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slashbitch2 · 3 years ago

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The Very Nosy Neighbour

this fic was 100% inspired by this one here , but I mean it practically wrote itself I couldn't resist

NSFW

You can't remember much past waking up in an unfamiliar room- though 'room' is really a sugarcoated description, as in reality it qualifies more as some kind of cavern. You're sitting in a chair, ankles and wrists bound by an indistinguishable material. Whatever the binds are made of feels strong, so any attempts to struggle against it are futile. Yet, in spite of what really should be an extremely stressful situation, you find yourself completely relaxed. You briefly wonder whether you've been drugged, but with every sense feeling fully operational, that theory is soon dismissed.

Instead of choosing a more logical response to the circumstances you've found yourself in, you decided to focus more on your surroundings: not to form any resemblance of an escape plan, but simply out of curiosity. Although, the investigation is equally as ineffective. You're unable to name anything around you except for stone walls, strange (glowing?) vines and weird symbols carved above a few archways. Everything beyond that is either entirely lost to you, or shrouded in darkness.

With little else to do, you start to think back on the events that led you there, trying to glean any useful information from the blurry memories. The clearest image, therefore the most recent, is the smirking face of a woman, Agnes you realise. Though the malicious glint in her eyes doesn't quite match your perception of the nosy neighbour. But where is she now? Is she also in danger? You may not have known Agnes for very long, but are reluctant to let any harm come to her regardless.

With a clearer head, you consider calling for help, but a small voice at the back of your subconscious warns you against this. And the voice sounds smart, so you elect to listen to it. But what should you do instead? Where did this voice come from? And most importantly, should you trust it? Luckily, you aren't given much time to overthink the decision.

While trying to tune into this voice, footsteps echo in the distance, gradually drawing nearer. You hold your breath as the sound suddenly stops, leaving your eyes scanning the vicinity for any movement. The unpleasant reality dawns on you all too quickly: the footsteps were approaching from behind you.

“Well, well, well.” Someone says playfully, then snorts as they start walking closer. "Sorry to be a total cliché. I couldn't resist." It's Agnes. She narrows her eyes and smirks, folding her arms as she examines your constrained form. Subjected to her scrutiny, you find yourself swallowing, but your throat is too dry. Other small discomforts also become noticeable; your cramped limbs, aching back and the bruises on your hands. Well at least you put up a fight. The more rational part of you, however, realises that your hands are no longer bound. You stare down at them, flexing each finger as if checking they were all still fully functional.

Something suddenly knocks into your head and you grimace. Left reeling from the impact, you realise that you're slightly nauseated. Though not enough to stop you from reaching out to grasp the floating cup of water. The fact that the glass is suspended in mid-air doesn't go unnoticed, rather ignored, since there's too much happening simultaneously to comprehend any of it in sufficient detail. You swirl the liquid round, hesitant to drink, unwilling to trust your captor's apparent mercy.

"Drink up, dear." Agnes drags a chair forward, which seems to have just appeared out of thin air. She sits backwards on it, legs spread and arms resting on the back casually. "That's all you're getting until we're done here." The tone of her voice is both threatening and teasing. You're reluctant to admit it's quite a turn on.

One glance up at her prying expression and you relent, downing the chilled water way too quickly. Though you aren't given a chance to mourn your impatience, as with an effortless wave of her hand, Agnes refills the glass. While you sip at the water, she refuses to tear her eyes away from you for even a second. It's slightly disconcerting.

“Now," She claps her hands, startling you. "I assume you know why you’re here?”

“Not really.” You confess, unable to pinpoint why anyone would go to so much effort to kidnap you, especially Agnes, who up to this point had been an eccentric yet kind neighbour.

She sighs, more for show than anything else, and rubs at her temple. "Come on Y/N, let's not play dumb now."

Embarrassingly, a heat begins to pool deep in your gut, but you quickly dismiss the unwarranted lust. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh really?" She quirks an eyebrow, sitting upright. "You really have no idea?" The inquiry is ridiculing, and you can see that your naivety is starting to annoy her.

All you can do is shake your head and pray the sincerity is reflected in your eyes.

"Okay." She slams her hands down on her thighs. "I guess we'll have to go about this the hard way then, toots." A sharp gesture and your hands are bound before you once again.

By the time you're looking up, she's striding toward you with purpose, which does nothing to ease the building heat between your legs. Her hands clasp on the armrests either side, essentially trapping you, not like escape would've been possible without the extra precaution. Up close you finally recognize this isn't Agnes- in fact it never has been. There's a feral yet wise appearance to her, the facade of nosy neighbour dissolved in an instance to be replaced by a deranged, frighteningly powerful woman (or witch, you're undecided).

Despite your better judgement, you're unable to stop yourself from asking. "Who are you?" Your voice barely breaches a whisper, but she's standing close enough that nothing less intimate is required.

She looks mildly impressed, the corner of her mouth twitching almost indiscernibly. "Agatha Harkness." She extends a hand, smirking upon realisation that you're a little too tied up at the minute to reciprocate. "Lovely to meet you."

You swallow again, finding your throat to be a little less dry. "Likewise." Then decide to take another risk. "So what do you want from me?"

“Wanda's true identity.” She replies so quickly that you almost miss it, looking at you with an eagerly expectant expression.

Agatha's question confuses you further. “I don’t know what you mean.” Although your answer is honest, something at the back of your mind hisses lies.

"There's no need to lie here." Her patient humour had disappeared. "Trust me, no one will hear you, so drop the act."

For some unbeknown reason, her accusation angers you. "I'm not putting on an act, I don't know why I'm here or what you want from me." The bravery dissipates all of a sudden as you remember that you're not exactly in the position to command such authority. "Please, stop this."

Agatha purses her lips, stands up and turns away from you. She calmly moves forwards a few paces, and in the short amount of time you manage to convince yourself that she's given up. Until in a completely unprovoked move, she swings her hands to the left, sending her chair crashing into the wall in frustration. Whether this is part of her interrogation performance or not, it works. Your heart starts racing, and confusingly, the awkward heat between your legs pulses.

She runs a hand through her hair, still facing away from you. "Don't make this any harder harder than it needs to be." You can practically hear her grinding her teeth, but don't doubt that she was getting some enjoyment out of the situation.

"I can tell you that Wanda is my sister and only real family, that I moved to Westview with her and that I couldn't live without her." You start listing off some basic facts, desperate to prove to Agatha that nothing is hidden. That you're normal.

"What about your brother?" She swivels round, clicking her fingers as she tries to recall something. "Pietro!" She exclaims.

"Pietro..." You falter. Why does the name sound so familiar? The nausea worsens. You shake off the feeling. "Never heard of him."

“Liar.” In one swift movement, Agatha is right by your ear. The feeling of her lips brushing against your skin causes you to close your eyes. The close proximity was becoming overwhelming, and your body had chosen to react in a rather unfortunate way. Admittedly, you'd always had a thing for Agnes, but Agatha was on a whole other level. You dreaded to open your eyes, worried that she'd noticed your current state. Instead, you internally begged for mercy.

“Don't go all shy on me now.” She pushes your shoulder into the chair, compelling you to open your eyes. "If you don't want to talk, I have other methods." Her hand raises, a purple flow emanating from the tips of her fingers. It crackles and sparks, as if the power was barely contained, yet as she shifts closer to brush the hair out of your face, you don't flinch. One finger remained touching your forehead, then traced down to your jaw, and finally along to grasp your chin.

While the vaguely sinister movement terrified you, it also forced you hold your breath and grip onto the armrests for dear life. Why you'd decided this was hot was beyond you considering the many connotations of her words, yet your thighs pressed tighter together as she drew closer. You attempted to turn your head to the side, longing for distraction, but her hold on you kept your head still.

"This won't be much fun for you, dear." She sighed in mock pity, her breath hot against your skin... Which just tipped you over the edge. As hard as you tried to stifle the noise, a broken moan escaped your lips. You'd definitely hit a low point here. Too ashamed to face your apparent arousal, you screwed your eyes shut. Although, at Agatha's silence, you relented and opened them barely a minute later.

To your relief, or perhaps dismay, the woman was grinning like a maniac. Her eyes flickered down to your parted lips as she chewed on her own. Then carefully, as if she were testing the waters, her fingers began to rub against your jaw, and upwards to your mouth. Your breath deceives you by hitching as her thumb slips between your lips, stroking your tongue. At the contact, you can't help but arch into the touch. Agatha chuckles.

"I take it back." She murmurs, removing her hand. "This will be fun." Although the intimidation factor prevails, there's a certain desire mirrored in Agatha's expression which cancels out any remaining common sense. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and even if you wanted to, there was little you could do to stop her. So, you give into your yearning, sighing as she climbs to sit on your lap. Immediately, her hand switches to gripping the back of your neck as she slams her mouth onto yours. You willingly indulge by opening further, allowing her tongue to slide between your lips. Her other hand lowers to grab at your chest, like she were trying to tug herself impossibly closer.

Without removing her lips, the hand massaging your chest shifts to your thigh. She still keeps her lips firmly pressed to yours, and with the lack of oxygen, you can feel yourself growing lightheaded. It almost feels like a challenge, one which you're determined to succeed at. Though when she eventually does break away, her hand suddenly slips between your thighs, and your breath is stolen from you once more. Wasting no time, she massages you through your clothes, dragging out an inevitable whine. The touch is both too much, and not enough. But judging by her malevolent smirk, that was exactly her intention.

Even though you were currently incapable of producing any reasonable thought, you still noticed that Agatha wasn't entirely unaffected. Her breathing was laboured, hips occasionally jerking against your thigh and eyes struggling to stay open. The influence you were having on her only encouraged you to moan louder, craving to see her equally dishevelled. Your plan seemed to momentarily fail as her hand retreated. But you'd certainly earned her attention.

She licks her lips, then abruptly changes her expression to look disturbingly like that of Agnes. "You wouldn't leave me out of the fun now, would you dear?" Her voice is high pitched as she basically sings her words. Although the question must've been rhetorical as doesn't await a response, instead you find your hands unbound, flung behind your back and bound together all in a matter of seconds. Then, she shifted her position, yanking your bodies closer so that your crotches were pressed together. She grunts, heaving forward to rest against you for a moment and regain her composure. And finally, without warning, starts to grind your hips together.

It doesn't take long for her movement to become more frantic, accompanied by her hair spilling onto her face. She remains impressively quiet, however, or perhaps you were just comparably loud. With the little pride you have left, you decide to take matters into your own hands, and start meeting each thrust with equal vigour. Miraculously, it works. She throws her head back with a remarkably loud moan, proceeded by change in strategy as she starts almost bouncing on top of you, hips losing their rhythm, pleasure overwhelming her. Startled by her lack of self-control, the heat in your stomach begins building exponentially fast. Your eyes slam shut.

A hand grasps onto your face. “Look at me!” She growls, then emphasises her demand by rolling her hips torturously slowly. The movement ceases. She leans her forehead against yours, staring directly into your eyes. “Come with me.” To your surprise, there's an audible plea in her voice.

At a loss for words, you nod. The pleasure had been building for so long that you knew it'd only take a few more grinds to push you over the edge. With your confirmation, Agatha resumes her thrusting, though soon succumbs, throwing her head back and uttering an exceptionally loud, high-pitched moan. She arches her back, pressing herself so far into you that the pleasure peaks. You groan, lurching backwards in a moment of pure bliss. All you can feel is Agatha, all you can think about is Agatha. Coming down from the high, you sigh and collapse forward to bury your face in the crook of her neck.

She tenses slightly at the contact, but soon relaxes into the strange embrace. You gently press your lips against her skin and feel her shiver, confirming your suspicion that it'd been a while since Agatha had received such affection. Motivated by a new, more innocent desire, you continue to pepper light kisses across her throat and behind her ear, simply enjoying the unexpectedly intimate moment.

Agatha finally breaks the silence, leaning away from your touch to look down at you curiously. "Wanda really has you under her mind control too, huh?"

Although still stuck in a post-coital haze, you muster enough brainpower to consider her words. "Mind control?"

"Oh, right." She smirks, a slight sadness perceptible in her eyes. "Forgot to mention." Before you can say anything, she swings one leg to the side, stiffly sliding off your lap and clasping her hands together. "You might want to reconsider where your loyalties lie, dear." She glances at you, then ambles to the opposite side of the room. "That's one fucked up family situation right there." Her voice teasingly calls out.

You feel yourself flush, strangely offended by her comment, and annoyed by her vagueness. "Like you can talk." Your response is a total shot in the dark, but must've hit a nerve since she slowly turns back to you, a suspicious expression upon her face. "Just a guess." You add, unwilling to know the details of whatever sensitive topic you'd just touched upon. Agatha easily shrugs it off, leaving behind a stifling silence. Eventually, it's a mixture of your own boredom and concern that prompts you to end the lull in conversation. "Are you still planning on interrogating me about something I know nothing about?"

"Oh, no I read your mind." She waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder. "Got all I needed."

Again, you're left suffocating in the confusion her ambiguity provokes, with nothing else to ask except. "How...?"

The inquiry must've been exactly what Agatha wanted to hear as she immediately dropped what she was doing to turn around and lean on the wall, arms folded in a casually smug pose. "Sex leaves you vulnerable." She smirked. "All I did was take advantage of the opportunity- but I'll spare you the boring details." With a flourish of her hand and a flash of purple, the binds holding your ankles and wrists disappeared. "You can go now. First door on the left."

Without sparing you another glance, she busied herself with some witchy task, allowing you to see yourself out. Massaging your wrists, you stood slowly, watching her expectantly. Surely she wouldn't just let you leave? Yet as you sauntered over to the door she'd directed you to, she made no move to stop you. "Bye then?"

Agatha looked up at you and winked. "See you around, neighbour."

#agatha harkness x reader #agnes x reader #agatha harkness

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13-reasons-ideas · 4 years ago

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Hey, I love your stories and your style of writing 💕 I was wondering if you could write one on Scott Reed, along the storyline of the series, where the reader was Jeff's girlfriend until his death, and Scott is there by her side and starts to get along with her, but he's hesitant to make a move because he was pretty close to Jeff as well?

MOVING FORWARD?

A/N: Trigger warning: character death. I hope you like this. I tried to focus more on the process of moving forward with little snippets. I’m sorry this took a while, I had to make the parts flow together and it was challenging. I wrote and rewrote it a few times. Sorry if spacing is off, I tried to fix it as best I could. You’ll want tissues and maybe a snack. It’s a long one.

SEPTEMBER

“Babe, you don’t have to go. I can go get more beer. You stay here with your friends.” I asked Jeff, who was getting his coat to go on a beer run. Jessica’s party was in full swing and everyone was here. Even Clay Jensen came, to most people’s surprise.

“(Y/N), I’m good. I’ve been drinking Coke all night. I’ll see you in a few. I love you.”

I sighed as I looked up at his beaming face, “okay, fine. I’ll see you in twenty. Drive safe, I love you too.” I kissed him softly and watched as he jogged out to the car to run to Blue Spot. I decided to go off in search of my friends and found them in the kitchen, arguing with Scott and Monty about who should get the last beer.

“Ah, finally. Someone who can break the stalemate. (Y/N), who do you think should get it?” Scott asked me.

“Easy. Me.” I smiled, taking the bottle from the table and opening it.

“But- you… you don’t even like beer.” Layla stuttered.

“I know, but it saves me from watching the four of you argue until Jeff gets back. I’m sure you can last,” I checked my watch, “fourteen minutes without a beer.” The boys groaned and Layla turned to Katie, sighing dramatically. I shook my head as I walked away.

I was alone for a while, just wandering the house. I had seen Clay run out of the party a while ago, followed by Sherri and Hannah a while after that. I played with my necklace, a gift from Jeff for our first anniversary, just people watching, the bottle of Coors still full in my hand. My phone buzzing in my pocket pulled me from my thoughts. “hello?” I asked, not bothering to look at who was calling. I assumed it was Jeff calling to confirm how much beer he needed to get.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N/N)- you- oh fuck.”

“Who is this?”

“I-it’s Clay. (Y/N) you… oh god. I called 911 already. There’s been an accident.” No. No no no. Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say. “J-Jeff.” His voice cracked. I heard sirens in the distance. I felt as though I was frozen. “Th-the police are here; they want to talk to me. They’re calling his parents. Oh god (Y/N/N). I have to go.”

“Clay. Clay wait. What happe-.” I tried to ask. He hung up before I could get any words out. It was almost like I had an out of body experience. I lowered my phone and felt the full bottle fall from my grip, shattering on the floor. No one was around to notice, or at least, I couldn’t see if there was. I had tunnel vision. Jeff… he can’t… no.

I blinked quickly a few times to try and make my vision normal, as well as keeping the welling tears from falling. Need to find sports boy. I couldn’t think of the proper words. Walking back towards the kitchen, I scanned the room for someone in a varsity jacket or a face I could identify as an athlete, hell, I scanned for Monty’s plaid shirt. Something like this should trump the stupid fight we had earlier today. I spotted him over by the fridge, talking to some girl. “Monty.” I said quietly as I approached him. He didn’t hear me. “Monty.” I tried again, a little louder. He still didn’t hear me, or he heard me and chose to ignore it. “Montgomery.” I said louder, my voice cracking and placing a hand on his bicep. He froze for a second.

“One second.” He told the girl he was putting the moves on. I watched him turn to face me. As soon as he saw my face, his mouth closed, and his brow furrowed. “(Y/N), are you okay?” Monty asked me, his eyes softening and his demeanor changing almost immediately. I couldn’t get any words out now that I had found someone to tell. I just shook my head and waved my arms awkwardly. “(Y/N/N), did something happen? What happened?”

I opened my mouth and my voice cracked. It felt like my throat was trying to open around a peach pit. “J-Jeff….” Was all I could say. My face crumpled and my eyes squeezed shut, trying my damnedest to keep from crying or screaming. “He… there was an accident.” Monty’s entire face dropped.

“What kind of accident?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s good Monty. We have to… I have to….” I trailed off, trying to find the words to explain that we needed to leave.

“(Y/N) you need to breathe. Let’s go find the guys. Come on.” He said, his face hardening as he pulled me along beside him. I turned to look at the girl he walked away from. She looked royally miffed.

“Scott. Where’s Bryce?” Monty asked his friend. I stood behind him, clutching his shirt tightly to keep myself upright. Had it been any other time, I think he would have minded.

“I don’t know, I think he went upstairs. Why?”

“We need to go.”

Scott looked between Monty and I. “Uh… do you need permission to leave now or something?”

“No Scott. We need to go.” Scott looked at me again and he seemed to register the look on my face as not simply having too much to drink. Monty leaned forward to whisper something to Scott. His eyes widened and he sucked in a deep breath.

“Okay. Uh… I’m good to drive, so you go upstairs and look for Bryce and Justin and whoever else. I’ll take (Y/N) to the car.” I clutched Monty’s shirt tighter.

“(Y/N), you need to let go. I’ll be right back. Go with Scott.” He told me, prying my fingers off his person. I heard myself hum and felt Scott guide me out to the car.

He opened the door and guided me to sit down in the passenger seat. “Do you want some water?” he asked, squatting down to my level. I nodded and he went around to the driver’s side. I turned to watch him root around in his gym bag for a water bottle. He walked back around to me and handed me the fresh bottle. I opened it and took a small sip. He watched me, steadying it when I shook too much. My phone rang again, and I looked down to see who it was. Jeff’s mom was calling. “Hello?” I asked, timidly.

“(Y/N)? Darling, you need to come to the hospital. There was an accident.” She told me, her voice shaking. I could tell she was trying to get the words out without crying.

“I know. Clay called me. We will be there soon.” I looked up as I saw the group of athletes walking out, confused and somber looks on their faces. Scott waved them over. “Okay. We are on our way to the regional hospital. Let one of us know when you get there and we will come down to get you.”

I nodded before realizing that she couldn’t see me. “Mhmm. I will.” I squeaked before hanging up. I felt several dozen eyes on me as I stared at my lap. “They’re going to the regional hospital.” Was all I said as I turned myself forward and shut the door. It was quiet for a few moments before Scott came around and started the car.

Neither of us spoke until we were about halfway to the hospital. I felt my stomach churn the closer we got. “You need to pull over.” I told Scott stiffly.

“You okay (Y/N)?” he asked, his eyes darting to me and back to the road.

“Pull over now.” I ground out, trying to keep from heaving.

“Okay, just a second.” He signalled to pull over and stopped the car. In a matter of seconds, I had the door open and was hunched over on the side of the road, throwing up in the ditch. Diego and Monty pulled over as well when they saw me, and I heard Diego call from the Jeep.

“Is she okay? Or like… she’s okay?”

I groaned. “I’ve got her, you guys go on ahead.” Scott called back. I wiped my mouth and stood up straight, sending Monty a thumbs up. He nodded and merged back into traffic. I walked back to the car, taking a gulp of water, swishing and spitting it on the road.

“We can go.” I said and it was quiet again.

Arriving at the hospital and calling Jeff’s mom was a blur. It was also a blur waiting for the doctor and watching his parents argue that I should be there to hear what was happening. I stared at the wall blankly while I waited for news. Some of the guys whispered around me, others prayed, others like me, stared blankly. Finally, the doctor agreed to let me listen and I walked over at the wave of a nurse. The nurse took me into the small room I remembered being in when I was young, and my grandma had passed.

“Mr. and Mrs. Atkins, Miss (Y/L/N). I am very sorry to have to tell you this, but Jeff passed away at the scene of the accident. I am sorry for your loss.” I closed my eyes as his mom dropped to the floor and screamed. His dad dropped and pulled his distraught wife into his arms. I took a breath and turned to run from the room. I ran down the hall, ignoring the group in the waiting room. “(Y/N), wait.” I heard someone call behind me. I ignored them. I also ignored the footsteps following me. I have to get out of here was running over and over in my head. I stopped running when I got outside and bent over, placing my hands on my knees. I gulped the air, trying to slow my heartrate and put off the impending breakdown.

“(Y/N)?” a voice spoke from behind me. I shook my head. I knew who was talking to me, but I couldn’t make myself speak. “Come here.” Bryce said gently, as though I was a fawn he was trying to approach without spooking. I still couldn’t say anything. His hand gently touched my back and rubbed in circles. I began to stand up and his arms immediately went around my middle to support my weight in the event that I couldn’t stand up. He held me for a few minutes, while I shook and tried not to cry. I noticed Justin standing at the doors with a broken yet menacing look on his face.

“He’s gone.” I whispered quietly into the blond’s shoulder.

“I know. Let’s go back inside, yeah? Get you some water and have someone take you home?” I hummed as he tucked me under his shoulder, supporting my weight.

The group of heartbroken boys were still in the waiting room with Jeff’s parents. I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with them. Monty walked up to Bryce and took me from him.

“I’ll take her home.”

“Stay with her.” Diego told him, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing. Monty nodded and took his flannel off, wrapping me up in it. I took one last look at his parents before turning and walking away, not daring to think of how I was going to have to begin the grieving process for my boyfriend.

I walked up to the school doors on Monday morning and stood there, just looking at it. I was early so there weren’t many people outside, but those who were, stared at me and whispered to each other. Jeff’s baseball shirt hung off my thin frame and my black yoga pants hugged my curves, hidden by the shirt. It seemed to be bigger than it was a few days ago. “Are you going to go inside, or do you want to cut today?” Monty asked from behind me.

I jumped slightly. “I’ll be there in a minute. I have to be here today.”

“Okay. I’ll wait with you.” He stood beside me quietly until I was ready to walk in. I took a step forward and then another, and another. He fell into step beside me. People stared as I walked in. I guess I should get used to it.Principal Bolan and Mr. Porter were waiting for me at the main office.

“(Y/N), if there is anything the school can do, just let me know and I will handle it.” The principal said. Yeah, sure you will.

“Thank you.” I replied, quietly. He nodded and walked back into his office. The appeasing statement has been made. Let’s not appear to care too much.

“(Y/N), you don’t need to be here today. You’ve suffered a great loss. Your teachers would understand why you weren’t here.” Mr. Porter offered.

I stared at him. Is he serious? “I know you’re trying to help and that’s great. But I do need to be here today.” I explained.

“Why?”

“I heard he was drinking, and she let him get in the car anyway.” A girl I had never met muttered to her friend as she passed me. Monty must have seen my features darken and he placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing. I gestured to Mr. Porter.

“That is why. I need to get ahead of this. Jeff is-,” I caught myself, “was a wonderful and well-loved young man, but the kids at this school don’t care about that. If I wasn’t here, the rumors would be even worse.”

Mr. Porter nodded; he had been here long enough to know how people were. “Alright, but if you want to talk or decide you need to go home, come let me know.” I nodded at him and together, Monty and I walked to my locker.

“Did he really say, ‘you don’t need to be here today’? Like he actually fucking said that?” I asked.

“Yup. I heard it too.” Monty said, shaking his head. Clay stopped us in the hall, and I tried to smile at him. It came out as more of a grimace.

“Hey Clay. How’re you doing?”

“I don’t know. How are you doing?”

“I changed my shirt this morning. So that’s something I guess.” I shrugged.

“I’m really sorry (Y/N).”

“I know. Me too. Jeff really liked you, you know.”

“Yeah.” Neither of us knew what else to say. “I uh… I’ll see you around?”

“You will. Let me know if,” I paused, “if you want to talk sometime.”

“Okay.” He nodded before making his way to wherever it is that Clay Jensen spends his time. I tried to ignore the whispers as I sighed.

“This day isn’t going to get any easier.” I muttered. Monty shrugged as we walked. No one else really said anything to me as we walked, all of them grieving in their own ways.

“She isn’t left alone today, okay?” I heard Bryce tell the rest of the athletes, who had crowded around my locker. I had to stop myself from speaking up and telling him that I’m not a child and I can take care of myself. Instead, I readjusted my bag on my shoulder.

“Hey Bryce. Guys.” I greeted somberly.

“Hey (Y/N).” Bryce greeted, equally as somberly. He pulled me into a slightly awkward but understandable hug. Bryce hugs people when they aren’t in shock? This is probably one of the strangest interactions I’ve had with Bryce Walker since… ever. I wasn’t sure what to do so I just patted his back gently. He pulled away and the group made room for me to get to my locker.

“You can all stop staring at me any time. It’s kind of creepy.” I said as I gathered my things. “I know this is a hard day for all of us, but that doesn’t mean you need to stare like everyone else.” When I turned back, they were still looking at me. “Seriously, stop. I’m not going to do anything stupid. I will however, go to my stupid physics class and learn about the laws of motion.” I put my textbooks in my bag and began walking away from my friends. When I didn’t hear any of them following, I turned around. “You coming Diego? Hutcher will get all bent out of shape if we are late, even under these circumstances.”

“I guess so, yeah.” He mumbled, confused before quickly catching up with me.

Between the sad looks from teachers, the boys and their girlfriends following me everywhere, and the whispers from students, my patience with today was beginning to wear thin. It was around lunch time when I heard two girls talking to each other. They must not have noticed I was walking past.

“She really seems to be milking this grieving girlfriend thing.”

“Lizzie, it’s been three days, give her a break. I wonder what it was like. Must have been-.” I had finally had enough.

“What what was like? What part would you like to know about? The part where I begged him not to leave? Or when I got a phone call from a kid freaking out? Would you like to know about what it was like gathering all the guy at that party and going to the hospital? Because it turns out a brother dying sobers you up pretty quick.” I paused and looked at their expressions. “No. No you don’t want to know about that. You want to know what it was like listening to his mom scream and cry and beg God to bring her son back. You want to hear about how I haven’t eaten in three days because I’ve been crying so much I can’t keep food down. And how everyone is staring at me and whispering because apparently Jeff Atkins’ death is inconvenient for them.” Before I could continue, I felt arms going around my waist and I was being pulled back.

“Easy there Ticat.” Scott Reed spoke into my ear. I struggled for a moment and he wrapped his arms around my waist tighter. Finally, I relaxed, and he let go. I watched him turn to the girls.

“She lost her boyfriend three fucking days ago. We lost a brother. Have some goddamn respect.” He scoffed and shook his head as he grabbed the bag I dropped and led me towards the door. The girls looked as though he slapped them as we walked away. He passed me his phone as we walked. “Call Monty.” I did as he said and put it on speaker.

“Hello?” Monty answered.

“Hey. I’m taking (Y/N) home.”

“Why? Is she okay?” He asked.

“She is. At least as okay as we can expect. It’s everyone else that’s the problem.” He grumbled.

“What happened?”

“I’ll explain later. Tell Porter she had to go home for me?”

“I will. Keep me posted?”

“Will do. Bye.” He took the phone from my hand and hung up. We had arrived at his car and he seemed to have calmed down a bit. “So, home?” I blinked at him, not totally understanding the question. “Where do you live?” He clarified, slowly.

“Oh uh… just off Lincoln and sixth.” I replied. He nodded and got in the car. I followed suit and stared out the windshield. “That was… something.”

“Yeah well it’s been a long day.”

“I think they’ll be long for a while.”

“Me too.” He replied, sadly. “You don’t want to go home do you?” he asked, suddenly. I was quiet for a while before answering.

“Not really no. My parents are at work and they’ve just been hovering since Monty brought me home. But it’s so quiet.”

“I can stay if you want. I’m not the greatest cook in the world but I can manage soup broth.”

“You don’t want to go home?”

“No. Bryce may be a dick a lot of the time, but he’s right. You shouldn’t be left alone today. And I can guarantee that I am far better company than some of the other guys. We don’t have to talk or anything. If you’re not comfortable with that, I can call Monty back or one of your other, uh… friends?”

“You mean Layla and Katie? They aren’t really my friends. Have you seen or heard from them today at all? Because I haven’t.”

“I haven’t. Why do you hang out with them then?”

“Why do you spend time with Bryce Walker, Scott?”

“Fair point.” He replied, dropping the subject.

We got closer to my house and I spoke again. “It’s the slightly darker grey one up ahead here.”

“As opposed to the slightly lighter grey houses?” Scott joked. It was a really bad joke, but I felt myself start to smile slightly for the first time in days.

“Well, yeah.” I stated, biting the inside of my lip slightly to keep a straight face. He must have caught himself smiling slightly too because he quickly relaxed his face back to the somewhat somber expression, we all wore today.

“Heard that one before?”

“Yeah. Jeff joked about it a lot.” I smiled sadly at the memory. We were silent again as he pulled into my driveway and we walked to the door. Our stuff was arranged neatly by the door and we made our way through the house to the kitchen. Evidently, he wasn’t kidding about the soup thing.

“Okay, where do you keep your pots?” He asked, clapping his hands together.

“Bottom cupboard by the stove.” I pointed. I’m really not hungry and this really isn’t a good idea. He nodded and set to work searching the kitchen for ingredients.

I decided to leave him be as he fell into what was clearly his zone. When I was upstairs, I decided it might be time to have a shower and clean some of the sadness off of me. It doesn’t work like that (Y/N). I shook my head. You think I don’t know that? I just need to do something that feels normal. Once I was showered and changed into a clean sweatshirt and bike shorts, I made my way downstairs. At the sound of my footsteps, Scott looked up. “I made you a sandwich. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want, but it’s there.” I nodded and sat at the island in front of the bowl of hot soup broth. I took a timid sip from my spoon and sighed. This is really good.

“Thank you.” I muttered quietly. He nodded at me as he took a bite of his own sandwich. We ate in silence across from each other. Scott wasn’t lying when he said we didn’t have to talk if I didn’t want to. Once our lunch was done, he pulled out a notebook and did some homework at the table while I turned on the tv at a low volume, pretending to be interested in some soap opera that had been on longer than I’d been alive. Just like this morning, I pretended not to notice his not so discreet looks to check on me. He didn’t leave until just before my mom got home from work. We bid each other a slightly awkward goodbye and I breathed a sigh of relief that I could finally be alone for a few minutes.

The next couple of days at school weren’t much better. Bryce was still being… nice, which I found slightly odd. It wasn’t nice in a creepy way or anything like that. He seemed to genuinely be nice. He walked me to my first class since his was next door, keeping a respectable distance between us at all times. If he saw me in the halls, he would wave at me or nod in acknowledgement. At first, I thought he was being weird, but when I talked to Monty about it, he just shrugged. “This might be how he’s choosing to grieve. Focus on being nice to you and making sure you know someone is there.”

“I get that, but its Bryce. Usually when he’s nice to a girl….”

“I know. He’s annoying and says stupid shit. But he’s my best friend. I know him. He’s actually trying to be nice to you. Jeff was his friend.”

I sighed. “Okay. I’m not going to start hanging out with him or anything though. If he’s your best friend, what does that make me?”

“My person or whatever.” He muttered, going back to his geometry problem.

“I knew you paid attention when we watched that.” I muttered as I went back to my biology notes.

The stares weren’t much different, but it seemed like it had started really setting in for people by now. Jeff Atkins, one of their classmates, their idols, their friend, was gone. The snarky whispers stopped, but I wasn’t sure if that was because of my outburst on Monday morning or not. I noticed Hannah Baker watching me at my locker during breaks, but I didn’t pay much mind to it. She’s the girl Clay is in love with and Jeff wanted them to get together sure, but that girl had more going on than met the eye. Jessica and Justin seemed more lovey than usual which sucked to watch but whatever works for them I suppose. Justin and Bryce’s relationship seemed kind of off, but I attributed it to some stupid high school bullshit or having different ways of dealing with death. Diego and I hadn’t ever been super close or friendly at all, but he was friends with Jeff and Monty, so I had been around him. When we stopped to talk in the halls or anything, he talked to me just like he always had. We kept it to small talk and school related topics. I was grateful he wasn’t walking on eggshells and trying not to say the wrong thing.

Scott Reed was the one person I couldn’t wrap my head around though. We were kind of sort of friends. More than acquaintances, but not friends, friends. More, you’re friends with my boyfriend and best friend so that’s something, friends. We had also worked on group projects together in the past. He seemed to be stuck between trying to help me and being scared to talk to me. I would catch him looking at me from his locker but he would look away quickly in the mornings, but then at lunch or when the halls were quiet, he would try to make me smile or laugh. It was very confusing, especially with my head being so clouded by grief. I knew he wasn’t trying to make any moves or anything. It’s probably just the way he’s processing things. Maybe he’s trying to avoid the issue and this is how he wants to do it. We didn’t mention our afternoon at my house on Monday, nor did he insert himself into any grief related outbursts that may or may not have occurred in the last few days. You need to stop thinking so much. This is too much to deal with right now.

** **

I hadn’t retained anything we had talked about in school this week. I was too busy dreading this day. I stared at the classic black dress hanging on the door of my closet. It stared back, mockingly. I was in my room, hair freshly curled and pulled out of my face, neutral makeup on, doing all I could to not think about what my plans for the day were going to be just over a week ago. It was shocking how fast plans could change. Instead of a relaxing walk and maybe a game of catch with my boyfriend before dinner, I was getting dressed for his funeral. I rolled my eyes up to try to keep the tears at bay for just a little longer. A knock at my door redirected my attention. “Hey.” Monty said from the door. He leaned against the door frame, likely wrinkling his black suit.

“Hey.” I replied. I sighed and shook my head.

“Are we getting dressed or are we going to stand here hoping it dresses you on its own?” he asked, stepping into my room.

“I don’t know.”

“Your folks are downstairs waiting for you.”

“That’s good.”

“Do you want a drink?” I turned around to face him as he pulled a silver flask out of his inside jacket pocket.

“No. Need to be sober for this.”

He nodded and took a swig of whatever it contained. Today wasn’t the day to argue with him about drinking before eleven. “Do you need help with the dress or are you good?”

“I think I’ll need you to zip it up.” I muttered, motioning for him to sit on my bed as I took the dress off its hanger, going into my closet to change. I didn’t look in the mirror as I passed it on the way to my bed. He zipped it up deftly. I again, decided not to make a comment about how he wasn’t usually zipping dresses up.With that taken care of, I slipped on my black pumps and turned around to look in the mirror. “Do I look okay Monty?” I asked, pulling on my sleeves slightly, trying to cover up a little more. He placed his hand on mine to stop me.

“You look beautiful (Y/N). Stop fiddling with it and let’s go downstairs.”

“I don’t want to.” I replied, my voice cracking. Don’t cry. Do not cry.

“I know. But we need to.” He sighed. “Everyone will be there. If it makes you feel better, I can even talk to the Jensen kid.”

“Clay. And I don’t know if it would honestly.” Before we went downstairs, I asked him, “can I take you up on your offer of flask juice?”

“Not right now. You said you have to stay sober for this.”

I sighed for what felt like the millionth time today and walked downstairs, clutching the railing as I went so that I didn’t topple over.

Jeff’s parents asked if I wanted to come early so I could have some alone time to say goodbye to Jeff. When we arrived at the church, his parents, the Priest, and the funeral director met us out front. Jeff’s dad pulled me into a tight hug and whispered apologies in my ear. I rubbed his back softly and apologised back. His mom was quick to pull me in as well. “I’ll always consider you akin to a daughter, (Y/N).” She whispered. I had to fight back tears when she squeezed tighter before letting me go.

“I’m very sorry for your loss.” Father Carmichael said as he took my hand gently. They were warmer than I expected for a man his age.

“Thank you.” I mumbled. The sentiment was shared by the funeral director and I was ushered off to the waiting hearse. The back door was opened, and I stared at the shiny walnut casket filling the space. It almost didn’t believe what I was seeing. It didn’t seem real. I placed a hand on the varnished wood, noting how smooth it felt.

“This can’t be happening.” I muttered softly. I paused to wait for a response I knew would never come. “We promised each other we would have forever.” There was more I wanted to say but the tears were becoming impossible to stop. I hoped that he knew everything I wanted to say already. I wiped my tears quickly before turning around and waiting for the pallbearers to arrive. We were ushered into the church before other people arrived.

“(Y/N), would you like to sit with the family? You practically are to us.” Jeff’s mom asked as my parents went to get some water.

“Umm,” I paused and turned to Monty. He shrugged and nodded. “I guess that would be okay.” I replied, not completely sure of my answer.

“Alright sweetie.” She hugged me again and turned as the pallbearers began arriving. I watched on as the funeral director explained procedure to them. His parents and I were led out of the church once again to follow the casket into the chapel.

The church was packed full. I could hear the quiet loud of a large group chattering with one another at the door. I quickly shut the door on the original idea of a large gathering in this little church. Oh, how that day would have been so different than today. My dad wouldn’t already be seated inside, I wouldn’t be wearing black, Jeff would be standing at the alter instead of…. Suddenly we were watching the group of young men carry the heavy casket up the church steps. His cousins were trying to keep their tears in but couldn’t help the few that slid out. His uncle had tears streaming down his face. I took a deep breath and began following his mom and dad into the church. When I got to the doors leading to the chapel, I froze. I couldn’t make my feet move. Once again, I was bombarded with what should have been. I could feel people’s eyes on me but try as I might, I simply could not move. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement coming around the last pew. Scott was standing at my side in a moment.

“One foot in front of the other.” He muttered as he held his arm out slightly. I grasped it, probably too tightly, but he didn’t even flinch. Together, he walked me towards the alter. I didn’t bother to think about what people would say about it. People here weren’t that callous. I took my seat and took a deep breath as he quickly made his way back to his seat.

Father Carmichael performed a wonderful service for Jeff. I felt tears streaming down my face the whole time. When it was over, I excused myself to the washroom to fix my makeup and have a moment to myself. As expected, Monty was waiting for me when I was done. Not as expected, was the addition of Scott waiting with him. I cleared my throat and pointed to my face. “You’re good.” Monty said, after a quick once over.

“Okay.” I nodded. I turned my attention to Scott. “um… thank you. For what you did in there.” I told him, awkwardly.

“It was no problem. That couldn’t have been easy.” He said. I shook my head. It wasn’t.

“Are we going to Jeff’s after this?” Monty asked me. I paused. I should. I really should go. I just don’t know if I can.

“I don’t… know?” I hesitated.

“You could show up for a few minutes, make a quick round, and say you need to be alone.” Scott suggested. I looked up at him. Could I really do that?

“That’s not actually a bad idea.” Monty replied, rubbing his jaw in thought. “We could go to the docks afterwards.”

“Flask empty yet?” I asked.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N). We are in a church.” He gasped, scandalously.

“I don’t mean for now. And that’s rich coming from you. When was the last time you cracked open your Bible Montgomery?” He was silent and avoided eye contact. “Exactly.”

“It’s not. But it’s not like we can’t refill it if we need to.”

“Okay. Let’s go.” I nodded. I put on another brave face as we walked out of the church on the way to the grave site to lay Jeff to rest.

We made a quick appearance at the house, during which Bryce gave me another sad hug and I smiled awkwardly at people when they gave me the look I had become so familiar with in the last week. I was able to excuse myself and leave quietly with Monty and Scott in tow. The three of us made our way to the docks, after a quick stop at my place for a flask refill and extra bottle of vodka. I sat on the railing, staring out at the ocean, blankly. My companions flanked me on either side. The metal flask was passed silently between us until it was decided that I was “thoroughly fucked up” as Monty put it. The burn of the alcohol had stopped bothering me long before that.

“I cannot deny that statement.” I said, watching the waves.

“Ready to go home then (Y/N/N)?”

I turned my head to face him with wide eyes, “no. What do you think my parents would say if I showed up at home drunk?”

“Today?” Scott asked.

“I think, given the day you’ve had, they would understand. Plus, you were hanging out with me so they know you’re safe.” Monty shrugged.

“It’s the middle of the day. And you have been drinking since before eleven. There is no way you can drive right now.” I closed my eyes to stop the spinning in my head.

“I can drive. I haven’t had that much to drink.” Scott offered. It was true. He spent most of his time with the flask, holding it in his hand.

“See? Scott can drive. It’ll be fine. But if you scratch my car, I’ll beat you.” Monty threatened.

“Sure, you will Monty.” Scott laughed. We spent the rest of the day driving around town until I sobered up enough to go home, where I fell asleep as soon as I laid on my bed.

OCTOBER/NOVEMBER

The rest of September and much of October went by in a blur. I often found myself wondering if this was going to be my life now. Was I always going to be the girl whose boyfriend died? The staring stopped after a few weeks. And a couple of weeks after that, people started to move on. It was deemed socially acceptable for everyone else to continue living their lives. Sheri Holland stopped making weird eye contact with me. I wonder what that is about. Clay had seemed to stop openly pining over Hannah Baker. The guys were able to find ways to fill their time without being upset about Jeff. Everything was so… normal. The only person who wasn’t allowed to move on, it seemed, was me.

Everything was normal. Until Hannah Baker’s suicide. In the span of two months, Liberty had lost two students. Being a year older than her, we seemed to be more removed from the situation. It was still sad though. Especially when I watched how it was impacting Clay Jensen. Jeff had taken the boy under his wing while he was being tutored. I had asked him about it one night while we were on a date. Jeff had replied in his usual, happy go lucky glass half full tone, that “Clay is helping me with my grades and I’m helping him with Hannah. They’re good for each other.” I smiled fondly at the memory. Things were so much simpler then. People still looked at me in the halls. They still whispered when I passed. It became easier to ignore them. The drunk driving posters which had upset me so much when they were posted because I knew that Jeff wasn’t drinking that night, were replaced with suicide prevention posters. For the majority of my fellow seniors, Hannah Baker was just a girl. For me, she was just a girl. A girl who my late boyfriend tried to set up with his friend. It was tragic. But in my mind, it paled in comparison to the tragedy I had experienced only a month earlier.

Eventually, everyone else had gone back to normal. Except for Scott Reed. We had never really been friends. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. And while I appreciated what he did for me, both at school and at the funeral, we didn’t talk about it. He still didn’t really say a whole lot to me. Yet somehow, he was always just… there. I would catch him watching me. Or I would notice his ears perk up when I was mentioned as the guys passed me in the halls. Montgomery of all people even noticed. “You know, Scott was asking about you at practice the other day. What’s going on there (Y/N/N)?” He mentioned to me in the library one day. I merely shrugged and waved it off.

“He hasn’t really talked to me, so I don’t know.”

He was watching me again. His eyes followed me as I grabbed a book for my paper in the library. Stare at me any harder and you might set me on fire. Rolling my eyes, I turned and plastered on my best and brightest smile. Scott looked down and suddenly became very interested in his own book when he noticed me walking towards him. I pulled out the chair across from him and leaned in. “What’s your deal, Scott?”

“My deal?” he said into his book.

“Why are you staring at me? And why do you act like you aren’t?”

“I don’t stare at you (Y/N).”

“Then what do you call watching someone from across the hall and across rooms? Hmmm?”

“I uh… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Monty said you’ve been asking about me.”

He looked up. “He did?”

“Yeah. So, I’ll ask again, what is your deal?”

“Nothing.” He pushed his book aside.

“Sure. Whatever.” I huffed. Pulling out my books, I got comfortable. I’m already sitting here. Might as well take advantage. We were quiet for a while. He was trying not to watch me study. This is the most normal thing I’ve experienced in at least the last month.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh.”

“He was my friend (Y/N).”

“I know. Thank you. For what you did for me. I realized I never said it before.”

“No problem.” The bell rang. Packing up our stuff, we wordlessly bid each other goodbye and went our separate ways.

That day in the library wasn’t the only time Scott and I studied together after that. One of us would find the other sitting alone at a table or looking for something in an aisle. Our interactions were mostly wordless. A nod here and there when we sat down. Maybe the odd whispered question about homework. A shared chuckle about something we read. We never talked about Jeff again though. It was too hard. Still too fresh for both of us.

Around the middle of November, our silent study sessions began to change. They got a little less quiet. It was like we were walking on soft dirt ground rather than eggshells. We started bringing snacks. “What’s in the bag today Har?”

“Mini pancakes, chocolate chips, and banana protein bites.” I said, as I opened the containers. I set them in the middle of the table so we could both reach. We were studying quietly, both of us focused on our respective assignments. I could feel his eyes on me.

“I thought we were past this Scotty.” I muttered, smiling into my book. It was Thursday. I did English homework in the library on Thursdays.

“Old habits and all.”

“Mhmm. Right.”

“Actually (Y/N)?”

“Yes Scott?”

“Did you want to grab a coffee at Monet’s or something later?” I stopped writing. His question caught me off guard. “As friends, obviously.” He added when he noticed my hesitation.

“Sure. Say 4:30?”

“4:30 works.”

“Okay.”

I met Scott at Monet’s just after 4:30. We had both gotten stuck behind the same accident. He held the door open for me and even conceded when I suggested we pay separately since it wasn’t a date. I got a triple americano with cream and he got a drip coffee with milk.

“It’s like quarter to five in the afternoon (Y/N).”

“I know. But this is my order.” Jeff did the same thing.

“I’m not judging.”

“It seems like you’re judging a little.” I smiled.

“Swear I’m not.” He chuckled. I nodded and took a sip of my coffee. We sat at an open booth near the coffee bar. It was far enough away from the table Jeff and I used to sit at that it felt okay to sit at.

Neither of us really knew where to start in a conversation. The ten minutes of silence we sat in, made it exceedingly clear that all we really had in common was Jeff and some shared classes. I decided to break the ice. “Aside from football, baseball, and making soup, what else do you like to do for fun?”

“Video games but I don’t think that’s the answer you’re looking for. Hmm. I like driving into the city to go to the movie theater and seeing whatever is playing next.”

“No, it wasn’t. Expected that answer. Random movies sounds cool.”

“Yeah. What about you?”

“I volunteer at the local animal shelter. What’s the weirdest movie you’ve ever seen doing that?”

“Central Intelligence, easy. It came out last year. It wasn’t a bad movie exactly. The Rock and Kevin Hart were in it. Just not my thing.”

“Huh. I heard about that one. My cousin went to see it. She didn’t like it much either.”

“Glad to know I’m not alone. What do you do at the shelter?”

“Oh, you know, walk the dogs and puppies. Pet the cats. Clean up the odd accident. Aside from that last one, it’s pretty nice. It’s the best when you see a friend who’s been there for a while or longer, finally get their forever family and forever home.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that like?”

“It’s hard to describe. Most of the dogs get this smile and almost are able to breathe normally again. The cats get cozy in their carriers or their box. It’s really adorable. They’re content.”

“That sounds like it’s really rewarding.”

“It is. You could swing by sometime if you want. See the animals.”

He seemed skeptical and I was worried I had overstepped. I know it’s been a while since I’ve dated, but this is just as friends. So I shouldn’t be worried about overstepping. “Are you sure that’s okay? Like you’re allowed to do that?” Oh, I see. That’s a relief.

“For sure. It gives them a chance to socialize. Don’t worry, the dogs and cats that have issues with people aren’t ready to be put on the adoption list or in the adoption section until they’re able to be around people safely. Any interaction with strangers is beneficial too so they aren’t as freaked when people come to look at them to potentially adopt. Plus, who doesn’t love to play with puppies and kittens?”

He laughed heartily. “I’ll think about it. Might have to take you up on your offer. What about the other animals?”

“Oh, I’m not really comfortable handling the birds and stuff so I kind of stay away from there. It’s not a problem for the shelter. They don’t want you to be uncomfortable or afraid.”

“That makes sense. You can tag along for a random movie sometime if you want.”

It was my turn to be slightly taken aback. “I’ll think about it. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Did you finish that already?” He nodded towards my now empty mug.

“Yes. It was delicious.”

Scott chuckled to himself softly. We still weren’t sure what to talk about, because we didn’t know what we had in common aside from Jeff and school. Somehow, we found things to talk about and the hour we expected turned into two. He looked at his watch. “My folks are expecting me for dinner in approximately no minutes. I should get going.” I checked my phone and my brows rose.

“I should get going too. Before they send the cavalry to find me.”

“Library tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure Scott. I’ll see you there.” On my way home, I realized that for the first time in months, I hardly thought about Jeff this afternoon.

Our study sessions changed again after our not a date just friends’ coffee. Things were less awkward, and it seemed like we had found our footing for the most part. We talked to each other in the halls more and Scott had finally stopped watching me like a hawk. We were even cracking jokes with each other. He had begun treating me like everyone else was. Like I wasn’t going to break if he or someone else said the wrong thing. Like I was (Y/N) and not the girl whose boyfriend died.

DECEMBER

I arrived at school later than usual on a Tuesday morning. It had been a little under three weeks since our coffee not date. I immediately noticed Scott at his locker. His bag was slung over one shoulder and he was wearing his varsity jacket. He was talking to Mike. Mike was a senior in my Spanish class. I didn’t really know him all that well outside of that. I didn’t realize they were friends. When I walked past his locker, I overheard them talking about me.

“Why don’t you go for it and ask her?”

“I don’t know man. She’s really great and all but….”

“She was Jeff’s girlfriend. I get it.”

“He was my friend. I don’t want to overstep.”

“I know.” Mike said. I wanted to hear more of what they were saying so I bent down and undid the heel strap on my wedges. I fiddled with it while they talked. “This is going to sound horrible. I realize that so don’t hate me. I miss him as much as the next guy. I really do. But… Jeff isn’t here anymore, Scott. He’s gone.” You’re right Mike. That is horrible. “There isn’t really a line to overstep. It’s not like anyone can do anything to fix it. It just… is.”

“But do I want to be the guy who asks his dead friend’s girlfriend on a date?” A date? My cheeks flared. I couldn’t say that the idea hadn’t crossed my mind that Scott was an option. I had just felt absolutely terrible for it as soon as I did.

“Maybe you need to be. Maybe that could help both of you.”

“Help us what Mike?” Scott asked, the unease clear in his tone.

“Help you move…” Mike paused, “on isn’t the right word. Forward? That sounds better. Help you move forward. She needs someone and from what I’ve seen, she has Monty, those two girls who basically stopped talking to her after Jeff died, a couple of randoms she doesn’t seem to like that much, the baseball team-but it seems like they keep her around out of pity. And you. She has you.”

“And how would asking her on a date help me?”

“You have Monty, Charlie, and the baseball team. You think I think you like the rest of the team?”

“No.” He admitted.

“Exactly. And you have her. Jeff was your friend. He was her boyfriend. And he died. You both need someone to get through that. Because going through it when you feel like you’re alone, sucks. Besides, (Y/N) doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to stop being friends with someone if they ask her out and she isn’t interested in that. So, either way, she won’t not be in your life.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Course I am. Now, go. Go shoot your shot. I gotta get to math.”

My eyes widened when their conversation ended abruptly like that. I wasn’t prepared. Quickly, I stood and sped off to my own locker. I had barely had time to open it and pretend to look for something before Scott was behind me. “Hey Ticat.”

“Oh, uh. Hey Scott.”

“Whatcha looking for?”

“Book for English.”

“Cool, cool.”

“Mhmm.” Oh my God this is awkward. Please don’t ask. I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. Someone pulled my attention away before Scott could say anything else.

“(Y/N)!”

“What?”

“Monty and Alex just got into it in the parking lot. You have to come see this.” Once again this morning, my eyes widened. They’ll probably stick like this if it happens again today.

“I’ll be right there.” I turned to Scott, abandoning my bogus search, “I uh… I need to go take care of that. I don’t know if I’ll be able to study today.” Or tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that.

“No problem. Go. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, text me.” I called as I ran off.

I skipped our study sessions for the next week and I was cautious with our texts. It was like we were back at the beginning of our friendship. Could you even call it a friendship? Well, technically Friday wasn’t skipping. I had a doctor’s appointment. Scott didn’t appear to pick up on the change though. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was oblivious, like most other boys, or if he was just as freaked out as I was by the idea of dating. I used the time in the week that I should have been studying and would have been spending with Scott, to think about him. I thought about how easy our conversations had become and how comfortable and normal I felt with him. The way his piercing blue eye shone when he laughed. Or the way they narrowed slightly when he was silently judging some stupid comment his friends made. About how white his teeth were. The way he smiled when he finished a difficult homework problem. About how soft his hair looked. Oh dear. I’ve got it bad.

I texted Scott the next morning. Library this afternoon? He answered about half an hour later, while I was eating breakfast.

Sure. I’ll save you a seat.

Cool. I have leftover chocolate chip cookies.

In free period, I found Scott at a table in the corner of the library. His stuff was spread out on what looked like exactly half of it. There was a clear divide of where his stuff ended and where the free area was. Did he save half of the table for me? He looked up from his notes when I sat down. “Hey Ticat.”

“Hey Scotty. How’s the,” I paused and looked at his notes, “calculus coming?”

“It’s coming. I have a test tomorrow and I have no idea how I’m going to pass.”

“I can try to help you?”

“I’ll see how far I can get with this and go from there?”

“Of course.” I pulled out my geography notes and the cookies. We easily fell back into our usual silent study. It was like I hadn’t been bailing on him for a week.

When the bell rang, we packed up our belongings and snuck sly glances at each other.

“Walk you to class?”

“Sure.” I nodded and threw my book bag over my shoulder.

“How have you been this week?”

“You know. Busy.”

“Yeah. How was the doctor?”

“Good. I got a clean bill of health.”

“That’s good.” I cleared my throat, awkwardly. What happened to the way things were last week? “Hey (Y/N). Uh, did you want to maybe see a movie sometime?”

“A random see what’s playing next, movie?”

“Sure. Or, you know. You could pick a movie and we could see that.”

“Scott?” I stopped walking and stepped to the side of the hall.

“Yeah?”

“Are you trying to ask me out?”

“What would you say if I was?” I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“I’d say I thought you would be much smoother and more direct. And also, I think I would like that.”

“Saturday afternoon?”

“Sure. Saturday works for me.”

“Awesome.” He stepped back into the crowded hall and walked me to class. Maybe Mike is right. Maybe this will be good for us. For me.

Saturday morning, I got up early to get ready. We had decided he would be at my place at 12:30. Since it had been so long since I had been on a first date and… and my last date had been with Jeff, I was more than a little anxious. I wasn’t sure what to wear. I wasn’t sure how to do my hair. I couldn’t call anyone to ask because I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell people I was going on a date. Staring at my closet didn’t really help the indecision. Jeans? Do people wear jeans on a first date? I pulled a few pairs out. A skirt is too formal. And I don’t want to make the wrong impression. Shirt? I need to wear a shirt. Flicking through the hangers, I picked a couple of choices that were nice but not too nice. Options in hand, I laid them out on the bed. The jeans were easy to pare down to one choice. I went with a comfortable pair of Levi’s. Again, they were nice, but not too nice. A safe choice. I ended up choosing a striped high neck tank top and grabbed a black cardigan to wear on top. Pulling a pair of flats out, I slipped them on and fixed my hair. I side braided it quickly and pulled a few pieces out to frame my face. It looked effortless. Presentable and like I thought about it, yes. But still effortless, nonetheless.

The doorbell rang just before 12:30. “I’ll get it!” I called out to my parents in the other room.

“K.” Mom responded. I hopped over to the door. Scott was standing on my porch with his hands in his pocket. His usual varsity jacket was traded for a simple grey hoodie.

“Hey (Y/N).”

“Hey Scott. Just let me grab my purse and we can head out?”

“Sure.” Purse in hand, Scott and I walked out to his car. He opened the door for me, and I smiled shyly at him. Why are you acting so shy? It’s Scott Reed. It’s not like you’ve never spoken to him before. Oh, I don’t know? Maybe because I’m going on a date with him?

“You look… really pretty.”

I blushed and looked down briefly. “Thank you. I wasn’t really sure what to wear, to be honest. You look pretty too.” I realized what I said, as soon as the words left my mouth. I can’t believe I just said that. Oh, my word. Scott burst out laughing. “Uh. I mean. Handsome. You look handsome. Very put together.”

“No, no. I’ll take pretty. I’m confident enough in my manhood that it’s a compliment. Not every day a girl calls me pretty. Let alone one I’m interested in.”

“Trust me, it happens. It might not be to your face. But it does happen.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” We were quiet for a time. My face was still pink from embarrassment. “Did you have any particular movie in mind?”

“No, not really. I thought we could give your whatever movie is next thing a go?”

“I like the way you think. As long as it isn’t 2001. Because there isn’t a more boring film in existence.”

“Oh my God, I know right? I had to see it with my cousin once for ‘family bonding time’ and I fell asleep like twice.”

“Your family does bonding time too?”

“Ugh. You don’t even want to know.” I sighed dramatically.

“Tell me about it next time?” Woah. Next time? That… doesn’t actually sound that bad.

“Next time? We haven’t even gotten through a movie together and you’re already talking about next time?”

“Well- I- uh- we-.”

“Scott. Relax. Ask me again on the way home?”

“Okay.” He sounded relived.

When we arrived at the Crestmont, the ticket person was staring blankly out the booth’s window. The joys of the Saturday afternoon shift, I guess. “Welcome to the Crestmont.”

“Hi. How are you?” Scott asked the boy. His name tag read Andrew.

“Good. And you guys?”

“Good.” We answered together.

“How can I help you?”

“Can we get two tickets to whatever is playing next?”

“Two tickets to Ferdinand in not 3D. That’ll be ten dollars please.” Scott handed him the cash and I took the tickets. “Enjoy the show.”

“Thank you.” I said.

Inside, the concession worker greeted us in a much kinder tone than the ticketer. “Any chance you’ll let me pay for the snacks?”

“Not even a little.”

“Oh, come on Scotty, you drove and paid for tickets. The least you could do is let me pay for snacks.”

“No, I’ve got it. Don’t worry about it Ticat.”

“Please?” I looked at him with my best puppy dog eyes. I could see the resolve begin to crack. “Pretty please?”

“Ugh. Fine. You can buy the snacks.” He caved, dramatically.

“Yay.” I said, softly. The cashier looked like she was trying not to laugh but she was smiling. “Hi. Can I get a pack of gummy bears and a medium Cherry Coke, please?” I turned to Scott, “are we sharing popcorn? I don’t really eat very much.”

“That sounds good.”

“Okay. And a large popcorn. And whatever he would like.”

“Can I get a pack of sour patch kids and a medium orange Fanta, please?”

“Coming right up.” I paid her and caught Scott grimacing in the corner of my eye. The puppy dog eyes always work. With our snacks in hand, we found some decent seats, given the time of day we were there. The movie was adorable. While it was technically for children, I found it to be incredibly heartwarming. Somewhere around thirty minutes into the film, our hands found each other on the shared armrest. We turned and smiled shyly at each other.

After the movie was done, we walked back to his car, hand in hand. It felt strange but also kind of nice. “I’m getting snacks next time, if I have to steal your wallet.”

“Scott Reed, commit a crime? Why I never.”

“You’d get it back after the movie.”

“Fine. But I thought next time was when I got to bore you with family bonding time stories.”

“Only because I get to bore you with mine. And fine. Then the third date.”

“It’s a date.”

JANUARY

Scott and I had been dating for about a month by now. We were keeping it on the down low. I wasn’t ready to announce to people that I was no longer the sad, grieving, heartbroken girl who was destined to be alone that they thought I should be. Scott understood that. As far as anyone at school was concerned, Scott and I were just friends. We had already been studying together so it wasn’t out of the ordinary that we were still doing that. They must have missed all the coy or longing glances we shot each other. If anyone saw us together outside of school, they assumed we were just helping each other through Jeff’s death.

Scott and I were on a date at Monet’s. It was a Sunday afternoon. It was abuzz with patrons looking for an afternoon pick me up after church or brunch. But to us, it may as well have been empty. We were still in that ‘we are the only two people who exist when we are together’ stage. Scott had just gotten back from ordering us a couple of refills. He had memorized my order already. I thought it was the sweetest thing. “So, we’ve never really talked about it but,” he paused. Oh no. Please don’t ask about Jeff. I’m not ready to get into all of that. And I don’t want to do it in public. I’m going to cry. I know I will. “you and Monty seem pretty close. What’s the story there?” Oh, that’s it? Just Montgomery? Phew.

“Not really much of a story. We grew up next door to each other before my parents moved across town in eighth grade. His family moved in about a year after mine did. I kind of took him under my wing, especially as we got older. There weren’t many kids our age in the neighbourhood. Or at least, none our moms would be okay with us spending time around. So, we had each other.”

“Interesting. He never mentioned it.”

“Well, he likes to keep his home life… private. Or….” I paused, unsure of how much Scott knew. It wasn’t my place to air that information unless necessary. Which, if you ask Monty, was never.

“As private as he can when his dad is his dad.”

“You know?”

“Yeah. He’s crashed on my couch a few times. And it’s kind of hard not to notice the bruises.”

“Yeah. Unless you’re and authority figure at school in this town apparently.” I muttered, bitterly. Scott scoffed in agreement.

“Your parents never…?”

“Offered to help? Of course, they did. He always refused. And as long as he knew he could escape to our place and be safe, they felt it ‘wasn’t their place to interfere’.” I rolled my eyes.

“I see.” He nodded, rolling his eyes too. “My parents are the same way. Give the kid a safe place for the night, some breakfast in the morning, and send him on his way.” I nodded.

“Anyway, yeah. We grew up together. Even though we are a year apart, it never really affected our friendship. Things were a little harder for a while after we moved. But that only lasted a few weeks. Everything went back to normal soon enough.”

“Cool. It’s good that he has you. The other guys….”

“Can be terrible excuses for human beings?” Scott laughed and smirked into his cup with a raise of his brows.

“Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

“You know, it’s weird. Because I saw it from the outside looking in, in freshman year. And then when Jeff and I started dating in sophomore year, I got to see it from the inside to a degree. I never understood how Jeff did it. Or how you do it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well. You and Jeff are so… good. Like inherently good. I get the teammates and ‘you’re like family’ thing. But you guys are so different from the rest of them. And I see it with Monty too. Because I see the him that he doesn’t want the guys to see. The decent him. But he fits better I guess because I know he can have his, let’s call them moments. I never understood how you could stand by and watch it. I’m not trying to attack you or anything. Just so we are clear.”

“No, no I know. I guess… I guess it’s because you don’t want to be the odd guy out. Even though Jeff never said or did anything, he was still looked at like a brother. He was able to stay in the background with all of it and almost be the glue that kept the team from falling into complete debauchery. He gave us a shred of decency. So, everyone else had something to look to. Whether they always listened to the ‘Atkins Voice of Reason’ or not is a different story. I learned a lot from him and now it’s my turn to be the voice of reason. It’s a fine line and it can be hard to walk sometimes. But someone has to.”

“I guess that makes sense.” I nodded. We spent a little longer talking about lighter topics before parting ways. We snuck a few kisses in the alley beside the building first though.

FEBRUARY

Since we had started dating, Scott had come by the animal shelter a few times to help out. He said it was to see me. I saw right through his lies. He mostly just wanted to play with puppies for a few hours. I didn’t blame him though. I would do the same thing. He surprised me on a Wednesday evening. I came back into the shelter from a walk with a German shepherd and a rottweiler. It was a long one, so they were happy to be back so they could lounge around and beg for attention. When I entered the kennels, Scott was sitting in the middle of the puppy room, surrounded by a puddle of puppies. He was being attacked by fluff. One of the labs, Daisy, was trying to scale his chest to lick his face. A terrier mix, appropriately named Jack, was trying to get his attention by gnawing on his hand. He was giggling and had the absolute brightest smile on his face. A loud bark tore my attention away from him. The rottweiler was apparently upset that I wasn’t paying attention to him. “Oh, I’m sorry Rascal. Did you need something? Do you need some attention?” I cooed and reached out to rub his head.

“Need some company? My shift is over.” I asked as I walked into the room and shut the door firmly behind me.

“Always. How was your evening?”

“It was good. Only had to deal with a few accidents. How was practice.”

“It was alright. We had more than a few accidents.” He chuckled. Daisy had appeared to have managed the climb and was cuddled against Scott’s chest.

“I see you’ve made a new friend.”

“It looks like I have. She’s very cute. Think I could convince mom and dad to let me bring her home?”

“With you going off to college next year? I don’t think so.”

“Damn. At least that one has stopped trying to eat me.” He nodded towards Jack. He was curled up in a ball in his lap, sound asleep. The rest of the puppies were either sleeping now or trying to get attention from me. I shared the pets and love as equally as I could.

“Yeah. He hasn’t learned all of his manners yet. Eating people is not the most polite thing to do when you’re trying to get adopted.” We laughed quietly together. After another half hour, it was time to call it a night and head home.

A couple of Sundays after the puppy puddle, I decided I was ready to take a big step. I was finally ready to go and see Jeff’s grave with Scott. I had been on my own before and it had been hard. I would sit and talk to him for hours. I couldn’t tell him about Scott though. I felt like we had to go together to do that. Depending on what you believe, he probably already knew about us. But I wanted to tell him anyway.

I called Scott that morning. “Hey. Are you busy later?”

“Hey Ticat. No, I’m not. Why? Something on your mind?”

“Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to go to Jeff’s grave with me today. Tell him about us?”

“Are you ready for that?”

“I think so. It’s time. I feel like it’s time for him to know. I need to tell him, but I don’t want to do it alone.”

“Of course, (Y/N). I’ll pick you up at one?”

“Okay.”

I decided to wear a skirt and a flowy top today. It was a nice day out. Scott picked me up and we stopped at the florist for some flowers. Jeff always got me purple tulips, so I grabbed a bouquet of them to leave on his headstone. At the cemetery, I walked hand in hand with Scott. We were both silent as we wandered through the maze of people’s final resting places. When we passed Hannah Baker’s grave, I took a single flower out of the bunch and placed it on her headstone.

It was both so long and yet much too fast before we were standing at the foot of Jeff’s grave. I neatly placed the flowers on the base of his headstone. Someone must have been by to visit recently because there was a worn-out baseball cap hanging off the corner. I could feel Scott’s eyes on me as I sat down and smoothed out my skirt. Since I normally came alone, I wasn’t really sure where to begin or what to say. He sat down beside me but didn’t reach out to take my hand. He was letting me do everything in my own time.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, wherever you are. But I’m choosing to believe you can.” Scott started after I hadn’t said anything. “I miss you. Everyone misses you. Coach Rick is still the same hard ass he’s been. We are hanging your jersey before our season opener. There’s some argument about if it should just be the team or if we should do it at the pep rally. I think you would want it to just be us.”

“Mrs. Davidson finally stopped reading out loud to us in Literature this week. Remember how she would just go on, and on, and on about the smallest, most insignificant details? And we don’t have to listen to her boring, monotone voice read every class now.”

“We have a chance at making state again this year. It won’t feel the same without you though. The guys are going a little crazy but I’m keeping things together. I think (Y/N) being around helps though. She really is amazing man. You have no idea how lucky you were to be with her. Or maybe you do. With the way you paraded her around like she was your pride and joy.”

“We really had something special. And I wish you were still here to keep sharing it with me. But you aren’t. And eventually, that will be more okay. And it will hurt less. But for now, it sucks. And it hurts. But I’ve started learning how to get through it. And I have help.” I reached out to take Scott’s hand in mine. He squeezed it. “Scott has been there for me every step of the way. Even the times when I wouldn’t be there for me if I were him. He’s seen it all. Heck, he’s seen me puking on the side of the road.”

“Or getting piss drunk at the docks.” I pushed him lightly.

“Yes. And he’s shown me that even though it hurts, I can let someone in again. I can be happy again. We’ve been together for a couple of months now. It’s harder some days than others. But he’s always there for me, no matter what. I understand why you liked him so much. He makes it hard not to. I see parts of you in him and it makes me smile on the hard days.” I had to pause because I was getting choked up.

“I see why you loved her so much. She makes it hard not to. She’s kind and smart and selfless. Even when she doesn’t need to be, she is. I wish I didn’t have to be, because you should still be here, but I am so thankful that I have the privilege of being with her. I hope you know that I will take care of her and I work every day to make her feel as loved and important as you made her feel. Our story can’t compare to yours, but I hope it makes you proud.” My tears had started to fall, and Scott pulled me into his lap. I cried into his shoulder. This was so much harder than I thought it would be. I miss Jeff. When my tears were under control, I looked at Scott for a moment. I looked back at Jeff’s headstone and was silent for a while. I was the first to stand. Brushing the dirt off my skirt, I reached out for Scott’s hand. He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I moved the ball cap on top of the flower stems so it wouldn’t blow off in the wind.

“I love you.” I whispered. Turning around, Scott and I walked back to the car silently and drove home in somber, yet comforting silence.

MARCH

I was asleep on Scott’s chest when my phone began buzzing on the bed beside me. I slowly woke up and groggily searched for the unexpected noise. “Hello?” I whispered; my voice thick with sleep.

“(Y/N)?” Monty’s voice came through the other end of the line. He sounded like he was in immense pain. I sat up slowly, so I didn’t wake Scott.

“Monty, what’s wrong?”

“My arm. It really hurts. My old man. I, fuck, I don’t think I can drive. Can you come help me?”

“Uh…” I paused, looking at the man sleeping soundly beside me. “Yeah. Give me fifteen, twenty minutes.”

“Okay.” He said before he hung up.

I noted the time before waking Scott. It was just after one in the morning. “Scott.” I whispered, shaking him slightly. He grunted in response. “Scott, wake up for a second.” I urged again.

“Hmm? Wha’s goin’ on?” he mumbled as he woke up.

“I need to go take care of something. I don’t know when I’ll be back. You can stay here and go back to sleep. If I’m not back when you wake up, you can go home or you can stay here. If you stay there is cereal in the cupboard, and K-cups under the Keurig. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Okay (Y/N).” He muttered, already falling back asleep.

After quickly changing into a clean shirt and sweatpants, I ran downstairs. I left Scott a note on my dresser so he wouldn’t be too confused if he didn’t remember my telling him goodbye. I pulled up in front of Monty’s house and we drove silently to the hospital. I really hate it here. “What are we telling them this time?” I asked after I paid for parking.

“Sex?”

I blinked at him slowly. “What the hell kind of sex results in a possibly broken arm?”

“The really kinky kind?”

“Pick something better.”

“I fell down the stairs?”

“Alright. That could be believable.” With that, we made our way into the ER to have his arm fixed. We waited an hour to be seen and then another forty-five minutes for an X-ray.

“It looks like you won’t need surgery. I will need to cast it though.” The doctor advised.

“Alright.” Monty replied calmly, the pain meds having done their job. The doctor produced a bin of colours to choose from.

“Pick a colour and I’ll have you on your way soon.” He looked through them and decided on blue. Once wrapped and we were going to be on the way, the doctor added, “turn on the light next time.”

“Will do Doc. Thank you.” Monty replied and waved with his good hand.

Once we were in the car and on the way to my place, I realized I would need to explain Scott being over to him. Just tell him. I sighed before speaking. “Hey, so my parents are out of town, but you’ll need to sleep in the guest room.”

“Uh… okay? Why?” he asked.

“Because?”

“Because why?”

I felt my face heat up a bit. “Um… my room might already be… occupied?” I squeaked. I peeked over and his eyes widened.

“You mean…?”

“Mhmmm.”

“Who is it?”

“Scott?” I said, my voice raising an octave or two. Monty breathed out a whistle.

“Are we okay with that?”

I paused again, thinking. “Yes. Yeah, we are.”

“Well alright then.” he replied, leaning back and getting comfortable in the passenger seat. The house was quiet when we got back around four-thirty. Monty was tucked in the guest room as I slinked my way back into my own room. Scott was still sleeping soundly in bed. I crawled in beside him and went back to sleep for a few hours.

The following morning, I woke up and quietly made my way downstairs for breakfast. Monty followed not long after me, grabbing a mug and pouring himself a mug of coffee. I waited until he sat down and had a few sips before greeting him. “Morning Monty. Sleep okay?”

“Morning (Y/N). I slept okay. You?”

“It was alright. Warmer than I’m used to.”

“I’ll bet it was.” He smirked at me.

“Oh shush you.” Monty chuckled softly as I rolled my eyes.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yeah. I am.” I nodded, smiling.

“Good. That’s good.” He nodded and took another sip of coffee. We heard footsteps coming downstairs and looked up.

“Morning (Y/N).” Scott muttered from the middle of the stairs.

“Morning Scott.” I replied.

“Morning Scotty.” Monty greeted, as though this was a perfectly normal Saturday morning. Scott almost missed a step, he stopped so fast.

“Uh. Morning Monty?” He looked to me and raised a brow.

“He needed me last night. I had to tell him.” I shrugged.

“Okay.” He said, walking over to the Keurig and making a cup of coffee. The three of us stood around the kitchen slightly awkwardly looking at each other.

“Same rule applies as with my car. I’ll beat you if you scratch her.”

“Jump right to the threats, why not?” I muttered into my mug.

“I’m sure you will, Monty.”

“Damn straight.”

“Even though I’m your favourite friend?”

“(Y/N) is my favourite.”

“I’m your person. Not your favourite.”

“Yes you are.”

“You don’t call your favourite when you kill someone and need help hiding the body.”

“Excuse me?” Scott interjected, alarmed.

“She made me watch Grey’s Anatomy with her over spring break a couple of years ago.”

“Oh. I see. How was that?”

“It’s network tv with a lot of censored sex. And drama.”

“No boobs?”

“No boobs.”

“Yeah, it would be better with boobs. And if everyone stopped leaving and dying.” I added.

“Does this mean I have to watch it with you?”

“No, you might have to sit through an episode of The Bachelor though. I mostly just watch it because I don’t understand how none of those stupidly attractive people can find dates on their own.”

“You hate watch it. I can’t wait.”

“Well, you’ll get to look forward to what happens after we get done hate watching it.” I retorted, lowly. Scott rose his brow suggestively.

“Oh really?”

“And on that note! Who wants… whatever I can make (Y/N) cook with eggs, peppers, and… meat? What is this meat?” Monty cut in as he went through my fridge.

“I think it’s pork. Could be ground turkey though. There’s potatoes in the cupboard. Breakfast hash?”

“Sounds delicious.” Scott answered. I moved around him and got the bag of potatoes so I could start helping.

“How long has this been going on for anyway? Also remember that I’m still here so you can’t be all touchy.”

Scott looked at me before answering. “Since December.”

“How did I not notice?” Monty said after a pause.

“I don’t know. Too busy with sports and Bryce? There’s also spinach. Do I add the spinach?” I turned around and the boys were both making faces. “No spinach then.”

“I was not busy with Bryce.”

“Mhmm. That’s not why you blew off our movie marathon tradition?”

“Okay, point made.”

“How’s your arm?”

“It’s okay, hurts like a bitch. Why, Scott?”

“Just asking.” Scott turned to me and whispered, “his dad?” I nodded.

“No flirting.”

“I didn’t get to kiss her good morning, give me a break.” I turned and watched Scott playfully flip Monty off. Then, he placed a soft kiss to my lips and I smiled into it. “Good morning beautiful.”

“Good morning handsome.”

***

“Monty knows now.”

“He does.” I replied, leaning back into his chest on the couch. “He’s okay with it.”

“That’s good.”

“You aren’t going to be jealous, are you? Because there is nothing going on between us.”

“No, I know. What was the fight about this time?”

“Who knows. He called me and said he needed me, so I went. He wanted to tell the doctors it was a sex accident.”

Scott laughed. “What the fuck kind of sex would that have been?”

“The kind that would have broken his wrist, not his forearm.”

“You would have been the top?”

“Yes. So, you see why we couldn’t say that.”

“Right. That’s why.”

“We said he fell down the stairs.”

“Plausible.”

“Anyway, no idea what it was. But knowing his dad, it could have been anything. There’s a reason I don’t go to his house very often.” I left it at that and we cuddled on the couch for a while.

“Hey Scotty?”

“Yeah, (Y/N/N)?”

I sat up and turned to him. “Now that Monty knows, do you think we could tell other people? Maybe… maybe enough time has passed that people will understand?”

“I think we can tell people, if you want to. I don’t care what people think. I would have told everyone in January if you wanted to.”

“I know. I just… I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never been the girl whose boyfriend died before.”

“I know. People might talk for a few days, but they’ll move on. No one expects you to have stayed single for the rest of your life.”

“Not my whole life necessarily. Just the rest of high school.” I joked.

“The people who complain can fuck off.”

“I guess. And things have kind of gone back to normal now. Or as normal as they can.”

“We don’t have to tell people if you don’t want to (Y/N).”

“I do. I think we need to. I don’t want to hide you anymore. It’s time for me to start living my life in the open again.”

“And honestly, I’m tired of hiding you.” We spent a little longer watching tv together. It was nice having someone I could just sit and be with again. We each took turns choosing shows. “I should probably head home soon sweetheart.”

“Okay. I’ll see you Monday?”

“Of course.” Together we gathered up his things and tidied the kitchen. Scott kissed me goodbye, and I leaned against the front door after he had driven away.

Monday would be the last big thing I had to do before graduation. It was the last step in beginning to move forward. I would always love Jeff Atkins. He would always be a part of me and hold a special place in my heart. But I had realized over the last several months that I could be happy again. I wouldn’t be betraying him for allowing myself to fall in love with someone again. And I had Scott Reed to thank for that.

#montgomery de la cruz #jeff atkins #scott reed #scott reed imagine #Scott Reed x Reader #scott reed x reader #Jeff Atkins x reader #Jeff Atkins deserved better #13 reasons why #13rw #thirteen reasons why #writeblr #fanfiction #fan fiction

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theadventurousdork · 4 years ago

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Dani Clayton and Jamie Taylor: A scene by scene study on the dynamism of a queer romance

by theadventurousdork

Well, here we are! An unnecessarily long essay breaking down Dani and Jamie’s scenes together that I decided to write purely for the fact that they have taken a hold of my queer little heart and haven’t given it back yet. Grab some awful tea or coffee and take a read, if you’d like!

Episode One

In this episode, we see Dani and Jamie meet for the very first time. This is the beginning of them and their story. It all starts in the kitchen of Bly Manor where a dirt covered Jamie walks in just in time for the residents of Bly to gather for an afternoon lunch.

“The gardener didn’t even introduce herself to the new au pair. She barely acknowledged her at all. Simply treated her as if she’d always been there. The others in the room just assumed they’d already met, which, if she were honest, was how the au pair felt when she first saw the young woman.”

Jamie walks in without even batting an eye to the new guest meanwhile, we see a soft eyed Dani looking over at the gardener with a gaze that gives the audience the first look to the gravitational pull that seems to be set between them. With Dani explaining her belief that she has seen someone on the parapet of the old wing, Jamie’s reaction is cold. She looks down at the table with a hardened look. She looks almost hurt. We learn later on that Jamie was the first adult resident of Bly to find the dead body of Rebecca Jessel floating in the lake of the manor which has probably resulted in trauma for Jamie as she remembers her late friend. With Owen and Hannah also finding the possibility of someone being on the balcony to be slim, the residents carry on with their meal. As the introduction to Jamie’s character, we are able to see her cold and guarded exterior. However, we also see her wit and humor as she comfortably pokes fun at Miles and Flora. The space she takes when she walks into a room isn’t empty for she fills it with her bold personality and Dani immediately takes notice of this yet she doesn’t show any hint of openly acknowledging it.

Episode Two

Episode two sheds a different light on the pairing. This episode gives us the first look at Dani’s trauma and the weight that she’s feeling on her conscience. But first, we see her changing the tide at Bly as she puts Miles and Flora to work in the garden as punishment for locking her in a closet. As Dani and the children pull weeds, a relaxed Hannah and Jamie watch from a distance just as Owen offers them drinks. As the trio sip on their gin and tea, they discuss Dani and how her presence is a nice addition to the grounds of Bly. This is where something I call “testing of the waters: part one” occurs. Jamie asks Owen if he thinks that Dani’s pretty before continuing to poke fun at his inability to answer. Now this seems rude, especially considering Hannah’s negative reaction to it even going as far as to remind her that romances don’t fare well at Bly. However, I feel like Jamie does this purposefully to see if Owen would provide any reaction that would indicate that he would have any intent of pursuing Dani, which he quickly shuts down as he states that he only has eyes for Hannah. Jamie’s choice to do this can boil down to a simple poking of fun or maybe something more in terms of her trying to understand, and maybe even deny, the gravitational pull that she’s feeling towards Dani by deflecting it to Owen.

This episode also offers the first glimpse into Jamie’s humanity and her deeply empathetic nature. As a distressed Dani storms outside in tears after being triggered from seeing her dead ex-fiancé’s glasses, our favorite gardener comes to the rescue with buckets in hand. Now this is probably the first time that Dani has physically seen Edmund’s glasses since she packed them away before leaving Bly which can explain her intense reaction to finding Flora wearing them. The part to highlight about this interaction between Jamie and Dani isn’t the fact that Jamie tries to console her but is the way that she does so. First and foremost, the gardener tries to make au pair laugh. She makes multiple attempts in her dialogue to make Dani crack the slightest smile. Jamie’s dialogue saying, “there we are,” after Dani finally gives into the attempted jokes shows how laughter was Jamie’s initial goal.

“How else do you think I keep all these fucking plants watered? With my endless well of deep inconsolable tears. That’s how. It’s what got me the job in the first place.”

After she accomplishes this, she goes on to relate to Dani by telling her that she cries several times a day in an effort to make Dani feel normal and not alone in her vulnerable state. To see someone as cold and guarded as Jamie admit to something like this quickly humanizes her and puts her in the position of becoming a dynamic character. Finally, Jamie tells the au pair that she’s doing a great job and leaves a smiling Dani to watch her as she leaves. This offers insight to how Jamie doesn’t like seeing people in distress. She radiates a grounding energy and puts it upon herself to ensure that no one feels like they’re in over their head.

Dani is able to return the favor as she finds an angry Jamie kneeled over a massacre of her rose bushes. Jamie’s hotheaded attitude is shown as she wastes no time getting up to confront Miles for cutting her roses before they were ready. The point to highlight in this moment is that Dani hears her out. Dani listens to Jamie’s grievances and not once tells her that she’s overreacting. Dani hasn’t known Jamie for long but she knows the importance of plants to the gardener and she doesn’t give Miles a pass at ruining something that matters so much to her. Having two separate scenes showing that each half of the pair have the power to talk each other down regardless of having known each other long, serves as a taste as what’s to come for their journey together.

Episode Three

Here we see “testing of the waters: part two” as the keepers of Bly watch over a sleeping Miles and Flora by a crackling fireplace. A tired Hannah rests her head on Owen’s shoulder as Dani and Jamie watch from across the room. Jamie goes onto ask Dani if she wishes she were leaning on Owen instead of Hannah and explains how every woman in town fawns over Owen without him even knowing it. This key moment goes hand in hand with Jamie’s testing of the waters in episode 2 when she tests Owen’s potential attraction to Dani to now testing to see if Dani would be interested in Owen. Jamie’s subtle comments allow her to see the odds of Dani liking Owen without risking any awkward interaction that would potentially be too invasive. With Owen being the only man in the house, it’s understandable for Jamie to want to see if Dani would pursue him which in turn would signal that Dani may not be interested in someone like her.

What comes next is what I like to believe is the moment that Jamie begins to fall for Dani and I mean really fall for her. The conversation about love and possession is beautifully done and sets the distinction that will go onto separate Peter and Rebecca from Dani and Jamie. After a vindictive history lesson on the toxicity of Peter and Rebecca’s relationship, Jamie mentions the idea of loving someone versus possessing someone to which Dani replies that she doesn’t believe should be possible. The effect of this is seen on Jamie’s face as she looks at Dani. It’s a face that says that she’s staring at someone who understands. Understands the fragility of love and the thin lines that separate healthy versions of love from toxic ones. It happens in the span of a second but we can see a switch click in Jamie’s mind just before she breaks her gaze. From what we collect of Jamie’s past a few episodes later, we come to understand that she has always been owned. Stemming from a broken home and growing up in the foster care system, Jamie has always been someone else’s possession to claim ownership of but never was truly loved and nurtured. To hear someone finally understand that there’s a distinction between loving someone versus feeling like they have the right of possessing them, must feel like a moment of overdue comfort.

After a restless night due to seeing Edmund’s ghost again, Dani wakes up the following morning to see Jamie asleep on the couch. This scene lasts merely thirty seconds so why make the choice to keep it in? What significance does it really hold? Is there any significance at all? For me, the significance is comfort. I feel like there’s a level of comfort that Dani feels when she realizes that Jamie was just down the stairs as she laid awake the night prior feeling as if she were alone in the depths of her own shadows.

The new day ends in the tragic news that Owen’s mom has passed away. After a sympathetic Hannah sends Owen off and leaves to light a candle for the deceased, the gardener and au pair are left to give their own goodbyes to each other. As Dani voices that she’s glad that Jamie stayed on the grounds throughout the day and the night prior, Jamie agrees and the two share an uninterrupted gaze at one another. Here is where we see Dani’s first advance as she takes hold of Jamie’s hand. Ever so slightly does Jamie latch back before Dani quickly pulls away.

“Who the hell knew?”

Those words leave Jamie’s mouth as a mixture of relief and shock paint her face as she gets into her car. Dani watches her drive away with an expression that reads “did I really do what I think I just did?” This moment is cut short as she turns around to see Edmund’s ghost staring blankly from behind her. Fear overcomes Dani and a scream is let out as Edmund gets sucked backwards by an invisible force. Up until this point, Edmund’s ghost has remained stagnant, either appearing in a reflection or in parts. This extreme motion of getting pulled backward into the manor can be read as a way to reflect the intensity of the emotions that Dani is feeling in that exact moment. The amount of tension that Dani must have felt to muster up the courage to reach for Jamie’s hand must have been extremely intense which in turn would evoke an intense manifestation of Edmund’s ghost.

Episode Four

Episode four is what I call the episode of guilt. In this hour, we delve deeper into Dani’s past and the darkness that she’s been holding in her heart. Dani’s life just before Bly is revealed and we see snippets of her life with Edmund. From childhood best friends to teenage lovers to getting engaged, Dani and Edmund almost seemed like the perfect set up to an 80s romcom. Almost is the key word here as it’s revealed that Dani breaks up with Edmund just before he storms out of their car into the path of an oncoming truck, killing him right in front of her thus revealing why Edmund is haunting her. Flashforward to Bly, Dani has begun to see Edmund’s ghost more and more. His first appearance in the episode is in Dani’s bedroom mirror just as Jamie helps unzip her dress. If it weren’t apparent in the episodes prior, Dani holds an immense amount of guilt. This guilt doesn’t only stem from being the reason why Edmund was killed but also lies in who she is. Edmund’s presence is symbolic for the guilt that Dani feels whenever she is just on the brink of exploring her sexuality. We see that every interaction that Dani has with Edmund’s ghost occurs just after she shares a moment with Jamie. With Jamie being a tangible representation of what Dani desires, her visions of Edmund become more intense and more frequent as her guilt increases.

The episode continues to show Dani experiencing Edmund’s haunting again when Jamie arrives back to the manor after attending Owen’s mom’s funeral. Here we see Dani catching herself staring at Jamie from across the table. When Jamie catches her gaze, Dani retreats to the sink where we see a mixture of nervousness and excitement across Dani’s face as she looks over her shoulder to take one more look. This moment filled with butterflies and yearning is cut short as Edmund’s hands slide across Dani’s hips as she sees him in a reflection which causes her to panic. Edmund’s presence is growing closer and stronger as Dani has begun to navigate her feelings for Jamie.

In a flashback, we get a glimpse into possibly one of the first times that Dani’s internal conflict of her sexuality crosses her mind. As Dani gets a dress fitted, the female tailor makes flirtatious passes at her. We see Dani acknowledge these advances and isn’t opposed to them occurring. The scene switches to a guilt stricken Dani, her eyebrows furrowed above saddened eyes that wander upward to Jamie who’s helping prep the table for dinner. This quick glance up to Jamie holds so much. The internal turmoil that Dani is feeling in this moment is palpable. To think that all of her moments of repression have led up to this. This feeling of wanting. This feeling of yearning. To live openly and authentically as the person she’s always been.

Later that night, the keepers of Bly hold a bonfire to honor those that they’ve lost. A weight can be felt on the four as they remember their late loved ones by the warmth of the fire. The concept of found family lies in the heart of those who find a home at Bly and can be seen through Hannah and Jamie’s odes to the late Rebecca, Dominic, and Charlotte.

“Because from here on in, the shadows get deeper… the nights get longer. We’re heading into the dark and we have to hang onto each other. So, we can only carry so much.”

As they commemorate who they’ve lost, Jamie mentions Dani and how she believes that Dani is the key to getting Miles and Flora back to themselves. A moment of pain rushes across Dani’s face as Jamie states how she believes that Dani is stronger than she thinks. To be in the midst of an internal conflict yet hear how someone believes in your strength can be something so painful to hear as you struggle to believe it yourself. We see Dani in a battle with herself as she fights to live authentically regardless of the guilt she’s carrying.

Eventually, the gardener and the au pair break away from Owen and Hannah to go to the greenhouse. A pivotal moment in the growth of Dani and Jamie’s relationship occurs here when Dani makes the decision to lay everything out on the table for Jamie and finally explain her history with Edmund as well as sometimes seeing his ghost.

“I’ve never told anybody that.”

These words that leave Dani’s mouth are so intimate and so vulnerable. Jamie takes what she’s being dealt and handles it with such a level of care that ensures that Dani knows that she’s being heard and respected. As we’ve seen Jamie talk Dani down from a breakdown in episode 2, we see a parallel here where Jamie takes it upon herself to make Dani laugh in an effort to console her. This moment is cut short as Dani musters the courage to ask the heartbreaking question that allows Jamie to make the decision whether to take or leave Dani and all of her baggage.

“Think I’m crazy?”

The pain in Dani’s face as she asks this shows just how scared she is to be rejected by the one person she wants the most. Without even a hint of hesitation, Jamie reassures her that nothing has changed in her view of Dani’s strength. A wave of relief comes over Dani as she’s hit her tipping point of acting upon the feelings she’s been suppressing all this time. She kisses Jamie and a moment of vulnerability is shown on Jamie’s face as she gets the confirmation that Dani is sure in her decision to do this. This moment is short lived by Edmund’s ghost appearing just behind Jamie, causing Dani to retreat in a panic. This is probably the worst cockblock in the history of cockblocks. Dani quickly retreats as Jamie mirrors her actions and immediately puts her walls back up as embarrassment sinks into them both in different directions. As the pair make it back to Hannah and Owen, Dani is visibly disappointed with how things ended up. Jamie’s comment of “it’s all good” as she guides Owen away from the bonfire shows how she would prefer to move on right away instead of confronting the confusing messages she’s just received from Dani.

The final scene of the episode is what I like to call Dani’s last straw. Dani’s guilt has turned to anger as she makes the decision to confront her own shadows by throwing Edmund’s glasses into the bonfire. Flashbacks of kissing Jamie intercut the scene to really solidify Dani’s desires to move on and be able to freely love her without the burden of her past.

“It’s just you and me then.”

Dani is tired. She’s waited for this moment. She’s finally accepted this part of her and she stares straight into Edmund’s ghost without any more fear. She’s found the strength to move on.

Episode Six

The sponsor of this episode is cement as Dani and Jamie cement their relationship in this hour. The episode begins with Dani’s attempt at reconciliation after the unfortunate cockblock of a certain dead ex-fiancé in episode four. Dani wakes up at the crack of dawn to visit Jamie in her greenhouse. Dani’s entire existence in this moment is ridden with nervousness as she puts on her best “everything is normal” face. Jamie is quick to notice how out of character waking up this early is for Dani to which Dani dismisses. We see that Jamie’s cold and guarded exterior is back and for good reason considering the unfortunate events at the end of her and Dani’s last interaction. Dani’s eagerness to patch things up puts her through several attempts at getting a reaction out of Jamie, each of which ends up being shut down. First is the gesture of giving Jamie coffee which results in her gently spitting it back into the cup. Next is Dani’s attempt at voicing how lonely she’s been.

“No Owen. No you.”

Dani’s voice drags on a little longer here to emphasize how Jamie’s absence the last few days have created a noticeable emptiness at the manor. Jamie responds with a simple “sometimes people wanna be alone” which seems like her own personal choice. However, Dani finally gets a reaction through Jamie’s icy exterior when she makes her laugh after a terrible attempt at a British accent. This mirrors the other instances prior where Jamie has made the effort to make Dani laugh in order to ease any emotional tension. After the ice has been broken, we see Dani’s first wind of confidence as she asks Jamie out to a boring ol’ date at a boring ol’ pub. We can see relief and a sense of pride strewn across Dani’s face when Jamie catches her drift. This marks the beginning of a fresh start for the two.

The next time we see the pair is in the kitchen as Jamie surprises Dani by coming back to the manor after initially leaving.

“Made it halfway home and I thought ‘rough day, maybe Poppins might fancy a little boredom.’”

Dani’s shocked excitement quickly turns into awkward nervousness as Hannah and Owen wave them away to spend time together. Jamie gently takes Dani’s hand and guides her out of the room. This presents the reaffirmation that Jamie still cares enough to try again with Dani.

The gardener leads the au pair somewhere off on the grounds of Bly to a secret area where moonflowers have bloomed. She explains how difficult they are to grow in England and how fragile their lifespan is.

“That’s a lot of work for a flower that only blooms once.”

“That’s what people feel like to me. Exhaustive effort, very little to show for it.”

“All of them?”

“All of them. Even you. Even me… especially me.”

Jamie’s emphasis on herself shows her insecurity of not being enough after anyone makes the effort to break down her walls and gets to know who she really is. What follows is a tear-jerking speech that gives insight on Jamie’s past and her painful upbringing. From the details of her childhood like growing up in a broken home, being forced into foster care, and serving time in jail, we begin to understand why she puts such a strong, guarded front. The absence of a family unit in her youth and young adulthood has resulted in her feeling like she may be unlovable. Like she might not be worth the effort of loving. Just as Dani did in episode four, this is Jamie laying everything out on the table for Dani to decide whether or not she will take or leave Jamie and all of her baggage. After Jamie finishes her monologue, Dani gets up and doesn’t say a word. She takes hold of Jamie and kisses her. No words can alleviate the pain that Jamie’s endured but the effort of loving her can be a start. Dani pulls away for a brief moment to reveal a relieved Jamie smiling back at her after she has realized that Dani has chosen to accept her for everything that she is.

The next scene they have together is the morning after Dani finally gets her first restful night’s sleep.

“The au pair could not remember that last time she’d slept this well. And she thought perhaps she never had.”

The moment to highlight in this short scene is Dani stopping to look at herself in the mirror. She is finally able to see her truest self without being haunted of guilt. She smiles as she looks at her reflection and to a sleeping Jamie in the bed next to her. She’s finally made peace with herself.

The final Dani and Jamie scene of the episode occurs at the end of the day just as Dani puts Flora to bed. Here we see the purity in the relationship that the two are creating. We see Dani unapologetically long for Jamie as she says she’s going to leave for the night. The au pair’s subtle look at the gardener’s lips as she speaks and the inching closer and closer to her shows just how high Dani’s confidence levels have risen to after being able to finally love freely. To see Dani in such a smitten state of mind is a breath of fresh air for not only herself but for us, the viewers, who have seen her in such a trapped state of mind when it comes to loving someone. The innocence of longing, in tandem of making the promise of spending other nights together, show how much care and caution they are taking in order to ensure that they’re building their relationship in a healthy manner. What they are both experiencing shows a trade off of what they each have to give to the other. Dani has accepted her sexuality, which is something that seems like Jamie has already done long ago. Meanwhile, Jamie is being loved and wanted, potentially for the first time which is something that Dani has already experienced in her past. Each half of the pairing offers support and guidance to the other as they begin their journey as a couple.

Episode Nine

This final episode of the season was an absolute doozy in terms of Dani and Jamie’s relationship. I’ve watched all of these scenes a solid million times over and I bawl my eyes out every. damn. time. But I mopped up my tear-soaked notebook and carried on for the purpose of this essay. The episode picks up action as Flora sacrifices herself to save Dani from being dragged and choked to death by Viola, the Lady of the Lake. As Jamie and Owen arrive back at the manor after both having awful dreams, they briefly see Hannah as she says that they’re needed at the lake. Jamie bolts the second she hears Dani yelling. She knows Dani’s in trouble and wastes absolutely zero time trying to find her. Jamie yells Dani’s name and you can feel that her sense of urgency has one goal in mind: save Dani.

“It’s you. It’s me. It’s Us.”

Viola has accepted the au pair’s offer. Besides Flora, Jamie is the only witness to see Dani’s last moment of belonging to only herself. From this point on, the darkness begins to fester deep within Dani’s soul and Jamie must live knowing that there was nothing that she could do as she watched Dani let part of herself go to let Viola in. Jamie runs into the lake as Dani’s trauma starts almost immediately. Her breathing is quickened, and she can’t stop repeating those final words that she felt deep in her bones. The gardener holds the au pair and takes one look at her as she already notices the effects of trauma. Dani’s darting eyes are panicked as she struggles to register that Jamie is there with her. Her breathing finally slows as Jamie holds her close in her attempts to calm her down. Jamie is Dani’s grounding force in this moment. Dani has finally freed the ghosts of Bly but at the cost of her own self. Her own life for the souls of the others.

The following scene highlights the days following the incident at the lake, immediately starting with Jamie and Owen looking into the well to find Hannah’s dead body. I wanted to highlight this moment just for the sake of Jamie for she has been there to witness all the deaths of her loved ones firsthand. She was the first adult to find Rebecca in the lake, one of the first to find Hannah in the well, and the first to see Dani die in more ways than one. She just can’t seem to catch a break but after all… death is beautiful, it’s natural.

Jamie finds Dani as she packs away her things however, Dani’s mind appears to be somewhere else. Darkness has begun to burrow itself into Dani’s soul. She’s shaking. She’s terrified. She’s mourning the loss of herself.

“I feel her. In here. It’s so quiet, it’s so quiet, but she’s in here. And this part of her that’s in here, it isn’t… peaceful.”

Dani explains how Viola’s presence feels like a beast waiting for her in a thick jungle. She feels hopeless again but this time feels heavier than all the rest. She has something to lose here now. She has a relationship with Jamie to lose, she has an entire life to lose. It isn’t as simple as feeling the guilt of losing someone or the guilt of loving someone. This feeling isn’t human, this feeling of dread goes beyond what the stages of grief entails. Where is she to go if she can’t go within herself to find peace?

“She’s gonna take me.”

A tear falls down Jamie’s face as these heavy words fall out of Dani’s mouth. This is the first hint of Jamie losing Dani. The fear of the inevitable fills the room with such a weight that no words can alleviate Dani’s pain. Yet Jamie tries. She tries her damn best. She offers her company with the seal of a pinky promise. She gives all that she can offer: herself and her love. Dani’s feeling of darkness doesn’t have to be lonely this time.

After a final goodbye to Henry, Miles, and Flora, the gardener and the au pair set off to start their lives together as the image of Bly fades away into the distance. Their life together starts at a diner as Jamie plans their course of action, hoping to end up in Vermont to see snow by Christmas. Here we see Dani looking at her own reflection in the tableside jukebox before stopping Jamie as she worries that they’re planning too far ahead. Dani’s cautious. She doesn’t want to get either of their hopes up.

“One day at a time is fine by me. As long as those days are with you, Poppins. One day at a time is what we’ve got.”

There’s a brightness in these words which in turn reflect onto them. There’s a light in this moment that shows that they haven’t lost their footing yet. And thus begins the final climb to their highest point before the tragedy that lies ahead occurs. We flashforward to a year later to The Leafling, the flower shop that the pair have opened up together. Dani is still Dani and Jamie is still Jamie but more in love this time than the last time and the time before that.

“You see, I’m not sick of you. At all. I’m actually pretty in love with you, it turns out.”

Here we see the reintroduction of the moonflower. The symbol of Jamie and Dani’s love. The last time we saw the moonflower was back when the pair finally made the choice to accept one another and start their relationship. This time, we see the moonflower one last time as Jamie chooses to solidify their love by finally breaking the big L word.

A montage ensues of the gardener and the au pair’s life together. Years have passed and peace was just finally in their grasp. Or so it seemed. This feeling of fluttering innocence is put to a halt as Dani sees Viola’s reflection in the door of the flower shop. Dani stops in her tracks as she stares at the reflection, her face is still as she stands in a quiet shock. That is until she sees Jamie through the door, smiling at her with such a playful gaze. This instance shows yet again that Jamie is Dani’s grounding force even after all this time and Dani’s own reflection returns not even a second later. This is a moment for the audience to take a peek into Jamie’s importance in Dani’s life, especially at a point that something so vengeful is making its way to the surface. To see Jamie’s smiling face cut through the image of the beast in the jungle, we can’t help but feel the same pain yet also the sense of relief that Dani must feel in this moment. Although Dani returns to herself, we can’t help but feel Viola’s presence looming.

The scene that follows is another significant milestone in Dani and Jamie’s journey together as Dani comes back home with a dying plant that’s concealing an engagement ring. Above the surface, Dani has put the ring in a dying plant because she knew that Jamie would waste no time investigating how to save it. But this can also be interpreted in relation to Jamie’s moonflower speech where she says “every living thing grows out of every dying thing” to show how their relationship is taking the next step of growth as she pulls the ring out of a dying plant. The ring itself is a traditional Irish Claddagh ring, which shows how Dani did her research and chose a ring specific to Jamie’s northern heritage. The hands that make the band of the ring represents friendship, while the heart representing love, and the crown representing loyalty. These representations are fitting for the relationship that the pairing has created and for Dani’s proposal speech.

“Here’s the thing - you’re my best friend and the love of my life. And I don’t know how much time we have left but however much it is, I wanna spend it with you.”

The thing to highlight about Dani and Jamie’s relationship is that it runs on Dani’s timeline which is something that is so important to showcase, especially considering how Edmund had made almost all the choices for her in her previous engagement. Jamie understands this and has always insured that Dani felt comfortable before progressing further into their relationship together. In this moment, Jamie finally has a promise of love while Dani has security in the person she loves the most. As Jamie accepts her proposal and the two share a moment of celebration, Dani’s face of worry as she hugs Jamie shows that she feels an inability to be fully happy. She’s unable to fully give herself to Jamie in this moment which in turn shows how Viola’s presence is getting closer and getting darker.

We jump slightly forward in time to the pair visiting Owen’s aptly named restaurant, A Batter Place. After a moment of remembrance for Hannah, Dani looks into the reflection of a metal water pitcher to see Viola’s reflection yet again. Dani’s face is surprised by this sight, but she keeps it quietly to herself as to not ruin the moment of reunion. If we compare this instance to the first time Dani looked at her reflection at the tableside jukebox at the diner years prior, we can see that this moment is filled with much more darkness. The light that used to be inside of her is dimming. Although Jamie is holding her and is physically next to her in this moment, she doesn’t cut through the darkness anymore. Jamie’s power as a grounding force is dimming as well.

“So, they’re all happy?”

The inflection in Dani’s voice here is so subtle that only Jamie takes notice of it. Jamie looks at Dani and senses that something has gone off in her. Owen continues to explain how Miles and Flora have no recollection of the events that took place at Bly. No recollection of the sacrifice that Dani made to save them.

“So, if they don’t remember Hannah…they don’t remember…”

Dani’s voice trails off here. She looks down and is caught in the bitter realization that her sacrifice has been forgotten. This feeling of a looming darkness, this feeling of living a life that’s ticking down to her own demise… was it worth it? Jamie can feel Dani’s pain immediately as her eyes stayed glued on Dani who’s trying to see if there would be any way to remind Miles and Flora about what she did. The gardener stares at au pair without breaking away and in this instant, we can see that, along with Dani, Jamie is breaking too. Breaking under the burden of knowing that she can’t take Dani’s pain away.

The scene that follows shows Dani washing dishes where she sees Viola again in the water. She panics and finally admits to Jamie that she’s been seeing her more and more. The tension that was present between them moments earlier immediately fades away as Jamie wastes no time in trying to console Dani. Jamie’s blind optimism here has a slight tinge of desperation as she refuses to let Dani slip away into the abyss that’s growing stronger and stronger. Dani’s interaction with Viola’s reflection in this moment sets off an alarm bell within her, unlike the other times where she sat quietly and dealt with it on her own. This is Dani’s tipping point. The highest level of fear is felt as the reality is beginning to sink in that the beast is coming for her. Another thing to note here is that even after all these years, Jamie still makes the conscious effort to make Dani laugh.

“I’ll do the washing up from now on, yeah? You’re shit at it anyway.”

Dani can’t help but give the smallest laugh, but it’s more than enough for Jamie. Through Jamie’s optimism, we have begun to see that she’s not only consoling Dani but also herself as she tries to convince both of them that they can have so much more time together. The episode continues on with the train of heartbreak as Jamie comes home after receiving civil union paperwork for her and Dani. What comes next is what I feel like is the most heartbreaking Dani moment in the entire series. Dani stares deep into an overflowing bathtub where an ominous Viola stares back at her. Jamie is quick to bring Dani back to reality but Dani has lost her footing. Her hold on Viola has flipped to Viola having a hold on her.

“It’s like every day I feel myself fading away, but I’m still here, and… I don’t really understand how that is.”

The fear has withered away into emptiness as Dani struggles to stay afloat. We see Jamie so pained as she watches the light fade into a grey nothingness as she listens to Dani talk about how she is beginning to lose herself to the beast.

“I’m not even scared of her anymore. I just stare at her, and it’s getting harder and harder to see me.”

To listen to the love of her life slip away through her fingers has Jamie in a phase of denial as she continuously refuses to let Dani break apart. We see the gardener’s optimism wavering as she tries her best to help the au pair hold onto herself. Dani’s voice as she says Jamie’s name is filled with nothing but pure hopelessness and despair as she dips further and further into uncertainty. Yet Jamie doesn’t lose hope. Jamie would never give up on Dani as she repeats the words she told Dani in the diner all those years ago.

“One day at a time.”

However, Jamie has run out of answers. She can only offer comfort now.

Next we see Dani hit her lowest low as she is taken over by Viola and awakes to see that she almost strangled Jamie to death in their sleep. Dani is shocked and broken as she sits in the disbelief of what she almost did. The time has come. The beast has arrived. Viola has waited years until Dani was so broken down and so vulnerable, that she would finally be able to take her. However, we can’t help but believe that Dani fought off Viola this long thanks to the love her and Jamie shared.

The gardener wakes up the following morning to find an empty space next to her. She reaches to the empty space in the bed and then for the note left on the bedside table. It can only mean one thing: her biggest fear has come to light. With her strong will and determination, Jamie gives one final push and flies back across the pond to Bly to face what she’s been in fear of all this time. The amount of immense grief that is felt in this moment, to be at the same place that the love of her life began to be taken away from her all those years ago, must be incredibly damaging. The manor holds so much of Jamie’s life. She found her family there. She created a beautiful garden on those grounds. Her and Dani’s love blossomed on the same grounds that she first began to lose her that night at the lake. Jamie storms off to the edge of the water. Her face is so tired. She already knows what she’s going to find and yet she still doesn’t lose the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be true.

“The gardener said the words she’d heard those years ago; she willed it with everything she had. You, me, us. Us. ‘Take me with you,’ she cried in her heart. ‘Take me. Drag me down like you did the others.’ But the lady in the lake was different now – the lady in the lake was also Dani. And Dani wouldn’t. Dani would never.”

The agony and desperation that we see Jamie endure in the moments that we see her find Dani laying at the very bottom of the lake is a type of pain that is unmatched from any other moment of pain that we’ve seen this season. Her muffled screams as she takes a hold of her heart, only to let her arms go in despair under the water is something so haunting yet so unbelievably moving to see her love so much considering how far she’s come from the cold and guarded gardener we saw all the way back in episode one. She would’ve given up everything. Absolutely everything to take Dani’s place. Given up everything to join Dani at the bottom of the lake. Unlike Peter with Rebecca, Dani could never take Jamie down to the depths. Dani could never harm a single soul, let alone the one person that mattered the most to her. By letting Jamie go and taking Viola’s place as the lady of the lake, Dani has broken the cycle of violence that’s haunted the grounds of Bly for centuries. As Jamie was the hero of Dani’s story, Dani will always be the hero to Jamie’s.

The final act of the season ends with an older Jamie finishing her story to the wedding guests.

“She would know nothing of the gardener, nothing of their life together. The details, the specific moments would all fade away. More time will pass, and the water will wash away the delicate features of her; of her beautiful, perfect face. But she won’t be hollow, nor empty. And she won’t pull others to her fate. She will merely walk the grounds of Bly, harmless as a dove, for all of her days. Leaving the only trace of who she once was in the memory of the woman who loved her most.”

We see an older Jamie comfort a teary-eyed Flora who is afraid of the time when she would also lose the love of her life. Jamie comforts her with advice that we can only ever assume she learned in her time with Dani. The final scene shows the gardener’s nightly routine as she stares into reflections, hoping to catch one last glimpse of the au pair. As she drifts away into sleep, a hand wearing a golden wedding ring rests gently on her shoulder. Our haunting love story has come to an end. And the rest? Well the rest… is confetti.

#dani x jamie #dani clayton #jamie taylor #thobm #the haunting of bly manor #damie #amelia eve #victoria pedretti #bly manor

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hrina · 4 years ago

Text

1923, Pt. II - The Week

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 8.4k REQUESTED: perhaps? idek anymore

hey yall, here’s PART 2 of the historical/groundskeeper!AU :) i really hope u guys like it, i spent the past two weeks trying to make it the best that i could. anywayyyy im sure everyone knows the drill by now: support content creators by reblogging their work and/or offering feedback! happy reading 💚💚💚

warning: parts of this fic will contain mature language and nsfw content. if it makes you uncomfortable, you absolutely do not have to read! take care of urselves <3

PART I: The Day

~*~

July 7th, 1923

It’s hot.

You set your glass of water back onto the little table to your left. Excess condensation coats your fingertips; you wipe them against your forehead, hoping that it will be enough to cool you down. No such luck—the droplets provide a momentarily chill before sinking into your skin, leaving you feeling just as scorched as before.

You recline against the cushy yellow lounger, closing your eyes and tilting your face up to the sky. The sun beats down against your cheeks. The thin, cottony material of your dress is pasted to your thighs; you flex your legs slightly, hoping that the fabric will unstick.

In the distance, Apollo and Artemis—no longer confined to their pens—roam around the small, girded pasture adjacent to the stables. The fountain in the middle of the back lawn is about one hundred feet away. Skinny streams of water shoot out from the stone hands of a carved angel, spilling picturesquely into the upwelling below.

You crack one eye open slowly, letting your focus drift over to where Harry is crouched on the cobbled staircase of the porch. Sweat glistens on the nape of his neck as he furiously scrubs the steps clean.

Your thoughts retreat to the night before, when he’d kissed the back of your hand whilst standing in that very same spot. As though triggered by the memory, your knuckles begin to tingle.

Harry sits back on his haunches and drags his forearm across his face, wiping away the excess perspiration on his skin. His white shirt is soaked through with moisture. When he lifts his attention from the ground, your gazes lock for a brief moment. Immediately, your open eye snaps shut.

And you can’t be entirely sure, but you think that he may have smiled.

You lay in silence for another five minutes or so, indulging in the occasional sip of water as the heat of the summer envelopes your body. You only sit up when someone clears their throat from behind you, pulling you from your tranquil daze.

“Good afternoon,” Martin says. He’s standing a bit too close for comfort, casting a looming shadow over your torso.

“Hello,” you reply. You try to mask the disappointment that threatens to seep into your tone. A small part of you—a tiny, microscopic part—had been hoping that he was someone else.

“Thought you could use something to drink,” he says, plopping onto the recliner to your right. Your attention falls lower—two glasses are nestled comfortably in his hands. The caramel-coloured liquid inside each cup glints alluringly, sloshing over a trio of ice cubes that have already begun to melt.

“Is that…scotch?” you say, narrowing your eyes slightly.

“Yes,” he says. He extends an arm, offering you one of the glasses. “Fancy a taste?”

“I’ve had it before,” you say smoothly, shaking your head. “Truthfully, it’s not my favourite. Besides—” You gesture to the little table on your left. There’s still a bit of water residing in your cup. “—I already have a drink.”

Martin’s face falls.

“Thank you, though,” you add, not wanting to sound rude. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

That seems to bolster him a bit, you think, because his shoulders straighten as he shoots you a satisfied smile.

You clear your throat, gazing pointedly up at the sky. “Where’s Andrew?”

“Hmm? Oh.” Martin taps one foot against the floor. He’s wearing a pair of shiny black loafers—they’re new, you guess, and extremely expensive. “He’s in the middle of a call. Private business pertaining to Markham Motors, I believe. It doesn’t concern me—not yet, anyway.”

“Not yet,” you echo.

He chuckles, nodding proudly. “Your brother is remarkably ambitious. Once our two companies merge, I reckon that we’ll be unstoppable.”

“How exciting,” you murmur, reaching over for your water. You raise the cup to your mouth, expelling a soft sigh. “You must be thrilled, I’d imagine.”

“All in a day’s work,” he grunts, setting one glass of scotch down onto the ground. He lifts the other to his lips, taking a delicate sip.

You sit there awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. Martin’s eyes roam the wide expanse of your backyard, jumping from the stables to the fountain and back again. He pauses, then, humming pensively when he spots Harry polishing the stairs less than fifteen feet away.

“It’s a bit…unconventional to be dining with the help, is it not?” he asks, cocking one eyebrow nonchalantly.

You stiffen and glance over your shoulder—Harry is on all fours, scowling as he scrubs a particularly stubborn stain from the bottom step. His chestnut hair tumbles onto his forehead, twisted into pretty ringlets. A spark of heat blazes up your spine.

You turn your attention back to Martin, only to find that he’s also watching the other man work. It’s different, however—his look is judgmental, austere. His thin upper lip curls in disdain and his eyebrows cinch together, radiating condescension.

“We are…” You choose your words carefully. “…a rather unconventional family. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose so,” he acquiesces, tilting his head to the side. “But does it not distress you, somewhat? Inviting them into your home, making yourself and your possessions vulnerable?”

Something gross festers in the pit of your stomach. You bite back the sound of disgust that threatens to spill from your mouth.

“No,” you state curtly. “Not at all.”

Silence falls over the two of you, thick and poignant and tremendously uncomfortable. After a long, tense moment, you sit up, dusting off the skirt of your dress and releasing a faint groan. “I think I’ll be heading in, now.”

“As will I,” Martin replies, jumping to pursue you.

You stand, clutching your glass of water in one hand. He quickly reaches out with extended fingers, trying to take it from you. Though chivalrous, the action is weak, and you both know it.

“Here, let me—”

“No, it’s quite alright—,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I insist—”

“Mister Russell, really, it’s fine—”

The cup, slick with condensation, slips from your grasp and shatters loudly against the floor. You gasp when a jagged shard slices against your ankle. Pain flares up your shin; abruptly, you fall back onto the lounger. You angle your leg to the side, surveying the damage with wide eyes. The cut is about an inch long; blood drips from the injury, seeping down toward the sole of your bare foot. Bile gathers on your tongue.

“Good God!” Martin exclaims unhelpfully. “You’re bleeding!”

“I can see that,” you snap, bending down and pressing your fingertips against the laceration.

Heavy footsteps approach. When you cast a glance over your shoulder, you find Harry stalking toward you, his eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment.

“What happened?” he asks, but when you hold up one hand, he freezes in his tracks.

“Be careful!” you warn, your voice strained. “There’s glass everywhere.”

“What happened?” he repeats. His gaze lands on Martin, and his nostrils flare unnervingly. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” the other man protests, retreating a few steps away. “It just fell!”

“Go back inside,” Harry commands. “Check all the lavatories—there may be spare bandages in one of the cupboards.”

Martin frowns—you get the feeling that he’s not exactly used to being ordered around. “Now, you listen here—”

“Mister Russell!” you interrupt shrilly, fixing him with a stern glare. “Do as he says. Please.”

Martin closes his mouth and purses his lips, nodding tersely. He nearly trips over himself as he stumbles back into the house.

“He’s useless,” you mutter, bloody fingers slipping against your skin.

Harry doesn’t reply; instead, he situates himself on the opposite edge of the recliner, beckoning you closer with a quick flick of his hand.

“Face this way,” he instructs. “There’s no glass on this side.”

You obey him wordlessly. He gets you settled back into the chair, guiding your right leg over his thigh so that your foot lays comfortably in his lap. With no hesitation whatsoever, he grasps the white fabric covering the jut of his shoulder and gives a mighty tug. The sleeve rips cleanly at the seam. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

“We’ll use this,” Harry says, pulling the material down to his wrist. “Just until he returns with proper bindings.”

“Alright,” you whisper. It takes every ounce of willpower in your body to avoid staring at his naked arm—golden, sweat-slicked skin stretched over smooth, corded muscle. A frighteningly large part of you wants to lean forward and sink your teeth into his bicep. You swiftly curb the urge, swallowing heavily and trying to focus your attention on something—anything—else.

“How did this happen?” Harry asks.

He balls the fabric up and dabs cautiously at the blood dripping from your wound.

“He was—well, I don’t even know, really,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “He was trying to be gallant, I suppose.”

“‘Gallant’?” he parrots, gazing down at your leg. “He fancies you, then?”

“Yes.” You pause, rethinking your answer. “No.” You sigh. “Perhaps; I’m not sure.”

He smirks. Despite the pain pulsating up your leg, you wiggle your toes and nudge him with your knee.

“What’s so amusing?” you ask, puzzled.

He simply chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s just that…you’re a bit oblivious, that’s all.”

And for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, you balk and say, “I beg your pardon?”

Harry laughs. Gingerly, he wraps his torn sleeve around your ankle, applying a gentle pressure to your skin. You wince, curling your fingers into fists. His hands—though rough and calloused—are surprisingly tender with their movements. He’s slow and practiced, treating you as though you’re made of porcelain. Your heartbeat quickens; you hope that he can’t hear the way it thunders beneath your ribs.

“You’re rather clueless when it comes to gauging a man’s affections for you,” he explains. He makes it sound as though it’s a phenomenon of which you should already be aware.

You narrow your eyes and purse your lips.

“Tread carefully,” you tell him, though you can’t hide the sardonic undertone in your voice. “You’re wading through dangerous waters, here.”

“What I mean to say is—” Harry clears his throat, shrugging coolly. “—since yesterday’s arrival, that fool’s chattering hasn’t ceased. Building oneself up with words…that’s the sign of a boy aiming to impress a girl.”

“You don’t sound too keen on that method,” you note.

He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Excellent observation. I am not.”

“And why is that?” you ask, cocking one eyebrow challengingly. “How exactly would you attempt to make your affections known?”

Harry places one of his palms on the skin just below your knee. You jump at the contact, shocked by his brazen move. Having his hands on your ankle is one thing—but your knee? It’s risky, bold, nearly scandalous…and with the way he’s looking at you, it’s clear that he knows it, too.

“Building oneself up with words is a boy’s game,” he tells you. “But building oneself up with actions…that’s the sign of a man aiming to impress a woman. It may be a bit unconventional, but—” He pins you with a deliberate stare. “I work for a rather unconventional family. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You say nothing. Harry’s green eyes pierce your face, peeling you open layer by layer. You’ve stopped breathing, your chest completely still. Goosebumps erupt across your arms. Instinctively, your concentration falls to his lips: twin pink petals, sinful and alluring and so incredibly—

“I’ve got the bandages!”

And just like that, the spell is broken. You drag your gaze away from the man in front of you, turning to the side and watching as Martin jogs back over with a thick spool of gauze clutched tightly to his chest.

“Here,” he pants. He passes the roll to Harry, who clears his throat loudly and begins to unwind the bindings with swift, proficient fingers.

Martin then fixes his attention on you, raising his eyebrows quizzically.

“Are you alright?” he asks, shooting you an expectant look.

“Fine,” you croak out, though the blood roaring in your ears sincerely begs to differ.

You blink yourself out of your stupor, running your tongue over the roof of your mouth and exhaling shakily. Harry has turned back to your ankle, replacing the makeshift bandages with proper ones. You glance up at Martin and nod your head, praying that he can’t see the flustered agitation brewing in your eyes.

“Yes, Mister Russell, I’m fine. Thank you.”

July 9th, 1923

The library is your favourite room in the house.

It’s quiet, peaceful, and is accompanied only by the rarest of disturbances. Lydia’s never really enjoyed reading—she can’t sit still long enough to do so. Andrew hasn’t stepped past the threshold in years—he’s been too busy running Markham Motors. So, that just leaves you, along with the freedom to choose from the hundreds of books lining the shelves. You’ve dabbled in fiction and non-fiction alike, soaking up the words from the page just as the ground soaks up rain from a storm.

The library has become your safe haven. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You trod over to your favourite spot to read: a small alcove in the wall, decked out with fluffy cushions and tucked right up against a wide window. It gives you a perfect view of the driveway and the front lawn down below. You’ve spent hours in this little nook, absorbed in novels and poems and biographies. You’ve passed entire nights curled up next to the windowpane, having dozed off in the middle of a story. It’s become a tradition of sorts, despite the dull ache in your neck that always ensues when you stir the next morning.

The book in your hands is heavy as you sink into the mess of pillows. Bright, natural light streams in from the window to your left. You release a soft sigh as your fingers flip to where you’d last left off during your previous visit.

She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me—

You scoff and roll your eyes. You’ve read this story a dozen times; you already know how it ends.

For the next twenty minutes, nothing matters save for the adventures of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You allow yourself to get lost in the world of Pride and Prejudice, eyes hungrily raking over every printed detail. You’re only pulled out of your reverie when a shrill, jubilant cry pierces through the silence.

Instinctively, your head snaps toward the direction of the noise. Through the spotless windowpane, you spy Harry and Lydia standing on the lawn. Harry is holding a brown hose, angling it downward and watering the grass beneath his feet. Your sister is next to him, babbling and gesturing animatedly with her hands. You smile at the sight.

You slip your thumb between the pages of the book to mark your place. The novel is forgotten as you study the scene playing out below.

Harry is wearing an ashen blue button-up and a pair of black trousers. A thin white undershirt peeks out from beneath his collar. He smirks at something that Lydia says, ducking his head and trying to conceal the fond expression on his face. She throws her hands up in the air and twirls around—when she staggers slightly, Harry holds out his arm. Her fingers dig into his elbow to regain balance, and the two of them dissolve into giggles. Warmth unfurls in your chest.

Harry tilts his head back, surveying the cloudless sky with squinted eyes and a wrinkled nose. His attention turns to the house, then, sweeping absentmindedly over the fair bricks and stone accents.

Suddenly, his gaze darts forward. You freeze when his green irises lock squarely on you.

Hot humiliation creeps up your neck, because of course. Staring at him and remaining undetected is a luxury that few can afford.

Your lips part with a soft gasp, and your shoulders stiffen. The corners of Harry’s mouth curl up slightly—so faint, you think it may just be a figment of your imagination. The gilded copy of Pride and Prejudice rests in your lap, abandoned. It mocks you and your preoccupation—your fascination—with the man on the ground.

Harry shoots you a small, mysterious smile, and lifts his chin. You sit up straight, processing his request.

“I shouldn’t—,” you start to say before remembering that he can’t actually hear you. You clench your jaw and shake your head, hoping that he’ll be able to register the movement through the glass.

But his teasing expression only deepens as he beckons you again. A ragged exhale falls from your lips, and a tepid swell of adrenaline floods your veins. You snap your book shut, tucking it against your chest and pushing yourself away from the window. You swear that your heart skips a beat when your feet hit the floor.

Don’t rush, don’t rush, don’t rush.

It’s hard to maintain a measured pace, especially when such a big part of you just wants to take off and sprint down the spiral staircase. You force yourself to dawdle, to smooth your fingers over the bannister and descend slowly. Your palms are clammy as you make your way across the foyer, eyes glued to the large double doors on the opposite wall.

And then you’re outside, the sun beating down against your face and the breeze blowing gently through your hair. You saunter toward the edge of the large portico, leaning against the stone railing with your novel still clutched tightly to your sternum.

“Dee!”

Lydia whips around, taken aback by the call of her name. Upon recognising you, her features morph into a mask of quizzical mockery.

“Where have you been?” she asks, jogging over.

“I was reading,” you say, shrugging indifferently. After a short moment, you add, “Beth’s looking for you.”

“Me? What for?”

In the periphery of your vision, you spy Harry approaching. Water leaks from the nozzle of the hose; he gathers a few droplets onto his knuckles before smearing them across his sweaty forehead. You bite your tongue to suppress a snort.

“Dinner, I believe,” you lie, turning back to your sister. “It’s your turn to choose, is it not?”

Lydia’s eyes light up. “You’re right! It’s Monday, isn’t it?”

Her feet smack loudly against the cobbled steps as she races toward the door. Before disappearing inside, however, she skids to a stop, spinning around and raising one arm high above her head. “Goodbye, Harry!”

Harry smiles, lifting two fingers to his temple in a lazy salute. “Goodbye, little bug.”

A moment later, she’s gone.

And a moment after that, you find yourself sincerely regretting your decision to send her away. Harry observes you with raised brows and a knowing smirk on his face. You gnaw anxiously on your bottom lip, avoiding his eyes. A long beat of silence ensues.

“Hello,” he finally says.

You exhale quietly, relieved. “Hello.”

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you agree.

You lean against the stone bannister, peering down at him. The breeze picks up, gusting through your thin skirt and blouse. A small part of you notes the theatrical romanticism of it all: his being on the ground, the butterflies flapping around in your stomach—

“Do you always spend the majority of a nice day locked away in the library?” Harry asks. His pretty irises twinkle alluringly when your gazes meet.

“I—no,” you stammer. “I was just…reading.”

“As one does in a room full of books, I’d expect.”

Embarrassment blooms in your chest.

“Yes,” you say softly. “Precisely.”

He grins.

“How is your ankle?” he asks, motioning toward the bottom of your leg.

“Oh.” You look down, flexing your foot. “It’s healing. I should be fully rehabilitated in a few days.”

Harry chuckles, nodding. You purse your lips and try for a smile, but you’re afraid that it resembles more of a grimace.

“What’ve you got, there?” He lifts his chin, gesturing to the novel tucked between your forearm and your chest. You’re grasping it so tightly that you’re surprised the skin of your knuckles hasn’t split.

You clear your throat, revealing the embroidered inscription on the front cover. “Er—Pride and Prejudice. It’s my favourite.”

Harry hums. “Mine, too.”

And though it is extremely impolite, you can’t stop the look of shock that makes its way onto your face.

“You’ve read it?”

He chuckles sheepishly, dropping his chin. “You have bewitched me, body and soul,” he suddenly says, lifting his eyes from the ground and fixing his unwavering gaze on you, “and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you—”

“—from this day on,” you finish, breathless.

He smiles. Zaps of electricity surge down your spine. The two of you are silent, tripping over unspoken murmurs of indulgence. You scrape your tongue over your teeth, clueless.

Harry is the first one to break.

“I should get back to work,” he announces gently. He gestures to the hose hanging limply from his hand and gives a perfunctory shrug.

“Of course.” You nod, inhaling deeply. “I should get back to…”

He smirks when you trail off. “Reading?” he supplies.

“Yes,” you blurt. “Yes. Exactly.” You hesitate, drumming your fingers against the auburn cover of your book. “Good day, Harry.”

“Good day, miss!” he calls as you begin to walk away. You pause and cast a glance over your shoulder, an admonishment dancing on the tip of your tongue.

For the hundredth time, Harry, you mustn’t feel obligated to address me in such a formal—

But then you register the mischief on his face, and the realisation sinks in.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” you ask.

Crinkles dig into the corners of his eyes.

“I’m afraid that I don’t understand,” he says, tilting his head to the side in faux-confusion. You wipe a clammy palm against the waistband of your skirt and bite back a small smile. Harry’s playful expression deepens, poking a cavernous dimple into his left cheek.

“Have a little compassion on my nerves,” you say, pulling another quote from the novel clasped against your body. “You tear them to pieces.”

His lips twitch, impressed and amused.

“What a shame,” he counters, snickering quietly, “for I dearly love to laugh.”

July 13th, 1923

The past hour of your life has been spent rolling around in bed and resenting your glaring inability to fall asleep. You’re not really sure why you’re still awake after midnight, but you’ve long since given up on trying to solve the mystery that is your body’s biological clock. Smooth satin sheets tickle your bare legs. You groan into your pillow and push yourself up from the mattress, tossing your feet over the edge and shivering softly when they land on the cold hardwood floor.

You wrap yourself up in a thin silk robe; the hem falls only an inch or two above your knees. The rest of the house is silent as you quietly exit your room and pad across the hall. You tiptoe down the spiral staircase; a brief moment later (during which you slip on some comfortable footwear), you’re stepping out into the backyard, greeted by gentle zephyrs and temperate summer air.

As you hop down the porch steps and begin the familiar trek toward the stables, you note the blanket of stars dotting the clear night sky. They twinkle happily, winking at you as though they know something that you don’t.

You shake your head at the thought. They’re stars. Big, flaming balls of gas floating in space, stationed millions of miles away. They know nothing.

Your ears perk up as you approach your destination, struck by the low stream of words carried by the breeze.

“…lilies, and dahlias, too. They tend to bloom during the summer…”

You freeze, feet stalling in the dirt. Leaning in closer, you catch deep murmurs of a faceless voice. The stranger continues to list off different types of flowers; when a soft chuckle laces through the air, your eyes widen in disbelief.

Is that…?

Sure enough, when you creep into the stables, you find Harry standing in front of Artemis’ pen, running his fingers through her shiny mane. His back is to you, shoulder blades flexing beneath the dark button-up adorning his torso. The sleeves reach his biceps, stretching slightly whenever he lifts his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he’s saying as you inch closer, hopelessly engrossed in the pseudo-conversation. “Sugar cubes are a bit of a rarity in my home. I haven’t any others.”

A twig snaps beneath your foot. You wince.

Harry whips around, startled. Upon recognising you, he blows out a heavy breath. Tension leaks from his body, and twin pink spots form on his cheeks. You stare at the blush colouring his face, mesmerized—you’ve never seen him look so dumbfounded.

“Er—,” you say. You raise your hand in an awkward, half-hearted wave. “Hello.”

“Hello,” he replies.

A beat of silence ensues.

“What are you…?” you trail off, trying to keep your voice level. “Were you just—?”

“Yes,” he says quickly. A sheepish chuckle tumbles off his tongue. “I....I understand it, now. Talking to one’s horse is rather soothing.”

“She’s not yours, though.” Your response is blunt, unfeeling.

Harry’s nostrils flare, and his feet scuff against the ground. Now that he’s facing you, you’re able to get a better look at him. A white undershirt peeks out from beneath his button-up, leaving his collarbones exposed. A gold chain glints around his neck, illuminated under the dim light. He’s wearing brown trousers and those same black boots, but you think that he may have polished them, finally, because they’re considerably tidier than before.

“She’s not,” Harry agrees, swallowing nervously. “My sincerest apologies. I can see that I’ve crossed a line—”

You can’t stifle the giggle that bubbles up in your throat. Harry hesitates, fixing you with a bewildered expression. At last, you shoot him a small smile, shaking your head and waving away his regrets.

“I’m only teasing,” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Breathe, Harry.”

He exhales raggedly, ruffling the curls at the back of his head. “Jesus. You frightened me.”

“Good. Perhaps you’ve finally learned your lesson, then.”

“My lesson?” he echoes, cocking his head to the side. “And what exactly would that be?”

“To avoid sneaking up on others at night,” you say. “Especially if they’re in the midst of conversing with their horse. It’s a very private exchange, you know—endless confessions have been made under this roof.”

Harry laughs.

“I think I’ve supplied my fair share of confessions, tonight,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly. “I can leave you to do the same.”

“No,” you blurt out. “Wait.”

He pauses, shocked by your immediate refutation. You purse your lips as hot shame unfurls in your chest.

“I just meant,” you start, hastening to make amends, “you can stay, if you’d like. Besides—” You shrug. “It’s far more pleasant talking to someone who can actually talk back.”

~*~

“Harry. No.”

“Yes.”

“No. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. And I’ll be right next to you. I won’t leave your side.”

You gnaw apprehensively on your bottom lip as he frees Artemis from her pen. She trots out and whinnies softly, tossing her head to the side. He shushes her, dragging a comforting palm over her back. You step closer, mirroring his movements and glaring at him with terse, squinted eyes.

“We’ll go slowly,” he says, fixing you with an earnest look. “A few steps at a time. That doesn’t sound too daunting, does it?”

After a long, overwrought moment, you surrender.

“Very well,” you say. You point at him accusatorily, extending your arm over Artemis’ body. “But as soon as I want to stop, we stop. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Harry leans forward, bumping the pad of your finger with the tip of his nose. The contact makes you gasp. He pauses as well, having realised the implications of the thoughtless action. You swallow heavily; he clears his throat and averts his gaze.

“I’ll get the saddle,” he says.

His heel scrapes loudly against the dry dirt when he turns; you watch as he marches toward the pair of brown saddles hanging on the wooden wall. With a mighty groan, he heaves one from its rusted, metal hook, gathering the leather in his arms before making his way back over to you.

“Thank you,” you murmur shyly.

“You’re very welcome.”

You migrate to the side, petting Artemis’ mane as Harry slips the saddle onto her back. She huffs; you coo at her, holding her face in your hands to keep her calm. Harry spends the next several seconds strapping everything in place. After he’s finished, he gives a gentle tug, ensuring that you won’t slide and fall to the ground once you’re ready to mount.

“All set,” he says, squaring his shoulders.

You glance over at him with wide, frightened eyes. When he meets your gaze, his stoic expression melts into a pool of concern.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says, stepping closer to you.

“I—” Your throat burns. “I haven’t ridden in three years, Harry.”

“I know,” he says solemnly. He offers you his left hand. “Do you trust me?”

Your response is immediate. “I do.”

“Good.” The corners of his lips curl upward. His tone is unreservedly honest when he speaks again. “I won’t let anything happen to you, miss; I swear it.”

You slide your palm against his. A sharp tingle races up your arm, sending your heartbeat into a frenzy. You fight to keep your breathing even as Harry pulls you closer, positioning you in front of him and placing his fingers on your waist.

“Ready?” he murmurs. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear.

You nod.

He grunts as he lifts you. You kick out one leg, slinging it over Artemis’ back and pulling yourself up. Once you’ve settled into a comfortable position, you peer down at him, shoulders taut and ankles locked.

“Breathe,” Harry reminds you. He leads by example, inhaling deeply; you imitate him, trying to ignore the thin sheen of sweat gathered at the nape of your neck.

“What do I do, now?” you ask after a thin stretch of silence.

He chuckles good-naturedly, cocking one eyebrow. “You’ve forgotten?”

“No,” you say indignantly, frowning. “I just—”

You break off when he takes your hands and guides them forward. Your fingers wrap around the reins dangling from Artemis’ neck. You fist the leather firmly, swallowing down the hard lump in your throat. Harry’s nostrils flare as he retracts his arms. You’re fascinated by the way his tongue darts out of his mouth, swiping over his sunburnt lips.

“A few steps at a time,” he says, repeating his former words.

You nod, blowing out a shaky exhale. Gently, you dig your heels into Artemis’ belly and click your teeth. She snorts and takes a step forward; the air is swiftly knocked from your lungs.

“I’m right here,” Harry pipes up. He lays one palm against the back of the saddle, keeping pace. “I won’t let you fall.”

Gradually, you make it out of the stables. The distance can’t be more than fifteen or twenty feet, but it’s a start. You tug softly on the reins, and Artemis stops abruptly. The sudden pause has you lurching forward in your seat. You squeak; quicker than a lightning strike, Harry is there. His hand settles on the small of your back, keeping you steady.

You look down at him, and your gazes lock. Jade eyes gleam beneath the lustrous night sky. His attention falls lower, and only then do you realise that the hem of your robe has ridden up your leg. Most of your thigh is exposed—smooth skin on total display, mere inches from his face. You release an inaudible gasp, shifting your hips to the side so that the silk slips back down.

A muscle in Harry’s jaw twitches enticingly. He removes his touch from your back and turns away.

“Beautiful evening,” he says stiffly, peering up at the stars. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes,” you whisper. You clear your throat. “I’d like to dismount, now. Would you mind?”

He shakes his head and hums. “Not at all. Hold onto me.”

You place your hands on his shoulders, and he curls his fingertips into your waist. Wordlessly, he lifts you from Artemis’ back. You yelp when your ankle snags on one of the saddle’s leather straps. He stumbles backward, wrapping his arms tightly around your midsection and grunting in surprise. When you eventually regain your footing, your eyes widen at the compromising nature of your position.

Harry is clutching you against his torso, his face buried in your neck. Warm puffs of air leave his lips and coat the column of your throat; the sensation sends shivers down your spine. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, chest heaving with difficult, onerous breaths.

It’s a stance that should only be shared between lovers, you think. Between a husband and his wife.

Harry is not your husband.

And you are not his wife.

The two of you break apart almost immediately, choking on hasty, half-formed sentences.

“My apologies, miss—”

“No, you needn’t—I should have been more cautious—”

“It’s late; you must be spent—”

“I’m not ready to leave.”

Harry freezes, his jaw agape. Several seconds elapse before he can find it in himself to muster a reply.

“I beg your pardon?” He’s breathless, swept away by your confession.

You shift awkwardly.

“I’m not ready to leave,” you repeat. You clasp your hands behind your back and fix him with an even stare. You hope that he can’t hear the slight quiver at the base of your declaration. “I—I wish to spend more time with you.”

He blinks. “With me?”

You nod. “With you.”

“What…?” He hesitates. “What would you like to do?”

You shrug. “Anything.”

Harry puckers his lips, lost in thought. After a prolonged moment of deliberation, his features light up. “I know a place.”

“‘A place’?” you parrot, brows knitting together.

“A place,” he confirms. “You trust me, do you not?”

“You already know the answer to that question,” you say, scoffing quietly. “I believe I’ve made myself abundantly clear.”

He chuckles. You tug on the sleeves of your robe and grate your slippers into the dirt. Harry watches you with careful eyes.

“Do it now, then,” he says, nodding encouragingly. He holds out his hand once more, beckoning you closer. “Trust me, now.”

You chew on your bottom lip, gracing him with a curt bob of your head. Artemis huffs as you wrap her reins around your wrist and slide your fingers against Harry’s palm. He pats your knuckles gently, guiding them to the crook of his elbow.

“Shall we?” he asks. It’s impossible to read the emotion in his voice.

Your response of endorsement is meek. Gone is the confident woman from a minute ago: the one who stated what she wanted without a second thought. She slips through your grasp easily, disintegrating into a pile of dust and leaving nothing behind.

“We shall,” you choke out.

Harry’s lips twitch with the ghost of a smile, and Artemis’ hooves clunk against the ground as he leads you off into the night.

~*~

“This is so…”

“Nice, isn’t it?”

“‘Nice’?” You spin on your heel slowly, taking in your surroundings. “It’s incredible.”

The water trickling through the creek is crystal clear. A few shiny rocks peek out from the shallow stream, gleaming in the moonlight. You peer up at the stars—hundreds of diamonds, perfectly visible thanks to the large gap of the clearing. Crickets chirp along the edges of the bushes, and yellow-green fireflies ride the breeze.

“How did you find this place?” you breathe.

“It may sound foolish—,” Harry begins. He holds one hand out; you transfer Artemis’ reins into his palm. “—but I can’t remember.”

“Really?” you ask, stunned. You trail after him as he leads your horse to a nearby tree. He loops her leather harnesses around a thick branch, tying a proficient knot and giving it a few experimental tugs. Your gaze remains glued to his hands: the way his fingers work deftly, the way his knuckles flex with each pull—

“Really,” he says. A soft sigh tumbles from his mouth as he steps back. “Come with me.”

You follow him to the middle of the clearing, trying to anticipate his next move. What you don’t expect, however, is for him to drop to his knees. He falls backward, spine meeting the grass with a faint thump. You gasp, staring down at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Don’t be afraid,” Harry hums, shooting you a playful smirk. He crosses his arms behind his head—you try to avoid staring at the prominent bulge of his biceps. “The weeds won’t bite.”

“O—Oh,” you stammer, nodding quickly. “Alright, then.”

Daintily, you lower yourself to the ground. He watches you with an amused expression on his face.

“What?” you say, pouting.

“Nothing.” He snickers quietly. You tuck your ankles beneath your thighs as he turns to the side, propping his head up with one hand. “Correct me if I’m wrong, miss, but…I presume that you don’t often make it a point to lay in the grass.”

“That would be an accurate presumption,” you say, laughing softly. Harry smiles.

“You should spend more time outside,” he says absentmindedly. “You’re always cooped up in the house.”

You cock one eyebrow teasingly. “Do you wish to see more of me, Harry?”

“Absolutely not,” he replies, humour evident in his tone. “I am simply trying to instill some sense of adventure into your life.”

The corners of your lips kink upward. In a matter of seconds, however, your delight melts away, replaced by a somberness that you can’t seem to shake.

“I was far more adventurous before the accident,” you murmur, dropping your gaze. You reach out, fiddling with a few blades of grass in an attempt to avoid Harry’s doleful eyes. “Now, I…I’m afraid of everything, it seems.”

Silence hangs in the air between you, filled only by the steady symphony of chirping crickets.

“If I may ask—,” Harry starts, shifting closer. “—what happened?”

You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Artemis shoved me off.”

“She did?”

“It wasn’t her fault!” you say quickly, holding up one hand. “She got spooked, I suppose. And I wasn’t expecting it, so…I fell.”

“What frightened her?” he asks, anxious creases digging into his forehead.

You shrug. “I don’t know. But since then, I’ve been uneasy about riding. If I’m oblivious to what alarmed her the first time, who’s to say that it won’t happen again?”

He nods. “I understand.”

You sigh, plucking a piece of grass from the dirt and twirling it between your fingers. “I wish I could be more like Drew,” you hum distantly. “Someone who throws themselves into their trauma instead of shying away from it.”

Harry’s brows knit together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

You frown. “He—he never told you?”

He shakes his head. “I haven’t a clue. What is it exactly that you’re referring—?”

“Our parents,” you say softly.

Harry’s mouth clamps shut. He inhales deeply, gracing you with a curt nod. You take his silence as an invitation to elaborate.

“They perished in a car accident,” you murmur, looking away. “My father was head of Markham Motors, at the time. He had overlooked a flaw in the latest model, and when they finally took the vehicle out for a drive, it—”

You break off, unable to continue.

Harry reaches forward, covering one of your hands with his. A puff of stale air catches in your throat. You glance down at him timidly, hoping that he can’t identify the flustered distress on your face.

“I’m so sorry,” he tells you, squeezing your fingers tenderly. “That must’ve been awful.”

You exhale shakily. “It was.”

For the next few minutes, the two of you say nothing else. Instead, you melt into your surroundings—the grass brushing your legs, the slow trickle of water in the creek, the dim buzz of fireflies drifting in the wind. At the edge of the clearing, Artemis snorts, lowers her head, and begins to graze.

At last, you decide to break through the stillness.

“Enough about my family,” you say. You recoil, subtly pulling your hand away. Harry is far too distracting. You’re afraid that if he touches you one more time, tonight, your poor heart will give out. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he replies. He settles back into his previous position: spine pressed flush against the ground, arms tucked coolly beneath his head.

“How are you?” you say. “How is your sister, in Paris?”

He peers up at you with raised eyebrows, impressed. “You remembered?”

“Is there a particular reason as to why I shouldn’t?”

Harry chuckles. “No, I suppose not.”

“Well, go on, then.” You rest your chin on your palm. “What is she like?”

“You’re a bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

You scowl. “Harry.”

“Right, right.” He sighs, smiling fondly up at the sky. “She’s…she’s lovely, really. She just got engaged, as a matter of fact. I haven’t met her fiancé, but he’s stellar, based on how she describes him in her letters.”

“That’s wonderful,” you say. Your gaze drifts longingly over the bridge of his nose. “Send her my blessings, will you?”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, mouth twisting in a roguish smirk. “I reckon she’d find that a bit odd—the two of you have never met.”

“Oh.” You purse your lips, bashful. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Harry laughs; you’re captivated by the dimples embossed into his cheeks.

“I’m only joking,” he tells you, waving away your concerns. “She’ll appreciate that very much. I’m sure of it.”

You don’t reply. Silence hangs in the air, thick and heavy, until his next words slice through the tension like a knife.

“She and I used to do this almost every night,” he murmurs.

“Do what?”

“Come outside,” he says, shrugging. “Lay on the ground. Stare up at the stars.” His irises glaze over with a forlorn look. “We always raced to see who could find the greatest number of constellations.”

“Really?” You don’t know why you’re so taken aback by his confession.

He nods. “Really.”

“Have you found any, tonight?”

He smiles. “Why don’t you come down here and see for yourself?”

The soil is surprisingly comfortable. You join him, resting your back against the grass and gazing up at the night sky. It’s an endless tapestry of diamonds—sparkling, infinite, beautiful. Your chest swells with a deep, relaxed breath as it all sinks in.

“Anything?” Harry asks expectantly.

You squint. After a long moment, a dejected sigh falls from your lips. “No. I’m not very good at this.”

He laughs. You watch, enthralled, as he lifts one hand and points to your left, singling out a curved cluster of stars.

“See these ones, over here? Shaped a bit like a hook? That’s Scorpius.”

“‘Scorpius’?”

“It means ‘scorpion’ in Latin,” Harry explains. “Scorpius was sent by the gods to kill Orion. He was then placed in the sky to advise mortals against the perils of vanity and pride.”

Vanity and pride.

You bite your lip and turn to the side, tucking a palm under your cheek. The action draws Harry’s attention; he does a double take, stunned by the sudden, close proximity of your bodies. His mouth quirks up into a coy smile as he mimics your position, brows furrowed in diluted mystification.

“What is it?” he asks.

You shift, swallowing heavily.

“I’m afraid that I’ve been unfair to you,” you say softly, gazing straight into his eyes. “I—I’ve misjudged you terribly, and for that, I must apologise. I was a fool.”

“You needn’t—,” he starts, but you press on.

“You are kind,” you say, voice thick with emotion. “You are intelligent, and clever, and you have more class in a single finger than most men have in their entire bodies.”

“Miss—”

“I was wrong about you, and I regret allowing my biases to blind me in such an atrocious manner. Can you ever forgive—oomph!”

Harry’s kiss is passionate, bruising. You stiffen, muscles locking in astonishment. One of his hands rests on the ground, providing balance; the other is on your arm, calloused thumb stroking your skin through the thin silk of your robe. You’re frozen, unable to react, because his lips are on yours, and he’s touching your body, and you’re nearly certain that you’ve died and entered the afterlife.

When Harry pulls away after a few short seconds, he’s stupidly sheepish. His eyelashes flutter open, and his stare immediately floods with remorse.

“I—forgive me,” he stammers, tripping over the words. “That was deplorable. I should have asked—”

Roughly, you grab his face between your palms. His cheeks are soft and smooth, jawline dotted with the faintest hint of stubble. The two of you exchange a look—electric, charged, thrilling. A single, critical moment ensues, during which a distinct quote emerges from the deep recesses of your mind.

A girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then. It is something to think of.

The words echo in your head as you abandon all semblance of common sense, yanking Harry in by the collar of his shirt and kissing him again.

July 14th, 1923

“Quickly! We haven’t got all day!”

“Patience!” you call from the top of the stairs. You guide one last strand of hair into place before hurrying down the flight.

Lydia is waiting for you on the main floor. You set your hands on your hips and fix her with a stern glare, huffing at her eagerness. She sticks her tongue out at you. When you open your mouth to admonish her, she whips around and scurries through the large double doors, disappearing into the backyard.

Upon stepping outside, you find Martin and Andrew already sat on the patio. Lydia settles into one of the chairs around the table, smiling brightly and beckoning you over.

“There you are,” Drew says as you approach. “Beth should be out with dinner any minute now.”

“Do you know what she’s prepared?” you ask, tucking yourself into your seat.

Andrew shrugs and emits a noncommittal sound, clueless.

“Very well,” you sigh, casting a shallow glance across the table. “Good evening, Mister Russell,” you say, tipping your chin in Martin’s direction.

“Good evening.” He beams, tugging on the lapels of his yellow blazer. “Haven’t seen you all day—where have you been hiding?”

You cluck your tongue, tugging nervously at the hem of your dress. “I hardly think it fair for a woman to disclose her spaces of refuge.”

“Stop being so cryptic!” Lydia laughs. She turns to Martin, declaring matter-of-factly, “She was locked up in the library. It’s her favourite room in the entire house.”

Martin hums, diverting his gaze back to you. The expression on his face is indecipherable. “You read?”

You nod. “I do.”

A subtle movement in the periphery of your vision catches your attention. You turn your head to the side, and your heart nearly stops when you spot Harry making his way across the lawn. It appears as though he’s done for the evening, hands caked in grime and shirt speckled with dirt. He steps onto the dusty trail leading into the woods, beginning his journey home.

You haven’t spoken to him since last night—since he kissed you, and then you kissed him, and then the two of you kissed each other until you ran out of air to breathe. He led Artemis to the stables and walked you back to the house just as dawn broke, lighting up the sky with faint hues of pink and blue. You remember sharing a final embrace at the base of the steps before bidding him goodbye, flashing a smile and disappearing inside without another word.

“Would you excuse me?” you say, pushing away from the table and scrambling up out of your seat. “I just—I need to ask Harry about the lilies that he planted yesterday—I’ll only be a moment.”

You scamper off without waiting for a response.

“Harry? Harry!”

He pauses at the call of his name, turning around gingerly. When he spies you hurrying over, his eyes immediately drop to the ground.

You stop in front of him, tilting your head to the side. “Hello.”

“Hello, miss.” He doesn’t lift his gaze. The realisation makes you frown.

“How—how are you?” you ask, licking your lips and clasping your hands behind your back.

“I’m well, thank you. And yourself?”

“I—” Your nostrils flare. “I’m alright. I saw you walking home, and I just wanted to—”

“Forgive me.” Harry cuts you off swiftly. He refuses to look at you, still. “I’m weary. It’s been a long day.”

You recoil slightly, stunned by his candour.

“Of course,” you splutter, nodding. “We were both up quite late last night; time evaded us, I suppose—”

“So, you understand,” he says, stepping back. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

You open your mouth to stop him, but your voice betrays you. Your chest grows tight when he lifts two fingers to his temple, offering up a half-hearted salute.

“Harry—”

He finally meets your gaze, and something inside of you breaks. His eyes are dull and gloomy, revealing nothing. You want to rush forward, to take his face in your hands and hold him close. To run your nails through his hair and smother him in a flurry of hard, worried kisses. To ask him why he’s acting this way. He had been so happy last night—what changed?

But the others are watching from the patio, and you’re a goddamned coward, and you can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

“Enjoy your dinner, miss,” Harry says. His tone is emotionless—it makes you want to cry. “Take care.”

~*~

PART III: The Month

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #ok idk what else to tag it as lol #gentle reminder to rb the fics you like :) hope yall enjoy #harry writing #farmhandrry

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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

Note

heyhey! if possible, i’d like to place my order for a strawberry smoothie + spinach & artichoke dip + clam chowder + bbq sandwich. thank youuuu 💕💕

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Wordcount: 3.3k

Genre: smut. Final fluff. But mostly smut. Pining. Drabble for Bangtan Bistro

Rating: 18+

Tonight we’re serving

- Strawberry Smootie: Kim Taehyung

- Spinach and Artichoke dip: Smut

- Clam Chowder: “What do you mean my meal has already been paid for?” (It’s been rephrased for stylistic purposes)

- BBQ sandwich: Celebrity in Disguise (you need to squint but I swear it’s there just read till the end LOL disguise might have been taken a bit too literally)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: okay, mild alcohol consumption (wine, brandied cherries), swearing, dirty talking, heavy flirting, making out, oral sex (sixty-nine, face fucking male receiving), brief masturbation (male and female receiving), briefest mention of rimming female receiving (just a quick lick *wink wonk*), quite rough sex, manhandling, one degrading comment, impregnation kink and breeding kink, lactation kink (I guess), mild bondage (knees), outright ramming, cumeating and creampie. Final soft, sweet surprise I don’t wanna spoil, I promise it’s a good thing.

Remember to vote for next prompt here and here is my complete masterlist!

Also, lemme self promote my new Taehyung AU

Bfbfhreb there, ready to go! Enjoy 💜✨

Feeling the scorching hotness against your spine was exciting. His eyes were there, planted against the see-through back of your blouse and you could feel them like molten metal dripping down your skin.

He was following the line of pearl buttons tracing your spine, holding close the sheer peacock blue gossamer.

Taehyung licked his lips subconsciously, his mind already wild with pictures of his fingers snapping every button open, one by one.

“Sir, may I ask your order?” A waiter interrupted his musings.

The young man startled. “Steak. Rare. And… Uhm, you do have a Nobile di Montepulciano 2018, right? Just a glass. One for the lady at the bar too. Roasted vegetables with the steak.” He closed the menu and placed it on the table. He loosened his tie discreetly.

The waiter checked the wine chart and confirmed the order. “The steak right away? No appetisers?” He asked.

Taehyung followed you as a polished waitress accompanied you to a table across the room, the iridescent fabric of your top shimmering in a holographic effect under the soft light of the chandeliers.

“No appetisers,” he confirmed, his eyes never leaving you. “About that glass of merlot for the lady. She has moved over there,” he curtly indicated the direction with a nod of his chin. Looking at the waiter he searched the backpocket of his slacks. “Now,” He extracted his wallet, looking for a note and laying a 50,000 won piece on the table. “I know this might come off as rude but I’m asking for more than food, so…” Taehyung let the sentence fall eloquently. “Tell me something about her. Name, phone number, shoe size, I don’t care as long as I get to see her again.”

The waiter’s eyebrows shot up. “Of course, sir. She usually comes here with her friends, but tonight apparently she is by herself. They usually come on Thursday night.”

Thursday, of course.

Taehyung smiled. “Thank you. But I need a bit more than that.”

“I’ll come back with more, I promise.” The waiter bowed politely and left. Shortly after, Taehyung noticed the waiter walking to your table bottle in hand, gesturing to the other table as he talked to you discreetly. From the distance he could recognise a small smirk aimed in his direction, before you turned to the waiter, batting your lashes as you nodded.

He noticed a set of earrings glimmering like twin stars at your earlobes, while a fine thread of diamonds adorned your neck, matching the other pair of jewels.

The waiter poured your wine and leaned towards you, the epitome of politeness as he explained the situation very elegantly.

You were slightly surprised but didn’t let his words sway you too much. Keeping a sphinx-like composure you said something Taehyung couldn’t decipher from the distance, the waiter walking in his direction straight away.

“The lady said she is waiting for you to drink, sir.”

Glass half full, Taehyung lifted it in your direction, waiting for you to mirror the gesture. He cocked an eyebrow as you did, tipping the rim in your direction before bringing it to his lips and taking a small sip, observing your red lips lay on the glass while your neck stretched.

Watching your throat move as you swallowed was a vision too erotic for him to handle, and he politely fixed his stance, trying to alleviate his need.

Just as his steak was delivered, he was struck by surprise as the same dish was served at your table.

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought it a shame that you and him were sitting alone, ten metres apart at two different tables.

A part of him was pleased to realise that you had specifically asked his exact same order; however, his ego was drastically redimensioned once you started eating. You were a tease, licking your lips as the juices from the meat glistened on the deep scarlet colour of your lip tint. He felt embarrassed at the amount of details he could see now thanks to arousal, feeling like a predator as he studied your hands gripping the cutlery, your mouth opening wide for a bite too big, and the wine. He loved watching you drink. He loved watching the diamonds twinkle as your throat moved.

He was almost sad the moment he noticed you had both finished the food.

“Please, put the lady’s bill on me,” the waiter nodded as he took the empty dishes away.

“She wanted me to tell you her shoe size is seven and a half and that she doesn’t want anything less than six inches.”

Taehyung snickered and looked at the table cloth as he felt his cheeks blush. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, but would you tell the lady that I’m interested in another kind of number?”

“About that, she mentioned 100-85-120. I believe you can understand perfectly.” The waiter commented. “May I bring the dessert chart? Or would you perhaps be interested in today’s special?”

Taehyung nodded to himself. “What about your divine flaming cherry bites?”

The waiter bowed his head in acknowledgement. “For the lady too?”

Taehyung smiled. “Yes.”

The older man was glad to assist the young customer, not at all because of the tip — he would have considered it rude from anyone else, however the warm smiles and the way he used honorifics and register had the man trusting the wealthy, polished kid. He almost felt fatherly sympathy for the smooth charmer sitting at the table: he looked at the woman with nothing but adoration and devotion. There were at least twenty women in the room, some of which had way more skin on show, and way sultrier looks; still, he only had eyes for you.

Once dessert was delivered at both your tables, the flirting resumed, your instincts awakening dangerously as he made a fine work of licking his fingertips, stained with the chocolate sauce covering the brandied cherries elegantly placed on a small pastry basket.

It was your turn to catch fire as you stared at his deep, dark eyes, his unwavering glance, and the beautiful shape of his mouth, his brown, wavy locks pushed back elegantly. He looked like the devil.

And you had every intention of burning in his flames.

As you asked for the bill, the waiter shook his head politely. “The gentleman at the table over there has already taken care of it, miss.”

Your eyebrows shot up before you smirked. “Then I think I should stop by and thank him.”

“He’ll be more than glad, miss.”

“Thank you for your help. I hope your shift will proceed smoothly, mr Lim.” You rose to your feet.

“It is always a pleasure having you here. Greet your friends on my behalf.”

You chuckled gently. The kind, warm man had seen you and your mates come across the foyer so many times, for dinner or for drinks. He always exchanged greetings and was always happy whenever you asked him about his family and the business. “Will do. Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, miss.”

You took slow steps in the man’s direction, stopping beside him. “I believe I owe you a thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He said, looking up at you.

“What if I wanted to thank you.” You replied slowly and quietly.

“How?”

“An empty hotel room can be very lonely.” You said, looking at your feet and toying with a keycard in your hands. “I’ve booked a room to celebrate my birthday and let me tell you everything has been so dull so far.” You pouted a little before shrugging casually. “Maybe we could turn the night a little brighter.”

“I am a gentleman, I don’t really like visiting ladies in their private rooms.” He looked away theatrically. “However, how would I disappoint such a refined woman? And leave you all alone on your birthday. I believe that would be unforgivable.”

“Indeed.” You confirmed.

As he stood up, he placed an arm around your waist. “Sorry, I tend to be an old school romantic. Stop me if you feel uncomfortable.”

“I love a bit of romance.” You smiled at him, batting your lashes seducingly. “What brings you here for a lonely dinner?”

“Business.” He replied curtly.

You snickered. “Of course.”

“Floor?” He asked once in the lift.

“Thirty-fourth,” you replied, fixing your skirt.

“Pretty high up,” he commented, pressing the button.

You resisted ten floors before staring at his lips. By floor fourteen his mouth landed on yours, sucking your lower lip, enjoying the plumpness of it before he opened wide, his tongue sliding out and entering your mouth, tickling your palate before swirling round your appendage.

His palm caressed your side, reaching your asscheek and squeezing it, his throat emitting a low hum.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold on anymore,” he apologised as he parted from you once the doors dinged and opened.

You fixed your hair, his hand gesturing for you to lead the way — an excellent excuse to stare at your behind as you walked in front of him.

Once you reached the door, he kissed your nape while you slipped the keycard into the lock. His hands were already fumbling with the tiny buttons before the door would even buzz open.

“You can call me Nymph.” You said, as his hands proceeded working the small buttons.

“Of course. I'm Sir to you.” He stated sternly.

You smiled and shook your head. “Of course.”

You turned around and took off your shirt. “Get yourself naked.” You said distractedly.

He clenched his jaw at your command but obeyed nonetheless. “Nothing less than six inches?” He commented as you slipped off your heels, his glance following the red soles of your stilettos.

With a hand to his chest you pushed him with his back to the wall and teasingly dragged your palm all the way to his belt, lingering there a while before moving further down. “I’m sure you can deliver.”

“In kind.” He smirked, his eyes rolling shut as your fingers teased him over his slacks.

“Naked, now, sir.” You ordered.

“A hungry Nymph we have here.” He commented, undoing his necktie and throwing it on the bed. Next, he only undid the buttons necessary to get his shirt off. His undershirt was gone in seconds, just as your blouse and skirt disappeared, your body clad in a burnt pink silk slip.

Taehyung licked his lips and undid his belt, kicking his slippers close to the door before getting rid of his trousers lightning fast.

“Shall I get on the bed?” You asked, taking a few steps back.

“Oh no. Stay right there, Nymph.” He ordered, standing in nothing but his underwear before placing his hands around your waist and pulling you closer, kissing your neck, your chest, your hardened nipples hidden underneath the smooth silk. He began walking you backwards to the bed.

“Climb,” he purred once the back of your calves touched the mattress, making you turn to face the bed, your body kneeling on the comforter before he pushed your front down, getting you on all fours. He flipped your slip up, exposing your skimpy panties. “I’m gonna rip these.” he growled before biting your ass.

“Don’t. Just take them off.” You replied, turning around to look at him with imploring eyes. You didn't want to ruin the set.

He followed your request, immediately dipping his nose in your wetness once he managed to unstick the fabric from your folds. Shamelessly, he moaned as his tongue went from your dripping hole to your puckered one, laving it lewdly.

“Yes, Sir.” You keened, pushing back against his tongue.

He chuckled, parting from you, standing to his feet and taking off his boxers.

His cock pulsated painfully at the sight of you, at the way you stared at him while he reached the other side of the bed and laid down, settling in the middle, his erection right below your awaiting mouth.

You tried to lower yourself and swallow his tip, however he stopped you. “Get on my face right now, Nymph. I wanna see if you taste as expensive as you look.” He growled.

You simply licked your lips, his cock twitching as your hot exhale caressed his flushed skin. He was so veiny, and all you wanted to do was check if you could feel that against your inner walls. Straddling his face, you settled on top of him, not wasting a second before taking him in your mouth now that he was underneath you, under your control.

He moaned sinfully, his breath hitting your moist skin before his tongue flicked against your entrance, eliciting a contented hum.

For a few minutes all you could hear was the sounds of you sucking his cock, wet slurps filling your ears as your mouth became messy with saliva and his precum. At the same time, Taehyung was enjoying your cunt covering his whole face in juices, while some of his own spit eventually landed on his cheeks, coating his chin and nose too.

He was starved, shameless, wild. He parted from your folds only long enough to say 'naked, now'.

It didn't feel like there was any room for insubordination.

You freed his cock only long enough to remove your slip, sucking it back in your mouth before you took off your bra. As his hands met your breasts, grabbing them with thrilling pain, you felt him push you upwards away from his sex.

“I don't want to cum in your mouth. Gimme that tight, dripping cunt, Nymph,” he growled, touching your clit while his tongue teased the softest flesh of your labia.

“I'm going to ride your face, Sir?” You asked, feeling your breasts starting to bounce as your hips began grinding against him.

“Fuck my face, sweetness.” He replied, your body following his command straight away, your mouth opening in brainless, fucked out whimpers as your orgasm approached.

He kept going.

And even when you started to cum, he went on.

Even when you were humping against him ruthlessly, violently, he continued.

And when he noticed a second high take over, he outright refused to let go, no matter if you cried and begged and yelped.

He only calmed down once he felt you grab his cock and begin to stroke.

He slapped your mound violently, growling minaciously before he pushed you forward, on all fours, grabbing your thighs and opening his legs so that your front fell against the mattress once he pulled your knees from beneath you, placing your drenched core right against his crotch.

His stronger hand spanked your ass. “I told you I want to cum in your cunt and that's what you do?” He hit again. “Touch me so I'll have to cum on my belly like a teen nerd?” Another spank. “Hope you're gonna stay put now.”

He maneuvered the tip to your hole, sliding the head inside.

You purred and whined once you felt him sheathed deep in your core.

The angle was majestic. His upward curve teased the back of your vagina, rubbing against all the right spots, the soft head pressing against the inner nerves of your clitoris.

Just as you tried moving your hips against him, he sat up straighter and grabbed your hips, shoving you on his cock with breakneck speed, making your front burn with the friction against the sheets.

“Sir, please. Please it burns.” You called, desperate after a minute or so, feeling your control slip.

He gave a few more thrusts before he realised you had voiced discomfort. “Inside? Am I going too fast, does it hurt?” He spoke with tenderness and apprehension.

You shook your head. “My chest against the sheets.” You explained with a small whine.

He nodded and laid down,catching your leg and leading it in a half circle motion, helping you roll on your back as you unstraddled him.

However, his kindness was short-lived. As soon as he found your calves beside his chest, he grabbed your ankles and sat up, bending your knees and blocking them with his forearm; his free hand searched for the necktie and, once he found it, he expertly slid it beneath your legs, and then around them, tying a knot above the swell of your calves.

You stared at him with your mouth open, eyes wide and inquisitive before a naughty grin lit up your face.

He rose to his knees, crawling closer to you, bending your knees to your chest and letting your ankles settle over his left shoulder.

“Hold on tight, Nymph.” He said, bracing a hand beside your face as he lined his shaft with your cunt, sliding in effortlessly, grunting at the unspeakable tightness of your sex. “Fuck me so good, sweetness.” He mumbled. “I'm gonna rail you.” He groaned as he felt his balls tighten. “I'm gonna fill you up and watch those tits grow once you're full of my babies.” He teased. “Now you're gonna milk this cock and take every drop of my cum.”

You mewled at his sinful intent, squeezing round him and feeling his hand generously finger your clit.

“Please, fill me up. Please. I want to be heavy with your babies.”

“And you're gonna lactate them.” He whispered darkly at your ear, making the gesture feel so dirty, even though it was just natural mammal anatomy.

“I will, Sir.” You cried out, feeling your end tower over you.

“And once they're done suckling, I'll take my turn.” He growled. He had only maybe three strokes left before he would cum.

“I'm yours. All yours. Please, breed me, Sir. I'm yours,” you wailed, voice close to breaking.

“You are my horny little cumslut,” he snarled before joining your mouth with his, covering both your and his cries as you finally reached the peak.

His cock drilled deep into you as he coated your inner walls in cum, the hotness and stickiness of it pouring out of you and gluing him to your entrance.

It felt magnificent.

“I know you.” He whispered gently at your ear. “My most precious darling.”

You were still drifting ecstatically, your eyes opening slowly, lazily.

“Hello Lace.” He cooed at you, smiling softly. “Welcome back, my love.”

You mirrored his smirk and wiggled your feet against his shoulder. “Hello, my beloved fiancé. Would you please do me the courtesy of untying that?” You arched an eyebrow.

He chuckled and obeyed, almost expecting you to slide off of him; instead, you simply moved a leg to his other side and crossed your ankles behind him to tug him close to you.

“That impregnation thingie really got you going, uh?” You said, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

He nodded and kissed your chest, cupping it softly and pecking your nipples, your skin still flushed from the burning friction and the recent orgasm. “Even though I know you're covered, I find the idea so sexy.” He confirmed, pressing his face to the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “You looked very hot in that outfit. It really made me want to seduce you all over again.”

“It was fun watching you act the part. You even tipped the waiter.” You chuckled.

“You told me your measurements, Miss 'no less than six inches'.” He kissed your earlobe. “Do you know they're the combination of the apartment safe?”

You laughed and then quieted down for a second. “I wanted to jump your bones the very moment I saw you.”

“Happy to know my future wife still gets the hots for me.” He commented, matter-of-factly.

You giggled quietly. “I love you.”

He combed your hair slowly, tenderly. “I love you too.”

#taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #thebtswritersclub #thetruthuntoldnet #bangtansorciere #taehyung x yn #taehyung fluff

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pastelwitchling · 3 years ago

Text

Somebody to You (Chapter 2/4)

Isobel was not even a little bit what Alex expected her to be. She flipped her hair as he’d imagined she would, and she had the same sneaky smirk that Michael did that made Alex’s heart ache, but as they strolled the museum halls, passing painting after sculpture after painting after ancient pieces of New Mexican history, her remarks were never teasing but genuine.

She seemed fascinated less with the actual artwork and more with what Alex thought of it himself. As if she hoped to unravel the mystery of him by knowing his opinion on the mundane.

“What about this one?” she pointed at a piece. “And that one? What about this?”

“Isobel,” Max panicked, “don’t touch that!”

Alex hid a smile. Max and Isobel had the relationship he’d always secretly wished he had with his brothers, despite their differences. Despite their father trying to get in between them and pin them against each other.

He should’ve been sad, should’ve felt left out as he usually did when Michael started flirting with a girl when they were hanging out; like everything was a reminder of how much he didn’t fit, but . . . Max kept looking for his reactions, and Isobel kept her arm hooked around his and glaring at anyone that gave the only gay kid a sideways glance, and both of them felt the need to fill Alex in on any inside joke they had.

By the end of the museum visit, Alex realized the entire trip had been listening to more of the Evans’ stories than knowing anything about the pieces they’d seen. It was nice, like being with Liz and Kyle, except one of them kept watching him, raising an inconspicuous brow whenever Alex pulled his phone out and the other kept giving him covert glances and smirking, like she knew something Alex didn’t.

Alex almost wanted to tell Isobel that he knew about Max’s feelings for him, as surprising and out of character as they were, but couldn’t bring himself to confess to them. They’d feel real, like he was humoring Max instead of the truth, which was pining and loving his brother and forever miserable at the strange distance Michael seemed to be taking with him now.

Too lost in his thoughts about Michael, Alex didn’t even realize that Max was holding a smoothie in his face until his nose hit the cold cup.

Alex blinked, startled, and Max smiled softly. “Sorry. Pineapple’s your favorite, right?”

“Yeah,” Alex said slowly, taking the cup. Isobel was holding something aggressively pink and Max’s own was a deep blue. “How’d you know?”

An unreadable expression crossed Max’s face for a split second, but it was gone so quickly that Alex was sure he must’ve imagined it.

“I asked Michael,” he said, gaging Alex’s reaction as he took a sip.

Alex had no idea how much it felt like he was suffocating until he had something cold and delicious trickle into his chest, like a window was open to his heart and he was able to breathe.

His eyes fluttered and he sighed, content. Max’s smile widened.

Alex pulled off the straw and looked down. He was used to being watched, but people’s interests usually quickly faded. Max, on the other hand, seemed to stare more and more.

He cleared his throat, swirling the yellow smoothie. He glanced at Isobel, to make sure was busy harassing the enamored girl behind the desk about her right to have more granola. “Can I ask you something?”

“Me?” Max blinked. “Yeah!”

“Why now?” Alex asked. “I mean, we’ve been around each other since middle school.”

Max seemed to think about this a moment, then, “I guess I just never looked at you that way. I mean, you’re – you’re my brother’s best friend.”

“But that hasn’t changed.”

“No,” he agreed. “But . . . Michael told me you play the piano.”

“So?”

“So,” Max swallowed, ��I didn’t know that. I never even imagined it. You have this whole emo thing going, but . . . it feels . . . like . . . there’s more to you, I guess?” He shut his eyes. “Which I know is so stupid to say because I don’t know you that well, but I – I want to. I want to . . . know the guy that looks like he could rule the Underworld and still plays beautiful music on his piano and who laughs around his friends and who’s always there for the people that need him. You’re just good, Alex.” He turned red and wouldn’t meet Alex’s eyes when he continued, “You’re – you’re cute and you’re good, and . . . I don’t know, that feels like the best kind of story.”

Alex stared until beads of ice water fell down the side of the cup and over his fingers. He blinked, and looked down. He should’ve been angry that some stranger would claim to know anything about him, but only Michael had ever been able to tell when Alex was angry about his father, and rebelling in everything from his clothes to his makeup to his words. When he found comfort in the dark aesthetic, but everyone else was uneased by it. Alex was scary and unapproachable. Only Michael had ever known of how weighed down he could be by others’ aversion to him, how much mattered to him. And now, it seemed, so did Max.

Alex swallowed thickly, running through the million things he would say. How’d you know? Don’t read my mind like that. How did you so easily say what Michael never seems to want to? In the end, however, he settled for, “Oh.”

Watching Alex and Isobel together was . . . not unpleasant. Far from it, actually, Max found himself laughing when Isobel eagerly tugged Alex along every few blocks to gossip about who-knows-what, and Alex scrunched his nose every so often in a way that made Max’s heart flutter. It was either giggle a little breathlessly at his reactions or press his hand over his chest and question what his racing heart meant.

“What’s so funny?” Alex asked at one point.

Max blushed at the idea of confessing, but he figured it would help his case, so he murmured, “You’re kind of adorable,” and took a long gulp of his drink, refusing to look at Alex for his reaction.

They walked along the neighborhood for a long time. Isobel treated them each to a beer, and if Alex was annoyed by her at all, he definitely didn’t show it. In fact, he looked amused every time she spoke, and it made something in Max’s protective heart melt.

Stop it, he scolded. This is fake, this is all fake. Remember your mission.

When the time came for them to part ways, Max insisted on walking Alex to his house.

“Ooh, Max,” Isobel hooked her arm around Alex’s. “Such a gentleman! Ready to go, Alex?”

But Alex, Max now realized, had faltered.

“Erm,” he gently removed his arm from Isobel’s. He looked, for the first time that Max had ever seen him, nervous. “Th-That’s okay. I like walking by myself.”

Max shook his head. “Alex, it’s really late, I can just –”

“It’s fine, okay?” Alex said with some edge, walking backwards. “Seriously, I don’t need help.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Thanks though. I had a lot of fun. Really. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Isobel murmured back, her brows pinched, and when she looked to Max, he saw the same confused concern on her face that he felt. He’d thought everything was going fine. He’d thought offering to take Alex home would be a good thing. Had he said something wrong?

When he and Isobel made it back into the house, they stopped in the corridor that separated their rooms. Isobel leaned her shoulder against her door a moment, and with a gentle smile, she said, “I like him.”

Max pursed his lips. The same words were on his tongue, but they felt wrong to say. Isobel didn’t know that all of it was an act, that he had only gone out with Alex to help get rid of his feelings for Michael. The softness of her blue eyes forbid Max from confessing to that truth.

So all he did was hum, mutter a goodnight, and open his door. When he stepped in, he found Michael on the edge of his bed, leaning his elbows on his knees, his hands interlocked tightly.

Finding Michael in his room at ungodly hours was no surprise, but Max rarely saw him so distressed, his jaw clenched, his eyes focused ahead as if he barely noticed his brother, his thumb carving into the back of his other hand, his foot tapping restlessly on the hardwood floors.

“Hey,” Max said warily, closing his door.

“How was the museum?” Michael said in lieu of a greeting.

Max understood, closing the door. “Good. Great, actually, you don’t have to worry.” He sat down next to Michael with a sigh. “Isobel came with, he had a lot of fun.”

Michael dropped his head into his hands, his fingers tugging at his curls. “Great,” he said hoarsely.

Max stared a long moment, and his shoulders slumped. “Michael, you got to stop this. Just talk to Alex –”

“Stop it, Max,” he ground out.

Max shook his head. “What happened? I thought Saturdays were for you and Alex, why’d he call me?”

“I . . .” he growled and stood, kicking a dresser. Max said nothing as his brother paced the length of his room.

“It’s okay,” he finally said. “He couldn’t hate you, no matter what you –”

“You didn’t see his face,” he said. “I said – I can’t believe I . . . but it had to be done. I had to . . . he wouldn’t have called you otherwise.”

Max swallowed. He didn’t know why, but the idea that Alex wouldn’t have called him if Michael hadn’t pushed him to do it upset him more than it should.

“R-Right,” he said and cleared his throat. “Look, would you just sit down please?”

Michael sat down with a huff, his foot still tapping. Max gripped his knee firmly. “Hey,” he said. “I can tell you what he did.”

Michael nodded, eyes wide and afraid. “O-Okay. Yeah, okay.”

So Max told him everything, from the moment Alex had come over, to Isobel inviting herself along, to the museum trip, to the smoothies they had, to the beers. When he told Michael about offering to walk Alex home and Alex’s reaction, Michael didn’t look the least bit surprised. If anything, he looked angry all over again.

“Asshole,” he grumbled, rubbing his face with one hand.

“Hey,” Max said heatedly, “I tried to –”

“Not you,” Michael rolled his eyes. “Alex’s dad. Jesse Manes.” He sighed. “If he gets even a feeling that Alex might be dating a guy, he . . .” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Max said, remembering the fear in Alex’s eyes when he had offered to walk him back. “Michael, he was freaked out –”

“I know,” Michael cut him off firmly. “Just . . . let it go, Max. There’s nothing you can do. Just don’t let his dad see you together. No matter what. Alex will be the one paying for it.”

Max swallowed, thinking. He had rarely seen Jesse Manes around town, knowing only that everyone admired him for his military service. Max had never had an opinion other than the fact that Jesse had seemed too cold to approach, but he was nothing like Alex.

With Alex he saw a warm light. With Jesse, there was none.

Nonetheless, he just nodded until Michael stopped looking worried about it, and brought in another pillow and blanket for his brother to sleep in his room.

When he laid there in bed, he pulled his phone out, scrolling mindlessly for fifteen minutes before he convinced himself that pulling Alex’s number was a good idea. He didn’t think he wanted to or should call, but . . .

Get home okay? he texted, and regretted it the second it sent.

“Shit,” he whispered, his eyes falling shut. Michael was asleep against the wall, snoring away. Max tapped the edge of the phone when he got no response, then shut it off, leaving it on his nightstand and not at all expecting a response. Then –

Ting!

Max swallowed and grabbed his phone.

Safe and sound, Alex’s message read.

He bit his lower lip, hesitated, then typed out, Good. Sweet dreams.

Now that was the one he regretted. Sweet dreams? He groaned, turning his face into the pillow and tossing the phone aside.

He stared at it from where it sat on the carpet, not expecting an answer, or maybe for Alex to make fun of him or tease him for it. Then the screen lit up and he almost fell off the bed.

You, too, Max.

It was stupid. It was so, unbelievably stupid, but a smile tugged at Max’s lips and a chuckle escaped before he even realized it had formed. He could almost hear Alex’s voice, soft and amused, saying his name. What if he thought Max was cute? Or kind? Or unique? What if he was just humoring Max’s ridiculousness? It didn’t matter. He hadn’t laughed at him, he hadn’t ignored him. It made Max smile.

“You really are good,” he murmured into the night. Michael slept on.

As soon as he woke up, Michael half-groggily reached for his phone, expecting to find texts and pictures that Alex had taken on their Saturday together. Just before he opened his screen to a single text and picture from Isobel, he remembered that he and Alex hadn’t actually spent any time yesterday with each other.

Michael deflated entirely, his phone in front of his face as he thoughtlessly clicked on the message. He sat up at once. It was a picture of Isobel taking a selfie with a begrudging Alex on her arm, laughing in that cute way he did when his nose was scrunched and his eyes narrowed.

He swallowed. This was supposed to be him and Alex yesterday. But what really caught his eyes was Max in the corner. He wasn’t looking at the camera, but at Alex, and the look in his eyes . . . the way he smiled . . .

Michael had never seen that before. He looked at Max, still sleeping soundly, and thought about this plan to bring his best friend and brother together.

His thumb tapped the edge of his phone. He wasn’t bringing them together. He was just diverting Alex’s affections for a second. And then Max would go after Liz, the person he actually wanted, and all of this would be over.

Max doesn’t have a crush on Alex, he told his half-asleep mind, trying to calm himself down as he stepped out of bed. He doesn’t.

Then for no reason at all, Michael typed out a text to Alex, asking him to meet in the park nearby. Max murmured something in his sleep, and Michael snapped out of his thoughts. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. What was he doing? He was so close now. He couldn’t stop this.

So he fixed his text. He asked Alex to meet both him and Max. Alex took an entire half hour to answer, and Michael knew he was an early riser, so he tried not to feel panicked that his best friend might be too angry to respond, and when the text came that Alex would need twenty minutes to get there, some relief settled in Michael’s chest and he went to wake Max.

“Huh?” Max sat up, alert, his eyes still closed. “What – what’s happening?”

“Get up,” Michael said with a heaviness and unwillingness he forced himself to push aside. “We’re going to see Alex.”

Alex swung back and forth on the swing, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, waiting for any other word from Michael. He was convincing himself that he was excited to see him, but the memory of his words yesterday had gone from the back of his mind to the forefront, and he couldn’t help but still feel hurt that he’d been dismissed so easily.

“I’m just trying to have a little fun here. Am I supposed to turn down a hot girl for you?”

Alex’s fingers gripped the swing’s chains tightly, his eyes burning. Like Alex was some nuisance, a second thought. He’d never imagined those words leaving Michael’s lips. He’d never imagined Michael, of all people, making him feel so . . . unwanted.

Then, before he could help it, his thoughts wandered to Max. Max, who had hurried him away from the large mansion only because he was terrified his sister would scare him away. Who had been eager to get Alex’s opinion on every painting, sculpture, and relic, and actually listened when he spoke. He’d never been able to speak to strangers so easily, but sometimes it was hard to remember that that was what Max was supposed to be. It was just so easy to talk to him . . . and so easy to forget the bad things around him . . .

Alex shook himself of those thoughts. What was wrong with him? Max was just a cuddly teddy bear, someone who had helped out once when Michael was too busy. No matter what he said or confessed to, he’d get bored and tired of the chase soon enough. He’d get bored and tired of Alex, just like everyone else did.

When he looked up, he saw Michael first, and started to stand. Then he saw Max, and his shoulders fell.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he murmured, and heaved a sigh as he sat back down. He wasn’t going to just run back into Michael’s arms when his schedule allowed him to remember they were supposed to be best friends. Ruining the only day they might’ve had alone was the final straw.

“Hey,” Michael smiled wide, and Alex’s heart started to flutter. It made him want to cry. It was so unfair, especially when he knew that Michael used that smile on every pretty girl he saw. Until yesterday, Alex had believed he was different.

Alex ignored Michael’s greeting and glanced at Max instead, who was sleepily rubbing his eyes. Alex faltered. Had Max gotten out of bed just to see him? The thought made him soften. It wasn’t fair, after all, to blame Max for Michael’s behavior.

“Hi, Max,” he said, and Max blinked, clearly surprised at being spoken to.

He put his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “Uh – hey, Alex.” Another glance at Michael. “Y-You look nice.”

Maybe Max was waiting for Michael to approve of this compliment, to tell him how smooth he was being with his crush, but Michael’s eyes were focused on Alex, his expression solemn.

Max seemed to sense the tension because he exhaled slowly and pointed at the swing next to Alex’s. “That swing taken?”

Alex couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, no matter how brief, and he shook his head. Max took the swing and swung back and forth as if nobody else was there.

“Come on, Alex,” Michael murmured, kneeling in front of him. “If this is about yesterday –”

“If it’s about yesterday?” Alex scoffed humorlessly. “Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”

Michael looked hurt. “That – that’s not fair.”

“No?” Alex shook his head. “Saturdays are supposed to be ours, Guerin, and you treated me like some brat you had to put up with!”

“I didn’t –” Michael’s mouth opened and closed on several sentences, seemingly appalled at the idea. “Alex, I just –”

In a voice too quiet for Max to hear, Alex said, “You invited Maria. Was that just to hurt me?”

His eyes widened. “No!”

“Did I –” Alex faltered. “Did I do something to piss you off, or –”

“Alex!” Michael couldn’t seem to believe that Alex would go down that road.

Alex clenched his jaw. “Well, what was I supposed to think? I can’t believe you would even talk to her again after what she did to me! I –” he broke off with a shaky sigh, looking away from Michael and Max to keep them from seeing the tears fill his eyes. “I thought you were my friend.”

“Don’t say that,” Michael said hoarsely, taking Alex’s hand in his. Alex hated the shivers it sent down his body. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I – I just knew that it hurt losing a friend like that, and I thought that it would make you feel better if – if I could fix it –”

“The only person in the world I care about losing is you,” Alex argued, and Michael said nothing for a moment. Alex realized his mistake at once, and he looked down, his face heated. “I thought I was losing you yesterday. I thought you’d . . . forgiven her for what she’d done. Like my feelings didn’t matter as much as a pretty girl.”

A moment of silence. Even the creaking of Max’s swing had stopped. Then Michael tugged on his hand.

“No one . . .” Michael started and abruptly cut himself off. Alex looked back at him to see his expression was conflicted. Before Alex could ask what was wrong, what had been wrong with him lately, Michael forced a smile to his lips. It was a play at his usual light one without any of the lightness.

“You know the fair’s going on until next week,” he said. “Why don’t – uh – why don’t we go together? Tomorrow? Just you and me?”

Alex should’ve been thrilled at the idea, but something . . . something was off. Michael looked like he was more miserable at asking for it, and Max was looking at them strangely solemn.

Realization dawned. Michael was hesitant to go out with Alex alone when he knew his brother had feelings for him. Alex glanced at Max again. He would’ve preferred to be on his own with Michael, but the idea of going with Max didn’t seem so bad either.

He internally sighed. “Max,” he turned to him, “why don’t you come with us?”

Max raised a brow. Michael stopped pretending to smile and his brows furrowed. Alex didn’t understand. Wasn’t this what he’d wanted?

Then Max smiled, and Alex’s attention was caught. “Yeah? You really want me to come?”

Warmth bloomed in Alex’s chest, and something like a breath of relief escaped his lips, his first real breath since he’d gotten Michael’s text to meet. Maybe Max would get tired of the chase, but . . . better to get the inevitable over with sooner than later, right?

“I mean, if you want to,” Alex played at a shrug. Max chuckled and looked down.

He nodded. “Yeah, yes, I do.”

Alex realized he and Max were just staring at each other. He blushed and looked back at Michael, expecting to see him overjoyed. But his smile was tighter than ever.

“Great,” Michael said. “That’s just . . . perfect. Exactly what I was hoping for.”

“Okay,” Max plopped down on the bed, feeling filled up on lunch and something else he’d been feeling since Alex had invited him along with them to the fair tomorrow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Michael sniffed roughly, replacing his jacket with another one of his own that he’d left in Max’s closet. “It’s all going according to plan, right?”

“Yeah,” Max nodded, “so why do you look like you’re two seconds away from clocking me?”

“What?” Michael looked over his shoulder with pursed lips, without actually looking at Max. “I’m not. It’s great, right? He invited you all by himself.”

Max smiled to himself at the thought. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft to his own ears.

Michael finally met Max’s eyes for a long while, studying his expression. Then he turned, smiling with narrowed eyes. “Are you . . . you’re not . . .?”

Max raised a brow, waiting for his brother to elaborate.

“You’re not . . . starting to actually like Alex, are you?”

Max’s eyes widened and he scoffed. He started to say that he absolutely wasn’t when he caught himself. He thought of Alex’s kind eyes and his laugh and the hurt in his voice when Michael ignored him. He thought Alex had had enough people dismissing him behind his back.

“Of course I like him,” he said. “He’s nice, you know? There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“Yeah,” Michael said with a nod, as if reassuring himself. “Yeah, I mean . . . you like him like you like Kyle, right?”

Max hesitated. “Michael . . . do you like Alex?”

“I love Alex,” he said at once. “Just not like that.”

No, Max silently agreed. Not like that. Michael’s feelings seemed more . . . possessive, though he didn’t want to talk about things he wasn’t sure of. All he knew was that Michael wanted Alex to himself. He didn’t know how to tell him that that wouldn’t work with the plan.

“I’m sure he just brought me along because he felt bad for me,” Max placated, though the idea made him want to curl up on his bed. “You know, you did bring me along for no reason.”

“No,” Michael said with that same forced lightness, turning back to his clothes. “No, this is good. Like I said, it’s great! Alex is starting to want you along. The plan is working perfectly.”

“Yeah,” Max muttered, noticing the way Michael roughly tugged his sleeves down. “Perfectly.”

“This is a bad idea,” Kyle said as soon as Alex had called to tell him his plans for tonight. “I think you’re forgiving him way too easily.”

Alex’s phone sat on speaker on his nightstand. He sighed, fixing his hair so that it looked less like he’d walked through a hurricane, but the strands remained windswept and messy and he gave up.

“He made a mistake,” Alex said for what felt like the millionth time. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Not that kind of mistake!” Kyle argued, his frustration evident. “Alex, he invited Maria!” Alex flinched at the name and was glad his friend couldn’t see him. “That’s like if I invited Jared!”

“Jared Wilson is a homophobic ass,” Alex argued at once, and calmed the edge in his voice. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Both of them made life a lot harder for you when they realized you were gay.”

To that, Alex had no response. He didn’t care. He loved Michael, and being angry with him felt wrong. He didn’t want it.

He sat on his bed’s edge and played with the buttons on his black cardigan. It was new, something he wanted to wait to wear until he and Michael were alone, because Michael always liked hugging Alex as they walked and clinging to his side, and Alex had wanted Michael to feel soft and warm when he hugged him. It should bother him that he did so much of what he did with the worry of how Michael will take it, even though they’re not dating and could probably never date, but every so often, that traitorous bit of hope would claw its way to the surface and tell him that it could still happen.

Maybe all it took was Michael knowing how he felt. It didn’t matter. Alex could never do it.

“I don’t want to lose him,” he said quietly. Kyle didn’t answer. Alex half-wished that he hadn’t heard him, but he doubted it.

Finally, Kyle sighed and said, “I know.” A pause, then, “What about Max?”

Alex blinked. “Max?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Seems like he really likes you.”

Alex wanted to scoff, but what left his lips instead was, “Yeah?” Kyle chuckled and Alex blushed. “N-Not that I care! I just don’t want to get his hopes up for nothing.”

He hummed. Alex hated how he could hear the amusement in his voice. “Okay, well,” he said, “don’t count him out just yet.”

Alex was about to retort when a door suddenly slammed outside his bedroom. He heard the heavy footsteps of hunting boots and swallowed thickly. He tried to keep his light voice as he turned off his speaker and held the phone up, “Hey, I-I’ll see you at school, okay?”

“Uh –” Kyle was clearly thrown off by the sudden change in conversation. “Sure, but are you –”

Before he could finish his question, Alex hung up and put his phone aside. Then he caught himself in the mirror. His eyeliner. He was already wearing it.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His heart hammered in his throat as the footsteps stopped outside his room and the door swung open. His father stood there.

“Did I hear you talking to a boy?” he demanded.

“N-No,” Alex said at once, cursing his stammering. “I mean, yes, but it was just Kyle.”

Jesse hummed. Alex’s heart sunk into his stomach when Jesse closed the door behind him and stayed inside.

“Dad,” he started, “really, I was just –”

“Come here,” Jesse said with a wave of his fingers. When Alex didn’t move, Jesse fixed his son with his cold blue eyes. “Alex, come here.”

Alex swallowed and resisted the urge to cower away. If his father hated disobedience, he hated a coward more. So Alex marched up to him swiftly as he was trained to do, his shoulders straight despite his lowered eyes, and the second he was close enough, Jesse grabbed his face in one hand, his grip painful.

“What is that,” he said coldly, “on your eyes?”

Alex clenched his jaw, trying not to whimper even as his dad’s hand nearly broke his jaw. Even as he knew what was coming. Not for the first time, as his fingers trembled on his dad’s wrist, he wished Michael could be here to protect him.

Max was in Alex’s class, and it was rare that a Manes was late, but Alex didn’t show up until halfway through the first lecture. He had a black sweater on with a collar that hid most of his chin and long sleeves that fell past his fingers, despite the fairly warm weather. His arms were stiff at his side, and his eyeliner was smudged a little bit.

The math teacher said nothing to his most brilliant student about being late, and just gestured at him to take a seat. Max lifted his head off his desk and tried to catch Alex’s eyes, but Alex was staring straight ahead.

Liz turned around in her seat, her brows furrowed. Max didn’t hear her murmurs, but whatever she said, Alex merely nodded once in response, his smile small. Liz didn’t look reassured, and Max realized he was inching out of his seat.

“Yes, Mr. Evans?” the teacher said.

“Uh – nothing, sir,” Max said and sat back down. “Sorry.”

Some of the other students snickered, but Max didn’t care, because at least Liz was looking at him. He swallowed and pointed at Alex, the silent message clear. Liz nudged Alex’s arm softly and gestured with her chin at Max. Alex looked over.

Max didn’t know what to do but raise his hand in a little wave. Alex just looked away again, his shoulders scrunched as he almost folded in on himself. He looked out the window and didn’t seem to pay attention to another word of the lecture.

Max tried to catch Alex in the hall in between classes, to ask him if he was all right, but Alex just shrunk away from him.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

“Alex, wait a second,” Max tried, instinctively reaching for his wrist.

He’d barely touched him when Alex flinched away. “Don’t do that!” he snapped, making the entire hallway of students stop and turn to stare. Alex looked furious and terrified all at once. “Don’t ever, ever grab me!”

Max stood frozen with his hand outstretched, stunned, and the hall filled with a heavy, tense silence. Alex didn’t seem to care. He kept glaring at Max a moment longer, his breathing quick like he was on the verge of crying, and he whipped around to where a startled and concerned Liz was ready to guide him away.

Murmurs broke out over the crowd, and Max heard more than a few people call Alex a number of things, all ranging from “freak” to “psycho,” before they came to check that Max was okay after that outburst. Max could only be offended.

Alex was clearly suffering with something, didn’t anyone notice or care?

When Max got to lunch, Isobel was already standing. She looked as she rarely did; her bright smile gone, replaced with a solemn frown. “Hey,” she tugged Max down as soon as she caught sight of him. “What happened with Alex in the hallway? Rosa said he suddenly started screaming at you?”

Max shook his head. “Something’s wrong with him,” he said.

Isobel’s frown deepened. “Hey, don’t say that, you don’t know what could be –”

“No,” Max cut her off, indignant that she could assume he meant the worst. “I mean, something’s wrong with him, like something must’ve happened. He’s usually a lot nicer. And he showed up late. He never shows up late.”

Isobel rubbed her jaw as she looked over at Alex’s table where both Liz and Kyle were encouraging him to eat something, the concern evident on their faces.

“I mean, it’s not exactly new, right?” she muttered. “He’s freaked out like this before.”

Max pursed his lips. Alex had seemed so excited yesterday when Michael had asked him to the fair. What could’ve happened from then till now? Had Michael done something? No, he would’ve warned Max.

Then he remembered something Michael had told him about Jesse Manes . . .

His shoulders fell. “Shit.”

Isobel seemed to realize he’d figured it out, and eagerly asked, “What? What is it?”

Max hesitated. “You can’t tell anyone. I mean, not even the Ortechos. No one, Isobel.”

“My lips are sealed,” she quickly promised.

Max licked his lips. “Well, remember how nervous he was when I offered to walk him home the other night?”

“Yeah?”

“Michael told me about his dad,” he said. “Apparently, he really, really doesn’t want his son to be gay.”

Isobel’s eyes widened with horror. “Alex is scared of his dad?”

“He’s wearing long sleeves, and he’s sweating through it,” Max said darkly by way of saying what he didn’t want to outright.

Isobel gasped. “You think he . . . hits him?”

Max shook his head, not wanting to believe that Alex had that kind of father, but . . . “I’ve never heard Michael so unnerved by someone outside of his foster parents.”

“Oh my god,” Isobel whispered, her wide, glassy eyes turning to Alex who was sitting slumped in his chair as if allowing himself a few seconds to stop pretending he was fine. “Oh my god,” she started to stand, to go over to him, but Max grabbed her arm and sat her back down.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Michael didn’t want to tell me, and I doubt Alex wants anyone to know.”

“He’s beating him!” Isobel whisper-yelled through grit teeth. “We – we have to tell somebody!”

“Not if Alex doesn’t want us to,” Max argued.

“Max!”

“He has brothers,” Max said, and Isobel fell silent. “The last thing Alex needs right now is for the only family he has to hate him because they think he told on their dad. Not if Alex doesn’t want us to.”

Isobel clenched her jaw, her eyes miserable, and she nodded. It was clearly the last thing she wanted to do.

“I don’t know how you can bear it,” she breathed, looking over to Alex like she wanted nothing more than to hug and protect him. “He’s so sweet, I don’t know how you can bear it.”

Isobel, of course, couldn’t see Max’s clenched, trembling fists beneath the table as he watched Alex start to eat despite himself, start to smile like he was so used to the beatings that he’d learned to work past them after a while, wondering the exact same thing.

Technically, Michael’s official house was an airstream at the junkyard where old man Sanders had let him stay while he had a part time job after school. Max wished Alex hadn’t known the whole story because then at least, as they went together to the auto shop, Max would have something to say instead of wallowing in the awkward silence between them.

In fact, awkward wasn’t really the right word. Heavy seemed more appropriate.

The weather was cooling quickly, making it more bearable for Alex’s sweater. Max half-wondered what Alex would do if he reached down and looked for his fingers underneath the sleeves.

“I’m sorry,” Alex mumbled, and Max snapped out of his thoughts. Alex had said nothing on the drive over, nodding quietly in thanks when Max had offered to drive him as they were both going together, but his eyes were on the ground now.

He looked so shy for once that Max was caught off guard.

“Huh?”

“For yelling at you,” he went on, even more quiet. “I didn’t mean to . . . I just don’t like . . .”

“Being grabbed,” Max finished. He stopped, and Alex did the same. “Alex, I would never hurt you, okay? I wouldn’t.”

Alex wouldn’t look at Max, but Max could see his breathing getting quicker, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter.

“What did Michael tell you?”

Max tried to school his features. “Nothing.”

He was sure Alex would snap at him, would turn right around and cut off his friendship with both him and Michael. Instead, he scoffed wearily. “You’re just as bad a liar as he is.”

Raising his chin and pretending that it didn’t cause him pain to fix the bag on his shoulder, Alex forged on ahead. “I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

Max followed in silence, but only for a minute. “My mom knows someone in the state council, I could talk to her –”

Alex whipped around, his eyes wide and terrified. “Don’t! You can’t, Max, please, don’t ever –”

“Okay!” Max took Alex’s hands to calm him. He was rambling, his fingers shaking. “Okay, I – I won’t, Alex, calm down.” When Alex had been reduced to a trembling figure, Max pulled him in gently against him. “I won’t tell, I promise. Just calm down, okay? Please, calm down.”

Max’s chin was on Alex’s head. He had a hand in Alex’s hair – it was so much softer than he could’ve imagined – his other hand running up and down his back, trying not to scare him again with any sudden movements.

“It’s just me,” Alex croaked out against Max’s chest. “It’s only me. Because I’m . . .” He shook his head. “He doesn’t hurt them. They – they don’t care about enlisting. They’re happy to do it. I don’t want to ruin their lives, please –”

“Okay,” Max whispered into Alex’s hair. He smelled like vanilla. “Okay, Alex, it’s okay. I won’t tell, I promise. I promise.”

They stood there like that for a long time, Max’s fingers raking through Alex’s hair, taking in the way each strand felt against his fingers. He felt the strong muscles of Alex’s back even through his sweater. He couldn’t help it. Everything about Alex was a mystery, and the more he uncovered, the more he wanted to know.

A breath escaped his lips, and Alex tensed. He stepped back, unwilling to look at Max, his face tinged pink.

“S-Sorry,” he murmured.

Max nodded, putting his hands in his back pockets to keep from reaching out for him again. “Me, too. It’s – uh . . . been a long couple of days.”

Alex sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. Max resisted the urge to ask how bad the pain was underneath the sweater, but if he was being honest, he didn’t think either of them wanted the answer to that question. So he nudged his head towards Michael’s trailer, and waited for Alex to lead the way.

“What’s your favorite fair treat?” Max asked before they could get to the door. He didn’t know why, but he wanted just a few more seconds before Michael joined them.

“What?”

“Fair treat,” he repeated. “You know, they sell a lot of snacks at fairs. They’ll be selling a lot tonight. Which one do you like best?”

“Uh . . .” Alex thought about it. “Cotton candy? I guess? The, you know, big swirls?”

“Okay,” Max nodded, grinning. “Then I’ll buy you the biggest swirl they have.”

Alex’s eyes widened and he turned pinker. It was so cute that Max had to giggle.

“I have my own money.”

“So?” Max shrugged. “I want to get you something. I thought about winning you a prize during one of the games, but that feels a little cliché, you know?”

Alex opened and closed his mouth on several sentences, and Max wondered if Michael had ever offered to buy him anything with the promise that it meant something more.

Alex looked away with a shake of his head. “You’re silly,” he muttered, and opened the door, climbing inside.

Max followed, still grinning. They found Michael dressed and looking for the keys to his truck.

“Hey!” Alex said a little breathlessly. “You ready to go?”

Michael froze, looking over his shoulder. Max’s smile fell at once. Oh no . . .

“Crap,” he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Crap, we said we were going to the fair tonight!”

Another act, Max thought. “Michael,” he said quietly, a private warning, “today really isn’t the day to –”

“I don’t get it,” Alex cut him off, his brows furrowed. “If you – if you forgot about the fair tonight, then why’re you in such a hurry to leave?”

Michael shrugged, glanced at Max, and said, “I have a date.”

Alex was silent a moment. “You . . . have a date.”

“Yeah.”

“But –” Alex shook his head. “The fair was your idea. Why’d you ask me to come with you if you knew you were going to be busy?”

“I didn’t know when I asked you,” Michael said, and Alex stared. Despite his hidden fingers, Max did not miss the way they curled to fists.

“So you –” Alex cut himself off abruptly, smiling incredulously, like he couldn’t believe his other half had stooped so low. “You made plans with someone else when you already had plans with me?”

“Alex,” he huffed, exasperated. “Are you gonna get like this every time I’m meeting someone? A very attractive friend asked me out tonight, I said yes.”

“But you’re my friend, too,” Alex argued. “When we make promises to each other, we’re supposed to follow through on them, it shouldn’t matter if you have a ton of friends or not.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you don’t have any friends, Alex.”

“Michael!” Max stepped forward, but Alex held a hand up. He didn’t look tense or frozen to the spot. He looked like every horrible thought that had ever crossed his mind about his friendship with Michael, every doubt that had ever haunted him, every fear of being unwanted or not good enough, it was all coming true.

To Alex, Michael didn’t consider him worth anything.

To Alex, Michael wasn’t protecting their friendship. He was shattering it beyond repair.

He looked resigned and exhausted. Michael seemed to realize that too late.

“W-Wait,” he tried, “I didn’t – I didn’t mean –”

“You’re my friend,” Alex quietly defended. “You’re . . . you’re my . . .” He shook his head, like it didn’t matter anymore. He turned to Max. “D-Do you – uh – do you still want to come with me? To the – the fair?”

He was clearly terrified, clearly unwilling to go at all if Michael didn’t want to, but wanting to prove that he was unhurt. That he wouldn’t break. Max was in awe of his courage.

“I was just going to ask you the same thing,” Max said.

A brief, barely-there smile tugged at Alex’s lips before it was gone. Without another word or glance at Michael, he left. Michael stared at the open door like he wasn’t even in the room, like he was numb and out of body. He’d gone too far this time.

Max shook his head. “You were so terrified that he was in love with you . . . that you decided to make him hate you instead.”

“I told you,” Michael said hoarsely, his eyes filling with tears. “He’ll only hate me for a little bit.”

“And you’re willing to bet on that?” Max tilted his head. He promised Alex he wouldn’t tell anyone else what his father had done to him, but he leaned in anyway and said, “Because if I were you, I would think a little harder instead about why he’s wearing such a long sweater near the end of spring.”

And with those final words, Max turned and left, catching only the realization in Michael’s eyes before he shut the door behind him. Alex was already in the car, hugging his arms and staring out the window.

Max got in and shut the door. He exhaled slowly, “Alex –”

“Just drive,” Alex said hoarsely, like he’d been crying for hours though his eyes were dry. “Please just drive.”

Max swallowed and turned on the ignition. He didn’t want to be a hero here. He didn’t feel like one. The only reason Michael had hurt Alex this badly at all was so that he could swoop in. But this seemed like too high a cost.

It didn’t matter in the end. Max did as Alex wanted, and drove.

The fairy lights were already strung up when Max and Alex got to the fair, plenty of booths already up with lanterns lighting the way, showering everything in gold. It looked more like a market with a few chances for the kids to win toys, but Max watched as Alex eyed each booth and necklace and dress like they were the only good parts of a bad memory.

“My mom used to bring us here a lot,” he said, “back when she was around.”

“When did she die?” Max asked quietly.

“She didn’t,” Alex said simply. “She left. But this fair . . . it’s my favorite time of the year. Michael knew that.”

“Alex,” Max shook his head. “I’m sure . . . I’m sure he had a reason for what he did.”

Alex scoffed, but the press of his lips was both sad and sincere. “I know he did. But god, what could be worth all this?” he gestured at his own face, the exhaustion and misery there. “I can usually read him, but this time I just . . . can’t. I hate not knowing.”

Max thought about that, and realized he was the same way when it had to do with someone he loved. How was he going to save someone who didn’t want to be saved?

“Tell me something you do know,” he offered. “You said your brothers are happy to enlist. Does your dad make them all?”

“No,” Alex sniffled. “No, dad would never make any of us enlist. He pushes it hard, and all the time, but . . . no, if you don’t want to enlist, then just don’t bother coming back home, you know?”

Max hesitated. “Have you ever . . .?”

He expected Alex to laugh it off or be indignant about anyone even considering that he would ever enlist, but he only sighed and confessed, “Sometimes.”

Max stared. “S-Seriously?”

Alex shook his head, smiling, and for once, he didn’t look sarcastic or amused. He just looked sad. “You don’t know what it’s like there. Or how bad it gets, and – and sometimes I think . . . I couldn’t afford a place of my own. I could escape him though. I could rise in ranks, I could beat him –”

“Beat him some other way!” Max argued, and a few heads turned to look. Alex didn’t look like he cared, he never did, but Max stepped closer. “You can’t enlist, Alex.”

Alex looked away. “I said I thought about it, okay? Only when things get really, really bad. It doesn’t mean I’ll do it. I’ll find some other way.”

He didn’t sound sure, but Max couldn’t have been more sure of his abilities and talent. Alex was the strongest and smartest person he knew, he could easily make it out there. And what if . . . what if he had Max there with him? Supporting him? Helping him? The two of them together in a small apartment in New York or something –

Max shut his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to think like that. This wasn’t supposed to be long-term. Soon enough, Michael would tell him the truth, and it would all be over. Alex might even hate him for it. He didn’t want to think about that though, so he bought Alex the biggest blue cotton candy swirl, got one for himself, and laughed with Alex about the sizes.

About an hour in, Alex seemed to really be having a lot of fun. He was laughing at Max’s stupid jokes and tugging on his arm to show him little ceramic toys for sale and even a small aquamarine necklace that glittered in the moonlight with a gold chain so thin it was almost a silk thread.

When Alex wasn’t looking, Max bought the necklace, and snuck up behind him, letting it rest in the dip of his collarbone.

“W-What –”

“For you,” Max said.

Alex touched the stone, still stunned. “Max, I’m not – I’m uncomfortable accepting so many gifts from people.”

“I’m not just people though,” Max said simply. “I’m your . . .” he caught himself, “f-friend.”

Alex looked at him. Max may have been wrong, but he could’ve sworn Alex had seemed disappointed for a moment at the use of the word friend.

“R-Right,” he murmured. “Still, no more gifts, okay?”

“No promises,” Max grinned, and his heart jumped when Alex’s face turned that same shade of pink. He was starting to wonder if he could turn it any darker when Alex glanced up and froze.

“Oh my god,” he breathed.

“What?” Max followed his gaze, and understood what it was that had terrified him. Making their way towards them was some man in uniform, and beside him was Jesse Manes, hands folded behind his back with his medals shining on his uniform jacket, smiling at booths and laughing with children who ran past.

That, Max realized, was the most frightening part. Who would believe Alex if he told them their beloved sergeant was a monster?

Alex stepped back, already trembling. He turned, but the crowd had gathered around them. Even if he stood in the shadows outside the lanterns’ light, he was still visible to anyone passing by, especially if his dad was looking through the booths. He would see Alex here, and just the implication that he was here with Max would get him hurt again.

Alex hugged himself. “Think, Alex,” he whispered to himself, looking around frantically for a hiding spot. “Think.”

Max looked back at Jesse. He was getting closer. He couldn’t stand seeing the usually intimidating Alex so frightened now. He had to protect him.

He took Alex’s hand in his own and pulled him into the shadows, up against a booth. “Is your dad uncomfortable with PDA?”

“What?”

“Is he?”

“Uh – yeah!” Alex shook his head, confused. “He hates it –”

“Good,” Max breathed, taking Alex’s face in his hands, and before Alex could ask what he was doing, Max closed the distance between them and covered Alex’s mouth with his own. Alex stood frozen against him, but Max wouldn’t pull away, his body blocking Alex’s from sight.

Half of him was silently urging Alex to play along, if only long enough to get his father’s attention away, but as Alex whimpered softly against his lips, his body melting against Max’s, his hands coming up to Max’s chest, clutching his shirt, Max suddenly forgot all about Jesse Manes.

He forgot about the fair, he forgot about the booths around him, the crowd of people. He couldn’t think of anything but how soft Alex’s lips were, how perfectly he fit in Max’s arms. Max wanted to taste more of him, so he slipped his tongue in. Alex moaned, pressing unbearably close, and Max could feel him. His toned chest, his flat stomach.

Max had never wanted to feel another man’s chest until this moment, to claw down his stomach, to feel the muscles of his back. Max tilted his head, bringing his hand around the nape of Alex’s neck and reaching his fingers through his hair, tugging a little on the strands.

Alex’s hands came up to Max’s face, one hand reaching into his hair. Max wanted to tilt his head, to deepen the kiss, to put his hands up Alex’s shirt and feel his skin. He wondered if it was as sexy as the rest of him – he knew it had to be – and his hand had just fallen to Alex’s hip, tugging at the hem of his sweater, when he heard someone behind him scoff –

“Ugh, disgusting,” a voice said, and Max snapped out of his thoughts.

He pulled away, pressing his forehead to Alex’s, the both of them panting heavily. Alex’s eyes were closed, and Max took the opportunity to trace his deeply red cheeks with the tips of his fingers, his rosy, kiss-swollen lips.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” Alex swallowed and opened his eyes. They fluttered again as Max traced his thumb across his lips for the second time. “That – that was –”

“Wow,” Max finished.

Alex huffed a breathless chuckle. “Are you okay?”

Max shook his head. “Wow.”

Alex started to laugh, but seemed to remember they were supposed to be hiding. He covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes wide. Max wanted to hear his laugh, so he looked over his shoulder for any sign of Alex’s dad, but he was so far down the path that by the time Max had tilted his chin up to get a better look, Jesse Manes and his friend were completely gone.

When he nodded to Alex, Alex’s grin widened and he laughed happily into the night. He jumped into Max’s arms, his own wrapped around Max’s shoulders.

“Thank you!” Alex said into his shoulder, his voice muffled and filling Max’s chest with butterflies. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He heaved a deep sigh, probably the deepest he’d had in a while. “Thank you, Max.”

Max wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist, keeping him close and steady against him. In the back of his mind, he could hear Michael’s one, big warning about Alex.

“Don’t kiss him.”

But now, in this moment, as he could still feel Alex’s soft, warm lips against his own, as he could hear his moans and smell his sweet scent, he couldn’t remember why.

He smiled into the crook of Alex’s neck and said, “You’re welcome, Manes.”

It’s finally here! Please please please comment and reblog/share if you enjoyed reading even a little bit, it always makes the world of a difference 💗 I’m going to bed.

#alex manes #max evans #sheriff manes #sheriff manes fic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #tyler blackburn #nathan dean parsons

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