the moon. She never liked crying in front of anyone; not even her family.

“You better not think this will get you out of brunch with me next weekend,” She joked, voice strained with the effort of it. It was hard to be light when the room felt so weighted. “I’ve already made reservations and I’d hate to call and cancel.”

Tony stepped forward next, but he couldn’t get the words to come out. Later, he would wish that he’d said something, anything. Anything would have been better than nothing. In the end, though, May would know everything he wanted to say, anyway. He was never good at hiding things from her. He’d never been good at hiding things from his family. Not even his father.

Once she was finished, Pepper suggested that she and Tony give Happy a minute alone. He agreed, and they made their way back out to the hallway. Two nurses were standing outside the room, ready to take her for the scans.

“He has a thing for her, you know,” Pepper said, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Yeah. Peter mentioned it once or twice. He said it was weird when Happy would drop him off and him and May would give each other what he calls ‘googly eyes’,” Tony replied. Neither of them had ever said anything to Happy about it, but now Tony was curious. Had they gone out on a date yet? Would they?

Soon enough, Happy joined them in the hallway and the nurses wheeled her away. Tired and worn out, the three of them walked back to Peter’s room to wait. The nurses would know where to find them when the time for news, good or bad, came.

“Isn’t it customary to sign someone’s cast?” Tony asked randomly, staring at the blue cast on Peter’s wrist. Pepper laughs lightly.

“Customary? Really?” She said, glancing at him to figure out if he was serious or not. When she figured out that he was, she asked, “Are you really going to sign his?”

“Why not?”

“Would he actually want that, or are you just trying to pass the time?” Happy chimed in. Tony gave him the side-eye, but Happy knew that he was just joking. That was just how he was with them.

“I’m Iron Man. Who wouldn’t want me to sign their cast?”

“Someone who knows how insufferable you actually are,” Pepper mumbled. Her and Happy both laughed.

“I’m doing it,” Tony said, standing up to go search for a sharpie. Luckily the front desk had one he could borrow, and he came back in the room holding it up like a trophy. Pepper and Happy shook their heads at him as he walked over to Peter and began to sign the cast. In true Tony Stark fashion, his signature took up most of the space.

“You leaving any room for us?”

“Of course, Happy. See that little spot right here?” Tony pointed to a small spot near the edge. “That’s for you.”

“Might need a little bit more room than that.”

“Then you should have signed first! As it is, I signed first, you mocked me, and now you have to live with the consequences.”

Tony sat back down between them and held out the sharpie. Pepper took it next, signing just below Tony’s signature. Happy, sure enough, signed in the little space that was designated for him.

“One day he’ll be able to sell that and pay for college. We just did him a favor.” Tony said once everyone was finished.

“You say that like you haven’t already set aside money for his tuition,” Pepper commented.

“And you, Miss Potts, say that like you didn’t help me do it.”

Alyssa came back a few minutes after nine, and Tony swore he could see tears in her eyes. He already knew what she would say. He knew that she would confirm one of his worst fears. He didn’t share this thought with Pepper or Happy, though he suspected they already knew that, too.

Tony asked if they could have this conversation outside. Peter was asleep, sure, but he didn’t want to have this conversation in front of him whether he could hear it or not. Alyssa didn’t mind. She nodded quietly and led them out to the hallway.

“The scans came back negative,” She said without preamble. “The doctors couldn’t find any brain activity. I’m sorry.”

Pepper was the first to cry. Silent tears ran down her face and she turned to Tony and found him crying too. They held each other, desperate for the comfort the other could provide. Happy, on the other hand, stayed silent. He had no words to express how he felt, except maybe anger. He couldn’t be too sure. For all he knew, he just felt empty.

“How long do we have until – until they take her off life support?” Tony asked. Pepper cried harder into his chest.

“I don’t know,” Alyssa shook her head, “A few hours at most. The doctor still has to talk to her attorney before he can do anything. You’ll have time to say goodbye.”

“And what about Peter? Does he get to say goodbye?”

“If he wakes up, yes. It’s unlikely, though. I wish there was more that I could do . . . but there just isn’t. I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I know this is very difficult for you.”

“It’s – thank you, Alyssa,” Tony realized he almost said it’s okay. That couldn’t have been right. Right now, things couldn’t have been any less okay.

“Of course. The end of my shift is coming up, but if you need anything, your new nurse’s name is Clara. She’s a close friend of mine. You’ll be in good hands,” Alyssa assured them. Tony nodded, and without another word, she was gone.

Happy decided to say goodbye first. He walked swiftly down the hallway like he was afraid he would miss her. But he can’t, because she’s already gone. Pepper excused herself to use the restroom, and briefly, Tony was glad to have a moment alone.

Once he was back in Peter’s room with the door shut behind him, he walked over to Peter’s bed and took the kid’s non-broken hand in his.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispered, the words struggling to find their way out of his mouth. “I just—that’s it. I’m so, so sorry. I wish there was something we could have done . . . but things don’t always work out the way you want them to. Or need them to, I guess.”

Peter didn’t answer. Tony didn’t know whether he would have felt better or worse if he had. Then, Tony was left with the uncomfortable truth. May would be gone, and the only person Peter would have left was him.

You won’t be enough for him.

Tony stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. The dark circles under his eyes are as deep as they’ve ever been. The little voice hadn’t left him alone since May was taken off life support yesterday. It pestered him at every waking moment, and even the few hours of sleep he managed to get.

He’d left the hospital forty minutes earlier to shower and change before his and Pepper’s meeting with May’s lawyer. They had to go over her final will, and considering what was at stake, Pepper and Tony thought it best to accomplish this sooner rather than later.

Pepper knocked on the bathroom door and asked if Tony was ready to go. He wasn’t ready in any sense of the word; tie askew, mind a complete mess, but he said yes anyway. They were out the door in no time, with one of the company’s many paid interns driving them to the lawyer’s office. The ride was silent except for the sound of traffic outside.

Mr. Tyler’s receptionist greeted Pepper and Tony by apologizing for their loss. For all their business prowess and tact, neither of them knew how to respond. They couldn’t say it was okay. It wasn’t appropriate to say, “Don’t worry about it.” Thank you was the courteous option, but it didn’t feel right. They weren’t thankful for her apologies. They didn’t mean anything.

After an awkward silence, the receptionist led them to a conference room down the hall and explained that Mr. Tyler would be in shortly and if they needed anything to just give her a shout. Pepper nodded, and the receptionist left.

Sure enough, Mr. Tyler joined them in the conference room with a stack of papers and a pen. Tony wished he could fast forward through this part. He still remembered what it was like doing this when his parents died and he was in no hurry to go through it again.

“I’ve taken the liberty of reading through the will before you arrived to make this as quick and painless as possible. There are some things that can be dealt with at a later date, such as division of property, but I’m sure today you’d like to focus on the custody of her nephew,” Mr. Tyler said.

“Yes,” Tony said, but the thought made him want to be sick. He knew May, and he knew what the will would say, and he didn’t want to hear it. It’s not that he didn’t, or wouldn’t, want to take care of Peter. That wasn’t it at all. He was afraid that Peter wouldn’t want him. He didn’t even want to imagine how hurtful it would be if, when faced with aging out of the foster system and staying with Tony, Peter picked the latter.

“Before we officially begin, though, I have letters from May to the both of you. There’s one for her nephew here as well, but I’ll give it to you to pass on once he’s present.”

Mr. Tyler gently slid over two envelopes. Tony shakily grabbed the letter with his name on the front. May was gone. Dead. And the last words she’d ever say to him were in this letter. There was a similar one for Peter, but no matter how much Tony wanted to know what it said, he wouldn’t read it. It wasn’t his business. That was strictly for May and Peter’s eyes only.

With a deep breath, Tony opened the envelope and carefully slid the letter out. It was on a simple piece of lined paper, the kind Peter used for school. Her handwriting was almost as messy as his, too.

Tony,

I’m sorry that you’re reading this. It must mean that I’m gone. But try not to focus on that, okay? I need you to focus on Peter. He’s going to need you now more than ever. Don’t bother trying to locate any other family for him to stay with; there isn’t any. I’m an only child, and the rest of my family is gone.

I want you to take care of him. I know that you don’t really believe in yourself as a parent, and I know why, but it simply isn’t true. I’m sure as you’re sitting here reading this you still don’t believe me. Pepper would agree with me, though. Yeah, that’s right. I’m pulling the Pepper card.

Peter would be so much better off with you than if he goes into the foster system. As amazing as he is, people just don’t adopt teenagers as much anymore. He would stay in the system until he aged out, and that wouldn’t be good for him. He needs someone who knows him. He needs someone who understands him and what he’s going through.

I think that’s you. I know that’s you. And I think you know it’s you, too. My official will says that Peter goes to you if he’s under eighteen, but if you . . . can’t do that, my lawyer is under strict instruction not to tell him that. It would be worse if he knew, I think.

I have faith that you won’t do that to him, though. You don’t like to show a lot of emotion, but it’s hard (even for you) to hide how much you care about him. And let’s face it; he’s yours just as much as he’s mine. So be there for him, Tony Stark, or I might have to haunt you from the grave. Doesn’t matter if you don’t believe in all that stuff. I’ll find a way.

That leaves us with one more thing; goodbye. I’ve never much liked goodbyes. It’s possible that we’ve already had ours, but just in case we didn’t; goodbye, Tony. I know I didn’t much like you in the beginning, but you’ve really grown on me. I’m going to miss you, wherever I am. Just try not to miss me too much, okay?

See you (not too) soon,

May Parker

Pepper was still reading her letter once Tony had finished his. He wondered if May had put something similar in hers. He wasn’t going to ask, though. If Pepper wanted to share, she would.

He didn’t know what to do. Maybe cry some more once they’d left this terrible conference room. But he couldn’t do that yet. He still had to deal with the present.

“Her will says that she would like the two of you to take care of him. I understand this is a big undertaking, possibly unexpected if she’d never discussed it with you beforehand. I have legal guardianship transfer papers here, too, if you decide that you’re ready to sign them before you leave here today.

“If not, that’s okay as well. You may want some time to discuss this, and I understand. I can have one of my assistants bring you the papers when, or if, you feel ready for them. Keep in mind, guardianship is not the same as adoption. If you decided to . . . change your mind and have him placed in foster care, that would still be possible.”

“What about his medical care? Do we need to sign something to keep control over that?” Pepper asked now that she was finished reading. Tony silently thanked her for asking the question so that he didn’t have to.

“Mr. Stark is still listed as Peter’s emergency contact, and still has the right to make medical decisions for him in the meantime. I don’t want to rush you, but I do suggest acting quickly. These things can get sort of messy,” Mr. Tyler answered. Tony stared at the stack of papers in front of him and wondered which ones were the ones he was talking about. It was crazy that such a huge life change could happen because of a slip of paper and a signature.

“I think we should wait. This is about Peter; I think he deserves a say on where he goes from here. I don’t want to force him into anything,” Tony thought that was the right thing to say. The lawyer seemed surprised that he wanted Peter’s input.

“He’s only sixteen and experiencing a major loss in his life. Do you think it’s wise to give him such a big decision?” Mr. Tyler asked. Tony nodded without hesitation.

“Yes. It’s his life, and I trust him to made decisions for himself. That doesn’t mean I’m going to let him be irresponsible. I just want him to feel like he’s still got some control when everything else is slipping away.”

Pepper agreed with Tony, and the issue of Peter’s custody was tabled for further discussion. Next, the pair had to deal with things like May’s college loans, current bills, bank accounts. All the things Obi had dealt with for Tony when his parents died. Twenty years later, and he felt like a kid all over again. He didn’t know what to do, who to talk to, what was going to happen in the future.

I think that’s you. I know that’s you. Those words burned in Tony’s mind while the lawyer talked about debts and bills and what would happen to the apartment. Tony wanted to believe her. May never lied to him, why would she start?

But Peter was . . . amazing and kind and compassionate. He was good. He was everything Tony wanted to be but couldn’t, and Tony didn’t want to screw that up. He wasn’t going to be the one who messed up everything May and Ben and Mary and Richard had done.

On the third night after the accident, Peter woke up. Happy had already gone home for the night, and Pepper was out finding something for them to eat. Tony was left by himself in the plastic chair, reading some news article he didn’t care about to pass the time.

If Tony was being honest, he didn’t even notice that Peter had woken up at first until he heard a strange gagging sound. He looked up to investigate and saw Peter tugging at one of the many tubes he was hooked up to.

“Hey, stop doing that,” Tony said, jumping up and pulling Peter’s hands away from the tube so that he couldn’t yank on it anymore. Peter froze and snapped his gaze to Tony’s face. His eyes went wide, and he tried to speak, but once again gagged on the feeding tube.

Tony let go of one of Peter’s hands with the strict instruction not to touch anything while he pressed the call button. Alyssa, who was thankfully back on duty, came in soon after. She gave Peter a soft smile.

“Sleepy head is finally awake, huh?” She said, checking his vitals real quick before telling him to breathe out so she could pull the tube out more easily. Once it was out, Peter tried to talk again, but it came out as more of a rasp. Alyssa left for a moment and returned with a cup of water, which Peter took gratefully.

“What happened?” He asked, voice still raspy. Reality came back, and the excitement Tony had previously felt at Peter being awake melted away.

“You and May were in a car accident three days ago. It’s Monday night, now,” Tony answered. Peter blinked slowly, like he couldn’t quite process the information.

“Where’s May? Can I see her?”

Alyssa took this as her cue to leave, but not before she gave Tony a reassuring glance. Peter watched her go before turning his attention back to Tony.

“There were some . . . complications. She was declared brain dead two days ago, and the hospital took her off life support,” Tony explained. Tears welled up in Peter’s eyes and he wanted nothing more than to take back what he said, to spare Peter the pain of knowing. But Tony knew that wasn’t possible. So, he continued.

“She leaned in front of you in the car once she knew what was going to happen. She took most of the hit, and there wasn’t anything we could do after that. I’m—I’m really sorry, Peter.”

Peter said nothing. The tears started to come faster, blurring his vison and running hot down his cheeks. Tony did his best to pull him close despite the IV and other various things Peter was hooked up to. Peter welcomed the comfort. There were few places he felt safe, fewer still now that May was gone, but Tony’s arms were one of them.

What might have been minutes or hours later, when Peter’s tears finally ran out, he whispered the question that both of them were afraid to answer.

“What happens to me?” Peter asked softly. His voice was muffled, quiet like a small child’s. Perhaps that was what he felt like in this moment.

You can live with me.

No, he can’t. You’ll screw him up.

No, I won’t.

Yes, you will.

I won’t.

Says who?

Says me.

And then, with all the bravery he’d never felt before, Tony said;

“You’ll come live with me and Pepper, if you’re comfortable with that, at least.”

“Really? You aren’t going to send me away?” Came the same small child’s voice. Tony pulled him closer.

“I could never. I love you too much.”

#the friendly neighborhood exchange #friendly neighborhood exchange #peter parker #tony stark #peter parker and tony stark #iron man #spiderman #spider-man #spider man #irondad #irondad fandom #irondad and spiderson #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel comics #marvel fandom #marvel fanfiction #irondad fanfiction

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sam-roulette · 4 years ago

Text

Recommending Free Old School RPGMaker Horror Games based on what Entity You Vibe With The Most

The Hunt: The Crooked Man. You play as David Hoover, a man going through a rough patch in his life who feels as though he has little prospects for a future and who cares for a mother who doesn’t even recognize him. After realizing that his house is haunted, he goes on a quest to see if he can find the previous owners and figure out what’s going on, all the while chased by a monster called the Crooked Man...

This ironically enough also applies as a recommendation to Martin kinnies. This is also one of the few games on the list where you’re expected to fight back.

The Slaughter: The Witch’s House. You play as Viola, a girl who must find a way out of the woods she’s trapped in. She eventually ends up having to enter the constantly warping witch’s house, where she has to figure out the mystery of the witch before the house kills her...

The character that’s being slaughtered is you. Literally anything can kill you and if you so much as look at an object wrong a random death will trigger. It is trying to hurt your character specifically all the time.

The Spiral: Yume Nikki. You play as Madotsuki, a recluse who refuses to leave her small apartment. When you go to sleep is when the game begins; your goal is to open 12 doors into a myriad of strange and unexplained worlds and collect artefacts which distort the main character’s body beyond recognition. I don’t know what else to say honestly; this is just as Spiral as it gets.

The Flesh: Porterminus. You play as Julie, a spunky teen who ends up getting controlled by an eldritch cat into fighting a myriad of terrifying flesh abominations to stave off an equally eldritch plot. A lot of the enemies look genuinely gnarly (especially since most of them used to be human) so big body horror warning on this one.

The Lonely: Escaped Chasm. In this game by Temmie Chang (and the prequel to Dweller’s Path), you play as a girl who is wholly alone, waiting for her parents to come home as reality begins to fall apart around her. This one isn’t particularly long, but the atmosphere is genuinely lonely enough to make you ache, and there’s no save function, meaning you have to finish in one shot. The cut scenes also happen to be fully animated and are absolutely gorgeous.

The Eye: Your Turn to Die ~Death Game by Majority~. You play as Sara Chidouin, a kidnapped high school student who suddenly finds herself in the midst of a life or death game with ten other people. The name of the game is simple, really- after being given challenges with which to build trust and camaraderie, all contestants must vote on who among them will have to die, debating on the merits of each person’s life using all the information you’ve gathered at your disposal.

This one narrowly avoided being classified as The End by the virtue of the death game itself, which you discover more about as the characters try to plan an escape- the people running it just want to see what happens. And you, as the player, may just want to see how things play out as well.

The End: Mad Father. You play as Aya Drevis on the night of the anniversary of her mother’s death. She and her mother knew that her father was experimenting on humans, often using people deemed of little value to perfect his work in attempting to overcome death. On this night, his subjects come alive and attack, and it’s up to Aya to save her father- if he even deserves to be saved.

This one is mostly in The End for the theming of it- there’s a large theme running throughout the game, especially if you do side quests, about the meaning of life and helping people pass on to their deaths, and whether someone has the right to decide whether to hasten the inevitable.

The Dark: Forest of Drizzling Rain. You play as Shiori, a college student with amnesia who goes back to her hometown in an attempt to illuminate all the gaps in her memory. The village is haunted by the legend of Kotori Obake, said to be the ghost of a woman looking for her child, and whose arrival is always precipitated by rainfall... It’s up to Shiori and the mysterious museum owner, Suga, to figure out how to escape the spirit’s clutches.

This gets to be the Dark due to the fear of the unknown, which this game has in spades. This one also happens to have the plus of one of the protags, Suga, actually being mute but not a silent protagonist (as he communicates primarily through notes, which are displayed on screen), which was a really nice touch.

The Corruption: LiEat (1, 2, 3). You play as the lie-eating dragon Efina and her guardian, a con-artist whose name changes each game, as both travel from town to town to solve the mysteries surrounding a horror story. Each game centers around a different mystery, but the common thread is how Efina eats lies: by being in proximity to a liar, she can make lies appear as creatures to eat, and if the liar has deluded themselves enough, their lies will consume them and turn them into oil-smeared monsters.

These games are a little more tame compared to some others on this list, and are honestly a great ride for if you love parent-child interactions. (Fun fact: we loved these so much, we actually loosely based our eye-eating dragon Jon au off of it!)

The Buried: Mermaid Swamp. You play as Rin Yamazaki, a woman going on vacation with three of her friends when the car breaks down in the middle of the mountains. While they’re able to find shelter at an old mansion near a damp and dirty swamp, things start to go south when their friend Mika comes down with an unexplainable illness and a constant feeling of being drowned...

I’d go a little more detail into the Buried themes of it, but, well, that would run right into spoiler territory. Please heed the trigger warnings provided at the link.

The Vast: Witch’s Heart. You play as Claire Elford, an ordinary woman suddenly swept away into a manic search for the fabled Witch’s Heart. While every version of the story is different, every story has the same thing in common: the Heart has the power to grant someone’s deepest wish. Claire, now trapped in a mansion in the heart of the mountains with four others, must fight her way through a variety of monsters and spectres to try and find a way out, all the while exploring vast spaces hidden through portals throughout the house...

This one is Vast less because of the heights and vast places (though there are many here) but for the everpresent feeling that no matter what you do against the vastness of the universe and fate, it doesn’t matter. Getting further into it would be spoiler territory, and I feel like it’s best experienced without knowledge :)

The Desolation: OFF. You take control of the Batter, who has the sole mission of “purifying” the entire world of evil. The entire world, as it turns out, is also just incredibly unsettling.

It may not exactly be a horror game, but it’s extremely disconcerting and you genuinely cannot get more desolate than this game. I don’t want to spoil the ending (even if the game is like over 10 years old at this point) but suffice it to say, when the credits rolled and “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” started playing for the first time, I felt like everything someone ever loved was burned to the ground, and like I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The Stranger: Ib. You play as the titular Ib, a child trapped in a haunted art gallery who has to try and get to the real world alongside two friends she finds along the way. That’s easier said than done, however, with everything in the gallery coming to life and trying to kill you...

There are a lot of things that mark this as a Stranger game, but to avoid touching on the twist, the most genuinely frightening part is That Doll Room. You’ll know it when you see it.

The Web: Close Your Eyes (Original). In this one, you play as a bouncy little Marshmallow Monk who has just escaped death row and is currently running for their life. Before too long, they find themselves in a constantly changing, distorted world, egged on by a mysterious entity called the Narrator who watches their every action and guides their every movement. The goal: get out of this alive.

This one also very narrowly avoided being branded as The Eye due to the eye imagery, the spider, the manipulation, and the Narrator, who is fully voice acted.

#tma #the magnus archives #magnuspod #sam tag #game recs

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epicsevenshitposts · 4 years ago

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OKAY SO I see this gem: “lilias is tried in cidonia’s equivalent of the hague for her crimes,” for example," in your intro post And I'm just...I ask for a shitpost about this

aaaaaa sorry for taking so long to finish this! my brain decided to commit die for almost a straight week and i have no idea why

lmao quick disclaimer but i am not completely up to date with the lore from the ending portion of episode 2 so this might be a bunch of cursed speculation

still hopefully i'll be able to make something worthwhile lol

seven years.

seven years of evading the authorities.

lilias had severed almost any connection she had to her previous life and yet, she had failed.

how the hell did the authorities even get to her? she thought she did a pretty good job evading their meddling. did someone tattle on her in exchange for a plea deal or something? how rude. if she still could, she'd arrange for that person to be, shall we say, sent out for a nice vacation in a warm, toasty place.

but, she couldn't, and now she was being dragged into confinement and charged with a myriad violations of what's basically cidonia's geneva convention.

oh, come on, what she did wasn't that bad. calm down. lilias shook her head in disapproval as her crimes were read out to her. did the people affected even matter that much? who cared? they were obstacles. she needed to clear them up to reach her goal. it was just a means to an end.

she sat in her cell, idly wondering what would become of her. would she get a deal to lessen her punishment, or would she be left to rot for the rest of her days if she didn't figure something out here?

there was another way this could end, but, well, lilias didn't think dwelling on it would be necessary. not at this point. she supposed she'd figure things out if it got to that point.

she'd find a way. she always found a way, no matter the cost.

eventually, the day of her trial began, and she was presented in front of the court.

dear god, this would be a shitshow.

the trial was a media frenzy, given a wholeass citylord was finally being brought to justice for her laundry list of misdeeds.

apparently these sorts of trials could last for literal years

dear god

lilias would be so old, she'd have one foot in the grave by the time this was over

well, maybe not that old, but you get what i'm saying

god, they went over everything from everywhere

seriously, she didn't even remember doing some of this stuff! besides, some types of people did deserve a little torture for their disobedience.

just as a treat

eventually, the trial finally fucking ended, and lilias got her ass sentenced to life in prison

well then

this gave her time. lots of time to create an escape plan and execute it

would she be allowed visitors? surely some people were still on her side, right? surely there were some lilias simps and apologists left in cidonia.

maybe she could be like one of those serial killers who were inexplicably worshiped in the dark recesses of social media websites?

she thought she had charisma and still was fairly attractive, all things considered. surely someone liked her and her kim possible titties.

these ideas would not come to fruition, though, and lilias was forced to serve her sentence until the day she died. because that's literally what a life sentence entails.

actually she probably would be executed but ehhhhhh

informal prison execution? hmmmm

but yeah she got vibe checked lmao and she deserved it

look i don't remember like anything about lilias but i feel like she'd commit some crimes against humanity too

those are kinda like war crimes but can be committed in both peace and war times??? idk man

i think you can get tried for both in the hague maybe??? possibly. i don't know the logistics of this, given that i have not committed either type of crime

anyway haha lilias got yeeted into jail

point and laugh everyone

uhhhh

hopefully you enjoyed it??? i'm not sure how i could effectively shitpost about this without doubt actual research on how these trials are conducted, but hopefully this suffices

lmao not me not being able to properly shitpost about something that was my own idea

anyway, as usual, leave your metaphorical yelp review in a reply or reblog if you wish

#epic seven #epic7 #lilias #aaaaa sorry if this was low-quality! i wasn't sure what to write for some of it so i just was rambling kshdjdhdhdj #thanks for sending this ask in though!!! it was very epic!

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afterthelastreset · 4 years ago

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Rules Of One’s Soul Ch 12 A Little Offer P2

(mak belongs to @wasted-church )

"He was rude!"

"He was probably having a bad day. Everyone gets cranky. Hehe. Of course he might even be more cranky once he realizes you took that diamond. "

"He was mean to me....Shiny diamonds mine now!"

The cat chuckled and leaned back in the cushioned armchair as he watched the small child make their way around the room carrying an armfull of trinkets and jewelry they had collected overtime, the newest addition being the decent sized diamond they had somehow snuck out of the glass case from the Hip Shop. The earlier altercation mustve given them enough time to sneak it away. To be honest he was kinda worried about the duke at this point and that was saying alot since he hasn't really worried about anything since Jevil's imprisonment over a hundred years ago, but I digress. Maybe it was because of the whole soul connection or maybe anyone looking as crazy and desperate as the duke was would send anyone worrisome vibes. He shrugged at the thought. It didn't matter. It wasn't any of his business to begin with. If the Duke wished to eat..eck!..worms and candy for the rest of his time off and avoid him for the rest of his life, well then there was nothing he could really do about it. A small pang of sadness rang out in him from his soul at the thought but he shrugged that off. Wasn't really his place really any ways. Jevil was the one to find him first....But then again-

A small smirk appeared on his face. What fun would a game with Jevil be if he gave up this early into the game? It WAS the most fun he's had in a while, but you see there were many ways to play the game. One way were to force your way to the finish line and push your way onto the goal with a few tricks, much like Jevil. Or one could patiently wait for an opportunity and gently but smartly nudge your victory forward to a checkmate. He just had to wait if or when his next turn comes to him....Or a certain worm noble.

The mere thought of the high life stuck up duke on his hands and knees digging around for worms of all things made him chuckle now that the whole ordeal was behind them. He didn't remember the last time he laughed so much. It was fun watching the Duke's strange ways. One moment he was acting like a holier than thou stick in the mud and the next like a confused pup. And a few times a scared mouse. It was quite a sight really-

A small clatter of metal and glass sounded out as Mak clambered up one of the shelves by the fireplace. They disappeared somewhere at the top and didn't come out for a while after. But soon after popped their head back out again.

"Im hungry!"

"You just ate breakfast an hour ago."

"Im hungry again!"

Seam sighed before shaking his head. "Young ones. I will never understand their bottomless appetite."

"Get me food?"

He sighed and slowly leaned away from the softness of the armchair before standing up to his feet. Just as he turned towards the child to ask what they wanted, the familiar flap of the sheap entrance caught his atttention. His ear twitched to the sound and a chuckle escaped his lips. He turned towards the door with a smile like hes always had. Though he was certainly not expecting a visit this soon, but just in case it wasn't really him-

"I really wasn't expecting customers today, Ill be out in a moment!"

"WORM!!", A voice shrilled from the front. Seam smiled knowingly and began his way to the store front," Thou willst commeth out this instant! I shan't be kept waiting for the likes of you!"

He chuckled more as he pulled back the curtain. "I was expecting you, but Im not sure I can wrestle the diamond away....from.."

He stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. Staring back at him wasn't a duke at all. What was staring back at him was an honest to lightner regular-ish looking worm man. He wore the same scowling face as the duke he knew, but this man had his glittering white hair tied back in a messy bun with stray strands drapping around that scowling face. Surpringly he wore no fancy suit, just a plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a dark blue pair of pants. He had to blink a couple times to actually register the sight before him but really focused when Rouxls cleaed his throat.

"Art thou done gawking at mine presence, Worm?"

"Uh....Sure. I just wasn't expecting you so soon...and in such.." He ran his one eye over him again. "Er...Common suit?"

Rouxls scoffed before rolling his eyes and pointing a hand at his face. "I came likest this-" He gestured to himself, "- to not ruin mine good wardrobe whilst in thine dust infected den."

"Oh. Then Ill be right back."

Rouxls gave him a questioning look. "Where art thou going?"

"Well I suppose you want the diamond back."

"What art thou speaking of? I have no need for nay diamond."

"Oh?"

Rouxls rolled his eyes again before pointing down towards the floor. Seam had to lean over the counter to see. By his feet was a decent sized bucket filled with what could only be described as Cleaning supplies and array of sponges and rags alike. He stood there silently for a moment before chuckling again and looking back up at the worm man.

"So you decided to actually take up my offer?"

He huffed. "Only because I amst in desperate needs of funds for mineself. Not because I needs thou's help."

In reality, it really was because he desperately didn't want to be stuck eating worms and fat inducing candy for a whole nother week. Buuuut in order to do that it would require for Seam to help him. Starving hinself was an option but hed rather not hurt himself before actually being able to get back to Lancer. His boy didn't need to see his lesser father desperate and a pile of bones. This was all for Lancer....It definitely didn't have anything to do with the way his soul kept thumping at the mere smile of the raggedy cat in front of him. Or his chuckling. Or the fact that the old cat may have been a pain but actually was the only one thus far to offer any help what so ever-

STUPID SOUL!! Stop!!

Seam chuckled but was glad none the less that the duke had decided to accept his offer."Of course not. "

"Good! Now thou shall standeth aside and lettest me do mine work!"

With a chuckle Seam gestured to the shop area before them and smiled. "It's all yours my friend. But please, mind the wares. Some are more old and brittle like myself."

"*hmph* Just keepest thineself and that little beast out of mine way!" He huffed and reached down to grab the bucket, but paused for a moment before looking back to the cat with a questioning look. "Speaking of which, where is that little menace?"

"Oh, Mak? They're probably eating that candy stash again-"

"N-Nay! I meaneth thee.." His eyes glanced around real quick. "-other one."

"Oh. You mean Jevil?" Rouxls gave a grimace and he chuckled. "You don't have to worry about him. He leaves early in the morning and doesn't return until almost eight o'clock.Hehe. Most likely entertaining the prince. By the speed in which you do things, I think you don't have to worry too much." He mumbled something to himself but went back to the supplies and picked them up. Seam tilted his head at him- "Would you like a hand there, friend?"

"Yes actually. Thou needs to vacate thine area immediately! I shant have any distractions!"

Seam hummed. "Are you kicking me out of my home? Isn't that illegal to do Duke?,

Rouxls shot him an annoyed look at the question. "Worm! I can't have thee waltzing around thine home whilst I cleanest it!"

"You're cleaning my whole home? I-...I hadn't really intended on that. Just the sheap front will suffice-"

"NAY!" The bucket was slapped down onto the counter making it's contents shuffled around inside it. A blue hand was pointed at his face inches away from his nose. "If I amst to clean mine mate's home correctly then thou art to gettest out until I amst finished. I tire of thine home's foul smell."

The cat didnt even flinch but instead remained frozen for a moment as the blue man still stood there staring intently at him. For a few seconds neither moved, that was until Seam blinked and slowly gave a chuckle. Making Rouxls raise an eyebrow.

"What tis thou fining so funny?"

"Oh nothing. I just wonder."

"About....what?"

A sly smile snuck across his face and he chuckled again. "Oh nothing you should worry about. But I do wonder what I should do in the mean time? Not alot for me to do anynore."

Rouxls groaned before placing one hand on the bucket. "I shant care." He then grabbed it into his arms. "Just leaveth and stay somewhere else whilst I getteth this over with."

"Are you sure about that statement?"

"Yes! Doth thou wantest me to do this or art thou stalling for amusement?"

Seam held his paws up in defence at the duke's angered and annoyed face. "Ok. Hold on one moment. Mak might be convinced by something, makes my job easier-"

"Yes, yes." Rouxls waved him off dismissively as he turned his attention to the rest of the, in his words, sloppy excuse of a home let alone a shop. He made a disgusted look not even trying to hide the fact of what he was thinking. "How can thou stand this filth?"

There wasn't an answer as Seam had already left for the back, leaving Rouxls to grumble to himself. It wasn't too long before the tall cat came out from the back with the small bat child floating about him. The two gave the already busy duke mumbling to himself and Seam had to grab the child as they reached their hands out for the shining white mass of hair-

"No. That's not what I meant."

"But I want the shiny stuff-"

"Not that." Rouxls gave a questioning look over his shoulder just as Seam was moving the bat creature over to his other side, before placing them down and nudging them towards the store exit. "Now run off and behave yourself."

Rouxls watched as with a huff the child stomped their way off to the front. The tent like cover making a flapping noise as they left. With a sigh Seam turned to the worm still staring at him.

"I dont suppose you would be willing to let me help you-"

"Uh...N-Nay! I wantest to finish and leaveth as soon as possible!" He again pointed to the door. "Now if thou please."

"Ok. I get the picture. But if you should change your mind-"

"Yes, yes." He waved off the notion and turned back to his work. "Leaveth mineself to thine peace worm!"

Seam chuckled again before turning his own body to the door, but not leaving without relaying a past notion. "Very well. Then I leave you to cleaning your 'mate's' home duke."

Rouxls mumbled to himself again but paused and turned to look back at the cat just as he ducked out the door. Leaving a mildly bewildered duke.

#seam x jevil #jevil x seam #jevil x rouxls #rouxls x jevil #rouxls kaard x seam #rouxls x seam #rouxls kaard x jevil #Nosuit #seaxls #rouxlvil #rouxvil #jeam #seavil #Deltarune #Rouxls Kaard #Jevil #Seam

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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years ago

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For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 5: The Boy Who Said ‘Always’

Lei’s POV

Thirteen is a landmark age for everybody, I think. When I was thirteen, my life took off in a positive direction, but there were some drawbacks.

Sehun finally made his debut as an idol, attracting the attention and admiration that he always deserved. This wasn’t such a bad thing in itself, but I had seen less and less of him in the weeks leading up to his debut, and I almost stopped seeing him altogether once he was officially a member of EXO. It was a little sad, only being able to see him from the opposite side of a screen when he had been before my eyes for all those years, but I was happy that his dreams were being realized.

Maybe missing him would have been more crippling had I not been so busy with my own projects. Every morning, Amber and I sprinted through the halls of studios downtown to catch idols for interviews before their promotional stages. By the afternoon, I was back in the training studio with people closer to me in age and experience, working toward our shared goal of becoming real idols too.

Why I Experienced A Surge In Happiness At Thirteen:

I spent most of my time with Amber, who I admired deeply.

Speaking to such a vast collection of idols every morning taught me what I was training for: the opportunity to entertain others and express myself through art.

Johnny, Mark, and many of the others who would go on to form NCT took me under their wing on co-ed days.

Joy looked out for me on girls’ training days.

With Johnny, Mark, the rest of NCT, and Joy on my side, the mean girls were much less vocal in their bullying.

I know that this is kind of silly since I swear I believed Sehun when he taught me that others’ approval (or disapproval) didn’t define me, but I remember smiling from ear to ear when Amber showed me all of the supportive comments from people who called themselves my fans just from watching me interview idols with her. So many people cheered for me even though I hadn’t debuted or shown any hint of talent yet.

Even then, it occurred to me that Amber had carefully combed through all of the comments only to show me the uplifting messages, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to dwell on criticisms that I couldn’t see— especially not when she had gone to such lengths to inspire me. Besides, having just been freed from my braces, I embraced almost every opportunity to smile and boast my lack of a gap.

Those days weren’t necessarily easy or perfect, but they were simpler (at least in part) because I did not yet have to manage my image on social media. In my dealings with the public, I followed Amber’s lead and trusted that everything would work out. Now that I am older and I better understand those responsibilities, I hope that I wasn’t a burden to her.

The thing is, Amber never treated me like a burden. In many ways, she almost acted as if we were equal— as if she didn’t outrank me in age and experience in the industry. Still, she was responsible, protective, and considerate of me, all without ever boasting about what she did for me. Those days of following her lead shaped me more than I can ever explain.

If you imagine the perfect older sister, I promise that Amber was better in every way. She proved that every day and especially when we went to Japan for the S.M. showcase and she coordinated that belated surprise for my birthday.

Because that week in Japan marked my first break from training since I started a year prior, the trip was something like a vacation for me. My only responsibility was to help Amber vlog backstage. Once I was done with that, I reported to Super Junior’s dressing room, where Mom had set up a big screen for me to watch all of the performances without getting in anybody’s way.

I was alone, but I had long since learned to entertain myself. When a song I especially liked played through the speakers (spoiler: being first and foremost S.M. trash, I liked every song), I would set my popcorn down at my feet to stand and emulate the choreography while singing along.

Suffice it to say, then, that I was having the time of my life before the morning Amber tiptoed into my hotel room to tug me out of bed before the sun had emerged from its place tucked behind the clouds.

I knew that we were going somewhere special when she gave me a gift bag containing a pair of bubble gum pink overalls. To avoid waking Mom, who was sprawled out and snoring into her pillow, Amber whispered, “Happy Late Birthday! Hurry up and change into that. They’re waiting for us downstairs.”

Amber had been careful not to name who was waiting for us downstairs, but I wouldn’t have believed her if she had. Never in a million years would I have dreamed of meeting Key and Minho in the hotel lobby. They stood, bickering, by the front doors.

I guess Amber wasn’t expecting to see Key either. Furrowing her brows at him, she demanded, “What are you doing here?”

Key scoffed, “Good morning to you too,” but I caught the ghost of a dimple in his left cheek and figured that he was one of many who had a thing for Amber.

She seemed a little oblivious, wrinkling her forehead as she crossed her arms. “Where is Taemin?”

“Yeah.” Minho hurled fire at Key with his eyes as he repeated, “Where is Taemin?”

Key shrugged. “Fast asleep, I guess.” And Minho rolled his eyes.

My face, red enough from being so close to members of my all-time favorite group, darkened with the repeated references to Taemin, who must have been my ultimate bias. I breathed, heart pounding as I was trapped somewhere between relief and disappointment at the realization that he wouldn’t be joining us.

Too overwhelmed by Key and Minho and Taemin’s mere name, I didn’t even notice that Sehun was standing in a darkened corner until he said, “It looks like it’s going to rain soon. Shouldn’t we try to beat the rain?”

Something I can’t understand washed over me. Never in the years of knowing Sehun had I ever embraced him before, so I don’t know what I was thinking when I ran to him and threw my arms around his waist. It couldn’t have lasted for more than a second. As soon as I realized what I was doing, I released him, blushing harder than I had in my entire life.

Thankfully, Key and Minho were too focused on Amber (who was too busy trying to figure out where Taemin was) to witness my utter humiliation. The only witness was Sehun, who only blinked at me. A corner of his lips flicked upward as he waved. “Hi.”

He must have been in a good mood that day. When I finally gathered the courage to meet his gaze, he wasn’t glaring at me. Maybe because I was embarrassed enough without his lecture, he didn’t bother to correct my behavior.

I imitated his tiny smile and waved back. “Hi.”

And then I felt it all at once: how much I missed our everyday interactions— that I was no longer the only one who thought he was the most handsome person— that while I had naturally memorized his every word and every expression, while I had appreciated our every scattered moment, something about Sehun was past tense.

And I had never known to prepare myself for the feeling that I was saying goodbye to something that I couldn’t name but loved nonetheless. I probably couldn’t have prepared myself anyway, and I wouldn’t have wanted to risk ruining the days that are now memories by anticipating the end, but I was so caught off guard by the influx of emotions at the sight of Sehun that (all day) I struggled to catch my breath.

I couldn’t quite hear Minho tattle to Amber that Key had stolen Taemin’s ticket to Sanrio Puroland— I couldn’t quite smile about the surprise destination or mourn the missed opportunity to meet my ultimate idol— over the screaming thought that they were slipping away — or maybe (deep down I knew) they were already gone: the days of sitting by Sehun’s side.

It’s sad that so many details of what could have been our last golden day are lost in my memory. Even as I sit here, trying to dust off the memories off with my pen, all I can recover is the all-consuming fear that I was losing him who was never mine.

There is something sad about the passive love I had for Sehun. No matter how we changed, no matter how many days passed, no matter how the trees and flowers wilted and blossomed, come rain or shine, whether we spoke every day or never again, I would always want to see him just one more time. Always, even if one of us should try to strike it dead, even if one of us should try to forget, my one hope would be to see him happy.

The sad part is: I never willingly gave him my heart. Sehun had it from the moment we met. While something about that is very sweet and childlike and beautiful, it is cruelly unfair. Had my heart ever been mine to give, I probably would have given it to him anyway, but that’s not the point.

I read once that you don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I never got a say in who hurt me. If I had gotten a say in who hurt me, though, I probably still would have chosen Sehun. Like that book said, I probably would have liked my choice.

Anyway, here is what I remember. Here is what I can never forget:

Minho and Key, in their competition for Amber’s attention, had trampled on Sehun’s last nerve, so he wordlessly gestured me away from the group, toward a cotton candy stand.

Nobody noticed the almost childlike smile that grew on his face as he asked, “You like the little bunny, right?” He pointed to bright pink cotton candy shaped in My Melody’s image, and I nodded, too stunned that he remembered my favorite Sanrio character to speak.

When you love somebody the way I loved Sehun, you imagine that there is some deep significance to everything they say and do. Maybe that’s foolish. Or maybe something perceived or imagined is somehow real too. I don’t know.

Even on the most superficial level, I appreciated the smile he concealed behind the tall cotton candy before he entrusted it to me.

Chest heavy and aching for reasons even his apparent happiness couldn’t drive away— wondering if it was normal to want to cry even in the presence of someone who makes your heart flutter— wondering how it was possible to miss somebody right in front of me, right in arm’s reach— I started to say that the candy was too cute to eat.

Then, feeling like that was a weird thing to say, I decided to ask Sehun to take a picture so I could remember this moment later when my thoughts weren’t quite so bitter and only sweetness remained, but I never got the chance.

Dark storm clouds rolled in overhead and spilled cold rain on us without warning. By the time Sehun pulled me under some pastel pink and blue umbrella, much of the candy had dissolved into a shapeless pink blob.

“Sorry,” Sehun muttered as if he had caused the rain. He held his hand out, and I don’t think I would have given him the spoiled candy had I known that he would toss it into the trash bin without hesitation. He promised my devastated expression, “I’ll buy you another one once the rain lets up.”

Frowning, but not quite on the verge of tears, I mumbled, “I didn’t even get to take a picture.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “What a weird thing to say. You were never meant to photograph it. You should be whining, ‘I didn’t get to take a single bite.’”

I said, “People mourn tragedies differently, Sehun,” and I know he wanted to laugh at my dramatic reaction, but he was kind enough to bite back his snickers. And although I had forbidden myself from saying so, when I glanced over at him, and my heart tremored, I blurted, “I miss you.”

Again, he remarked, “What a weird thing to say.” Often when we spoke, Sehun looked away from me, toward something in the distance, but he had been eyeing me strangely since I hugged him in the hotel lobby. I always regretted hugging him. “How can you miss me when I’m standing right beside you?”

Why couldn’t he ever just accept how I felt? Always, always, always, I was embarrassed after revealing my feelings to him, but no shame was ever enough to remind me to bite my tongue. Something about him always compelled me toward honesty.

My face flushed, and I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just not the same person you used to be.” Sehun grunted as if I had knocked the breath out of him, but I knew that I wasn’t strong enough to do that, especially not with words. “Maybe I loved—”

I hadn’t meant to say that. I meant to say ‘liked,’ but ‘loved’ came out of my mouth instead. I carried on as if I had made no mistake (and maybe I hadn’t), “— who you were as a trainee, and now—”

Why had I said anything at all? I made no sense. My gaze fell somewhere around my feet, somewhere in a shallow puddle. “Well, we never really were equals, huh?”

“I’m not different,” Sehun claimed instantly as if he somehow understood my gibberish.

I argued, “I’m not saying that you tried to change. You just have because that’s what people do.”

“Not me.” I watched Sehun shake his head, but I didn’t look too closely at his face. “And not you either. I’m still me, and you’re still you, so I don’t know why you’re so upset.”

“You really don’t think I’ve changed at all since we met?” I don’t know what I expected. I had always suspected that Sehun would only see me as the nine-year-old he met by the vending machine, but I was somehow disappointed.

Fidgeting under my skeptical stare, Sehun conceded, “Well, obviously some things are different. You’re older and taller. You sound a little different. You don’t look at things with little stars in your eyes anymore, and you don’t walk with your head down like you did last year, but—” He rolled his eyes when I raised my eyebrows to say ‘I told you so,’ — “what matters hasn’t changed.”

Because I didn’t know, I asked, “What matters?”

Sehun shook his head, finally looking away from me as he stuffed his fists into his pockets. “If you don’t know, there’s no point in telling you.” His voice, usually so calm and collected, burned me. I gasped at his temper, and he swallowed his frustration to say, “Words can’t convince anybody that you care about them.”

My jaw dropped. “You care about me?” The answer must have been obvious from the way Sehun cut his eyes at me.

When my cheeks turned red and I looked away, he quietly said, “I don’t like saying these things, Lei, so you’re going to have to put two and two together to realize that I’m always going to look out for you.” I didn’t think it was possible, but his voice dropped even lower when he breathed, “You’re going to have to realize for yourself that it hurts my feelings when you accuse me of changing.”

I almost choked on the humid air. “Your feelings?”

He frowned at my reaction, a thin line forming between his eyebrows as he drew them together. “Yes. I have them too, you know, even if I don’t spill them everywhere.”

Apparently, I had accidentally touched some nerve, but I didn’t think that justified Sehun’s harsh words. “I don’t spill my feelings everywhere.”

I glared at him, thinking that I would have apologized for hurting his feelings if he hadn’t set out to hurt mine too. “I only spill them to you because—” He gave me that warning stare, but I wasn’t going to say anything bad, so I frowned at him for always expecting the worst from me— “I trust you.”

Sehun seemed surprised that I could admit something so nice in the midst of what had become an argument. His eyes widened, and his expression softened as he reminded, “You shouldn’t trust boys.”

Almost teasingly, I lied, “I don’t really see you as a boy, though.” Sehun snorted, so I maintained, donning my most solemn expression, “Really, I don’t! I see you as more of a guardian angel.” Even when he was mean for the briefest second, I only thought good things about him.

“A guardian angel?” Sehun repeated, chewing on his grin. “I should warn you that the more you expect from somebody, the likelier they are to disappoint you— even if they really don’t want to.”

“You can’t disappoint me,” I said, “because I don’t expect anything from you.” Even while living in the moment, I knew that Sehun didn’t believe me, but I promised anyway, “I won’t get mad at you even if you get tired of looking out for me. I get that most people don’t mean words like ‘always’ and ‘forever’ and ‘never.’”

“I wish you didn’t know that,” Sehun said so quickly that I almost thought I imagined is voice. “I mean those words when I say them, though.”

That was the first time that I didn’t believe him wholeheartedly even though I wanted to. I didn’t think that Sehun was purposely lying or anything; I just think that some words are too big— too infinite— for people to understand well enough to use truthfully. It’s an accidental dishonesty. It’s enough that somebody wants it to be true. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.

“Okay.” I nodded as if that would bridge my unbelief and the growing ever-present distance between us that he couldn’t feel yet, that he would probably (hopefully) never feel.

With nothing left to say, we stood together under the umbrella, waiting for the storm to pass so we could step back out into the day, but it rained for as long as I can remember. It rained even on the way home.

Yes, I’m still sad that I didn’t get a picture of that moment when I held the cotton candy in those seconds before the storm, but I think it’s sadder that I don’t have a single picture of Sehun from those days. I guess I should take comfort in the fact that the details still haven’t been forgotten; maybe that means they never will be.

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