#A son hugging his dad while he was crying during my hometown

[bybdolan]

I'd trust bruce with my fucking life . The men at his concerts however ......

[ssa-babygirl]

Out of My League [Part 2]

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single mom!Reader

Word count: 4.5k (ohohohoho i went OVERBOARD with the dialogue here I am sorry for all the useless exposition)

Summary: Most things have changed in the last 10 years, but it’s safe to say that a few things stayed exactly the same. Mixed POV

Warning(s): Mentions of past bullying, mentions of cheating, mentions of kidnapping, general criminal minds stuff, cursing, VERY VERY BRIEF MENTION of a miscarriage and leukemia like it’s one sentence and that’s all

Author’s Note: The moment yall have been waiting for! They grow up so fast!! I’m going on a quick trip this week and then heading back to school a few days later, so the next part may take a little longer, but I’m super excited to write it!!

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

Las Vegas, Nevada, 2004

(Spencer’s POV)

My first case out on the field was not a pleasant one. Well, it rarely is, that’s what happens when you work for the FBI to catch serial killers. For the first couple of weeks at the BAU, I helped them consult on cases, but they weren’t sure I was ready to go out on the field with them. After I got my weapon certification, Gideon told me he wanted me to come along on the next case because I was familiar with the area. There had been a series of child abductions near Vegas, my hometown. I would have been much more nervous about traveling had I not been able to see my mom while I was there. I hadn’t visited her in a while and the guilt was gnawing at me.

The first day was brutal. Hotch made some of us go back to the hotel late at night, but it was hard for us to sleep. JJ hated working cases about children, so she went to have a quick drink at the hotel bar, where she promptly forgot her purse and had to call me from her room to go get it for her. I had no hope of getting any rest that night, so I figured I’d take a walk down the hall and try to clear my head. 

There was no sign of the purse at first glance, no small black clutch on the bar like JJ said. But there was a woman cleaning glasses behind the counter, maybe she knew where the purse was.

As I approached the bar, the woman’s features took a familiar shape and triggered a distant memory. Seeing her face again was like coming home after a long drive without a map, squinting through the dark and hoping the headlights would get brighter when finally, you’re pulling onto a road that you know by heart. 

I didn’t need to look at her nametag, I already knew who she was, but judging by her polite smile borne solely out of the courtesy required to work in the service industry, she didn’t recognize me. In her defense, I had grown about a foot and a half since the last time she saw me. And I got a freaking haircut. 

“Y-Y/N?” 

She looked up from her rags and scrunched up her face in confusion.

“Okay, so you definitely know me, and I am so sorry about this, but I can’t quite place it. You look so familiar, though, I just… I meet a lot of people with this job, I’m so sorry, I forgot your name.”

I grinned, she still had that same habit of apologizing every five seconds, “I don’t really have that problem, eidetic memory and all.”

Her eyes widened, “Spencer? Spencer Reid!”

I laughed and nodded.

“You’re so tall now! What has it been, like, 10 years? Oh my goodness, come here.” She awkwardly leaned over the bar and hugged me. She still used the same shampoo. 

“How ya been, kid?”

“I’m good! H-How are you?”

“Doing fine, thanks. What brings you back to good ol’ Sin City?”

“I’m here for work.”

“Oh, and what are you doing now?” She leaned on the counter and gazed up with curious eyes, “Helping the doctors at Area 51?”

Good to know she still had jokes, “No actually, I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.”

“Woah, you’re a fed now?”

“Yeah, we’re investigating a series of--”

“Kidnappings. Yeah. Scary shit. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, I’m good.”

“You close to catching the guy?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Any of the kids turn up?”

“Unfortunately, yes. We found one boy this morning. He… didn’t make it.”

Her face dropped to a look of worry I hadn’t seen since she took off my blindfold that day on the football field, “Name. I need a name,” her voice grew hoarse.

“I can’t really disclose that information.”

“Spencer, please. Every day my kid comes home from school and asks me if I was watching the news.”

I couldn’t deny the way my heart sank at the news, but I could sure as hell ignore it, “Y-You have kids?”

“One. Little Jamie. His best friend, Robbie, is missing.” Robbie Carter, age five, he’s been missing for the past two weeks. He’s likely dead, but we still haven’t found him.

“Every time someone misses school he gets scared they got taken too. Baby Boy doesn’t understand flu season yet.”

“How old is he?” I had to get her mind off of this. I don’t want to worry her.

“Five. Just started kindergarten. Wanna see a picture?” Seems like I succeeded. 

“Sure.”

She whipped out her phone and pulled up a picture of Jamie on his first day of school, backpack far too big for his body. Y/N was posed next to him, the picture too small to show that she was crying ever so slightly.

“Adorable, right?”

I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face, “Cute kid. Looks just like you.”

She looked back at the photo and smiled softly, “Except the eyes. He’s got his dad’s eyes.”

I glanced down at her hand holding the phone and was greeted with a pleasant surprise, “I’m guessing Jamie’s dad isn’t in the picture?”

Offense flickered across her features for a second, her eyebrows twitching and lips pursing, “How’d you know?”

“No ring.”

“You do work for the FBI.”

“Would you mind telling me what happened?”

“You know, you’re supposed to be the one spilling your sorrows to the bartender, not the other way around.”

“You don’t have to tell me, just thought we could catch up, I haven’t seen you in ten years.”

She sighed, returning her phone to the front pocket in her apron, “Remember Kyle Brothers?”

“Oh, do I? Yeah, of course, I remember your high school boyfriend, Y/N. What tipped you off, the eidetic memory, or the fact he used to beat me up after gym class?” It was more like the intense rage and jealousy I had when they got back together after football season ended.

“God, see, I always knew he was an asshole, but it never seemed to faze me, I’m so sorry about that.”

“You did what you could. And you apologize too much.”

“Sor--”

She froze mid-word and made a face as she realized once again that she was about to apologize yet again. I stifled a chuckle, but she laughed and grabbed a rag from the counter to finish cleaning the glasses.

“So Kyle?”

“Yes, Kyle. We broke up again before college, I was going out of state and didn’t wanna do long distance, you know all that. I was in a really bad place during my senior year of college, so after graduation, I decided to move back home for a bit, spend some time with my mom--”

“How is she?”

“She’s great! Moved to D.C. with my dad a while back.”

“I should visit her, Quantico isn’t far.” 

She returned a genuine smile, “She would love that.”

“Sorry I interrupted you, keep going.”

“You’re fine. Long story short, moving back home for a few months turned into having a one night stand with my ex. Which turned into us getting engaged nine months later while I’m exhausted and holding my son.”

“Well, that’s a fun birth story for Jamie.”

“Yeah, ‘Happy Birthday, sweetie, your father proposed to me while you were, like, an hour old and then cheated on me six months later.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.” She popped the p, “Came home and heard two things: Jamie fussing in his sleep from the playpen and bedsprings squeaking in our room.”

“I’m guessing that you guys were done for good after that?”

“Nice detective work.”

“Technically, I’m a profiler, not a detective, as they typically work in local police departments and I work for the federal government, not a precinct--”

“Jesus, kid, you’re gonna put the poor lil lady to sleep,” I turned around and saw Morgan crossing the lobby to the bar, still in his work clothes.

“If I'm yawning it’s from my double shift, not his rambling. It’s been a while since I heard a good Spencer Reid knowledge dump.”

“You two know each other?” He leaned on the bar and I could sense him turning on the classic Derek Morgan charm.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Uh, Y/N, this is SSA Derek Morgan, we work together, Morgan, this is Y/N L/N, we went to high school together.” The “I had a huge crush on her” was silent.

“Nice to meet you, doll,” he reached out a hand to shake yours. His eyes lingered on you for a bit too long, and I recognized the look in her eyes from the way she talked to Kyle in the halls before our study sessions, and I didn’t like any of that one bit.

Derek turned back to me, “JJ sent you down here a while ago, she’s looking for you.”

I glanced at Y/N and tried to hide the cocktail of emotions in my mind, “I guess I just lost track of time.”

He probably caught onto something because his regular teasing smirk flashed on across his face, “You guess, sure, loverboy, I’ll be in our room. Nice meeting you, Y/N.” He left and she waved, watching him as he left.

“JJ?” She asked, turning back to me.

“Coworker of mine, she left her purse down here and sent me to get it for her.”

“Oh, Blondie from earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“She seemed nice. So pretty!” She reached below the bar and pulled out the small black purse that was left behind about an hour before, holding it up to me and cocking an eyebrow.

“Yep.” 

“How long have you two been working together? Long enough to be more than coworkers?”

I laughed uncomfortably, “Uh, n-no, actually this is actually my first case on the field, before this I only really helped the team consult on cases, but this one was urgent and I wanted to visit my mom so they brought me along.”

“Well, send Diana my love.”

“Of course. And if you hear anything from Jamie about another missing kid, give us a call.” I reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, sliding it to her and leaving with a sympathetic smile, wishing I could say more.

              (Reader POV)

About a week after you ran into Spencer, you were closely following the story as it unfolded on the news. Another kid had gone missing, the second in two weeks. His name was Drew Olson, he was a year older than Jamie. They didn’t find a body yet, so there was still hope. Robbie hadn’t turned up either, which was the best news you had about him. No other bodies have shown up yet, and the cause of death for the boy they found was starvation, so the guy probably didn’t want to hurt these kids.

Regardless of whether or not the situation was actually dangerous, the school still increased security, since two of the victims were students. The pickup line was heavily monitored by teachers and faculty to make sure all students went home with their parents. You had gotten there a bit later than usual, forcing you to the back of the crowd where you couldn’t see the kids as they came out of the building. 

When you finally got up towards the front, there were only a handful of kids left.

And Jamie wasn’t one of them.

Panic started to twist your stomach into knots, but the rational part of your brain clawed at the inside of your skull saying he was just inside, he was waiting in a classroom, he was safe.

You pushed through to the teacher that was keeping track of names on her clipboard. She was younger, just about your age, and wore wire-framed glasses that complimented her dark braids. She gave a warm smile and asked for your child’s name.

“Brothers, Jamie Brothers.”

“Alrighty, let’s see--” she paused as her finger stopped over a name highlighted by a bright green, indicating that the child had been picked up: Jamie Brothers.

“He’s not here.”

“What? What do you mean he’s not here?” The part of your brain that said he was safe fucked right off and left you a shaking mess on the pavement. The teacher reached an arm out and held you by the elbow as your knees buckled beneath you. Other parents’ attention was suddenly directed towards you. 

“Ma’am, the sheet says he was picked up already.”

“But by who? Not me! So who the hell took my son?” All eyes were on you as you didn’t even bother to control the volume of your voice. 

“Mrs. Brothers, please remain calm, I’m sure there’s been a mistake, I can send someone in to find him inside the school.”

“Please…” You whimpered, unable to find your breath.

...Give us a call…

Spencer’s words echoed in your mind and you knew what you had to do, so you scrambled through your bag for the card you were given the week before. You frantically cursed under your breath as you searched for your wallet. You finally found it, taking it out with your phone so you could call the number on the card. It rang once, twice, three times before an unfamiliar voice crackled through on the other side. 

“Agent Hotchner.”

“Are you with the FBI?”

“...Yes, who is this?”

“My name is Y/N L/N, Spencer Reid gave me this number if I knew anything.”

“Do you have information regarding the recent abductions?”

“My son’s been taken.” You could feel the lump in your throat nearly restricting any words from coming out.

“Hold on, ma’am, where are you?”

“I’m at the school, he’s not here. I came to get him and he’s not here, I don’t know what to do!”

“Miss L/N, stay put, we’re on our way.” The call ended with a click and suddenly the world went quiet. There was nothing but the rush of blood pounding in your ears. All you could do was stare blankly at nothing in particular as the phone fell from your hand, hitting the pavement, your knees following quickly behind. You felt the bruises on impact, but you couldn’t care less about how much pain you were in, not when you felt this numb. Your pain didn’t matter anymore, all that mattered was that Jamie was missing and you were powerless to help. The remaining parents surrounded you, all clutching the shoulders of their children, their safe children, the ones they didn’t have to call the fucking FBI to pick up from school today.

When your brain was able to process information again, you noticed the school parking lot had filled with police cars, including two large black SUVs. You squinted through the inappropriately bright sunlight and the bitter tears in your eyes to see a tall man in a dark suit approach you. Behind him, a scrawny young man in a plaid buttondown was following closely.

You recognized him right away this time.

“Spencer,” your voice was barely a whisper as you attempted to stand on your shaking legs. You looked straight past the man in the suit and scrambled over to him. Before you could even reach him, his arms were stretched out to you, enveloping you in a tight hug as soon as you were close enough.

Your heart had to be beating out of your chest, and you were sure he felt it against him. The tears running down your cheeks stained his shirt, soaking him to the skin as he cradled your head against his chest, trying to do whatever he could to make you feel safe again, no matter how scared he was.

The man in the suit was now joined by an older man in a brown jacket and the man you met at the bar the other night, Derek, you think his name was. The suit turned to you and Spencer and introduced himself as Agent Hotchner, the man you spoke to on the phone. He asked you to describe what happened when you arrived, if you saw anyone who looked out of place, if you saw evidence of a struggle. Spencer’s arms never left your frame the whole time you spoke.

“Thank you very much, Miss L/N, I promise we’ll find your son, we have time on our side. Reid, stay with her in the meantime, Morgan, go question the parents, Gideon and I will talk to the monitors and see if they knew who picked Jamie was picked up by.”

“Yes, sir.”

All the men left to complete their tasks except for Spencer, who was supposed to stay put with you. The second you were alone with him once again, your face returned to the spot on his dampened shirt where it had previously been. One of his hands was planted firmly on your upper back, the other stroking your hair between his fingers.

It’s strange, really. Last time you saw him he was just a kid. A brilliant, sweet, small kid. The kid who’s hair you’d fuck with. The kid you held after his bullies hurt him. Then you don’t see him for over a decade and suddenly the roles are reversed. He was tall enough to rest his chin on your head now, which you had mixed feelings about, but you couldn’t deny it calmed you down. Almost as much as his quick yet steady heartbeat drumming right in your ear. The kid was still skinny, but his hugs were still warm. 

“You’re alright, we’re gonna find him,” he whispered into your hair, but you had a feeling those words weren’t only for you. After a few minutes, the three other agents returned to where you and Spencer stood, alerting the two of you that the team would be heading back to the police station where you were welcome to wait with them. Derek figured you were too shaken to drive yourself, so he offered to let you ride along with him and Spencer in the SUV, which you did not hesitate to accept.

Once at the station, you were greeted by the blonde from the bar. What was her name again?

“Jennifer Jareau, I’m the press liaison for the team. You can call me JJ.”

She sat with you while Spencer worked with the others on the case. You wanted to be updated whenever progress was made, but she told you that wasn’t totally possible. Regardless of how against the rules it was, she still gave you the profile. The unsub likely worked with children and knew them and faculty well enough to enter the building and take the kids without being noticed. They may be a parent going through a loss, as no evidence of sexual assault or any physical violence was found on the only body save for light ligature marks on the wrists. Due to the relatively nonviolent nature of the crime, the unsub could be a woman. They likely live alone since they are keeping several young boys in their home. Although this likely wasn’t the work of a pedophile, a trafficking ring could not be ruled out yet.

You suddenly understood why the victims’ families aren’t supposed to know the profile. You thought it would make you feel better, but it only made you feel worse. JJ opened up another box of tissues for you, got you water, and offered you snacks, but there was no way you could get anything down. Every sound, every person that passed the window, every buzz of JJ’s phone sent your stomach plummeting down a death drop. You had just calmed yourself down from yet another panic attack when you saw agents strapping on kevlar vests and putting their guns into their holsters.

They knew where the kids were.

              (Spencer’s POV)

I wasn’t allowed to see her before we left. I couldn’t tell her where I was going, I couldn’t tell her that Jamie would be okay, I couldn’t tell her anything. I barely spoke to her since we got back to the station, and that was hours ago. Now I-- we just have to leave her there again.

This was my first time going out on the field in this capacity. I’d never had to step out of that SUV with my gun out, ready to shoot anyone who threatened the lives of my team or any hostages they may have. I’d never had to strap on a kevlar vest and worry about the potential bruises that may be left behind by being hit with bullets. I’d never had to worry about not coming back before.

“Don’t be worried. If your hands shake you won’t get a clear shot,” Gideon reminded me in the car, as if I’d be able to get a clear shot with a steady hand anyway.

The unsub was a woman named Harriet Yanonovich. According to hospital records pulled by Garcia, our new tech analyst, her son had recently passed after a short and sudden battle against leukemia. This came shortly after Harriet had a miscarriage that triggered a chemical imbalance, degrading her mental health, which resulted in the trigger, losing her job at the elementary school that the boys had each been taken from. I would have felt bad for her if she hadn’t taken my friend’s son away from her.

But she did, and now I just have to hope she didn’t hurt him.

We arrived at Harriet’s house fairly quickly. Hotch sent Morgan and me around the back, he and Gideon would take the front. As we rounded the back of the house, we discovered that she had a storm cellar under her deck. The doors were closed with a heavy padlock. Morgan aimed his gun to shoot it off the chain.

“Don’t do that. The bullet would ricochet and hit you in the knee.”

He lowered his weapon, “You got a better idea, pretty boy?”

“Yes, actually.” I quietly crept onto the deck, lifting the welcome mat from in front of the sliding glass door into the absolute wreck of a kitchen. Under the mat was a simple looking key. 

“She’s a school teacher going through a depressive episode, not a criminal mastermind.”

“Alright then, genius,” he rolled his eyes, “Let’s see if it even works.”

I inserted the key into the lock, hearing a click and turning it with little difficulty. The shackle popped open. I gently removed it from the chains, trying my hardest not to make any noise that would alarm anyone in the cellar. Unwrapping the chains from the handles, I turned back to face Morgan.

“I accept your apology.” I attempted to muster my smuggest smile, but it was hard to mask the dread and worry on my face.

“Yeah, yeah, open up.”

He grabbed one handle and I grabbed the other, sliding the metal doors open and revealing a staircase into a shadowy basement.

“You first.” Morgan nudged my shoulder.

“What? No way! Morgan, this is serious!”

“So go! It’s your girl’s kid!”

He was right. Not about Y/N being my girl, because she wasn’t (though the thought did briefly replace the anxiety in my heart with pure light that I hadn’t felt since I was twelve), but I was still doing this for her. This case wasn’t just a job for me. This was for Y/N. For Jamie. Y/N deserves to see her son again, I owe her that much.

Derek would learn about my fear of the dark much later, but from how fast I jumped down those stairs into that cellar, he’d never been able to tell.

Against the farthest wall, there were four young boys all curled up in a corner. From the limited light, I could see they were all covered in varying levels of filth, the cleanest boy baring the face I had seen on Y/N’s phone screen. The boys all looked terrified, the two dirtiest looking thin and weak against the ties that bound them to a water pipe. I called up to Morgan to come down and lowered my gun.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI, I’m here to help you guys, okay?” The boys all nodded. Morgan helped me untie their wrists.

“Do you know where Mrs. Yanonovich went?”

“She said she was going upstairs, and that we have to be good or else we wouldn’t get any supper,” Jamie piped up.

“How long you been down here, kid?” Morgan asked.

Jamie shrugged, “Couple hours.”

“Did she hurt any of you?” The kids all shook their heads no.

Hotch’s voice crackled over the radio, “We have her in custody, any sign of the kids?”

“Yep, we found them in the cellar. All are alive, but we may need a medic on standby at the station for some of them.”

“Are they hurt?”

“No, just malnourished. Definitely dehydrated.”

Morgan and I led the kids out to the surface, the setting sun creating a glare off of the tin cellar doors. We were greeted by Gideon and police rounding the corner to the backyard. The kids ran out the gate towards the police cars, eager to be home soon. 

               (Reader POV)

“Okay, I’ll let them know.” JJ hung up and turned back to you, a relieved smile gracing her face. You stood up, desperate to hear the news she had.

“They found the kids, Jamie’s safe.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from lunging at the woman you barely knew, wrapping her in a bear hug as delighted laughs left your lungs. You felt tears of pure relief drip down your cheeks as she squeezed you back, also letting out a deep sigh.

You waited impatiently in the bullpen, anxious to see Jamie unharmed and to give the team your gratitude. When they finally arrived, you saw your son walking hand-in-hand with Spencer and the older agent you believed was named Gideon. Spencer pointed over to you with his free hand and smiled, causing Jamie to drop their hands and sprint into your arms crying “Mommy! Mommy!” You immediately lifted him up and covered his face with kisses. The two of you held onto one another so tight, you were surprised either of you could breathe. Spencer came over to you, smiling with eyes you couldn’t quite recognize. 

“Thank you, Spencer.”

“No need, Y/N. I’m glad I could help. I just wish I could have met Jamie here on better terms!”

You adjusted your hold on Jaime to free one hand, stretching it out for Spencer to take it in his own. You squeezed it gently, smiling into those hazel eyes that had somehow never looked warmer before, despite the deep shadows under them.

“Thank you.”

His pursed lips twitched slightly and you noticed the tears brimming his sunken eyes. The poor boy needed sleep and a lot of it soon. He squeezed your hand back, sending shockwaves up your arms straight to your heart, which hadn’t felt this light since you were seventeen years old.

Taglist~~~

Lmk if you wanna be added! Some names didn’t work so if you don’t see your name as a tag just dm me a url and I’ll try to fix it

@lawnmoa @ellvswriting @baby-pogue @rottenearly @confused-and-really-hungry @thatsonezesty13 @deni-gonzalez @irjuejjsaa @randomfandomshitposts @bisoner @moonstarrnghtsky @smurfflynn @eldahae​ @t0xicllama​ @undeniablyyou​ @staplernpaper​

[captain-sodapop]

Thinking about how John is a Vietnam vet - probably enlisted, not drafted - but more than that, I'm thinking about how if the show were set during the Vietnam era, John would have been a WWII/Korea vet instead, one war deemed worthy and one forgotten. Dean would be of the age to enlist and Dean, who always wants to impress his father, does indeed enlist. He is one of those boys who thinks Vietnam is a fight worth fighting until he actually gets there, and John is so damn proud that his son is following in his footsteps because service runs in the family and he's got the medals and he killed the Nazis and Dean is gonna defend democracy now. He's brave and he's disciplined and he's got a bit of a mouth, but the Army will take care of that.

Then there's Sam. He comes of age later into the war, but the day he found out his brother was going to Vietnam was the first time he told John he hated him, and Sam knows in his soul that he will never be like them. He grows out his hair and tells John to vote for Bobby Kennedy and runs off to San Francisco but still ends up calling John from a phonebooth, crying and wanting to come home.

John and Sam are at home in Kansas while Dean is somewhere in Vietnam, and every day the two of them wait for news they could never bear to hear. John tells everybody at the supermarket everything Dean tells him in his letters with a particular point of pride, tells them he knew Dean would take to service like a fish to water, while Sam goes to school in his brother's jacket and dreams of other ways of getting out of Kansas, of deferment and college.

While Dean fights the war in Vietnam, Sam and John fight the war at home. Sam accuses John of pushing Dean to enlist while John insists that Dean was simply fulfilling his patriotic duty, and what do you think of your old man, Samuel? Was I an idiot to go over to Europe? Was I a fool when I stormed the beaches at Normandy? And what about the things I saw in Korea that nobody seems to care about? What about the things I've seen?

And Sam tells him it's all stupid. That he's sorry but anybody who willingly goes to war is absolutely insane. Catch-22, Dad, he reminds him. "There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, which specified that a concern for one's safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. Orr was crazy and could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he were sane he had to fly them. If he flew them he was crazy and didn't have to, but if he didn't want to he was sane and had to." So John is insane and Dean is insane and you know what? They know it, so they're sane enough.

Dean comes back in all his finery, not a scratch on him, and he steps off the train in his hometown, home of the Jayhawks and Wilt Chamberlain, and as soon as his shined shoe lands on the concrete, Sam is there to crash into him. The two of them stand there, Dean taken a bit by surprise by the gangly kid - now taller than him, the jerk - hanging onto him for dear life, but he hugs back. Dean is in his uniform, medals pinned to his chest, and Sam has on a fringe jacket and he looks like an extra from Hair, but they're finally together again. John comes up behind Sam and he and Dean clap eyes on each other and even though Dean is elated to be home and John has that small John smile on his face, they look at each other and see something Sam will never see.

Because, you see, Sam is right. Of course he is, the kid is too smart for his own damn good, but he's right all the same. War is horrible and undignified and pointless and scary, and one of the worst things that could happen to a person. He's right that his father and big brother are sane and insane all at once. He's right.

But he's still never seen it except on the TV. He doesn't know. Sam doesn't know that you either hold up the experience with pride, or you spend your days wishing you could be the person you were before. Wishing you could just go to bed and stay there. Forever.

Dean is not treated like a hero when he gets home like John was. A girl from Sam's school spits on him at the hardware store while he's picking up some nails, and he comes home and sits in the middle of the backyard, staring out at the flat expanse of Kansas until Sam goes and sits beside him and quietly asks him to come inside. John goes to his VFW meetings and he and his war buddies commiserate on behalf of poor Dean Winchester and all the boys who did and didn't come home - both are a rotten deal.

And Sam...Sam sticks to his guns. He goes to Stanford and he gets into campus politics and cries over The Beatles and follows the Grateful Dead while Dean and John go to work every day in the auto body shop back in Kansas. But he defends his brother at every turn. He still thinks his father put the idea in his head that it was a noble thing, going to war, but Sam might not understand war but he does understand that it changes a person irrevocably. Dean was tricked into fighting a losing battle, and John had pushed his pain so far down it had twisted into pride because it was either that or die, and you know what? You wanna know something, Brady? They got a bad fucking deal - all of them, every guy that went over there and everybody who went before them - and they were used. Used! Remember what Dylan said? Pawns, man. Pawns. Be angry at fucking Johnson and Nixon and McCarthy and who-the-fuck-ever, but leave them out of it. At the end of the day they're still my fucking family and if you say one more thing about them, I'll kick you in the fucking teeth.

[heartjwi]

city of angels ☞ lee jeno

GENRE | angst

DISCLAIMER | i’m supposed to be studying but fuck that ig + insp. by la la lost you by niki!!

SUMMARY | jeno finds an old letter under his refrigerator after doing some cleaning around his apartment and finds himself reminiscing the past and wishing he could go back to the city he once lived in, and to you.

A/N | i cant contain myself i’m sorry bois + posted this on hyucafe by accident,, ok clown 

you and jeno had a healthy relationship from the very beginning needless to say. especially with the never ending support from your friends and family around the two of you. you and jeno barely fought in your 4 year old relationship, only arguing about where to go or where to eat, just the typical couple arguments.

that was, before you and jeno parted ways to go to college.

you stayed near your old town while jeno chose a college that was 12 hours away from you. the first time you heard about it, you didn’t talk to jeno for days. yes, you were proud of him for aiming high but just the thought of not seeing each other physically made your heart ache.

“why won’t you talk to me” jeno whines, plopping down next to you, who was busy reading a candy magazine. you rolled your eyes and flipped the page. jeno puffs and scoots closer to you. “is it because of the college thing?” he says slowly wrapping his arms around you. you closed the magazine shut and stared at him, “did you really have to choose somewhere far away from me?” you pouted. “and she talks!” jeno exclaims, hugging you close to him. “i mean, you’ll always have me right? no matter the distance” jeno kisses the side of your head.

and boy, were you wrong.

        the day when jeno was finally moving to new york, you helped his family set his things in his dad’s car. you and jeno stayed behind his room for one last time in a few months. “so this is it huh” you look up at him. he avoids your eyes and bites his lip. “hmm” he hums. “are you gonna miss me?” you pout, staring at his eyes. he nods, squeezing your sides. “we’re gonna facetime everyday okay?” you held out your pinky to which he links his pinky with yours. a tradition you two had.

his dad honks indicating it was time to go. you see jeno hold back his tears but the moment you hug him for the very last time, a tear fell from his eye. “shit jen, you’re making me cry too” you sniffled, unable to hide your tears as well. jeno lets out a teary laugh, “here” he removes his favorite hoodie and puts it on you. you stared at him in shock, “babe this is your favorite” you remove the hoodie off of you. “keep it” he kisses your hand.

you two walk downstairs hand in hand, ready to send jeno off to college. you stopped in front of the passenger seat when jeno turns to you. “you know i’ll always find my way back here, back home to you” he hugs you as you feel his tears soak his hoodie that you had on. you couldn’t contain the tears any longer and hugged him back tighter. “i’ll wait jeno, i’ll wait for you” you sobbed to his chest. he finally pulls away and cups your cheek for one last time before kissing you on the lips. “i’ll miss you” he whispers on your lips before getting in the passenger seat.

and that was the last time you ever got to see jeno.

       the first few weeks without jeno by your side was tough on your part. this was a whole new routine for the both of you. slowly adjusting to the fact he wasn’t by your side in somewhere that’s awfully familiar with the two of you.

on jeno’s part, he was enjoying the feeling of being alone for once in his life. the feeling where there’s no one to hinder him from doing everything he wishes to do. one of the reasons he chose this specific college in new york is that he could get away from you. a bit of a dick move but he had to do something.

in his first few weeks in new york, he already made a name for himself in his new school. a fuckton of new faces he got to meet in a span of a week. he could get used to this.

“please pick up” you repeat, biting your nails as you waited for jeno to answer his phone.  “hello?” jeno groggily answers his phone. you went quiet on the other line, not used to this. “y/n?” the way he said your name felt new to you again, almost like you two never met. “hi” you whisper. you hear him chuckle at the other end. “hello to you to my love” he muses.

and you two spent the night just talking to each other just catching up after a while, not knowing that would be one of the last times you two got to act like a couple.

       the next few months, you finally adjusted to your new school environment and made new friends along the way. slowly distracting yourself away from jeno. jeno on the other hand, got into some frat parties thanks to his roommates and peers who taught him how to party. not once have you crossed his mind since he moved here.

it didn’t take long for you to long for his touch or voice even. you texted him multiple times to answer your calls or even facetimes but nothing. he ghosted you for the next 2 weeks. you cried your heart out to your best friend about your new situation. your friends told you just dump and move on but you can’t. the town you two used to live in is filled with memories with jeno.

jeno finally had a wake up call the day after you blocked his number. he stared at the unanswered texts he had in his phone and it was all from you. he scrambled to get you to talk to him again, but knowing you, you would be wrapped around his finger again.

it didn’t take a while for jeno to pull the ghosting agenda again. you were starting to get sick of it. you started doing the same thing to him. not leaving a single message to him at all.

it was hurting you at first but slowly and surely, you were getting the hang of it with the help of your closest friends who made efforts to let you have fun and not think of a douchebag boyfriend.

and people began to notice the once introverted y/n turned into a more extroverted version of yourself who subconsciously puts a smile on everyone’s faces.

jeno found himself staring at his phone all day, waiting for a single message from you but nothing— not even a single one. he was starting to feel worried and anxious if anything happened to you but once he opened the instagram app it was a whole new story.

you just posted a new photo in your instagram in a while, and it was a photo of you in a dress after clubbing with your friends last night. it made jeno quite mad that you didn’t tell him about your whereabouts. he immediately called your number and waited for you to answer.

“hello?” you answer, not bothering to check the caller ID. “you got some explaining to do” was the first thing you hear from the other line. you checked the ID and it was jeno. “what are you talking about?” you tell him, not caring about a single thing that was about to happen. “how come you didn’t tell me that you went clubbing last night?!” he starts his sermon. you rolled your eyes and picked on your nails. ‘now he starts to care’ you thought to yourself. “you didn’t even text me for days! i was worried about you!” he rambles on, making you angry.

“so now it’s a problem that i don’t text you” you cut him off, catching him off guard. “huh?” he furrows his eyebrows. “cut this shit jeno, you’re mad that i’m finally doing what you’ve been doing to me” you felt tears prick your eyes. jeno stayed silent on the other line, realizing his mistake. “i’m tired” you start, wiping your tears. jeno felt his heart drop to his stomach, knowing where this was headed. “no-” “i’m so fucking tired waiting for you” you open up to him, full on crying at this moment. “you’re not the jeno i used to know” you whispered on the phone.

jeno stands up quickly, almost losing his balance. “no! y/n please-” he gets cut off yet again, “i think we should just break up” you choked out. jeno felt as if time has stopped all together and everything went silent. “i’m sorry” you whisper before hanging up.

and that was the last time you two heard about each other

its been a couple months after the break up and you were slowly moving on from jeno, after coming to a closure with yourself that you two won’t just work out. he’s not the jeno you once knew from your small hometown. he was a new different jeno in an unfamiliar city.

you went back home for a bit to just clean up any memory you had with jeno in your house and gave it back to his parents next door. they were sorry that their son had to be a dickhead. you just brushed it off and promised you would get lunch with them time to time. they did root for the two of you in the past.

jeno however, was slowly but surely becoming a mess months after the big break up. you only love something when it’s gone. the ‘friends’ he had won’t even check up on him. he was regretting why he hung out with them. now he was just cleaning his apartment, just to ease his mind.

he was sweeping his kitchen floor when he stumbled upon an old letter you sent to him the first week he moved in.

“to my bubby,

hi! i miss you already :-( and i know i’m just being dramatic since it has been only a week but i can’t help it you know? anyway so, how’s new york doing hmm? have you been to broadway? you promised me you’d take me one day hehehe…”

during the first week without jeno, you thought it would be a good idea to send him a letter and you even planned you’d do it monthly if he loved it. you never heard that he got the letter so that was the first and last letter he would ever get from you.

“the jetlag and timezones must be tough eh? but it’s okay, it means nothing when we mean everything to each other right? i even wasted some perfume just so i could spray it to this letter and the envelop so you would remember to miss me and it would ease the pain somehow”

jeno had tears in his eyes at this point, knowing the one who meant everything to him is no longer in his arms.

“if i’m being honest, i’d call you but i know you’ll be busy settling in and i’m trying to let go at the fact i won’t be seeing you in a while :-( i still and will always love you, jenjen! come back to me soon please.

hope new york will hug, take care and hold you the way I do, my love. i miss you so much! see you soon!

with lots and lots of hugs and kisses, y/n”

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

A Week of Harry One Shots #3

Request: A one Shot based on the movie Love, Rosie would be fantastic! 

**

Friends will come and go throughout life. One day you’re friends with this person and then you two grow apart and move on. Best friends are something one can find many a times over the years and still might grow apart. However, there is one type of friendship that is quite rare, life-long friends. Very few people are blessed with the chance of meeting their person before at such a young age. 

The person who understands you and gets you when no one else can. Someone who will always been there for you, well before you even know you need them. The person who will always be your ears when you need to get something off your chest and won’t judge you. The person who will wrap their arms around you whenever you need a shoulder to cry. The person who is everything to you and more. 

Fortunately, you met your person at the age of three. Your family had just moved to a new city and a new neighborhood. You were sitting outside on your front porch, holding your favorite stuffed bear to your chest, as your parents told the movers were to take everything. You still weren’t sure about moving. Just as you were getting used to your first home, you were moved away. 

You looked up when you saw someone standing in the driveway. A woman with brown hair and a little boy with green eyes. He stood behind her legs as she held dish covered in foil in her hands. 

“Hello,” the woman smiled. “Is your Mum or Dad home?” 

You hid your face behind your bear as you pointed into the house. The woman smiled before looking back at the little boy standing behind. 

“I’m Anne,” she smiled. 

“H-Hi,” you whispered. “My name’s Y/N.” 

“Nice to meet you,” she smiled. “This is my son, Harry. Harry why don’t you and Y/N play while I go meet her parents and give them the casserole.” 

The little boy, Harry, nodded and sat down on the opposite side of the step from where you were sitting. Neither of you spoke for awhile, but you noticed he slowly moved closer to you. 

“I like your bear,” he said softly. 

“Thank you,” you said. “He’s name is Beary.” 

“I like your shirt,” you told him. “I like Mickey.” 

“Me too,” he said. 

You reached into your pocket and grabbed two lollipops you had taken from your mother’s purse during the car ride. You held one out to him and he quickly took it with a smile. 

“Thank you,” he smiled. 

You giggled opening up your own lollipop and popping it into your mouth. 

And from that day on you two were pretty much inseparable. 

**

It was your 18th birthday, your best friend Harry was taking you out for a night on the town. It had been a few weeks since you had last seen him, thanks to him to being apart of the band One Direction, but you couldn’t be happier for his success. There was a knock on the door just as you finished getting ready. 

You knew exactly who it was, so you quickly ran to the door and opened it. Harry stood there holding a huge bouquet of flowers and a bag of presents. You screamed wrapping your arms around him as you jumped in for a hug. He laughed holding you to him and walking inside your house. 

“Happy birthday,” he smiled. 

“Thank you!” You smiled. “Now, I’m finally caught up with you.” 

He laughed, “It’s only been a month.” 

“Yeah, we’ll it’s still weird when we’re not the same age,” you giggled. 

“Yeah, it is,” he laughed. 

You jumped down from his arms, taking the flowers, and putting them into some water. 

“Want to do presents now or head out?” He asked. 

“Um, let’s head out. I want to give the presents proper attention and I can’t do that right now,” you laughed. “Bye, Mum! I’m leaving.” 

"Wait, your mum’s here?” Harry asked. 

“Yeah. Like she’d let me come to London for the weekend by myself,” you laughed. 

“Did she want to come?” Harry asked. 

“You can’t be serious right now,” you asked. 

“What it’s the proper thing to do,” he said. 

“No, it’s not,” you said. “Now, come on.” 

**

The night was going great. It had been so long since you and Harry had just spent time together for yourselves, so it was nice to be able to spend time with him. You both were dancing around, signing karaoke, and throwing back shots. It wasn’t exactly the first time you’ve ever been drunk, but it was the first time you were doing it legally. 

“Can we have another?” Harry asked the bartender. “Two more.” 

“No, no, I can’t,” you groaned. “I’m pretty sure my blood is all tequila right now.” 

He laughed, “One more and we’ll switch to water, promise.” 

“Ugh, fine,” you said. “You’re such a bad influence.” 

“Says the one who stole their father’s scotch stash when we were fourteen,” he smirked. 

“Yeah, well,” you said. “Fuck you.” 

He laughed handing you your shot and you both downed in on the count of three. When you brought your head back to normal, you lost your balance and fell forward, Harry catching you before you could face plant. You weren’t sure what it was about that moment, but you were feeling different. Maybe it was the bottle of tequila flowing through your veins or maybe it was something you never allowed yourself to feel. 

Harry was looking down at you and you were looking into his eyes. Your lips were inches away from each other, a force pulling them towards each other like two magnets needed to connect. And you did. As soon as your lips touched his, it felt like your body was on fire. 

His arms snaked around, pulling you closer to him, as he deepened the kiss. Your hands found their way into his hair as he pressed your back into the bar. 

And that was the last thing you remembered. 

**

After what happened on your 18th birthday, neither you or Harry brought it up again. Even though you knew it was best to keep your friendship as is, especially since he obviously didn’t feel anything, it was hard denying to yourself that you were in love with him. And you had been ever since that night. 

But instead of telling him that, you just accepted the fact that since he never said anything, it was best that you never did either. It didn’t take very long after that night for you to see Harry with a rumored girlfriend in the papers. You couldn’t exactly blame him though, he was this up and coming superstar, while you were finishing up school and heading to university. Why would he want you as more than his best friend from back home, when he could have someone who was more than that. 

To take your mind off it, you were focusing on your studies and your grades. However, one night, you decided to go to a party to destress... and you did... with one of the “popular” guys in your classes. And a few weeks later, you learned of the consequence from that night. 

You were pregnant. 

And just like that all of your dreams and ideas of what you wanted your life to be like, were gone. 

**

After you found out, you never told Harry. You even had Anne and Gemma promise they would say anything either. You still talked to him, here and there, but he was busy traveling the world, so it wasn’t like you two talked all the time either. You weren’t exactly sure why you didn’t want him to know about the baby, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell him either. 

He was the one person you knew that could help you through this, but you didn’t want to put your problems on him when he was living his dream. However, eventually, he did find out. 

And it wasn’t pretty. It was during a surprise visit home. He had went out for a run before his mom came home and saw you walking with a stroller down the street. When you saw him, you immediately froze. There was nowhere to go and even if there was, it was too late because he had already seen you. 

“Y/N,” he asked almost as if he was unsure. 

“Harry, hi,” you smiled awkwardly. 

“Um-” he said. “Are you babysitting?” 

“Actually,” you sighed pulling hair back from your face. “She’s uh... she’s mine.” 

“You-you have a baby?” He asked shocked. 

“Uh..Surprise,” you joked. 

“This isn’t funny,” he said. “You have a fucking baby and you didn’t tell me.” 

“Well, it’s not like you’ve exactly been around to tell,” you mumbled. 

“There’s a such thing called a fucking phone, Y/N!” He said. 

A sound of a baby cry, broke the tension between the two of you. You reached down to take your daughter out of the stroller and hold her in your arms. Harry’s eyes widened when he saw the baby girl in your arms. You kissed her head and looked over at Harry. 

“Her name is Poppy,” you whispered. 

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered. “Looks just like you.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Do you want to have some tea.. so we can talk.” 

He nodded and followed you into your house. 

**

That day you and Harry talked for hours about everything. From the night of the party when you hooked up with Poppy’s father to when you found out you were pregnant. It’s been four years since that day and Harry loved Poppy so much. You two had seen him on tour at his hometown shows in both London and Manchester. You always face-timed him whenever you got a chance and Poppy always wanted to listen to One Direction songs. 

You were happy, you were, it’s just... there was a part of your life missing. You wanted to find love. You hadn’t dated much since you were a single mother. It was easy to say raising Poppy was the main reason you hadn’t dated anyone, but the truth was because your heart already belonged to someone else. 

Harry. 

And he didn’t know it. 

Not that it really mattered because he had been dating the same person off and on over the last few years, so the odds of him even feeling the same were slim to none. And he was in no shape to be a dad. 

You knew that. 

It was one thing to be the Godfather, but it was entirely different thing to be a father. Especially, to a little girl who needed one. 

Poppy’s father wanted nothing to do with her. As soon as you told him about the baby, he told you, you could do what you wanted with him, but he didn’t want anything to do with it. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t have a baby. 

Even though you knew Poppy needed her father in her life, you were happy he wasn’t around. 

But still, you wondered if there would ever be a day when you would meet someone you could give your whole heart to and who would want to be there for Poppy like she was his own. You hoped so, but if ended up just being you and Poppy, then you would also be happy with that. 

**

Two years later and Poppy was getting ready for her first day of school. You were rushing through the house making sure she had everything she needed. You were freaking out at the fact that your baby was starting Primary school and you couldn’t believe it. 

“Mummy! Let’s go!” She giggled holding her little backpack by the door. 

“Just let me get my keys and we’ll go,” you smiled. 

Once you had everything, you opened the door, seeing Harry standing there with his hand in the air, mid knock. 

“Harry!” Poppy squealed running into his arms.

He picked her up, squeezing her tight, as he kissed her head. “How’s my girl?” he smiled. “Ready for your first day of school?” 

“Yes!” She nodded. “Look at my bag, Mummy got me!” 

Harry smiled, “She did a great job.” 

“W-What are you doing here?” You smiled hugging him. 

“I was in town, so I thought I’d pop over to see her off on her first day of school,” he smiled. “Is that okay?” 

“More than okay,” you smiled. “I’m really happy you’re here.” 

“Thanks,” he smiled. “Now, want to ride with me?” 

“YES!” Poppy smiled rushing towards his Range Rover. 

You laughed, “I think she’s more excited that you’re here than school, now.” 

“Well, it is, school,” he laughed. 

“Thank you for being here,” you said. 

“There’s no other place I’d rather be,” he smiled. 

**

A few minutes later, Harry pulled into the parking lot of the school. He helped get Poppy out of the car and the two of, each holding one of her hands, walked her into the school. Poppy’s eyes widened when you got to the classroom and you could tell she was a little hesitant about going inside. 

“There’s so many people, Mummy,” she whispered. “What if they don’t like me?” 

“How could they not like you, love?” Harry smiled. “You’re Poppy Y/Last/Name. The best girl I know. You’re smart and funny. You’re going to have loads of friends, but you know... sometimes all you really is one. So, why don’t you just focus on making one friend today and if you do, then who cares if everyone else likes you.” 

She bit her lip before wrapping her arms around him, “I love you,” she whispered. 

Harry smiled kissing her head, “I love you, too,” he whispered. “So much.” 

“Now, what’s the motto?” He joked. 

“Treat People With Kind-ness,” she smiled. 

“Good job,” he laughed. “Just remember that and you’re golden.” 

You smiled watching the two of them interacting. 

Poppy, then turned around, hugging you, “I love you, Mummy.” 

“I love you, too,” you smiled kissing her cheek. “I want you to have the best time today, yeah? And I’ll see you this afternoon, when I pick you up.” 

“Will Harry be with you?” She asked. 

“I-” You said looking at Harry and he nodded. 

“Yes, we’ll both be here to pick you up,” you smiled. 

“And go get ice cream?” She asked hopefully. 

“I don’t see, why not,” Harry laughed. 

“Yay!” She smiled. 

“Go on, now, love. You don’t want to be late,” you told her. 

“Right! Bye, Bye!” She giggled bouncing into the classroom. 

You both watched her from the doorway for a few minutes before leaving. 

**

You and Harry ended up going out for breakfast and catching up on everything you two had missed in the few months since you’ve seen him. Throughout the entire conversation though, you could see something was bothering Harry. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” You asked. “You seem a little out of it.” 

He sighed running his hands through his hair, “There’s another reason I stopped by today, Y/N.” 

“Okay, what is it?” You asked. “Is everything alright?” 

“Do you remember the night of your 18th birthday?” He sighed. 

“You mean you got me pissed drunk?” You laughed. “Of course, I remember.” 

He smiled a bit at that, “Well, other than that, do you remember anything else?” 

You froze, why was he asking that. Of course, you remember, even though you were blackout drunk, you still remembered. 

“That depends,” you whispered. “Do you remember?” 

“Us making out for half the fucking night? Yeah, I remember,” he sighed. “And I’ve been remembering everyday since that night. Remembering how it felt to pressed against you and your lips on mine. Remember that I realized I was fucking in love with you in that specific moment and that I’m still fucking in love with you after all of these years.” 

“What?” you asked shocked at what you were hearing. 

“I’m sorry to lay this all out right here, like this,” he sighed. “But I couldn’t... I couldn’t keep my feelings for you inside any longer. I-I-I love you, Y/N. You’re my best friend... hell, you’re more than my best friend and you always have been. You’re my person. I love you and I love Poppy. God, do you know how many times I’ve wished she was mine? I know, I know this is a lot and I know this is going to be difficult... but I want... I want us to try... give us a shot... I mean that is.. if if you feel the same way.” 

“Harry-” You sighed. “I-I don’t know what to say. Why didn’t you ever tell me this before? Why didn’t you say something after that night?” 

“Because I was scared? I mean we were best friends... I thought maybe... maybe we just happened to kiss because we were both drunk. But I couldn’t get it out of my head... and then I had to go. I figured if it had been more than just a drunken kiss, you would have brought it up, but you didn’t. So, I hid my feelings until that day I came home to see you,” he whispered.

“When you found out about Poppy,” you stated. 

He nodded, “I know this selfish, but I was only nineteen. I was traveling the world in this huge band... I couldn’t be a dad and I knew I would have to be one if we were to be in a relationship. I wasn’t ready for that and I don’t think either of us would have been ready for that either.” 

“I understand that,” you whispered. “And I never, I never would have asked you to do that. You wouldn’t have had any obligation.” 

“I know that, but I would have had it for myself,” he whispered. 

“Why now?” You asked. “I understand why you never said anything back then, but what’s changed now?” 

“What’s changed is that I know I’m never going to be happy unless I told you how I felt,” he whispered. “And I did. I’m not asking for an answer now. I’m not asking you to jump into my arms and we’re suddenly in a relationship. I just... I needed you to know how I felt.” 

You looked down at your half eaten plate of food. You no longer had an appetite as you were soaking in everything that had just happened. For so long, you’ve wanted to hear those words from him and now that you have, you didn’t know how to feel. 

“I’m... I-I don’t know how I feel about this,” you whispered. “All these years, I’ve longed to hear you say you love me, but now that I have, I don’t know I feel about it. If this were just about me, I would probably jump into your arms right now, but it’s not. I have Poppy to think about, Harry. I know you would never hurt her or me. But we also know that there is a huge chance that we wouldn’t work in a relationship. And if we were together and Poppy looked up to you as a Dad, she’d have to experience losing one... and I just.. I can’t put her though that.” 

“She wouldn’t lose me,” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“It’s easy for you to say that now, but you don’t know how you’d feel if the moment of us ending our relationship would be,” you whispered. “I just... I need some time to think about this.” 

“Okay,” he nodded. “Take all the time you need.” 

**

Three months had passed by since Harry had told you he loved you. You still hadn’t given him an answer or even told him how you truly felt. This was a huge decision. Yes, this is something you’ve always wanted, but you were terrified. Terrified it wouldn’t work out. Terrified you would get hurt or even worse Poppy. 

How would it even work? Harry didn’t even live in London half the time due to work and personal reasons. But that wasn’t even the thing you were most worried about it. Harry was still young, hell, you both were. But asking him to take on the responsibility of being a father, you still couldn’t do that. 

You were finishing up dinner while Poppy was drawing at the kitchen table. When she was done, she ran over to you, handing you her drawing. 

“Thank you, baby. Why don’t you go wash up, dinner will be ready soon,” you told her. 

She nodded, running to the bathroom, while you took a moment to look at her drawing. It was a picture of three stick people with hearts all around. There were two taller stick people, and a smaller one. Under them where the names, Mummy, Daddy Harry, and Poppy. You gasped as you read it, almost dropping it to the floor. 

When Poppy came back into the kitchen, you both sat down for dinner. After she had taken a few bites, she looked up at you. 

“Mummy, do you like my drawing?” She asked. 

“I do, love,” you smiled. “But, you do know Harry... Harry isn’t your Daddy.” 

She sighed, “I know,” she nodded. “But I want him to be. My friend Alex was telling me all the things he does with his Daddy and I started thinking that Harry does that too! He isn’t here a lot, but he loves me and I love him!” 

“You know Mummy and Harry have been friends for a long time, yeah?” You asked. 

She nodded, “Since before I was born!” 

You laughed, “Yes, way before that. Well, what if Mummy and Harry wanted to be more than friends.” 

“What that mean?” She asked. 

“Well, really, nothing would really change accept, we would see Harry more and he and I would kiss and hold hands,” you said. 

“Ew!” She groaned. “No, kissing.” 

You laughed, “Okay, no kissing around you, how would you feel?” 

“Make Mummy smile?” She asked. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It would make me smile very much.” 

“Then yes!” She nodded. 

And with that, you knew what you had to do. 

**

Harry was no longer in London, so you had to book a flight to LA. Poppy had insisted on coming because she knew you were going to see Harry, so you brought her along too. You didn’t tell him you were coming because you didn’t want to tell him your feelings over the phone and ruin the trip. You did, however, talk to Jeff and he said he’d get you a car to pick you up at the airport and Harry’s address. 

Once the plane landed, you went to the hotel to freshen up and Glenne offered to watch Poppy while you and Harry talked. You couldn’t believe that you were about to do this. You were about to get what you’ve waited so long for. When the car pulled up to Harry’s house, your stomach was doing flip-flops. You took a deep breath before getting out and heading to the front door. 

You gave it a quick knock and Harry opened it within a few minutes. 

“Y/N-what are you-” he asked. 

“Wait! Don’t. I.. I let me get this out,” you said. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been since, well most of my life. Poppy loves you and I know how much you love her. I want to give us a try. I know... I know it’s been a while since you told me how you felt, but I-”

Just then, you saw someone standing in the house behind Harry. You instantly recognized her, she was Harry’s ex. And she was in his house. 

“God, I can’t believe I’m so fucking stupid,” you whispered. “Of course, of course, I can’t believe that I thought you would actually give me proper time to think without going back to your ex. But clearly I was wrong.” 

“I’m just going to go,” you said turning around. 

“Y/N!” Harry sighed, chasing after you. 

“Just forget about it,” you said. “This is just another sign that we shouldn’t be more than friends, Harry. I mean, we’ve been friends for 22 years, right? Why change it now.” 

Harry couldn’t even respond to you before you were back in the car and leaving. 

**

You had the driver drop you off at a park nearby. You needed time to think. You couldn’t face Poppy like this. This was exactly what you were afraid of, getting Poppy’s hopes up only to have them shattered. You never should have told her. You should have never told her or even brought to LA. 

You were sitting on a swing in the playground area. It was a bit rainy, so there weren’t many people there, but the weather reminded you of home. About fifteen minutes after you arrived, someone sat down on the swing beside you. You didn’t have to look over because you knew exactly who it was. 

Harry. 

“I’m not with her,” he said. “I know it looked bad, but she was just over to hang out. We’re friends... that’s it.” 

“Just like we’re friends?” You whispered. 

“Not even close,” he whispered. “Y/N, when I told you I love you and I wanted to be with you. I meant it. I still do.” 

“And I want to be with you too,” you whispered. “But honestly how is this going to work... logistically.” 

“I’m going to be spending time in London more,” he said. “I’m working on some things in London and I might have to travel some more here and there, but I’m not going anywhere too far.” 

“And what happens when you go on tour?” You asked. 

‘You two can come with me or fly out whenever you can,” he said. “I won’t lie and say it won’t be hard, but we’re only going to know if it’s going to work if we try.”

“Are you sure you’re ready to be a father?” You asked. “Poppy drew this the other night. She already looks up to you like a Daddy. I don’t know what I would do if this did work out...” 

“I promise you, Y/N,” he whispered. “Even if we don’t work out, which I don’t know know why we wouldn’t, but if for some reason we didn’t, you two would never lose me. I promise.” 

You bit your lip as you looked down. Harry reached over for your hand. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you, too,” you whispered back. 

“Then let’s be together,” he whispered. “We’ve already spent years apart. This is finally our time.” 

“Okay,” you nodded. “Let’s be together.” 

He smiled widely, leaning over still in his swing and pressed his lips against yours. 

**

An hour later, you and Harry met Jeff and Glenne with Poppy. As soon as she saw the two of you walking up, hand in hand, she ran up to you two, wrapping her arms around your legs. 

“Mummy! Harry!” She smiled. “Happy?” 

“Yes, we’re both very happy,” Harry smiled picking her up. “What about you?” 

“Very Very Happy!” She giggled. 

You smiled kissing her head. 

“Are we a family now?” She asked. 

You looked over at Harry, who was looking at you. “Always.” 

“Hey Poppy,” you smiled. “Cover your eyes, love.” 

She giggled, placing her hands over eyes, as you leaned up to press your lips against his. 

And just like that, you had everything you ever wanted. 

[cielpurrple]

Make Me 19.5

Pairing/s: Jimin x Reader x Got7 Jaebum

Word count: : 6141

Warning/s: none

Summary: As much as you wanted to forget him, there will always be someone or something that will remind him of you.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to take you to the train station?”

Your father asked as he alighted from the car to bring your bags down while you follow behind.

You just asked them to drop you to the bus stop.

“Yes dad, I am very sure. Besides, these are light. I can manage.” You assured him.

“How long do you plan on staying there?”

It’s your mother’s turn to ask.

“I don’t know, probably my entire summer break. I’m planning to have a summer job,” you told her.

“Just don’t overwork yourself, dear.”

She said as she fix the collar of your open long sleeved shirt.

“Don’t worry mom, I won’t,” you replied with a smile.

She gave you a motherly smile, then she caressed your cheek. You knew what’s next.

She started crying.

“Aw mom, don’t cry!”

You said in a cooing voice as if you’re talking to a toddler.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just...It must’ve been so hard for you,” she said.

“Don’t think about it as if it’s a bad thing, mom. Remember what dad had just said, maybe it’s not meant to be so I’m in this situation right now.”

You explained.

She nods, and gave you a tight hug.

“I’ll see you both soon. Don’t overwork yourselves.” You embraced the both of them tightly.

“Take care, Y/N.” Your father said and when the bus arrived, you immediately stepped inside. When you’re seated, you looked at the windows to see if your parents are still there and you waved when you saw them.

After a few stops, you alighted in front of the train station. You did whatever things you need to be done so you can board and when you’ve accomplished it, you went ahead and ride the train.

The conductor said you’ll depart in ten minutes. You glanced at your watch and it’s almost 9AM.

You’ll probably be in your hometown by early evening.

You heard the announcement that you’ll be leaving in a minute. The doors starts closing and when it picked up speed, you pulled your phone and plugged in your earphones.

It’s one of the playlists Jungkook added to your phone the last time you hang out at LATE.

The melody of this song makes you feel somewhat lonely but your heart doesn’t hurt. It’s just this song makes you feel longing for something, or someone.

You stopped analyzing the songs you hear and start to enjoy the view from the outside. It’s still the concrete jungle of the city that’s outisde and you don’t really mind.

You tried looking further, trying if you can locate either your house, the Madam’s large house, or even Jimin’s.

You sighed because your head suddenly popped a question that you couldn’t answer.

What is he doing right now, at this moment?

Maybe, he’s still sleeping, or he’s about to wake up, then make breakfast.

You hope so.

Is he still staring into nothingness just like in the picture Taehyung sent you?

You hope not.

Do you still cross his mind from time to time?

You hope so.

Did he followed what you asked him, is he seeing a doctor now?

You really hope so.

Does he still love you?

“What in the world am i thinking?”

You whispered to yourself.

But just to answer your storming mind, as the last view of the city waves goodbye to you, you mentally answered,

You really, really, really, hope he still do.                                                                                                                              

***

“How’s your meeting with the doctor yesterday?”

Jimin’s grandmother asked him.

He’s been seeing a doctor a week after the new year’s celebration. With the help of his grandmother, he agreed. And he’s again living with her.

“As always, it’s interesting and boring at the same time,” he replied.

“Did you told him everything that he has to know?” she asked again.

Jimin nods. She’s referring to  the events that lead to him having nightmares again.

He even told the doctor about you, and the doctor told him that if he’s confident enough to face you and finally explain everything to you, he said that he has his full support in doing so. Also, he mentioned that that explanation might be another opening or possibility for you to get back together which made him very hopeful.

“Son, it’s been six months yes?” her grandmother changed her tone.

“Yes, what about?”

She cleared her throat, and it’s obvious that she’s trying to choose the right words for this.

“Aren’t you going to talk to Y/N again?”

Whenever he hears your name, he always feel a very painful tug on his chest. Of course, he wanted to talk to you again, to explain these things but still, he couldn’t find the courage to do so.

“Give me some more time gram, please?” He looked into his grandmother’s eyes and she gave him a nod.

“How about your father, when are you going to meet up with him? He’s been asking for you for quite a long time now,” she asked in a manner where she’s half ordering, half asking.

“I’ll do it one of these days, gram. I just have to be clear with Taehyung’s company.

“Alright, I’ll take your word.” She said as if she’s defeated and they continued eating.

***

Riding the train back home is one of the most tiring yet calming experience for you. You’re alone during most rides so you don’t have someone to share even a small talk with until you today.

But this time, the ride has a little bit of pain, just like a few years back, involving the same person.

You’re in the middle of choosing some snacks from the train trolley when another passenger get the box of choclate that you want at the same time.

You looked at the person and you’re quite surprised to see who is it.

It’s the security personnel from the resort, Wonho.

You gave him a small smile but he’s squinting his eyes. He spoke.

“Hang on, I’ll wear my glasses,” he said and after doing so, he looked at you once more.

“Oh, Y/N! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you properly. Forgot my contacts. Good thing I always bring these.” He explained as he pointed to his glasses.

You actually didn’t expect to see someone from the private resort taking a slow paced transportation like this.

“Are you still going to buy?” the lady interrupted.

“Take it. I already picked several,” you said to the man.

“Know what, you take it, I’ll feel bad if you wouldn’t,” he responded.

“Alright, I’ll take it and we’ll share,” you decided and took the chocolate and paid for the stuff that you bought.

“May I sit here, for the meantime?”

He asked politely.

“Of course, go ahead.” You replied.

He chose to sit across you. While he’s looking for his comfiest position, you opened the box of chocolates and took a few and you extended your arms towards him and he gladly accepted it.

“If you don’t mind me asking, do you usually take the train to work?”

He shook his head in response followed by a shy smile.

“I overslept. Our company vehicle left early so I don’t have a choice but to take the train.” He replied.

“I see but, you have a car, right? Why  you didn’t use that instead?” you probed further.

“Yeah I do but to be honest, it’s not practical. And besides, it’s challenging for me to drive for prolonged hours.” He answered.

“I see,” you replied, ending the topic.

“So, what brings you back? Your parents are back in the city, right? They were promoted.” He asked as he took out a few pieces of the chocolate.

“Yeah, I wanted some time away from the city. I’m an incoming senior so might as well enjoy the last vacation that I have as a student,” you replied.

He nods in response.

You looked into the window once again with the expectation that he’ll leave but he asked a question.

“Miss Y/N, if you don’t mind asking, well I was just wondering why you travel alone? I mean don’t you have a boyfriend?”

You glanced at him and upon hearing the word ‘boyfriend’ made your breathing a bit painful.

You shook your head with an awkward smile on your lips.

“No, I don’t have,” you replied and looked at the window once again.

You can lie to everyone else but you can’t lie to yourself. Telling this man that you’re single is more painful than being separated to Jimin.

“Aw, are you serious? I doubt that, not that I’m prying or what but, why?” he continued.

“School first.” You replied and this time, you don’t want to be rude or anything but you can’t go on for hours and hours talking about the one thing that you’re avoiding the most.

You plugged in your earphones back and the resumed the playlist. Through your pheriperals, you saw him move but he doesn’t leave so you just let him as long as he wouldn’t ask you questions like that anymore.

A few more minutes into your daze your eyes starts to flutter and you surrendered to sleep.

***

Taehyung stared at the white envelope that Jimin had placed carefully on his table. With beautifully written letters in black ink it reads: LETTER OF RESIGNATION.

Taehyung glanced at the letter then at Jimin. He did it for several times and sighed.

“Are you sure you wanted to do this?”

He looked at the older man straight into his eyes.

“Yes, sir.” Jimin replied with a firm tone.

“Well then, I’ll acknowledge.”

He slowly opened the envelope and looked for the date Jimn chose to be his last day.

There’s no specific date, it just stated until the company finds a replacement for him, he’ll stay.

“Okay, you know that you’re always welcome here and you can stay as long as you want and if you really need to leave, you may.” Taehyung said.

“Thank you, Tae.” Jimin said.

“Anytime,” Taehyung replied.

“What are your plans after?” Taehyung couldn’t help but to ask.

“There’s nothing else for me to do and you know it, right?” he gave a small smile at Taehyung.

“It’s time to face my father, Taehyung.” With that, he turned and left Taehyung’s office.

Taehyung sighed upon hearing Jimin’s plan. But he’s right, he should reach out to his father as soon as possible.

When Jimin returned to his office, he collapsed on the leather sofa, he kept on asking himself if he’s ready to talk to his father. After all these years of avoiding him at all cost because of what happened in the past makes him think twice. He shook his head, he must do it.

He returned to his desk and pulled a small frame that’s facing upside down, he looked at with longing.

It’s a picture of you and him when he graduated.

When he felt  a sting on his eyes, he returned the frame back and began to focus on his work.

***

You were woken up by a slight nudge on your arm, your head plays some tricks on you again because you expect Jimin to whisper an endearing ‘baby wake up’ to your ears. Your eyes opened in an instant upon realizing where you are.

And it will never happen anymore.

You looked at the person beside you and it’s still Wonho but he’s carrying his things.

“We’re here,” he replied.

You looked around and it’s already dark. The train’s starting to slow down. And after a few minutes more, the announcment said that you’re on your destination so you get your things and get ready to alight from the train. You told him you’ll wait for the bus to reach your house.

“Can I carry that? It looks heavy,” he offered.

“Oh no, no, I’m fine thanks,” you declined.

“You know what, why don’t you just go with me? I have a car waiting for me to get here, and it’s getting pretty late,” he continued convincing you.

“Okay, thanks for the offer,” you agreed.  

“Great! This way,” he said and without any permission, he carried your luggage for you.

You followed him until you left the train station. True enough, there’s a car that’s waiting for him.

He placed your things in the compartment and he opened the door for you. You thanked him. He chose to sit beside the driver and when you two are all set, the vehicle started to move.  

The drive is quiet and you appreciate the soft music from the radio. You texted your parents including the plate number of the car plus a stolen shot of Wonho.  After half an hour or so, your house is just walking distance so you asked to be dropped off there.

Wonho helped you to put your luggage down.

“Thank you again, Mr. Wonho.” You said.

“Oh, please, drop the formality, just call me Wonho,” he replied.

“Okay, thank you again, Wonho.” You smiled at him.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N. Good night,” he gave you a salute and he returned to the car that drives away as soon as he closed the door. You let the car be out of your sight before you walk to  your house.

As soon as you reached the gates, you fished a set of keys from the pocket of your backpak. You inserted the key and twsted it for a bit. You entered, and locked the gate once more. Slowly, you dragged your luggage towards the front door. You lifted it up and pulled it back near you. This time, you pushed the key to the lock of the said door and when it opened, you searched for the light switch using your hands.

“Home sweet home,” you said to yourself.

You locked the door behind you and you didn’t bother opening the windows. You carried your luggage upstairs to your room and you find out how nicely covered the bed is so it wouldn't catch too much dust.

You removed the said cover carefully, folding it in the process. You’ll just remove the dust tomorrow morning.

You lied down on the wooden floor after you placed the cover near your door and stretched. You don’t know how long you’ve been on that position. And as you lie down there, staring at nothingness, wthout thinking anything specific at the moment, you sighed in between your breaths just to know that you’re still alive, still breathing.

You plan on staying like that for longer periods of time but your stomach grumbles so, you went downstairs to check if you have something to eat.

You checked the fridge but unfortunately, it’s clean. Only bottled water’s inside.

You sighed and you checked the time, it’s 8PM and the nearest convenience store is on the next town, which will take you an hour or more.

You sighed and you remembered a pizza place around the area so you jogged upstairs to get your valuables and began walking.

Though it’s summer, the cold breeze from the sea makes you feel that it’s not. As the gentle winds hit your face, you shivered a bit.

You passed by Sejeong’s house and you remembered Potchi so you texted her if she’s around and when she replied yes, you told her you’re in town. To prove it, she even asked for a video call.

“It’s dark, I’m in front of your house,” you said.

[I’m coming!] she excitedly replied. She left her phone so the view from it is the white ceiling of her room.

When you saw their front door open, you smiled, and when she saw you, she came running with an excited smile on her face.

“Y/N!!!!!!!! Oh, I’m so glad to see you!” she said as she pulled you inside.

“Thanks, how are you?” you asked with  a smile.

“I’m fine, and I graduated on my vocational course!” she replied.

“Congratulations!” you said.

“I bet you’re hungry, come, come, let’s eat!” she pulled you inside.

She ushered you to the living room and told you to be comfortable. You asked where Potchi is and she said that the dog’s already asleep. But when you tried to call him, something rumbles upstaris and a fluffy creature came running towards you.

“Hang on, what happened to you?”

Your dog who’s a male, is now in cute little ribbons, plus a tutu skirt.

“Sejeong... what have you done to my dog?” you pretend that you’re mad.

“He’s too cute to be just plain-looking! Sorry I got carried away.” She explained.

“Well yeah, he’s cute, and whoa you get fatter here Potchi!” you chuckled.

“Mom always gives him a portion of our meal, especially during dinner.” She confessed.

You thanked her again for taking care of your dog and the two of you started catching up. She told you she applied at the resort as a kitchen staff and you cheered for her.

“What brings you here though? I mean, you’re with your parents right?”

She asked casually as she munched on a slice of kimbap.

“Well, this is my last summer vacation as a student so might as well I enjoy it,” you said.

This is not a lie although that is not your main reason going back there.

You wanted to move on, you wanted to heal.

You continued sharing different stories until you finished the food she served. It’s getting pretty late so you told her you’re going back home so she walked with you until you’re outside the gate together with Potchi.

When you reached home, you secured the house and went to your room. After changing into sleep wear, you lied down in bed hoping you’ll be able to get some sleep but you’re head is wide awake, filled with different thoughts.

You tried to shut your inner voice but it always wins so, you stood up, and wentto your desk, turning the lamp on.

You pulled a sheet of paper and began writing once again, and it’s addressed to Jimin.

In the middle of your writing, sevral drops of tears fell into the paper which made some parts of it blurred and you don’t even bother, you just let it all out.

After that, you stared at your window, looking at the starry sky for a few minutes with the hopes that he’s doing fine.

 When morning came, the first thing that you did is to open all of the windows on the first floor. You spent the entire morning cleaning the house with a plan on going out in the afternoon to go to the beach.

This became your routine until you feel like going for a jog one morning. You bribed Potchi some treats so he could get up and  follow you.

The jog is rewarding because you’ve witnessed the sun rise. You inhaled the refreshing air from the sea, filling your lungs.

You  sat down on the sand while you watch your dog chase and bark at the waves. You called him and he run towards you. You played with him and gave him some belly rubs and a treat.

“Ah you’re such a good boy Potchi! Rest for a bit, you can’t win over the waves, silly,” you told your dog and you ordered it to sit. The sun’s starting to rise and it felt so calming. You’ve been like that for a few minutes when when you hear the sound of motorbikes.

You turned around and you immediately stood up, Potchi wasn’t used to those kinds of sound so it ran away. You stood up and dashed to catch your dog but you stumbled and fell into the water when three ATVs starts racing towards you.

The last of the said vehicles stopped and approached you.

“Hey, are you alright? I’m so sorry, we didn’t mean---Y/N?”

You looked up and saw Wonho.

“I’m fine,” you said and you checked Potchi and you felt relieved when you saw it’s adorable, relaxed face.

“C’mon, lemme help you up,” Wonho extended his hand to yours and you accepted it and in an instant you were lifted.

“Thanks, but my dog got scared so it ran away,” you exlpained.

“Aw shit, sorry. Which direction did he ran?” he asked.

You pointed the way and he hopped into the ATV.

“Hop in, it’s faster this way,” he said.

“But my dog’s scared of the sound of your vehicle,” you replied.

“Right,” he alighted the ATV.

You started to walk towards the direction potchi ran off while calling its name.

When you can’t find him anywhere, you started to half run-half jog while calling him.

So as Wonho who sprinted passing you.

You looked at his direction and he plunged into the water. He returned carrying your dog.

You ran towards him and you felt a sense of relief when you saw your dog conscious. You chuclked when you saw it’s tail wagging.

“Here you go,” he carefully placed Potchi on your arms.

“Thank you,” you replied and hugged your dog.

“I’m so  sorry, lemme make it up to you, please?” he said.

“I’m fine, my dog’s fine it’s okay,” you replied, trying to assure him.

“I insist, please,” he replied.

You think this will never end so just to dismiss it, you accepted his offer.

“Alright but, I have to go back home and change,” you replied.

“Yeah, sure, how can I contact you? Can I have your number or...” he asked.

At this point, you don’t know what has gotten to you but you gave him your number, he called it and hang up a few seconds after.

“Okay, where should I meet you?”

“Um, at the bus stop near wher you dropped me off,” you responded.

“Okay, cool, see you later,” he flashed a charming smile at you and you nod in response.

As soon as you arrived home, you gave Potchi a bath first, making sure he’s clean and dry.

Then you followed, taking a bit of your time in the shower.

When you hopped out, you opted for a comfortable yet presentable clothes.

You checked your phone and there’s the missed call from Wonho.

You went to Sejeong’s to drop Potchi and her mother welcomed the dog with such adorable response

You took your time walking to the bus stop and as you approached it, you saw the same car that fetched Wonho. He’s leaning on the side and as you approach him, you gave him a slight smile.

“Shall we go?”

You nod in response and he opened the door for you and you entered the car.

You buckled up, and when you’re all set, he started driving towards the direction of the resort.

“Where are we going by the way?”

He glanced at you for a split second and returned his eyes on the road.

“To make it up to you, I’ll give you not just a tour but a first hand experience of the services of the resort,” he replied with a tone of confidence.

“Alright then,” you replied.

A few minutes later you reached the entrance of the resort. He stopped in front of the double doors.

You stepped out of the car and so as he, tossing the keys to one of the people near the valet parking entrance.

He guided you to the insides of the resort and all of the staff seemed to know him and greeted him politely.

He began touring you, and you listen to him as he gives details.

“This is boring isn’t it?” he suddenly spoke in the middle of your walk towards the second floor where the large dining area is.

“No, not at all.” You replied truthfully.

“I highly doubt, let me take you to an early lunch,” he guided you to the entrance of the dining area.

One of the crew there assisted you to your table. The view to your right is the beautiful sea, and it’s so mesmerizing, you relaxed a bit.

You let him order for you and and while waiting for your food, he started asking you some questions.

“So, it has been a few weeks since I saw you. What have you been doing since then?”

“Just the normal things, I guees.” You replied vaguely.

“Normal things like?”

“Cleaning the house, taking care of my dog, TV.” You replied.

“I see,” he responded.

To you, the conversation ended there but to him, his real purpose just started.

He secretly took a photo of you, looking at the sea, and sent it immediately to someone.

[To: Jaebum

The view in this place sure is beautiful.

Photo1121]

The status of the message changed from ‘sent’ to ‘read’ in a matter of seconds and Jaebum started typing his reply

[From: Jaebum

How the fuck did you?]

[To: Jaebum

:P]

As you stare at the sea, your head starts to imagine things. You wish that you’ll see one of your friends from the city.

When the food was served, you started tasting the sweets. You loved the sweet and smooth taste of mango and banana on your fruit shake.

You chatted with Wonho some more and you left the place after that.

He was about to take you on their bar but a phone call interrupted his plans.

“Owww, what a bummer, my boss just called and you know, duty calls,” he said as he returned to you.

“No, that’s okay,  thank you for the tour.” You smiled at him.

“I shall take you back to the bus stop,” he said.

“No, I can manage,” you declined.

“Please, let me take you there, to like formally end this tour,” he countered.

You sighed in defeat with a smile and replied with ‘okay’ and the two of you went back to the entrance of the resort.

                                                        ***

“Thanks for today,” you said as he stopped on the said bus stop.

“Anytime,” he said.

You alighted the car and waved goodbye to him and you started walking towards Sejeong’s house to get Potchi and returned to your house.

You sighed as you sat down on your favorite spot outside your house, a memory of you and Jimin suddenly popped up form your memory.

It was the time that he and his friends helped you sell the stocks that you still had.

You took a snapshot of the now empty spot, and started typing, you typed what happened today and you mentioned bits of information about your tour at the resort.

What’s funny is that the letter ended with ‘I wish you’re here’ as fat tears fall from your eyes to your cheeks and landed on your shirt.

Your dog came closer to you and started licking your face, making you chuckle.

“Yes Potch thank you! You’re such a good boy,” you replied to your dog.

You slowly stood up, and entered your house, securing the door as you jog upstairs.

You stared at your room and you sighed as a storm of thoughts about Jimin starts to overpower your mind.

You plopped on your bed and leaned on the wall, while looking at your window. The buds are starting to bloom.

You thanked the person who’s calling you right now because you’re instantly distracted.

“Yes Mom?”

[How are you my dear?]

“Doing just fine, mom.” You tried to hide your real state as you sniff a bit.

[Are you sick? You should drink lots of water.]

“Nope, I’m fine mom, I went to the sea with Potch this morning, we played there, maybe I dipped too early.”

[Okay, don’t skip meals, we’re worried about you.]

“Don’t push yourselves too hard mom and dad, I love you both.”

[We love you too.]

She hang up and you smiled as you  stared at your phone.                

You were a bit surprised when Potchi jumped to you bed and placed something on your lap.

It’s Peachy, the plushie Jimin gave to you a few years back.

“Oh, wow thanks,” you rubbed the dog’s head as you pick up the stuffed toy with your right hand.

You couldn’t stop feeling the pain that matches the beating of your heart.

“I shouldn’t do this to myself right, Potch?” you turned to your dog who’s loving the head rubs.

“I’m trying to forget him but he’s everywhere, which is so unfiar,” you choked and starteed weeping once again as you were reminded of Jimin’s beautiful smile, his loving gaze as he looks at you every morning.

“What do I do to forget him Potch? It’s so hard to do,” you said in between sobs.

“I bet you miss him too, right?”

You heard your dog whimper, as if he’s replying to you.

“Yes? You miss him too. I know, I miss him too, Potch.”

You now lie down as you sob, eventually, you grew tired and fell asleep.

***

How long has it been, Jimin?” Namjoon asked from across the billiard table.

“Seven months and a half,” he replied while throwing and catching a black ball.

“Wow, that’s how long it has been,” the older replied.

“Do you still have plans in reaching out to her?” Yoongi butted in.

Jimin  let out a sigh, sat straight and looked at Yoongi who’s sitting on the opposite sofa.

“Yes, I do. But now is not the time yet, her vacation’s gonna end and I don’t want to affect her studies, this is her make or break year,” he explained.

“What if this too, is her “hold on or move on” season?” Yoongi replied.

“I’ll do everything to win her back.” Jimin replied.

Yoongi gave a shrug and exited the room.

“How are things with your father?” Namjoon asked.

“It turned out pretty well. He welcomed me as if I am a hero that came back victorious from the war,” a hint of annoyance was obvious on his response.

Namjoon chuckled and Jimin continued recalling what happened between him and his father’s meeting.

He’ll start soon as CEO in training, being his grandmother’s the over-all chairman and her father as the vice president, nobody in the group of companies that they own seemed to oppose the idea. They even welcomed him warmly.

“I wish you all the best because I know you can surpass all of ‘em there,” Namjoon replied when Jimin finished talking.

“Thanks, hyung. Um, will she be in the meetings if ever?” he closed his eyes, regretting the question he asked in an instant.

“No, I don’t think so, because she was absorbed in the research department, but we can make arrangements if you want,” Namjoon offered.

“No, no, it’s totally fine,” he wished to dismiss the topic.

Namjoon left after playing one game of billiards alone and Jimin was yet again left with his thoughts.

Thoughts of you to be exact.

He sighed as he whispered ‘I wish you were here’ to the wind, hoping it’ll reach you.

***

You woke up to a gentle knock that’s coming from the other side of your door. You looked at Potchi who seemed to be more excited than alarmed so you slowly get out of bed and slowly opened the door.

“Mom!” you hugged your mother as soon as you see her face. And  she hugged you back.

“Have you eaten the entire day besides the snack Mr. Wonho said he had with you?” she asked.

You couldn’t hide the suprise that you showed to her.

“He actually asked permission to your father  so you wouldn’t get bored, also he apologized for scaring Potchi about the ATV thing,” she said as the two of you went downstairs.

“Okay,” you replied.

“I don’t want to assume but he might be...you know,” she said.

“Oh, no mom. I’m not ready for that,” you understood what she’s saying.

“I know,” she replied.

“But you should be ready for these becuse I know you haven’t eaten much today,” she said as she served delicous foods.

You watched five episodes straight of a drama, which is on a ‘catch up marathon’ on weekends.

“This drama is so good!” your mother commented.

“It is! I liked it a lot,” you replied, searching for another episode on your phone.

You downloaded it and when it’s done, you continued watching three more and your mother was in tears at some point. It made you laugh and you teased her because of that.

“Would you look at that, the sun’s now rising, she said which made you realize this is the first time you spent a light night marathon with your mother.

“Yeah it is,” you replied.

“Which means I have to show you something,” she said.

“What is it?” you looked at her in confusion, and she stood up, slowly offering her hand to you.

“Come with me,” she said and you followed.

You walked towards the back of your house and you were surprised with what you’re seeing.

Pots and pots of flowers started to bloom, yellows, orange, reds, and magentas. There’s some small white flowers too.

“It’s so beautiful mom, how did you do this? “

“I didn’t, Jimin did.”

You don’t know what’s going on but as much as you wanted to forget Jimin, there will always be someone or something that will remind him of you.

You slightly frowned at your mother, asking what’s going on and she smiled.

“He went here during spring last year, asking for our approval, to redecorate the garden. We agreed and this was the outcome,” she explained.

“He also told me that the flowers will bloom during this time so I went back just to make sure it does,”

You remained silent as you stared at each pot, imagining how he planted each one of it.

“What kind of flowers are those, the magenta ones?” you asked.

“Those are Zinnias, magenta Zinnias means lasting affection. This was supposed to be his gift for your first anniversary, honey.”

“Awww mom, why are you like this?” you couldn’t help but to cry once more.

“Let it all out, love, I understand. You miss him, we know, because we miss him too.” She gave you a tight embrace. This time, you let it all out.

“Yes mom, I do, I do miss him so much, I don’t know what to do anymore, he’s always in my thoughts.”

You confessed.

“Love him a bit longer, love him until it no longer hurts,” your mother starts crying too.

The two of you stayed like that for a few more minutes and returned inside your house.

You cried at random times that day, and your mother remained silent, just placing some water or any drink near you.

She tucked you into bed and you thanked her for being there for you.

You were supposed to stay there for another week but you decided to come back to the city with your mother the day after tomorrow.

So the very first thing that you did the next day was to pack your things and get ready to be a senior college student.

You helped your mother in some of the chores and you asked her who’s gonna take care of the house and she said that Sejeong’s family volunteered to tend and look after your house and Potchi.

You lazed around that afternoon and you decided to take some pictures of the flowers while experimenting on some filters.

One looked so beautiful yet sad. You chose it to be your wallpaper.

You stared and adored the plants for a few minutes and you played with Potchi.

Dinner came early so you and your mother decided to finish the drama you’re watching together before you go to bed.

The two of you were statisfied at the ending. You shared some comments and what ifs like what if it’s not a good ending or what if the ending is somewhat a cliff hanger, would they still watch it? and your mother replied ‘we’ll see,’

You fell alseep quite fast that night, making you wake up just in time for breakfast.

You get ready early since you’ll drop by at Sejeong’s.

You and your mother thanked them in taking care of Potchi and looking after your house.

They wish you the best and Sejeong cheered for you in your studies.

You’re surprised to see a car waiting for you and there goes another appearance of Wonho, greeting politely at your mother. He carried your bags as if it weighs nothing,

He opened the door to the backseat and your mother entered first followed by you.

He sat on the passenger seat.

You started playing the playlist Taehyung added there and you didn’t stop letting your mind wander to where Jimin is this time. And as the car starts to move, you’re determined to make this journey the last time that you’ll be thinking of him.

  ****

A/N

Hello lovelies! I miss you all. and I apologize for not posting for a month(?)

First week of may was not good  because I got sick and the rest of the month ws full of activities BUT I’m okay now :)

anyway, I’m trying my best to adjust on the changes about my work and I hope that I will be able to bring back my writing schedule ASAP!

i THINK I only have like 2-3 chapters for this series because I have a lot of stories in my head that I have to write down. 

please enjoy, 

thanks for reading!

~cielpurrple

[sending-the-message]

My Lucky Charm by Pippinacious

I thought I knew what it was to be afraid. I thought I knew it when I was ten and realized I didn't like girls in the same way all the other little boys seemed to. I thought I knew it when I was fourteen and had my first kiss with Stacey Andrews behind the school and felt absolutely nothing. I thought I knew it when I was sixteen and couldn't lie to myself anymore.

I was sure I knew what fear was the first I said I was gay out loud to my parents.

Dad left the room and Mom sat very still in her chair, her eyes downcast and fixed on the arm of the sofa. She was quiet for a long time, until I wanted to beg her to speak, to say something, anything, but my own throat was too tight to let any words pass. Finally, she looked up.

“Do you know why I call you and your brother and sister and father my hummingbirds?” She asked softly.

I shook my head, a jerky, nervous motion. I'd never thought much about the nickname, it was one she had always used. I had just thought it was because she liked the small, colorful birds.

“Because a group of hummingbirds is called a charm,” she said, “and my life has never been so charmed as when I met your dad and had you kids. God gave each of you to me exactly as you were meant to be and I will never love you any less for being who you are. I don't care who you bring home, James, I only care that you are loved and you are happy.”

When Dad returned to the living room, he found Mom and me hugging and crying and he snorted before retaking his seat in his recliner, a sandwich and beer in his hands.

“You manage to get it all out?” He asked around a mouthful of food.

“Oh shush,” Mom said, wiping her eyes.

“What?” I looked between them, uncertain and still a bit on edge since Dad hadn't really reacted yet.

“We've suspected for years, Jimmy,” Dad said plainly. “Mom’s had that speech prepared for a while in case you came out.”

“I just wanted you to know that we love you no matter what,” Mom gave Dad the stink eye and he shrugged.

“You still the same Jimmy you been the last seventeen years?”

“Y-yeah,” I said.

“Then do you need me to give you some kinda monologue about how nothing has changed and you're my son and the only thing I've ever cared about is your happiness?”

“No,” I said and the beginning of a smile tugged at my lips. He'd said everything I needed to hear under the guise of a gruff dismissal.

“Alright then, can I finish my show?”

Even with their support, the fear I thought I'd known didn't go away. It just got bigger, changed into something new. It was no longer a hypothetical fear of “What if people know”; it was now “They know, what will they do?”.

Not everyone I came out to was so accepting, and not everyone kept it to themselves. I lost friends, lost my spot on the swim team, had rumors started about me. I received threats and anonymous notes in my locker telling me go kill myself. As far as I knew, I was the only gay kid in our small school and some of the other students made it their mission to let me know just how isolated I was.

I endured though, with the help of my siblings and my parents and the friends that I still had, and I graduated high school with a full scholarship to a state university hours away from my hometown. It felt safer there, more accepting, and everything I'd lost to the small minds I'd left behind, I regained quickly; my confidence, my happiness, a sense of belonging.

Little by little, that fear that I carried with me started to fade into background noise, still there, but out of focus. I did well in my classes, discovered a previously untapped love of computer science that led to a change in my major, joined a programming club with some of my classmates, I even went on a few dates with a guy I met in my dorm.

“I knew you'd do great, hummingbird,” Mom told me over the phone during our weekly phone call. “Shout out if you need anything, ok? I love you!”

My first semester was an amazing time and I was able to put a lot of high school’s negativity behind me.

And then Dad called.

There'd been an accident when Mom was on her way from work. A drunk driver going too fast down the wrong way hit her head on. He lived. She didn't.

I went home for the funeral. I helped carry my mother’s casket. I tossed a calla lily, her favorite, into her grave after she'd been lowered in. I accepted the whispered sympathies and apologies of the mourners in line with my family. I listened to my dad sob alone in his room for the first time in my life that night.

But I didn't cry. My grief was sharp and constant and there were moments I thought I'd suffocate beneath it, but for some reason, I couldn't cry. I just lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling and thinking of my mom and how different life was going to be without her.

A week later, I hugged my dad and my brother and my sister and I went back to college.

Things changed quickly even though I didn't mean for them to. I was distracted and flighty and I lost interest in my schoolwork. My dorm room suddenly felt like a cage and I paced restlessly with a constant need to be on the move, to be busy and unthinking. I got my hands on a fake ID, something I'd never even considered before, and started going out to clubs and bars with older friends.

I drank too much, stayed out too late, ignored the little nagging voices in my head that said I needed to get back on track. Every night was spent out, every day spent in bed, hungover and ill, but I just kept doing it. There was freedom in recklessness, pain and remembrance both far away things, and I hid from Mom’s death in the bottom of any bottle I could get my hands on.

I was a sloppy, careless drunk. I was an easy target.

It was just after two AM. I had stumbled out of the club after a fight with my not-quite-boyfriend, who had become concerned with my drinking, and was stomping back towards campus. I had just wanted to have a good time, and he'd ruined the whole night. I made it a couple blocks before dizziness and nausea overtook me and I had to rest against the side of a building while the world spun around me.

I hadn't realized I was being followed until someone’s fist slammed into my stomach.

The taunts seemed to come from all directions, ones I naively thought I had escaped: queer, fag, cock sucker. Something about me “gaying up their club” and how nobody wanted to see a couple of guys making out. I was able to focus enough to see it was two of them, obviously a bit drunk themselves, egging each other on and taking turns hurling insults. Trying to walk away just riled them further.

The street, a quiet row of closed shops and dark alleyways, was empty and the punch had sobered me just enough to know I was in a very bad position. I tried to run, hoping if I could back to a better populated place, they'd be scared off, but my legs were like jello and the ground pitched and heaved unsteadily.

It didn't take long for them to catch me.

I was dragged back to a car, where one of them kept me pinned against the backseat, out of sight from the window, while the other sped off. They cheered and mocked and shouted the whole, long drive, taunting me with things they planned to do to me.

The car was parked alongside a long, unlit road and they dragged me between them, down a ravine, into the thick line of dark trees.I begged and pleaded, tried to pull away, but they were too strong.

I had thought I knew what it was to be afraid. I learned a whole new level of fear that night.

I was afraid of my helplessness and of the pain. I was afraid of all the blood and the cracking bones and of the way one eye swelled shut and I couldn't see. I was afraid of the things they said and even moreso of what they did.

I was afraid I was going to die.

I think they thought I had. I faded in and out of consciousness and, every time I came to, I thought this was it, the last time I'd wake up. Their torture lasted until the sun started to come up and the alcohol had fully worn off and they could finally really see what they had done to me. I couldn't move, could barely breathe, and I just lied there with only a single thought, shouted out in a child’s wounded voice, echoing in my head: Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.

They swore and spit on me and laughed still, but there was a nervousness now.

“What do we so with him?” One asked.

“We gotta get rid of him.”

“Let's just leave him.”

“You want to get caught and let this fag ruin our lives? We gotta get rid of the body. There's some shovels and shit at my house. We'll get them and come back.”

They argued all the way back to the car. It roared into life in the distance and there was a squeal of tires and then they were gone and I was alone. All I could smell and taste was iron, all I could feel was fire and ice. My sight was hazy. Tears leaked freely from my eyes, stinging in hot trails down my face as darkness seeped into my mind again, accompanied by that same little boy voice calling out for his mommy.

Something brushed against my cheek. Despite how soft it was, it sent an electric shock of agony up my broken face and instinctively, I pulled away, which only sent more waves of pain rolling through me. It did it again and I let out a gurgling groan. Again and again, it kept touching my cheek until I opened my eye and searched feverishly for the source of my torment.

A hummingbird, bright green and red even in my bleary vision, was hovering over me.

It turned its tiny head this way and that and then whizzed in a fast circle around me, chirping wildly. When I didn't move, it was at my face again. Very gently, but deliberately, it poked the end of my nose with its beak. I sputtered at the touch, which might as well have been a fist upon my broken nose, and it fluttered in place just above me, its wings beating too quickly for me to keep up.

When I still didn't move, it poked me again and again, until I pushed myself on to my stomach to keep it away from my face. But it was persistent and kept needling at me, beating at my head with its wings, chirping and swooping. I could barely stay conscious and didn't know what to make of my newest attacker.

It went on and on, and I dragged myself a little bit away in an exhausting, excruciating attempt to get it to leave me alone.

But then a second hummingbird joined it, buzzing around my head and jabbing its beak into my scalp and neck. I couldn't lift my arms to swat at them, I could only grab at the ground and wiggle my way forward while the pair took turns dive bombing me.

A third appeared, and then a fourth, and they were all over me, until I was screaming weakly at them to stop. Their chirps were loud and endless and ringing and they picked at my clothes and hair and drilled their tiny beaks into my flesh. Every time they connected was like nails raking across my skin. When I tried to lay still and cover my head, it only got worse, they became agitated and louder, more violent. They only let up when I hauled myself away, inch by agonizing inch. When I stopped, they'd dive again.

For such tiny birds, they were able to inflict a great deal of pain.

More still came, until the air seemed alive with buzzing, vibrating wings and chirps that turned to screeches. They surrounded me, buffeting me and poking and prodding and screaming, and I kept trying to move forward and escape, but they followed, unrelenting. If I tried to turn off in a different direction, they'd swoop as one against my side until I was forced back on to my original path.

Every tiny movement hurt in ways I'd never imagined, but it was worse to be still, when the hummingbirds would attack, and so I did my best to keep my head down and to keep moving, to try and find some shelter from the birds. It seemed an endless, hellish hunt for relief.

It wasn't until I felt the warmth of open sunlight on my battered body that I dared to look up.

Somehow, impossibly, I had managed to crawl from the cover of the woods into the open ravine. There were cars speeding past overhead. There were people who could help me. I tried to shout, but I had no voice, no strength, and I slumped against the ground, praying for someone to notice.

Overhead, the hummingbirds had risen in and circled where I lay until they looked like a tornado of shining feathers.

Cars started to slow and then a few pulled over. People were getting out of their car and taking pictures and admiring the hummingbirds, which started to swoop again so close that I could feel the rush of wind as they passed.

“Hey, is that...there's a person down there!” I heard someone say distantly.

“He's right!” Someone else agreed.

As a handful of people started to slide down the ravine towards me, the hummingbirds rose once more and disappeared back into the tree line, until only one was left. It had settled on a thin branch and was watching with sparkling black eyes.

An ambulance was called and, as I was loaded onto the gurney and carefully carried back to the ravine’s slope, that final hummingbird sang one more time and the took off.

I was in the hospital for weeks recovering. I gave my statement to the police, tried to remember everything I could about the two who had almost killed me, and then I focused on healing. It took me a long time to shake the anger, longer to start overcoming the fear, and it was only then that I started to think of those hummingbirds.

Those hummingbirds who had pushed me forward. Those hummingbirds who had ensured that I didn't stop and give up. Those hummingbirds, who had made sure I survived.

Everyone else who was there that day agrees it was a miracle that those hummingbirds happened to be there when I was to attract people’s attention. They say that they were my lucky charm. I disagree, though.

Shout out if you need anything, she had told me during our last phone call, and I had done just that, crying out in my mind for her when I needed help, just as I always had.

No, it hadn't been a miracle that saved me.

It had been my mom.

[hellojalapeno]

Preface: This post is the reason I started this blog over a year ago. I've been running away from it for probably longer than that. Yesterday morning on Twitter, I was triggered by the suggestion that there is a "recipe" for sobriety. I don't know this person or their struggles and I really have no interest in calling them out but I wanted to respond to the original poster but found there was way too much to say. It was time for this. I don't know how it's going to be received but it's extremely personal and I am writing it from my own perspective (it's the only one I have) so if it feels like I'm "making this about me" then I guess I'm sorry for that. I have to warn anyone reading this that this post is a bummer to say the very least.

My brother, Sam, was born 1 year and 9 months after I was. We were about as different as two children could be - I was loud, boisterous, bossy, and commanded attention while Sam was quiet, sensitive, sweet, and easy going - but we were best friends. To be honest, I always kind of felt like he was my child as much as he was my parents'. That feeling multiplied when my parents divorced and we moved with our mom 6 hours away from our dad and the only home we'd known. I felt protective and responsible for Sam and for his happiness. I had the typical "I can mess with my brother but you can't" mentality of an older sibling and leapt to his defense at any perceived slight.

I don't remember exactly when Sam started drinking, it wasn't like he advertised it to our family. I remember nights when we were teenagers and he would come home drunk. I, in my youth group fueled fervent Christian phase, would cry and write him letters in a tone I thought at the time was pleading and heartfelt but was probably more scolding. I can't remember giving him the letters - in all likelihood I just threw them away - but I do remember tiptoeing into his room to take off his shoes after he had passed out.

I remember my senior year in college, I bought tickets for us to see Black Sabbath at Ozz Fest. He took a train to Chicago and when I got to the station to pick him up he was wasted from drinking liquor out of a Scope bottle the whole way up. I had become a social drinker by that point and found the situation at least a little amusing, if not a tad annoying . We took the El to my school cafeteria where they were having a midnight pancake breakfast and where Sam kept disappearing to smoke cigarettes. He apologized for years for "embarrassing me" and for trying to smoke on the train. I know I told him I hadn't been embarrassed but I don't think I told him I had been much more worried than embarrassed.

I remember Sam moving to St. Louis with his girlfriend to attend college. I remember how  hard it was to reach him during that time period and worrying about him nearly constantly. I had the distinct feeling several times that he was homeless. He later admitted that he had been at times. When he and his girlfriend finally broke up (for good) and he moved back in with my mom I was relieved but concerned about the effect of our small hometown on him.

I remember going home for Thanksgiving, pregnant with my son. It had been hard but I had come to terms with the fact that he was a problematic drinker (it was still hard for me to use the term alcoholic but I was trying). He agreed to go outside and talk with me and I begged him to get help for his drinking. I had a list of places he could go, fees they charged, types of treatment. I spent days researching and compiling it. I had written a script so I wouldn't forget everything I wanted to say. He wouldn't look at me. He looked like he hated me which broke my heart so much that my chest physically ached. I still have a hard time thinking about his face that day. He was silent. I told him I loved him and that I wanted my son to have his smart, creative uncle in his life. I gave the list that he refused to take to my mom. I cried and couldn't stop. I cried the entire nine hour drive back to North Carolina and for weeks after. I finally filed away my notes and the copy of the list I had kept and told myself I had done all that I could do. I told myself that for me and for my baby I would have to put this away and remove myself from it at least for awhile. Months later he called and told me he had lost another relationship over his drinking and wanted to seek treatment. I was wary but so happy. He had never reached out like that. I never heard another thing about it.

I remember when Sam got a DUI driving home to my mom's house. When he went to court, the judge told him he had never heard of someone having such a high blood-alcohol volume and still being able to stand. He gave him a ten day jail sentence and mom and I hoped it would be a good thing for him. My mom took him to jail to surrender right before his birthday, right before Christmas. We tried not to imagine him detoxing in jail.

I remember my mom calling and telling me that she had to take Sam to the hospital. He hadn't been eating and had been throwing up blood. When they initially went to Urgent Care, the nurse guessed he was either diabetic or alcoholic just from the smell in the room. They sent him to the ER immediately. Since Sam hadn't been eating and had only been drinking liquor, his body was trying to get nourishment from somewhere and it just couldn't. The doctors told him that if he didn't stop drinking immediately he would be dead in five years. To me that seemed optimistic. They offered to help treat his withdrawal and, according to my mom, he had accepted. For weeks, my mom reported to me that Sam was in a daze from the medication but I wasn't sure what it was from. I went home for Thanksgiving and on my last night there, Sam was clearly drunk. I went home and wrote him another letter begging him to stop. Telling him how much we loved him and that mom and I didn't want to lose him. Telling him that we would do anything, ANYTHING to help him. Feeling like the words I wrote were feeble compared to how much I really felt those things. I remember hoping upon hope and taking walks at night and thinking of what songs we might play at his funeral and begging God or whoever to please help my brother.

I remember Sam called me when I was headed to the store to pick up a few things for Christmas dinner with the kids. He told me for the thousandth time that we were the Addams Family and I was Morticia. He wasn't particularly coherent. I texted my boyfriend, Josh, afterwards that I hadn't understood any of the conversation. My mom claimed he had been taking the detox medication.

I remember being on a flight to Nashville with the same thoughts running on a loop in my head. Please get there in time. And the words no one would say to me and that I kept having to force myself to say - to my boss, to my best friend, to Josh - My brother is dying. Josh picked me up from the airport and hugged me but I couldn't speak. I kept starting sentences but not knowing how to finish them. I stared out the window and thought the same thoughts and hoped we would get there sooner but also that we would never get there. He held my hand. I cried. I told him angry, hateful thoughts. I looked into the night and just remember seeing dots of light and snow but not registering anything else.

It was late when we pulled into the hospital parking lot and I realized how much I was dreading seeing my parents. To my surprise, my mom had already called my dad and he was there. I dreaded them both leaning on me. I dreaded having to share my pain with them. I felt mean and angry. My mom was outside smoking when we got to the emergency room doors and she led us to the ICU with our hands linked together. My dad hugged me when we got to the room but all I could look at was Sam, lying in a hospital bed motionless with tubes coming out of his face. Everything looked so orderly. I don't know if I even got a chance to step toward his bed before a nurse entered the room. His words seemed fast and shocking and nonsensical. He seemed to think my parents had told me more than they had. You and your mother and father will have to make a decision....Not much we can do. He used the words "choice" and "decision" but it was clear there were no real choices and that there really was no other decision we could make. I felt like I was in the center of a crowd and the room was shrinking. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say but I felt that he was looking at me expectantly. I felt like collapsing. I already knew this was the situation but my heart wasn't ready. "Ok" I think I said, "Ok."


I remember Josh hugging me tightly. I remember my mother's tearful eyes. I remember going to Sam's bed and being surprised at how warm he was. Staring at the blue geometric tattoo on his upper left arm. Looking for a place on his face where I could place a kiss. Noticing the blood in the corners of his mouth. Rubbing his hand. Not wanting to disturb him but knowing he couldn't be disturbed. I remember his breath and how even with the machines he would struggle from time to time. We left the hospital and, alone with Josh, it was hard to walk. I kept wanting to just crouch down on the floor. I told him I didn't want to leave and he told me we didn't have to. We drove to the hotel where I lay awake all night in the dark with the same thoughts in my head: Tomorrow. Tomorrow your brother will die. I still regret leaving the hospital.

The next day at the hospital the decision was officially made. Time was both too slow and too fast. I remember asking my mom if she was going to call anyone to let them know. "I don't want to. I don't want anyone here." She said. "What about his friends," I said. "He loves them. Don't you think they should have a chance to say good-bye?" She hesitantly agreed and contacted Sam's ex-girlfriend who we knew still cared for Sam a lot and she got the word out. The first person to show up was Ricky, dressed in his work clothes. Ricky was a name so familiar to me that I couldn't believe I had never met him. Sam had referred to him as his best friend so many times. I remember Ricky sitting by Sam's bed, staring at the floor. Others started arriving, so many I couldn't keep track. They kept vigil by his bedside as we waited for hospice to arrive. They played songs, they rubbed his skin with lotion, they cried with us. I drifted in and out of Sam's room, Josh standing carefully and steadfastly by my side. I sat outside of his room and thought terrible thoughts. You decided that your brother would die. That thought weighs heavily on me even still. I kept feeling afraid the nurses would come by and tell us we couldn't have all these people in the ICU - there were so many of them, crowding around his bed and lining the hall. Everyone was quiet - hugging, crying, and occasionally offering some memory of Sam. The hospital staff kept a reverent distance.

The waiting was excruciating. The estimated time that the doctor would arrive to remove the machines came and went and I couldn't decide if I wanted more time or if I wanted this to be over. My father kept questioning when they would arrive which felt like sandpaper on my raw emotions. Did he realize what we were so impatient for? I kept waiting for people to start leaving. This was a lot for anyone to take, more than anyone should have to bear. But they stayed.

Finally, the doctors and nurses arrived to begin. They asked if any of us wanted to stay in the room while they removed the machines and they and Josh cautioned us that it was a difficult process to watch and that it might be better if we didn't. I wanted to stay with him and I still wish I had but I knew if I did that my parents would want to also and I didn't think they could handle it. We stepped out and all waited in a cluster by the closed curtain. I had no idea what to expect from any of this. They told us that without the machines he might live a few days or weeks or he might pass very quickly.

When they opened the curtain, my parents, Josh, and I went back in and took places by the bed. I stood on his right side by his head. I watched his chest move up and down three times.  I watched three last breaths escape his body, the last the most precious. Then he stopped. That's a moment I wish I had never had to have but that I would never give up. I don't know how long it took for me to turn around to be enveloped by Josh, sobbing loudly into his chest.

The next few days were raw as I began the process of saying good-bye to Sam. Two years later, I am still going through it and starting to realize I always will be.  Sometimes the thought of that process ending makes me scared because it feels like the only piece of him I have left. Sam was my other half for most of my life and without him I feel half empty and not completely sure who I am. I am fortunate to have so many amazing people in my life - my mom, my kids, and my soulmates @ponystarwars and @juanincognito  - they have helped me through and given me a reason to keep going. Sometimes I still feel alone in the world without my brother. Sometimes I feel like I don't want to keep doing this life without him.

Sam was incredible. He was NOT his alcoholism. Sam was kind to a fault. Sam was creative and talented and smart in a way I can't describe and in a way I've never seen before or since. Sam was genuine and thoughtful and introspective and selfless. Sometimes I think he was too good for this world. Knowing he isn't here anymore to spread his goodness makes me want to be better myself to make up for it. I am lucky to have had him as my brother for 35 years. I hope writing this can help me share more of him here and help me remember his goodness.

So in response to the issue of how to get sober, I know Sam and I know his kind heart and if there was some simple way to recover and keep us all from this hurt I know he would have done it. I know he must have carried a terrible, guilty weight knowing we were hurt by his drinking. I don't have an answer for this, I wish I did. Just know if you're out there, struggling with this from either side, that I'm out here too and there are more like us. We are not alone.

[djsamaha-blog]

These 10 Heartwarming Veteran Reunions Are Guaranteed to Make You Cry Tears of Joy

Africa Studio/ShutterstockDad meets baby daughter for the first time

It’s easy to get emotional when hearing about the nice things people have done to say thank-you to veterans. But the most emotional moments are when veterans return to the families who love and support them. During Ohio National Guardsman, Sgt. Scott Cartwright’s two-and-a-half-month deployment in Kuwait, his wife Elizabeth gave birth. While, naturally, he was upset about not being there for the birth, he was also understandably nervous for another reason: meeting his new daughter for the first time as a four-month-old. The couple had previously adopted a 2-year-old girl, Nora, and Cartwright was worried about not being able to love someone as much as he already loved his older daughter. “But when I got to hold for the first time, and she and her mother have the exact same eyes, I was like, ‘Oh, my gosh. I see now,'” he told ABC News. It is truly a memory he and his family will never, ever forget.

Air Force dad disguises himself as the catcher in a baseball game to surprise his kids

Upon returning from his six-month deployment in Asia, U.S. Air Forceman Lance Daigle had a fun surprise in store for his baseball-loving kids. Just before a minor league Mudcats Baseball game, his children received the news that they’d won VIP tickets to throw the first pitch. When the two got up to the mound and tossed the ball towards the catcher, they had no idea who had really just received the ball. When the catcher took off his mask, they realized it was their dad who had just returned from his deployment. Could it get any sweeter?

Kids’ school plans the surprise reunion of the century

Every time a child’s parent is away on deployment, one Florida elementary school ties a yellow ribbon around a tree with the parent’s name on it until he or she has returned home. For the two Massard children, it seemed like the yellow ribbon for their dad, Chief Robert Massard of the U.S. Navy, was never coming down. One unsuspecting day, the school coordinated with Massard to surprise the kids during school in a reunion that had the sailor himself in tears. Here’s how six small towns honor their veterans.

Baby boy who just got glasses sees military dad clearly for the first time

Reagan, a 9-month-old who suffered meningitis and spent his first few weeks of life in the intensive care unit was left with less than adequate vision. Thankfully, by the time his father returned from a two-month deployment in Antarctica, his doctor had prescribed him a pair of glasses. His mother Amanda and his father, Air Force Capt. Brandon Caldwell, were both worried that little Reagan wouldn’t recognize his dad now that he could see clearly, but the two couldn’t have been more wrong—and pleasantly surprised. While singing along to “pat-a-cake,” the father and son had the most blissful reunion and Reagan most definitely knew whose arms he was wrapped up in. Don’t miss this heartwarming story about a veteran who paints fallen soldiers.

Content continues below ad

Dad plans sweet surprise for his Air Force wife and four children

Eight months is a long time to be away from a parent—especially for two little girls and two little boys to be apart from their mother. So Robert Burrs was determined to make the reunion between his four children and their mom, U.S. Air Force Master Sgt. Bethany Anderson-Burrs, as spectacular and memorable as possible. The moment his wife stepped off the plane from her deployment in Qatar, he told her she had somewhere to be. That somewhere was his children’s school where an entire classroom of third-graders was waiting to see what they thought was a special appearance from a world-renowned artist. Instead, in walked Anderson-Burrs. She was immediately attacked with hugs and kisses from her children in a moment that she says reminded her why she serves. Here are simple but powerful ways to give back to our veterans.

Former foreign news correspondent reunites with life-long friend after 76 years

Not all reunions are family reunions—some are with friends who have become family over the years. Such was the case with Carl Warner and Abby Deutsch who met as teens at Miami Beach High School. Life took the two in completely opposite directions. Warner went on to join the war effort, serving in the Marines in the Pacific and as a foreign news correspondent in Venezuela. He survived multiple injuries and was even incorrectly reported dead more than once by Walter Cronkite. All the while, he and Deutsch stayed in contact, writing letters and exchanging phone calls, but the two hadn’t seen each other in person for 76 years until Brookdale Senior Living teamed up with Wish of a Lifetime to reunite the lifelong friends who couldn’t keep their hands off each other! Check out this other heartwarming reunion story, 77 years in the making.

Soldier reunites with her dog after three months of basic training

Army Pvt. Hannah Foraker, who had never been away from her 3-year-old golden retriever, Buddy, had to say goodbye for three full months to attend basic training. Not only was it a sad goodbye, but Foraker was extra concerned because Buddy suffers from arthritis and is also borderline deaf. To make the distance more manageable, the two buddies Skyped often, which did not stave off Buddy’s missing her. When Foraker finally returned, Buddy did a double-take and wept in excitement at his owner’s feet in one of the most heartwarming reunions between a pet and military member we’ve seen to date. (And pretty clear evidence that owning a dog has major health benefits.)

Father pilots plane carrying his soldier son upon his return from deployment

First Lt. Mario Lopes was scheduled to return from his deployment in Kuwait on April 14, the same day on which his father, Captain Mario Lopes, a Washington D.C.-based pilot was offered an opportunity to pilot a military flight to Norfolk, Virginia. Coincidence? Captain Lopes thought not. While he wasn’t sure whether or not his military son would be on board, it was a chance he was willing to take, and, sure enough, the two were on the same plane. On the day of the flight, the cabin crew was looped into Lopes’ plan to surprise his son and asked to distract him with a bag of his favorite cookies. Meanwhile, Lopes came up behind and asked, “First Lieutenant Lopes, what are you doing on my aircraft?” The sweet reunion was captured on video in a moment the father-son duo will never forget. These veteran-related organizations are worthy of your time and energy.

Content continues below ad

Army engineer plots with cops to pull over his mom and surprise her with his return

When Darlene MacAllister was pulled over by police in her hometown of Hanson, Mass., and asked to get out of the car, her heart sank. The last thing she thought was that it had something to do with her son who was stationed as an Army engineer in Fort Carson, CO. But, sure enough, in a reunion he had been plotting for several weeks, the police were part of the surprise. Once she was out of her car, her son, PV2 Alan MacAllister, came up behind her. “It definitely caught me off guard,” she told Boston’s WCVB. “I had just hung up the phone with him saying he wasn’t going to be home because his flight was canceled.”

Marine sergeant son surprises his teacher mom mid-class

Storytime in Paula Rigg’s third-grade class is usually full of words and songs, but one Thursday afternoon session would be wildly different than the rest. While she was singing to her students, her son, Sgt. Paul Riggs, walked in and surprised his mom after he’d been deployed in Japan for three years. The two hadn’t seen each other face-to-face in nearly two years. Riggs burst into tears and kept repeating the two words, “my hero.” How sweet!? Don’t miss the things American soldiers wish you knew.

http://www.successwize.com/these-10-heartwarming-veteran-reunions-are-guaranteed-to-make-you-cry-tears-of-joy/

[harrison-abbott]

Straw and Clamour

On the train platform, Laine’s Dad even manages a hug. Hasn’t seen his lad in four years, and he was nineteen when he went away. Dad speaks about football and Laine’s little sister during the ride home.

 After miles of countryside they arrive to their hometown. At the house, Mum delivers superbly; red-faced and crying, she holds her baby; how smart Laine’s soldier’s uniform is. Even Danielle, his sister, is a little emotional. It surprises Laine but touches him also. Last time they were together they still hadn’t developed from basic sibling dislike.

 The nuclear family fidgets in the living room, not knowing how to edge community forward. Mum has made dinner and they’re all summoned to the table like the old days. Laine wishes he could remove his military gear when he sits down, but he suspects they want him to keep it on.

 “Here’s to our son!” Dad announces with a raised glass. “Proud to serve his country.”

 When Laine drinks his ale, its flavour and sprite seem to re-define his situation. He’s been in the desert for nearly half a decade and now he’s back – presumably to live permanently – in little-England. The earthly zap of a local ale at least offers some kind of bridge between the two worlds.

 None of them ask Laine about the army as they eat. Why would they? After food, they lounge in the evening summer garden, drinking. Danielle has become a character, has moxie; Laine teases her about her boyfriend. His quiet humour mimics his Dad’s, who in turn circuits around Mum’s extroversion. They all get drunk. It’s fun to pretend.

 Laine is the last one to fall asleep that night. That’s when his first dream comes.

 He’s in the back of the jeep, pounding rounds across the sand. A farm-boy comes up to the jeep whilst Laine is firing, holding a balloon. Laine can’t hear anything apart from the boy, and he can’t see what he’s shooting at. The boy’s face then merges with the oval balloon, and he screams before the balloon explodes.

 Laine wakes up not knowing where he is. Dehydrated, he goes downstairs to the bathroom. Everything is just as sterile in the house as he left it. Yet nothing is tangible, real.

 As he surfaces again by proper morning, Mum is in the kitchen waiting. She has breakfast ready, but the first thing she says to him is:

 “So, you thinking about getting a job? Your Father said you could help out at the Butchers’ with him?”

 Laine nods and says this sounds good. He’d like to chill out a bit for the next few days, and see Robbie his old friend.

 “Oh, of course you can, babe.”

 He walks out into the town in the morning to see what’s changed. Nothing has, really. One person – an old woman he’s known since he was a kid – greets him in the street. She’s probably forgotten he was away in Afghanistan, maybe developing dementia. Laine doesn’t take it badly. Somehow, he doesn’t want to go into the newsagent, though, where he’ll definitely be recognised. Doesn’t want the fame, so he decides to circle around and go home again. But suddenly something jumps on his back and wraps his neck.

 Laine nearly flips the body on his back up and over, ready to knock it out, before he realises it’s Robbie – his best mate.

 “Lainey! You bastard!” Robbie’s laddish essence looming, and they embrace with real brotherhood.  

 “How are you, my man?”

 Laine gazes at him.

 “Well, don’t just look at me: speak!”

 “Jee, Robbie. It’s actually you. You look so …”

 “I look great, right?”

 He looks overweight, smells of alcohol. But Laine nods; Robbie brightens him.

 “I was going to come surprise you at your house, Lainey. But I want you to come down to The Mayflower tonight, okay? I’ll have the old group there: we’ll through you a party. You coming?”

 “Definitely, I’ll be there.”

 “8 pm. Bet you never had any parties over there in rag-head country; we’ll show you a good time! I got to head over to work, man, but see you later on!”

 Laine watches him lollop away into the town, his smile waning. He turns and looks out over the countryside beyond the town. Navy hills and hooker’s green woodlands zap in non-colour; the cattle are minute and terminal on the fields. There were never any such colours in the desert; there was no structure to the land.

 ***

 He’s smug in aftershave as he walks into The Mayflower tonight. A flurry of whiskey shots beforehand was supposed to make Laine less nervous: it’s made everything worse. He’d half imagined flags or some corny ‘SURPRISE’ gag; instead he’s met with Robbie doing another mock rugby-tackle on him. It’s a jest but the force winds Laine’s lungs, annoys him. Robbie’s already drunk, as well.

 “It’s Private Lainey – come sit with us at the table, boyo!”

 “Can I get a drink first?”

 “Yeah, yeah, I’ll come with you.”

 The clashing pop music is so loud Laine can’t hear Robbie’s voice. His friend’s physique has sagged, his hair grown grey in parts, and he’s only 23. He gets Robbie a pint. Robbie wants to drink quickly, and recommends they get shots. The heat gives him a little spark, and he looks back to where Laine’s friends are.

 “Hey, Robbie: I don’t know most of your mates. But, isn’t that …” and here he sees a lady who delved his history, once, “isn’t that Carla – the girl from our school?”

 “That’s her, yes my man.”

 “Wow, she’s still hot as hell! How’s someone like you hanging out with her?”

 “Wo, wo, Lainey. That’s my bird! Carla and I have been going out two years now!”

 At first Lainey thinks he’s joking, then the embarrassment seeps in that he’s not. He blushes but it’s too orange in the pub to notice.

 “Ha, ha, well done Robbie! Sorry for saying that she’s hot …”

 “No, no I took it as a compliment. Come, mate, let’s go.”

 Laine keeps his chin down in his shirt as he follows Robbie to the table. The men are all crush-and-no-movement handshakes and the women wave and giggle as Robbie toasts the soldier returning home. Apparently not all of them have been told he’s a soldier, and there come the wows and oh gosh, the army exclamations and conversations clatter apart.

 “So are you leaving the army?” one very drunk woman asks Laine.

 “Well, no. The war is actually over …” Laine laughs.

 “Which war?”

 “Afghanistan …”

 He can’t look at Carla, who’s sitting opposite with Robbie. She has her hair curled and blinks a lot. Five minutes in a bar and he’s already had a jolt of fancy, erotica, dejection and now envy all snatched together with spirits and beer. And can already feel himself beginning to get angry. God, these people probably didn’t know England was at war …

 But someone invites him up to the bar and by another few he can enjoy himself. Eventually he’s playing pool with one lad and makes sure to beat him exactly well. When they leave the pub he’ll vaguely remember Robbie pulling him away from the bartender. He’s shouting at the man for some reason and the anger seems perfectly overpowering. The friends are a bit silent for a while when they walk home but Robbie cheers them up.

 The party will continue at Robbie and Carla’s house. They put on a CD from the mid-1990s and take cocaine lines whilst Laine falls about deliberately. His nickname is Trooper, tonight, and everything he does seems to conjure a laugh from the others. After one final fall he busts his shoulder in and decides he should sit down for a while. Robbie helps him up onto the sofa and he falls asleep.

 He sees the black plumes across the countryside; they stagger up monstrous above the hazy lands. He’s in his gear, again, waiting for his battalion. The sky’s growing darker behind the burning oil, and there’s another army there, resurfaced. They’ve regrouped since Laine’s Division left, and they must be stopped … But Laine’s men aren’t coming, they’re too slow. He loads his weapon up and begins to tread the land, pitching towards the smoke, the enemy …

 There’s sweat across his forehead when he wakes up. He’s alone in the living room apart from Carla, who is standing over him.

 “Hello, Carla.”

 “Hi, honey. I think you had a bad dream; you were saying strange stuff.”

 He sits up as she sits next to him on the sofa. Pizza, vomit and bottles across the floor. Small-eyed, polystyrene Carla is watching him, smoking a cigarette. She gives him one.

 “Was a fun night …” he tries. He should be drunk but the adrenaline within sitting next to Carla channels him.

 “Yeah, Robbie knows how to throw a party … They’re all upstairs sleeping.”

 “What time is it?”

 “Like 3 a.m.”

 “I really missed you guys when I was away.”

 “I know Robbie did too. He talked about you a lot.”

 He wishes she wouldn’t mention Robbie’s name. Laine remembers Carla; she was in his year then; lots of boys had liked her, yet she had that elitist popularity/coveted beauty which separated the possibilities of countless males. He’d never even spoken to her before. All kinds of fantasies were ricocheting.

 “What was your dream about?” she says.

 “Was a nightmare. About the military. It gets a bit crazy out in the desert … Plays with your head a bit.”

 “So, were you in, like, combat?”

 “Yeah …”

 “You ever, shoot anyone?”

 Laine doesn’t answer.

 “Sorry, that was a mean question!”

 “No, no … It’s just hard for folk back here to understand.”

 “You could always go and speak to a councillor or something.”

 “It’s nice just talking to you.”

 Laine leans across and strokes her hair. Carla drops her eyes and moves away slowly.

 “But are you not glad to be back?” she says.

 “Uh hu …”

 Laine thrusts himself over and kisses her on the cheek. Carla winces, and steps up away from the sofa.

 “Sorry, Laine, I think you’ve got to go to bed. I’ll see you another time, okay?”

 She’s leaving the room already as Laine calls out:

 “Please come back … I didn’t mean to …”

 She shuts a door upstairs. Humiliation combined with confusion. Was what he just tried wrong? Was it instinct, to want to kiss a beautiful woman? Laine feels lethal, now, as he finds his coat, arming himself with a half-empty whiskey bottle. He gets to the front door and hurls out into the fresh morning air, dark and balmy.

 Laine sups down gulps of the liquor, wondering how to get back home. He chooses a direction, but then a voice calls to him from above. It’s Robbie, protruding from a window.

 “Lainey, where are you going?”

 “Home.”

 “In this state? Why don’t you stay here for the night?”

 Laine begins walking. Robbie calls again. When Laine won’t stop, Robbie comes downstairs and rushes out to him on the street.

 “What’s with you, Laine, you look upset …”

 “I’m good. You want to come a ride with me?”

 “Where? We can’t drive like this.”

 “Anywhere. Up to the hills.”

 “We could take the bikes? Cycle up?”

 “Let’s do it.”

 They cycle up past the town border and through the pine tree roads, with nothing to energise them save alcohol. Laine hoots and laughs with his old friend. Something’s going to be destroyed tonight. They pass a chain of the rich houses which lie on the outskirts, manors with long gardens. Laine halts his bike by one of the driveways, and motions for Robbie to keep quiet in the gloom.

 “Robbie!” he whispers. “Do you see that Mercedes? The little yellow one?”

 “Yeah I see it. That’s worth like four grand …”

 “You want to jack it?”

 “What do you mean?”

 “Steal it. I learned how to boost wires in the Army.”

 Robbie enjoys the crazed expression on his friend’s face. It seems like a terrific idea.

 After hiding their bikes in the trees, they quietly open the gate, leaving it wide. Laine instructs him to keep a look-out, whilst he finds an ample boulder. He doves the driver’s window in and the car alarm begins shrieking. Robbie wants to bolt away, but someone can’t not watch. Laine remains nonchalant, busting the wire-box open with a fist, fiddling therein. The night hoods their criminality; they’re invisible tonight.

 Lights are turned on inside the manor; someone’s shouting and a dog howls. Everything happens quickly – the engine sparks and purrs and Laine reverses out the drive, nearly knocking Robbie over; he yanks open the passenger door. Laine rams the accelerator and then they’re fluming through the dark roads, the beam of the headlines slicing the hills apart.

 “Woo-hoo! That was brilliant, Lainey!”

 Laine grins, mindlessly shooting ahead. Broken glass layers his seat. Robbie holds onto the roof, pretending he’s not afraid. The roads are silent, and soon they’re already miles from town. Laine’s keeping the speed around 60, and the engine’s too loud to hear Robbie hollering at him to slow down. The trees then fall away as they lunge further up the hillside, and then the road veers left in a sharp turn.

 “Watch out, Lainey – there’s a drop coming up!”

 But Laine keeps hurtling forward.

 “Laine! Make the turn, else we’ll go over the cliff!”

 Robbie drags the wheel sideways and the car pirouettes, its trunk careering into the fence above the cliff. Laine sits there laughing with the car stopped, Robbie watching him incredulously. Robbie turns the engine off and puts the keys in his pocket. They’re in darkness on the hill.

 “Laine, get out the car, come on.”

 Robbie pants outside. The flashy car is wrecked by the back-side. Laine steps out and looks out distantly over the layered fields. He’s stopped laughing, only stands looking, at what, Robbie can’t tell. The thrill has vanished; Robbie’s scared of Laine; when he started shouting at the bartender earlier was scary, but this car theft is complete madness. They aren’t just mischievous boys, now.

 “What are we supposed to do with this, Laine?”

 Laine breaks from his stance and inspects the fence where the car impacted.

 “Well, we have to put it over the hill.”

 “Why?”

 “Why’d you think? ‘cause our DNA’s in it. Got to burn it up.”

 “But they’ll find it …”

 “They’ll find it anyway. Help me move it back down the road.”

 They roll the thing manually a number of metres back where they’d come. Laine asks Robbie for the keys.

 “What are you going to do?”

 “Put a brick on the accelerator, let it drive itself over the edge. Old-fashioned style. Find a rock or boulder or something.”

 Robbie dutifully finds a slab by the roadside and lugs it over. I’m technically a criminal he thinks, as he hands it to Laine’s calculating frame. Laine gets inside the car again, and Robbie madly expects him to drive off the cliff with the car. Laine is thinking the same thing. He positions the boulder just above the pedals, and alights, shuts the door. “Stand back, Robbie.” He thrusts the boulder down and the car jerks forward, zooming askew, spluttering ahead against the fence.

 There it snags, the bonnet jolted upward, wheels spinning in the air. Both men watch, transfixed. The back wheels push it slowly, and then the balance lop-sides, and plummets from view. They hear nothing until a distant smash and rumble.

 Laine believes he sees a flare illuminate the panoramic fields, if only in an instant. That and the funk of gasoline burning. Perfect. Robbie sees and smells nothing.

 ***

 After three days of working with his Father in the Butchers, Laine knows he must work elsewhere, must do something else with his life. Dad teaches him to hack the meat in the back-room. White sinew and muscle, pulpy red carcasses hanging on hooks. He can’t face the customers in the front room. Dad is the affable community man, not his son. Laine asked his Dad not to tell people he was in the army. This hurt his father, because it was only through pride that he told, but grew cautious of Laine’s insistence, and now respects it.

 Dad’s also noticed Laine’s strange moods, of late. He’s pretty sure the lad has nightmares, each night. A few nights ago he came into Laine’s room, finding him screaming on his bed, naked, with his eyes closed.

 It’s the Wednesday since Laine robbed the car with Robbie last Friday night. Laine works solidly, with method. Only his silence bothers his Dad. But this night Laine comes to him with a brighter air.

 “Hey, Dad. I appreciate you taking me on here. But I think I want to get into football again. Maybe do some coaching. At schools, maybe … What do you think?”

 Dad ponders.

 “Hmm. Well, you always were a pretty good player yourself. A lot of teams were looking at you, but you decided to go to the army instead. They’ll respect your profession, your history. Yeah, son, that sounds like a good idea. What do you have to get for it? You do training?”

 “I already have the football training. I got to get this certificate to work with kids. But that shouldn’t be difficult.”

 Dad nods, smiling a little. Well, this is a relief. Laine being a football coach: that would work.

 “Go for it, son. You can finish up for today and head home. I’ll see you later for dinner.”

 Laine walks out into town. It’s early evening. He takes his usual route down the back-street which is quieter than the main square. Music is on full-volume through his headphones, and he’s happily imagining what football-coaching could be like, when something roughly jumps on his back. Once again, it’s Robbie.

 “Robbie, what’s up?”

 Robbie swings a punch at Laine’s face. Laine just dodges it, quickly realising that his friend is not play-fighting. He swears; Robbie stands before him, panting, shoulders vibrating.

 “What’s with you, Robbie – what is this?”

 “How dare you go near Carla like that?” he comes towards Laine and propels another fist. Laine dodges it again, and takes hold of Robbie’s body-weight to knock him over. He skids on the concrete, and makes to rise again, but Laine’s holding his palms up.

 “Mate, mate – I don’t know what you’re on about! Carla, what?”

 “She said you tried to kiss her!”

 This is the first time Laine has remembered that.

 “That’s not true at all: why would she tell you that?”

 “She’s no liar.”

 Robbie stands up again, wiping gravel from his hands. He smells of old alcohol again. But he threatens Laine; they’ve had fights before, but not like this.

 “Laine. You’re my old friend. But ever since you’ve come back from Afghanistan you’re totally different. You’ve gone crazy.”

 “Of course I’m different, Robbie. What’d you think I’d be like? Still like you? Why would I want that?”

 “What about that shit with the car? You know the police are looking for us.”

 “Shut up about that. They’re looking for some car-jacker, not us.”

 “I was that close to turning you in earlier, after I head you kissed my girl.”

 “Why would you do that considering you stole it with me? I can easy tell them where your bikes are in the woods.”

 Sheer rage by Robbie.

 “I can see how stupid you are, Robbie. You’re actually attacking me because you think I did something with Carla! How long have we known each other?”

 “You’re not the same Laine. And, you got it: I am breaking our thing. If you rat me out to the cops, I’ll rat you out.”

 “I can see how stupid everyone is in this town.”

 “But you stay away from my group, okay?”

 “Okay …”

 “Watch your back. Your commando moves can’t keep saving you.”

 Robbie walks away.

 ***

 A St. George Cross flag wavers above his Father’s Butchers. The town-square is overlooked by the Edwardian white-plaster and black-beams, the thatched roofs which oversaw the same English fields, turning in centuries; where bluebottle flies fumbled dazed in warmer summers, whence the clouds were not as erratic, the rains moderate, and a tempest for straw-and-clamour writers to head the world.

 Nowadays, the Empire is different, yet the peoples are just as unperturbed. Soldiers are cast from the alleyways of the countryside as they were upon great ships long ago, to rape and reap the distant lands, far beyond the license of this small island.

 Laine steps off the bus by evening into his hometown, which he’s grown to detest. He’s taking classes in the city to secure his coaching certificate. It shouldn’t take long, really; he has a moderate knowledge of football, and the legal box-tick is pending but should come through soon. Mostly he just wants to leave this town. He walks back home in the wispy heady air.

 Nothing has happened since he stole the car, three weeks ago. He goes to the city college in the morning, returns at night. Now and then helps with Father in the butchers, hacking the meat. The nightmares stopped as well, a while ago. The police ruled the car-jacking as an attack conducted by foreigners. Many of the townsfolk took this literally, as some Polish pair of men who stole the car for no reason. How they came up with Poland, or even misinterpreted the Police report as meaning foreign nationals, bemused Laine, but at least he wasn’t going to be caught.

 The bus station is about a mile out of town, where thin pavement takes you down an allergic road as cars rip by by any speed they choose.

 It’s around 9 pm and the sun is by its last douse, calming the green-needle woods by apologies for fume and chemical.

 A car races up from the horizon with a billow of dust, morphing from the heatwaves. Laine watches it with his headphones in thinking why’s it going so fast at this time of night? And from the town? and as it gets closer he takes his music out. The car approaches, slows, but then crosses over to the other side of the road, and stops a few metres in front of Laine. Three men are inside. Two of them wear masks. One of them doesn’t: that man is Robbie.

 Laine twirls his headphones around his iPod and takes his bag off. He hadn’t expected things with Robbie would be over. He wonders who the goons in the car are … Are these Robbie’s new loyal brothers? The fickle, typical fable of soul-brother-turned-to-foe amazes Laine, but he’s also ready to join in. He’s already flexing his knuckles as the men come out the car. Looking around, there is nobody else for miles.

 “Ho, ho, there, Lainey boy!” Robbie’s trying to sound cinematic.

 The men’s masks are made from football-scarves; one has a balaclava, probably taken from an old Halloween costume drawer. Laine’s manhood is straining here: this is a slight to his four years of grinding shelling; the dead children; the lizards scarpering through the hard mud and sandy rock; the insurgents blowing themselves up, hollering chants from a text most of Laine’s boys didn’t know the name of; Laine’s boys blowing them up, with scattered aim, collateral damage, mistake upon mistake of things they didn’t have to report themselves for. Robbie’s jealous insecurity really has no comparison.

 “Anything you want to say, Lainey?”

 They crowd around him in a square. The situation seems fairly decided.

 “Robbie, I didn’t touch your girl. Is that what this is even about? Why would she even say something like that, huh? I’m leaving in a few weeks from this town. You won’t even see me again. Why don’t you and your lads just leave.”

 “Big tough army lad returns home and thinks he can grab another man’s girl?”

 “You know nothing about the army, Robbie. What’s it you’ve been doing since I’ve been away anyway? Drinking beer with these lads? Who are you anyway – take off your masks. I don’t want to fight you.”

 One of them lunges at Laine. Some square pelt to under the cheek-bone which he lets himself catch. The move that never works; Laine cuffs the attacker up by the jaw-bone, flattening him in the road with an ominous thunkk of the skull on the concrete.

 “Just leave me alone!” Laine yells, but they’re all rushing him. Limbs of England, white flesh, pink spirits, groomed in salt diets, where many a chip-shop promenade casts each the kingdoms of counties, to let the peasants grovel by their tight-legging’d superiors, oh, to let rip those bulge-breasted corsets, to sediment caste and genocide alike, for all the cornfields and oak-brilliance to return again, reforming the definition, encasing the page.

 What are nations within the scrap of five young men? One’s already knocked out, and three others are reduced to ravenous creatures with teeth, claws and lazy windpipe-intentions. But they have rage, and at one moment they have Laine on the floor, freely kicking him in the face. Laine imagines what intentions they have in their violence. Odd, how, if he were them, and didn’t have the experience with the Afghanistan War, he would have kicked with the same mindlessness.

 By a glimpse he sees the opportunity to dent a kneecap in – he does so with his boot, and that person falls over with a cracked bone by the sound of the agony. He sits up, and as another of the masked men comes forward, tips the body up and hurls it over. Laine merely stands up as the last one poises on-guard.  His face is bloody; one of them tore his jacket collar, but the other masked man looks the more afraid despite not having a face.

 “Would you just leave it?” Laine says.

 The masked man backs away; the one he just threw away behind him isn’t getting up. The kneecap Laine cracked belongs to Robbie, who holds it, an embarrassed infant, looking down.

 Laine steps forward and brings his heel down on the kneecap, suspended as videogame-glee-kill for him to break further, which it does. Robbie bawls. Laine’s victory was never in question. His three attackers didn’t come close.

 Laine looks out over the fields. The sun is just about down. That doesn’t matter. Even when it’s fully up, and even now that the modern sun blazes England like it’s never done before, it will never be the same as the desert. The hills and fields are flat, yet the crops are tame, and laced synthetically; even the farmers have lost their art.

 Robbie stops crying, and the sun buckles under the horizon. Laine wishes he could jump up to the diamond stars, the first few shining, to live by different lights, where people can’t exist. He hasn’t thought anything similar since he was a boy.

 ***