#I have set up the rest of my year in the last couple weeks mentally shaking my own hand | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thef1diary · 6 months ago

Text

While It Lasts | L. Norris - 2

Summary: Lando expected nothing more than relaxation and fun for two weeks during his summer break. What he didn’t anticipate was meeting you, someone who felt like a perfect match in every way. As the days quickly passed, he found himself falling deeply for you, only to be confronted with the heart-wrenching reality that your time together was far more limited than he ever imagined.

Part 1

PLEASE READ: This story contains themes of loss, morality, fear, death, relationship strains, mental health struggles, including significant emotional impact related to the reader’s journey with a chronic illness and some scenes are set in hospitals. Reminder that this is simply a work of fiction, please don’t take it to heart.

wc: 16.5k

You woke up to the faint clattering of dishes in the kitchen. Groggily, you opened your eyes, feeling the stiffness from sleeping awkwardly on the couch. Stretching, you realized Isaac was already up, making breakfast.

“Isaac,” you called out, your voice hoarse from sleep.

He didn’t seem to hear you, the noise of the kitchen drowning out your voice. With a sigh, you decided to hobble over to him, each step a reminder of your twisted ankle and the awkward position you’d slept in.

Reaching the kitchen, you leaned against the doorway for support. “Isaac,” you said a bit louder.

He turned, surprise and concern crossing his face. “You should be resting.”

“I know,” you replied, wincing slightly as you moved closer. “But we need to talk.”

Isaac set down the pan he was holding, his expression turning serious. “Alright, let’s talk.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words you were about to say. “Isaac, I’m sorry for yelling at you yesterday. I know you’re just trying to take care of me.”

He shook his head, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and pain. “Every single day for the past four years, I have this fear that you’ll leave me at any moment. Yes, it is selfish, very selfish because I truly don’t know what you’re feeling, what you’re going through. But while you might’ve accepted that you’re dying, I didn’t! I just wanted to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, so you can live another day, so you can see me graduate college, see me – I don’t know – find the love of my life or get married. I’m sorry. You’re my sister, you are the last person I need to act like I’m on eggshells around you.”

Your heart ached at his words, the depth of his fear and love hitting you hard. “Your fear is valid, Isaac. Just because I’ve accepted it, doesn’t mean that I like it. But it won’t change fate, will it? It won’t change the fact that I’ve been dealt a shitty hand at life. All I know is that when I’m taking my last breaths, whenever it is, I don’t want to regret anything. I don’t want to regret not living enough because of the fear of dying. Just because I have a stupid countdown doesn’t mean I should be afraid to live.”

Isaac looked at you, his eyes moist with unshed tears. “I just want you to be here, to live as long as possible.”

“I know,” you whispered, reaching out to engulf him in a hug. “I’ll try to take better care of myself.”

He nodded slowly, his grip tightening around your body. “And I’ll try to be less overprotective, I promise, I’ll try.”

You smiled, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Thank you, Isaac.”

As you stood there, holding onto each other in the quiet morning light, you felt a sense of peace. When he pulled back, he scrunched up his face. “But it’ll be harder to explain that to mum and dad.”

You shrugged, “they’ll get it, one day, hopefully.”

After breakfast, Isaac announced he needed to run some errands in town. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. Take your time.”

As the door closed behind him, the house fell into a quiet lull. You settled back on the couch, trying to get comfortable and rest your ankle. Just as you were starting to drift off, the doorbell rang.

With a sigh, you swung your legs off the couch and hobbled toward the door, wincing with each step. When you finally reached it and pulled it open, you were greeted by Lando’s mischievous grin that quickly turned into worry.

“Hey,” he said, his brow furrowed as he took in your hobbling form. “You shouldn’t be up and about. How’s the ankle?”

“Hey, Lando,” you replied, leaning against the doorframe for support. “It’s sore but I’ll survive. Come in.”

He stepped inside, immediately reaching out to steady you. “Here, let me help you back to the couch.”

You nodded, grateful for his support. You leaned against him and held his hand as he guided you back to your spot on the couch. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth of his touch and the genuine concern in his eyes.

“Thanks,” you said once you were settled again. “What brings you here?”

Lando shrugged, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “I wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re not getting into any more trouble.”

You chuckled softly. “Well, I did manage to twist my ankle pretty badly.”

His expression turned serious. “I know. I felt terrible leaving you like that last night.”

“It’s alright, I was already sleeping before you left,” you waved off his concern.

“Speaking of falling asleep…” Lando began, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I couldn’t resist stopping by the bookstore you mentioned. Figured I’d pick up a couple of books to keep us entertained.”

You grinned, appreciating his thoughtfulness. “You went to the bookstore? You really are determined to explore every corner of this town, aren’t you?”

Lando nodded enthusiastically, pulling the books out of the bag he carried when he entered. “Of course! And since my favorite tour guide is out of commission,” he said, gesturing to your injured ankle, “I had to take matters into my own hands.”

He revealed two identical books, holding them up with a grin. “Thought we could have a reading competition. Winner gets bragging rights.”

You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. “It’s always a competition with you, isn’t it?”

Lando shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What can I say? I’m a competitive guy. Comes with the territory. Oh, and by the way,” he added casually, “did I mention I’m a Formula 1 driver?”

You blinked, surprised by the revelation. “Wait, seriously?”

Lando grinned, “yeah, been racing for quite a few years now.”

You nodded, a smile spreading on your face when he delved into the details, and it’s evident that he loves talking about his passion.

“That actually makes so much sense, that’s how you know the Sainz family, right?”

Lando’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yes, but how do you know them?”

You laughed softly, and it quickly became a sound Lando loved hearing. “I live next to the villa, remember?” You teased jokingly.

A sheepish smile grew on his face, “oh, right. So what, you’ve met Carlos too? And here I thought I was the first F1 driver you’ve met.”

You nodded. “Yeah, in passing. We never really talked much, but I’ve seen him and his family around often.”

Then you leaned closer and whispered, “but don’t tell him that he may no longer be my favourite.”

He quirked up an eyebrow, leaning in as well and responding with the same amount of energy. “Then who is?”

You shrugged, leaning back with a small smile and a faint blush covering your cheeks. “I think I might have to watch a race to decide.”

As you continued chatting with Lando, the pain in your ankle seemed to fade into the background. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself drawn into his stories about racing, the thrill of waiting for the lights to go out, and the camaraderie between his fellow drivers.

Eventually, you decided to start the reading competition. Both of you settled into the couch with your respective books, determined to see who would finish first. But as the minutes ticked by, Lando found it hard to focus on his book. His gaze kept drifting to you, watching the way your eyes moved across the pages and the little expressions that flitted across your face as you read.

He couldn’t help but want to talk to you, to hear more about your thoughts. Finally, he put his book down with a sigh, unable to concentrate any longer.

“So, what’s next on the agenda once your ankle’s better? Something less adventurous, perhaps?”

You placed your book down after marking your page, chuckling as you looked at him. “Can’t focus, can you?”

“Not with you around,” he shrugged casually.

Trapping your lip between your teeth to prevent a smile from growing on your face, you chose to focus on the question he asked.

“There’s this amazing seafood restaurant nearby. It’s a local favorite, and the food is incredible. Fresh catches of the day, and the chef’s specials are to die for. You’ll love it!”

As you spoke, you didn’t notice Lando’s face pale slightly. He wasn’t a fan of seafood, but he couldn’t bring himself to dampen your excitement by telling you the truth. The way your eyes lit up talking about the place made him want to experience it with you, even if he never wanted to be around any sort of fish.

“Sounds great,” Lando said, forcing a smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

You clapped your hands together, beaming. “You won’t regret it, I promise. The view from the restaurant is amazing too. It’s right by the water, and you can see the boats coming in and out of the harbor. It’s a perfect spot for a relaxing evening.”

Lando nodded, matching your enthusiasm as best he could. “That sounds perfect. I can’t wait.”

“How about we go there for dinner tomorrow?” you suggested, your excitement bubbling over.

“Tomorrow night it is,” Lando agreed, his smile genuine due to your smile despite his seafood reservations.

The next evening came around too quickly for Lando’s liking. Instead of stressing over what to wear this time, he was worried about the food itself. The prospect of seafood was daunting, but he didn’t want to let you down. As he rummaged through his closet, Max walked into the room with a teasing grin.

“Mate, you like her so much that you’d willingly eat seafood for her?” Max said, leaning against the doorframe.

Lando looked up, a mixture of nerves and amusement on his face. “Yeah, well, it’s not just about the food. It’s about the company.”

He chuckled, “you’re a brave man.” Then he sighed exaggeratedly, “oh the things you do in love.”

Lando’s back straightened suddenly. “It’s not love… yet. We’re just hanging out.”

Max’s eyes widened since he didn’t expect such an answer, “wait a second, ‘yet’? Do you actually like her?”

Lando shrugged, trying to play it off, but the slight smile on his face betrayed him. “I don’t know, Max. Maybe. It’s… complicated.”

Max studied him for a moment, then a grin spread across his face. “I should’ve seen it coming, but she’s great! Maybe even a little out of your league,” he spoke with a teasing grin, that only made Lando roll his eyes when he saw his best friend’s face.

“She’s beautiful,” he said softly, not denying Max’s words.

Max's teasing grin softened into a more serious expression. "Hey, I'm serious though. You don't have to go through with this if you're not comfortable. You shouldn't feel like you have to force yourself to like something just to impress her."

Lando appreciated Max's concern, but he shook his head. "It's not about impressing her. I want to spend time with her, Max. She's... she's different."

Max raised an eyebrow, a knowing look in his eyes. "Different, huh? Well, just be careful, okay?"

Lando nodded, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty and anticipation. "Of course."

As Max left the room, Lando took a moment to collect his thoughts. He knew Max was just looking out for him, but there was something about you that made him want to take the risk. With a determined smile, he finished getting ready and was about to head out to meet you, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement building inside him.

Right as he was leaving the villa, Max’s voice rang out. “If you need an excuse to skip out, I can come up with something. No need to torture yourself over fish.”

Lando shook his head, appreciating the concern. “Thanks, Max, but I’ll be fine. I just… I don’t want to ruin this. She’s really excited about the place.”

A very short drive later, Lando knocked on your door, and when you opened it, his eyes widened appreciatively as they swept over you. You wore a simple yet elegant dress, the color complementing your features perfectly.

“Wow,” he breathed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You look amazing.”

Blushing slightly at his compliment, you thanked him and closed the door behind you as you left your cottage, walking towards Lando’s car. “Thanks, Lando, you don’t look too bad yourself.”

He fell in step beside you, still admiring your outfit. “So, do you have a hot date or something?”

You chuckled at his question, shaking your head. “Nope, no dates, just going out with some racer guy, not sure if you know him.”

Sitting in his car, he instantly looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Hmm, sounds like a great guy! Is he interesting?”

You laughed, nudging him as he drove. “Very.”

When you arrived at the restaurant, the sun was just starting to set, casting a golden glow over the water. It was nestled right by the harbor, with a perfect view of the boats coming and going. Lando parked the car and helped you out, his hand lingering a moment longer than necessary as he offered support for your still-healing ankle. Even though you could walk without needing support again, you didn’t mind holding onto his hand.

“Wow, this place is beautiful,” he said, genuinely impressed by the picturesque setting.

“I told you,” you replied with a satisfied smile. “Come on, let’s get a table by the window.”

The interior of the restaurant was cozy, with soft lighting and a gentle murmur of conversation filling the air. A small fish tank adorned one corner of the room, the colorful fish swimming lazily in the water. Lando couldn’t help but chuckle nervously as he glanced at the tank.

“Kinda cruel, isn’t it?” he joked, nodding towards the fish tank. "Having live fish in a seafood restaurant," Lando remarked with a wry smile.

Still, you laughed, nodding in agreement. "The owners think it adds to the ambiance."

As you were seated and handed the menus, Lando took a deep breath, steeling himself for the seafood-heavy options. But when he looked across the table and saw your excited expression, he hoped it would all be worth it. This evening was about enjoying your company, and he was determined to do just that, and perhaps if everything went very well, he might casually mention that he’d like to take you out on an actual date.

As the waiter took your orders, you couldn't contain your excitement, eager to indulge in the fresh seafood the restaurant had to offer. Lando, however, seemed a bit hesitant, but he eventually settled on a dish, trying to mask his apprehension with a smile.

Once the food arrived, you dug in eagerly, savoring each bite of the delicious seafood. However, as you glanced over at Lando, you noticed something was off. His attempts to conceal his discomfort were evident, and you could see the struggle on his face as he hesitantly bit into a shrimp, his expression revealing disgust as he tried to swallow it.

Concerned, you leaned closer to him, your voice soft with worry. "Is everything okay, Lando?"

He hesitated, clearly torn, spitting the piece of shrimp into a tissue before finally admitting, "I'm sorry, I just... I can't do seafood."

Surprised by his confession, you felt a pang of guilt wash over you. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Lando shrugged, looking sheepish. "I didn't want to ruin your plans, you looked so excited to come here and I thought I could handle it, but..."

Without hesitation, you reached out, taking his hand in yours. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Leading him out of the restaurant, you felt a mix of disappointment and concern. Disappointed that he didn’t feel comfortable sharing such a simple detail with you, and concerned that he attempted to eat a shrimp, knowing he disliked it, all for your sake.

But as you walked together, you were determined to salvage the evening because you didn’t want the night to end just yet. "How about we find a burger place? Is that something you'll enjoy."

Lando's gratitude was evident in his smile as he nodded, and together, you set off to find a new spot to continue your evening, determined to make it memorable for all the right reasons.

You and Lando ended up sitting in his car, munching on takeout burgers and fries, the mood was light and laughter filled the air. Lando was in the middle of telling a funny story from his racing season, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he recounted the antics of how multiple of his fellow drivers tried to convince him to try seafood but failed.

You couldn’t help but laugh along, enjoying the animated way he described each moment. You playfully nudged Lando, a grin spreading across your face. “Well, it seems like all those F1 drivers couldn’t get you to try seafood, but I did, even if it was just a bite!”

Lando leaned back in his seat, a lighthearted smile playing on his lips. “You know, for you, I’d try anything… except seafood.”

As you heard Lando's words, a soft realization came to you that his remark held a hint of flirtation.

“Why don’t you like seafood anyways?” you couldn’t help but ask, especially since this town was full of loads of seafood options and now you had to think of other restaurants for him to try.

Lando shrugged, taking another bite of his burger before answering. “I guess it’s just not my thing. I’ve never been a fan of the taste or the texture.”

As you indulged in your burger, a smear of sauce found its way to the corner of your lips. Lando's eyes caught the small detail, and with a gentle smile, he pointed it out. "You've got a little something right there."

You chuckled, raising your hand to wipe it away, but before you could, Lando's fingers grazed over the corner of your lips, wiping away the sauce. His touch was gentle, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary as he leaned in close.

A subtle warmth spread through you at the intimacy of the gesture, and for a moment, time seemed to slow as you met his gaze. There was something unspoken between you, a silent acknowledgment of the growing connection that seemed to deepen with each passing moment.

His fingers lingered at the edge of your lips, and you could feel his breath, warm and inviting, mingling with yours. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you in that fleeting instant.

“Lando…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. The space between you grew smaller, your faces inching closer together.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back up to your eyes. The anticipation was electric, a charged moment that seemed to stretch on forever.

But then, he pulled back, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. “I don’t want our first kiss to be like this,” he murmured, his voice soft but resolute. “You deserve a proper date first.”

A mix of disappointment and warmth washed over you. His thoughtfulness, his desire to make things right, only made your heart ache more with affection. Amidst the laughter and shared stories, his words hung between you, a promise of something more.

As quickly as the thought arose, the weight of your illness pressed down on you, reminding you of life's fragility and the uncertainty of tomorrow. Your thoughts lingered on wondering if you even had a future in general. To entertain the idea of a future with him would only cause your heart to ache, knowing that you might not live to see those dreams come true.

The thought of a future, a proper date, a real kiss—all of it seemed so painfully out of reach.

It was a bittersweet realization, knowing that even the simplest of dreams could be overshadowed by the reality of your condition. While he would return back to the fast paced world of racing, you would remain in this small town, wondering how many more dreams you would have to crush because fate decided to take away your life, inch by inch.

Awkwardness filled the car on your end, your emotions shifting to cold and stoic, like they were before you met him. The warm connection you had felt only moments ago was replaced by a wall you erected to protect your heart. Lando noticed the change, his cheerful demeanor faltering as the silence grew heavy between you.

Soon enough, you both finished your burgers, and Lando started the car to drive you home. The ride was quiet, the earlier laughter and easy conversation now replaced by a tension that neither of you acknowledged. When he pulled up to your house, he turned off the engine and looked at you, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“Do you want me to walk you to the door?” he asked softly.

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No, it’s fine. Thanks for the evening, Lando.”

He watched as you climbed out of the car, a confused and worried expression on his face. As you walked to your door, you could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t look back. You shut the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as a tear threatened to slip down your cheek.

Lando sat in his car, staring at the closed door, wondering what he had done wrong and why the evening had ended on such a somber note. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something important had changed, but he had no idea what it was or how to fix it.

—

Over the next couple of days, you don’t acknowledge the thoughts that are bubbling up in your mind, instead choosing to tread carefully and immerse yourself in your daily routine. You’ve lived a lot more than you have over the past couple of months, and felt the joy that it brings. But now, you had to face the consequences causing you to distance yourself away from Lando before you got too attached to the happiness that came with being around him. Once you realized that you truly wanted to kiss him that night, everything changed. You had to take a preemptive measure, a self-imposed boundary designed to shield your heart from potential pain.

Your health deteriorated significantly. Your energy waned, and simple tasks like walking around the house left you breathless and exhausted. Fortunately, you have a doctor’s appointment scheduled, a simple routine checkup. However, it coincided with plans you made with Lando. Determined to distance yourself from him, you don’t tell him about the change of plans.

At the doctor’s appointment, you sit in the sterile examination room, the familiar scent of antiseptic mingling with nerves that coil in the pit of your stomach. These appointments, routine yet crucial, serve as a barometer of your ongoing battle against your illness.

As the doctor enters, his expression is professional yet compassionate, his eyes scanning through your medical history with a practiced ease. You recount the recent symptoms you’ve been experiencing, the fatigue that seems to seep into your bones, and the persistent ache that lingers despite treatment.

With a sympathetic nod, the doctor orders a series of tests, his urgency palpable as he reviews your file. The minutes stretch into an eternity as you wait for the results, each passing second filled with a silent plea for a glimmer of hope.

When the test results finally come back, the doctor’s demeanor shifts subtly, his tone measured yet grave. “I’m afraid the results are not as we had hoped,” he begins, his words heavy with significance.

Your heart sinks at the confirmation of your worst fears, the reality of your illness casting a shadow over your hopes for improvement. Despite your best efforts, it seems that the tide of your health is turning against you once again.

A sense of dread fills you as he explains that the illness has advanced more rapidly than expected. “We need to keep you overnight for observation,” he says gently. “Your vitals are unstable, and we need to adjust your treatment plan.”

You nod, too emotionally tired to object, allowing a nurse to lead you to the hospital room, one that you became too familiar with over the past few years. You would spend yet another night under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital, experience another round of tests and treatments, and take another uncertain step into the abyss of your illness.

You lie in the hospital bed, hooked up to various machines, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you like a heavy blanket. The familiar beeps and hums of the medical equipment provide a disconcerting backdrop to your thoughts, each sound a reminder of the precariousness of your health.

As you drift in and out of consciousness, your mind wanders to Lando, the plans you had made together now nothing more than distant dreams. Guilt gnaws at the edges of your consciousness, knowing that he waits for you, unaware of the sudden turn your day has taken.

Just as the shadows of doubt threaten to overwhelm you, a soft knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. Startled, you turn to see Isaac's familiar face framed in the doorway, concern etched into his features.

"Hey," he says softly, crossing the room to sit beside you. "I got your text. Are you okay?"

You manage a weak smile, grateful for his presence amidst the sterile confines of the hospital room. "Yeah, just another setback," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Isaac reaches out to squeeze your hand gently, his touch a comforting anchor in the sea of uncertainty. "You’ll get through this," he says, his voice steady and reassuring.

As Isaac settles into the chair beside your hospital bed, he observes the flurry of activity around you—the nurses bustling about, the doctors conferring in hushed tones, tweaking the machines, their purpose still a mystery to him after all these visits.

When there's a lull in the commotion, Isaac hesitates before speaking, his voice soft with concern. "Hey, I wanted to let you know... Lando stopped by the cottage today."

“What’d he say?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"He asked about you today," Isaac begins, his tone gentle. "Said you had plans but you didn't show. He mentioned he hasn't seen you in a couple of days. Is everything okay between you two?"

You nod weakly, offering a small smile to reassure Isaac. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just... I don't know, I guess I realized that I've been enjoying his company a lot more than I should, given my condition."

He frowns, “what’s wrong with that? You’re both happy around each other, so why are you distancing yourself away from him?”

You scoff, “have you seen me?” You raise your arm that has an IV inserted, along with the other wires connected to you.

“It doesn’t matter,” Isaac insists gently. “He cares about you. You deserve happiness too, regardless of what’s going on with your health.”

You shake your head, a hint of frustration in your voice. “You don’t understand, Isaac. I don’t have a guarantee of how I’m spending the next week, let alone the rest of my life. I don’t want to hurt Lando by snatching away his happiness one day too. I’m just… preventing myself, and him, from getting too attached to each other.”

Isaac sighs, his expression softening with understanding. "You're not scared of getting too attached, are you? You already are, whether you admit it or not. But by staying away, you're only hurting yourself and him more."

You avert your gaze, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. "I know," you admit quietly. "But I don't know what else to do."

"He deserves to know if he's falling in love with you," Isaac says gently, his voice filled with concern. "And you deserve to have someone by your side, especially during the tough times."

You let out a heavy sigh, knowing he's right but still unsure of what to do next. "I guess I did find someone that fate hates more than me."

"So you agree, that he's in love with you?" Isaac probes, searching your eyes for confirmation.

"He's only in love because he barely knows me," you reply, your voice tinged with sadness.

“Maybe you should give him a chance to know you, the real you,” he responds.

You bite your lip, unsure of how to respond. Deep down, you know Isaac is right, but the fear of hurting Lando is overwhelming. Yet, the thought of pushing him away hurts just as much.

Before you can dwell on it further, a nurse enters the room, breaking the momentary silence. Isaac gives you a reassuring smile before standing up to give you some privacy. As he leaves, his words linger in the air, leaving you to contemplate the complexities of your situation.

The next morning, you’re discharged, feeling even more drained. The doctors have adjusted your medications, but the prognosis remains grim.

You left the hospital, walking in step beside Isaac for a moment until he headed towards the parking lot to bring the car around. As you were blinking in the bright morning sunlight, you nearly collided with Max, who was just outside chatting with someone on his phone.

“Hey there!” Max greets you with a wide grin, sliding his phone into his pocket. However, his expression quickly turns into a frown as he notices the hospital wristband adorning your wrist. “Wait, were you in there?” he asks, concern lacing his words. “Is everything okay?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily or dive into the complexities of your recent hospital stay. “Oh, it was just a routine checkup, some bloodwork, you know how that goes, nothing to worry about,” you assure him with a tight-lipped smile.

Max’s eyes narrow slightly, clearly not entirely convinced by your explanation, but he decides not to press further.

He glances over his shoulder, then back at you. “I was just at the café right down the street.”

You nod, “good choice, they make the best coffee in town.”

He smiled as his choice was approved by you. “Do you need a ride? I’m heading back to the villa.”

You shook your head, “no it’s alright, Isaac’s bringing the car around.”

“Alright, I guess I’ll see you around, only a few more days left before we leave this paradise,” he reminds you.

You offer him a grateful nod. “Yeah, time flies, doesn’t it?” you reply with a forced smile since you were hoping to return home soon. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

As Max nods in agreement and starts to walk away, you can’t shake the feeling that he suspects something isn’t quite right. But you push the thought aside, determined to focus on the present moment and put on a brave face as you step away from the hospital and back into the world outside.

As Isaac parks in the driveway, you notice Lando pacing back and forth by the front door, his brows furrowed in concern. The sight of him fills you with a tumult of conflicting emotions. Isaac’s words echo in your mind, urging you to be honest with Lando, to tell him how much you care about him, to share the burden of your illness. But fear gnaws at your insides, whispering that revealing the truth will only drive him away.

His expression changes from relief to frustration as he sees you approaching.

“Where were you?” he demanded, his voice tinged with worry. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

As you and Lando stand in front of each other, locked in a tense silence, Isaac takes a step back, sensing the need for privacy between you two. With a subtle nod, he heads inside the cottage, leaving you and Lando alone on the doorstep.

The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you both with its palpable intensity. You struggle to find the right words to break the silence, to bridge the growing chasm between you, but fear and uncertainty grip you like a vice, paralyzing your tongue.

Lando shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flickering between you as if searching for answers in the depths of your eyes. His expression is a mix of hurt and confusion, mirroring the tumultuous storm raging within your own heart.

You want to tell Lando the truth, to let him in, but the thought of exposing your vulnerabilities terrifies you. You can’t bear the idea of him seeing you as fragile, of pitying you. So, holding your head up high, you decide to make him hate you before he realizes that he loves you.

You force a nonchalant shrug, trying to play it off. “I had some errands to run, and I forgot we had plans.”

“Forgot?” he repeats, incredulous. “We made those plans a while ago. Forget that, I haven’t seen you for days. What’s really going on?”

Annoyed, and wanting to distance yourself from him before your feelings grow even stronger, you let a hint of irritation seep into your voice. “I don’t owe you an explanation for everything I do, Lando. It’s not a big deal.”

He’s taken aback by your rudeness, his face falling slightly. “Not a big deal? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Well, you don’t need to be,” you say curtly, avoiding his eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

An awkward silence falls between you two, the tension palpable. Lando’s expression shifts from hurt to confusion. He takes a step back, clearly stung by your words.

“Fine,” he says quietly, his voice pained. “If that’s how you want it.”

You nod, turning away from him and heading inside, each step feeling heavier than the last. Lando stands outside for a moment longer, staring at the closed door. He can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to your abrupt change in behavior, but he respects your wish for distance. With a heavy heart, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the echo of the door closing between you

You lean against the door, quickly sliding down and sitting on the floor as you cover your face with your hands, fighting back tears.

Pushing him away is probably the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but you convince yourself it’s for the best.

Isaac spots you sitting on the floor, and quickly rushes towards you. Moving your hands away from your face, he notices the tears staining your cheeks and has an idea of how the conversation went with Lando.

"You're still as stubborn as ever, aren't you?" he remarked rhetorically, but then he enveloped you in his arms, holding you close as you trembled with sobs.

You pulled back slightly, sniffling as you tried to compose yourself. "I can't tell him," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rush of emotions.

Meanwhile, Lando trudged back to the villa, his mind heavy with thoughts and his heart weighed down by the encounter with you. When he arrived, Max was idly sitting around.

“Hey, mate,” Max greeted but his expression turned serious as he observed Lando’s demeanour. “You okay?”

Lando shrugged, sitting next to Max as he tried to brush off the weight of his emotions. “I saw her today.”

He nodded, “how’d it go?”

Lando frowned, furrowing his brows. “I don’t know, Max. That’s the thing. It’s like I saw a completely different person today. Someone I thought I knew, but now… she’s like a stranger.”

Max furrowed his brow, concerned. “What do you mean?”

Lando shook his head, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like she was pushing me away, Max. Acting cold and distant, like she didn’t want anything to do with me.”

Max nodded in understanding. “Well, mate, maybe she’s just having a rough day. I mean, she was at the hospital earlier.”

His words caught Lando off guard. He blinked in surprise, his brows furrowing as he processed the information. “Wait, she was at the hospital?” he asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

Max nodded solemnly. “Yeah, I saw her leaving earlier today. Said it wasn’t serious, just a routine check up but she looked very tired, like she hadn’t slept properly in days.”

Lando’s concern deepened as he absorbed Max’s words. “Why didn’t she tell me?” he murmured, a mix of worry and frustration evident in his voice.

Max placed a comforting hand on Lando’s shoulder. “Maybe she just needs some space, mate. It’s not easy opening up about personal stuff, especially to someone you care about a lot.”

“You think she cares about me?” Lando asked, his tone almost a mumbling mess.

Max scoffed, “see I knew you were an idiot but not to this extent that you don’t even see the obvious. Of course she cares about you, mate!”

“Well I know that, it’s just I don’t wanna read into something that’s not there, you know?”

Max squeezed Lando’s shoulder reassuringly. “Trust me, mate, it’s there. Sometimes, we just need a little nudge to see what’s right in front of us.”

Lando nodded slowly, his mind still swirling with doubts and questions. “I guess you’re right,” he conceded, a faint glimmer of hope starting to flicker within him.

Max grinned, clapping him on the back. “That’s the spirit! Just give her some time, and I’m sure things will sort themselves out.”

The cottage exudes a somber atmosphere, suffused with memories of those initial days when you sought refuge from your parents' house, just across town. After your diagnosis, living with your parents became unbearable, evoking memories of your tumultuous teenage years, always feeling scolded and misunderstood. With persuasion and determination, you relocated to the cottage, that has always acted as a second childhood home, with your brother, longing for respite from the tumult of your parents' home. Eventually, your parents themselves moved to the next town over, seeking their own fresh start, leaving you and your brother to navigate the challenges of your illness in your quiet abode.

Now, as you sit in the same kitchen where you once grappled with the harsh reality of your illness, the mood is eerily similar. A strange sense of déjà vu washes over you as the silence in the cottage seems to press down, a stark contrast to the vibrant conversations and laughter that once echoed within these walls during your childhood summers. Even more palpably, you recall the warmth of recent memories, the shared laughter with Lando when you had twisted your ankle, filling the space with a joy that now feels distant and elusive. The air is thick with unspoken words, the tension palpable as if one wrong move could shatter the fragile peace you carefully built.

Isaac sits across from you, his presence comforting amidst the somber atmosphere. He watches you closely, his gaze filled with concern and understanding.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breaking the silence that hangs heavy between you.

You force a smile, but it feels hollow on your lips. “Just tired,” you reply, the words barely audible over the quiet hum of the refrigerator.

While Isaac may be aware of some of the pain you feel, he doesn’t know the full extent of what you’re enduring. You want to shield him from the worst, hiding just how much it hurts. The pain has been relentless, gnawing at you day and night, with only a brief sense of comfort for a few hours after taking your medication. Every movement feels like a struggle, every breath a reminder of the fragility of your condition.

Isaac studies your face, his eyes narrowing with concern. “You should call Mom and Dad,” he says softly, breaking the silence. “They need to know what’s going on. Your health is getting worse.”

You shake your head, the thought of burdening your parents with more bad news twisting your stomach into knots. “They’ve been hoping I’m getting better.”

Isaac sighs, reaching across the table to take your hand. “They’re gonna find out soon enough and they’ll want to be here for you, to support you. It’s better they hear it from you than from anyone else.”

You look down at your hands, Isaac’s warmth a stark contrast to the cold dread settling in your bones. “I just… I don’t want to shatter their hope again.”

Isaac squeezes your hand gently. “They love you. They’re not going to be disappointed in you. They’ll be worried, sure, but they need to know. You need all the support you can get.”

You nod slowly, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “Okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I’ll call them.”

Isaac gives you a reassuring smile, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Good. We’ll get through this together. You’re not alone.”

You manage a hint of a smile, looking at Isaac. “You know,” you say softly, “you’re such a good older brother especially for someone who’s younger than me.”

Isaac chuckles, a warm, comforting sound in the quiet room. “Age is just a number,” he says, squeezing your hand gently. “Besides, someone has to keep you in line.”

“Keep me in line? I think we’ve switched roles, remember how I used to keep you out of trouble?” You remark.

You can feel the tension ease in the room as Isaac laughs at the memory before standing up to prepare dinner, allowing you to pick up your phone.

The thought of hearing your parents’ voices fills you with a mixture of fear and relief. You know Isaac is right, but the conversation ahead feels like another mountain to climb. Taking a deep breath, you dial the familiar number, bracing yourself for what’s to come. The phone rings, and with each passing moment, you feel the weight of the upcoming conversation pressing down on you.

Finally, your mother answers, her voice warm and familiar. “Hello, sweetie. It’s been a while since you called. How are you?”

You hesitate for a moment, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hi, Mom. I… I need to talk to you about something.”

There’s a pause, and you can hear the concern in her voice. “What is it, honey? Is everything alright?”

Before you can respond, she quickly switches to a video call. Her face appears on the screen, eyes wide with worry. “Tell me what’s going on,” she says, her voice trembling slightly.

Seeing her face makes it harder to hold back your emotions. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “Mom, I’ve been trying to stay strong and not worry you and Dad, but… my health has been getting worse.”

Her expression shifts from concern to fear and then to a hint of anger masking hurt. “Worse? How worse, dear? Are you not taking care of yourself properly?”

You wince at her words, knowing they come from a place of worry. “I stayed a night at the hospital,” you continue. “They said if it doesn’t get better with the new medication, I’ll have to go back. The pain has been relentless. I can barely move without feeling it, and the medication only helps for a few hours.”

Your mother’s face pales, her eyes filling with tears. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? We’ve been hoping you were getting better.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you admit, your voice cracking. “I wanted to protect you from the worst of it.”

Your mother shakes her head, wiping away a tear. “We’re your parents. We want to be there for you, no matter what. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“I know,” you say, your own tears starting to fall. “It’s just so hard. Every day feels like a struggle, and I didn’t want to burden you.”

Isaac rounds the kitchen table and speaks up, his voice steady and supportive. “We’re all in this together, Mom. We need your support now more than ever.”

Your mother nods, her expression determined, though the hurt still lingers in her eyes. “We’ll be there for you, sweetheart. Every step of the way.”

Just then, she turns her head and calls out, “Honey, come here. It’s important.”

A moment later, your father appears on the screen, his face etched with concern. “What’s going on?”

Your mother explains quickly, her voice trembling. “She’s not doing well. She had to stay overnight at the hospital, and she might have to go back soon. We need to be there for her.”

Your father’s expression hardens with resolve. “We’ll come over soon. Don’t worry, just be careful.”

Hearing his firm, supportive words, you feel a sense of relief and hope. “I will, thank you, Dad. I love you both.”

“We love you too,” he replies, his voice full of emotion. “We’re here for you, no matter what.”

After exchanging goodbyes and promising to see each other soon, you hang up the phone, feeling a slight sense of relief wash over you. Though it's only temporary, the weight on your shoulders lifts ever so slightly.

As Isaac reveals dinner, the aroma of his culinary creation fills the air, tempting your senses with its savory goodness. But as you take a closer look at your own plate, disappointment washes over you. The food in front of you is bland and uninspiring, reminiscent of the tasteless hospital meals you’ve grown accustomed to.

You poke at your food with little enthusiasm, knowing that the increased dosage of medication has left your taste buds dulled and unresponsive. “I can’t eat this,” you mutter, pushing the plate away with a sigh.

Isaac looks up from his own meal, concern creasing his eyebrow. “Come on, you need to eat something,” he urges, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s important for your recovery.”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling up inside you. “But it tastes like nothing,” you protest, the monotony of the hospital diet weighing heavily on your spirit.

Isaac nods sympathetically, understanding your struggle. “I know it’s tough,” he says softly. “But remember what the doctor said about avoiding spice. It’s all part of the plan to help you get better.”

Reluctantly, you take a small bite, forcing yourself to chew and swallow despite the lack of flavor. The effort feels futile, but you know Isaac is right. You need to keep up your strength, even if it means enduring tasteless meals for the time being.

As you pick at your food, Isaac’s voice breaks through your thoughts, his tone lighthearted but determined. “Hey, once you’re feeling better, we’ll have a hot chicken wing contest,” he suggests, a playful twinkle in his eye. “Just like old times. And I promise, I’ll make them so spicy, you won’t be able to taste anything for a week.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. The idea of a hot chicken wing contest brings back memories of happier times, when your biggest worry was who would win the next round.

“Deal,” you agree, the idea of better days ahead spurring you on. But deep down, you know the truth that you can’t bring yourself to voice aloud in front of him again. You’re not getting better, no matter how much you wish you could.

The next day, you wake up with a sense of urgency gnawing at your insides, an inexplicable feeling pulling you towards the lighthouse. It’s as if an invisible force is guiding you, compelling you to make this journey one last time.

As you slip out of bed and prepare to leave the house, a mixture of determination and trepidation fills your heart. You know deep down that this might be the last opportunity you have to climb those stairs, to feel the wind on your face as you stand at the top and gaze out at the vast expanse of the ocean.

Isaac notices your movements and steps forward, concern etched into his features.

“Hey, where are you off to?” he asks, his voice gentle yet probing.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should share your intentions. But then, you meet his gaze and find solace in his familiar eyes.

“I’m going to the lighthouse,” you reply, your voice steady despite the weight of your words. “I just… need some time alone.”

Isaac’s expression softens, understanding dawning in his eyes. He reaches out to squeeze your shoulder gently, offering silent support.

“Take all the time you need,” he says softly. “And if you need anything, call me.”

With a grateful nod, you offer him a small smile before turning to leave, the weight of your decision heavy on your heart.

You make your way up the stairs to the lighthouse, each step feeling heavier than the last. The climb feels like an uphill battle, and you find yourself pausing every few steps to catch your breath.

Your chest heaves with the effort, and a wave of dizziness washes over you as you reach the halfway point. You lean against the railing, willing yourself to continue despite the fatigue that threatens to overwhelm you.

With each step, the distance between you and the top of the lighthouse seems to stretch on forever. Your muscles ache with exertion, and your breath comes in ragged gasps.

But you refuse to give up. You grit your teeth and push through the pain, focusing all your energy on reaching the summit. With each step, you draw closer to your goal, fueled by the determination to see the view from the top one last time.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you reach the top of the lighthouse, gasping for air, only to find Lando already there, leaning against the railing and gazing out at the horizon. He turns as he hears your footsteps and ragged breaths, surprise flickering across his face.

He takes a step back, clearly intending to give you some space. “I’ll go down,” he mutters awkwardly, gesturing towards the stairs. “This place is your spot.”

But before he can move away, you reach out and grab his hand, stopping him in his tracks. “No,” you say firmly, your voice stronger than you feel. “Stay.”

He hesitates for a moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but then he nods and settles back against the railing, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you lean against the railing beside him. Despite the exhaustion that weighs heavily on you, being close to him brings a sense of comfort that you can’t quite explain.

“Thanks,” you murmur, grateful for his presence beside you.

He offers you a small, tentative smile in return, his hand tightening around yours in a silent gesture of support.

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you turn to Lando, feeling the weight of the unspoken tension between you two like a heavy blanket.

"Listen, I owe you an apology," you begin, your voice soft but sincere. "I've been acting... differently lately, and I want you to know that it's not because of anything you did. That day, I was at the hospital for a routine checkup, and it just tired me out more than I expected. I’m sorry about ditching our plans."

You technically didn’t lie, but also didn’t tell him the whole truth either. You pause, searching his face for any sign of understanding or acceptance. His expression softens, and you feel a flicker of relief.

"I shouldn't have been so rude to you," you continue, your tone earnest. "I appreciate your patience, and I'm sorry if I made you feel unwelcome."

Lando nods, his eyes reflecting empathy. "It's okay," he says gently, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "I understand. And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable by showing up here."

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "No, you don't need to apologize. I'm glad you're here."

With that, the tension between you starts to dissolve, replaced by a sense of mutual understanding and acceptance as you stand side by side, watching the waves crash against the shore below.

Taking a moment to admire the breathtaking view from the top of the lighthouse, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. But as the adrenaline of the climb begins to wear off, your legs start to tremble beneath you, threatening to give out at any moment.

Recognizing the warning signs of exhaustion, you carefully lower yourself to the ground, your muscles protesting with each movement. Sitting down with a heavy sigh of relief, you lean back against the cool stone wall of the lighthouse, grateful for the brief respite from the physical strain.

Lando joined you as well, sitting side by side on the floor of the lighthouse. You continue to hold onto his hand, your fingers tracing patterns absentmindedly. However, despite your attempt to clear the air, he still seems hesitant, his brows furrowed with confusion.

Finally, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, Lando breaks the silence. “Hey, can I ask you something?” he begins, his voice tentative.

You turn to him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. “Of course,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the weight of the conversation.

He hesitates for a moment before plunging ahead. “Did something happen the night we went for burgers?” he asks, his words carefully measured. “I mean, you seemed off after… and I’ve been wondering if I did something wrong.”

Realization dawns on you that he’s talking about the almost kiss. The memory of that night floods back, the charged moment in his car when he had pulled back. You had admired his restraint, his desire to do things right, but it also made your heart ache with longing.

Your heart sinks at his words, the guilt weighing heavy on your chest. “No, Lando,” you assure him, squeezing his hand gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You glance at him, seeing the earnest concern in his eyes. How you wish you had the courage to pull him in by his collar and kiss him then, to let him know just how much he meant to you despite everything.

But he doesn’t seem convinced, his gaze searching yours for any sign of dishonesty. “Don’t lie,” he says softly, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

You hesitate, grappling with the weight of your own emotions and the truth you’re desperate to conceal. Part of you wants to tell him how much his presence means to you, how his laughter lights up even the darkest corners of your world. But fear holds you back, whispering cruel reminders of the inevitability of heartbreak both of you will experience.

Instead of answering his question, you take a deep breath and change the subject. “So, when are you leaving?” you ask, trying to divert his attention away from your own turmoil.

He furrows his brow, clearly surprised by the sudden shift in conversation but decides not to push for an answer. “Tomorrow,” he replies, a hint of sadness in his voice.

You offer him a small smile, “well, I hope you had a good time despite my lackluster tour guide skills,” you quip, attempting to lighten the mood.

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and genuine. “Meeting you was my favorite part,” he admits, his gaze unwavering as he meets your eyes. “Spending time with you, even if it wasn’t every day, made this trip unforgettable.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his admission, the warmth of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. There’s a playful glint in his eyes that ignites a natural spark of flirtation between you.

In the quiet solitude of the lighthouse, you find yourself caught up in the moment with Lando, the days missed due to your own fear melting away with each shared smile and genuine laugh. Despite the lingering weight of your illness and the uncertainty that shadows your future, you're finally able to let go of the constant worry and embrace the present.

You realize that constantly dwelling on the unknown, on whether you'll have more time together or not, only serves to rob you of the joy of the moment. So instead, you allow yourself to be fully present with Lando, savoring each precious second together.

Yet, beneath the surface of your newfound acceptance, there still lingers a trace of fear. You know that distancing yourself from Lando won't protect either of you from the inevitable pain that lies ahead. His genuine smile, the way his eyes light up when he's with you, speaks volumes, and you can't deny the pull you feel toward him.

Despite the uncertainty of what the future holds, you're willing to take the risk, to open your heart to the possibility of love, even if it means facing the inevitable heartache that may follow. Because in the end, the fleeting moments of happiness you share with Lando are worth every ounce of pain.

Lando straightens up, his movements fluid and confident, as he leans in closer, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. "Hey, do you mind giving me your number and surname?" he asks casually, but there's a hint of mischief in his tone.

You raise an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "What are you going to do with that information?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued.

His smile widens, a charming grin that could melt anyone's heart. "Well, first so we can still stay in touch even if I’m on the other side of the world, and second so I can send you a pass for one of my races," he replies smoothly, his voice laced with playful charm.

You can't help but chuckle at his response, shaking your head in amusement. "And why would I come to your race?" you tease, enjoying the banter between you.

Lando's gaze softens, a warmth in his eyes that catches you off guard. "I think you might be my lucky charm," he admits, his tone sincere.

You pause, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with uncertainty. "You believe in lucky charms?" you ask, a hint of skepticism in your voice.

He nods, his smile unwavering. "I didn't," he confesses, "but now it seems like a good time to start believing. Why are you asking so many questions?" he adds playfully, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You can't help but smile at his lighthearted demeanor, appreciating the way he effortlessly lightens the mood. "You don't want me as a lucky charm," you reply, a touch of self-doubt creeping into your voice.

Lando's expression softens, his gaze filled with genuine warmth. "Why not?" he counters, his tone gentle yet determined.

"It won't last long," you murmur, a pang of sadness tugging at your heart as you glance away.

He reaches out, gently tilting your chin to meet his gaze. "It'll last as long as you're by my side," he insists, his voice sincere and unwavering. "That is up to you, don't you think so?"

His words catch you off guard, stirring something deep within you. "Now who's asking lots of questions?" you tease, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Still you," he replies with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with affection.

You shake your head, feeling a surge of warmth at his playful banter. "You're something else, Lando."

"So are you," he replies, his smile soft and genuine. "In the best way possible."

You oblige Lando’s request, typing your phone number into his phone and saving your full name in his contacts. It’s a small gesture, but one that feels significant in the moment, despite the fact that you know you’ll never take him up on the offer for a pass to his race.

As the sun casts its golden glow across the rugged coastline, you and Lando sit side by side, taking in the breathtaking view from the top of the lighthouse. The air is filled with the sounds of seagulls circling overhead and the distant rumble of waves crashing against the shore below.

Lando’s arm around your shoulders feels like a lifeline, grounding you in the present moment amidst the tumult of your thoughts and emotions. You find solace in his presence, a sense of calm washing over you as you soak in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

The playful banter and teasing remarks give way to a comfortable silence, allowing you both to simply be in each other’s company without the need for words. It’s a moment of quiet intimacy, where the weight of the world fades away and all that matters is the connection between you and Lando.

You lean into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing and the reassuring strength of his arm around you. In this moment, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the warmth of Lando’s presence, you feel a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that whatever the future may hold, you’re grateful for this moment of shared serenity.

As you both prepare to descend the stairs, Lando pauses, noticing your reluctance to leave the view behind. "Shouldn't I be the one lingering back to admire the horizon? After all, I'm the one leaving, not you," he quips with a playful smirk.

You chuckle at his remark, shaking your head in amusement. "Come on, Lando, don't act like you're the only one who appreciates a good view," you tease back, nudging him lightly.

He grins, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before turning back to the scenery. "Fair point," he concedes, his tone light and playful. “I’ll wait for you downstairs then.”

You nod, watching him make his way down the stairs. The gentle breeze ruffles your hair, and you take a deep breath, committing the scene to memory.

With a sense of purpose, you scan the area, searching for the perfect spot to leave your message. Your eyes alight on a small alcove tucked away in a corner, sheltered from the wind and hidden from plain sight. It’s a secluded nook, easily overlooked by passersby, but will be found if it’s searched for.

Slipping something into the alcove, you ensure it’s nestled securely among the shadows, a subtle gesture meant for only the most observant of visitors. With a satisfied nod, you turn to follow Lando down the stairs.

—

The following day is a whirlwind of activity as your parents arrive at the cottage. They come bearing an array of supplies and comforts, ready to pamper you with their love and attention.

"Sweetheart, we brought some of your favorite homemade meals," your mom chirps, bustling into the kitchen with bags of groceries in tow.

Your dad follows closely behind, a stack of freshly laundered blankets in his arms. "And I made sure to pack extra blankets in case you get chilly," he adds with a warm smile.

Isaac turns to your mother, his expression gentle yet concerned. “Just a heads up, she can’t have any spicy food because of the doctor’s orders,” he explains, hoping to avoid any culinary mishaps.

“Isaac, don’t ruin it,” you mutter, holding the tupperware filled with your favourite dishes.

Your dad, overhearing the conversation, interjects with a reassuring pat on Isaac’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, son. Your mother has spent many hours in the kitchen cooking up a storm for our girl here,” he says with a fond smile. “A little taste of home can work wonders for the soul.”

You can't help but smile at their fussing, feeling a mixture of gratitude and guilt at their doting gestures. "How long are you planning to stay?" you inquire, trying to gauge the extent of their visit.

"Until you're better, of course," your mom replies without hesitation, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Throughout the day, your parents dote on you, attending to your every need with unwavering devotion. They fluff pillows, brew tea, and fuss over you as if you were a child again, and despite the sadness that tugs at your heart, you find solace in their presence.

As evening falls and the cottage is filled with the aroma of home-cooked meals, you can't help but feel a pang of bittersweet nostalgia. These moments of familial closeness are precious, and you savor each one, knowing deep down that they may be fleeting.

Amidst the cozy atmosphere that had filled your cottage, a sudden realization dawns on you. Today is the day Lando is leaving, and with the flurry of activity happening throughout the day, you had almost forgotten.

Abandoning your dinner mid-bite, you quickly put on a pair of shoes, your heart pounding with urgency. As you rush towards the door, your parents pause in their fussing, exchanging puzzled glances as they notice your abrupt departure.

“Where are you going?” your mom asks, concern etched in her voice.

You pause in the doorway, a sense of determination driving you forward. “I have to see Lando,” you reply, your words rushed and breathless.

As you disappear out the door, your parents turn to your brother, confusion evident in their expressions. “Who’s Lando?” your dad asks, his brow furrowed in bewilderment.

Isaac sighs, shaking his head as he meets their gaze. “He’s the one she’s in love with,” he explains softly, a hint of sadness in his voice. “But I’m not sure if she’s ready to accept it yet.”

As you reach the villa, your breath comes in ragged gasps, each inhale becoming a struggle. Pain pulses through your chest with every heartbeat, but you refuse to let it slow you down. Adrenaline surges through your veins, driving you forward with an urgency born of raw emotion.

Your eyes scan the scene before you, taking in the sight of Max hurriedly loading the car with his and Lando’s bags. The trunk is nearly full, a testament to the impending departure that looms over you like a storm cloud. You feel a knot form in your stomach, a sense of panic seizing hold of you as you realize that time is slipping away.

Then, amidst the chaos, you spot Lando emerging from the villa, his expression one of surprise and concern as he catches sight of you. His brow furrows in confusion, his eyes searching yours for an explanation.

Without hesitation, you push yourself forward, your feet carrying you towards him with a desperate urgency. With trembling hands, you reach out to him, your fingers brushing against his arm before wrapping around him in a tight embrace. His warmth envelops you, a comforting anchor amidst the storm raging within you. For a fleeting moment, the pain in your chest eases, replaced by a sense of peace that only he can provide.

For a long moment, you simply hold onto each other, the world around you fading into insignificance as you find solace in each other’s arms. The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy between you, the truth lingering on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be unleashed.

As you finally pull away, a silent understanding passes between you, a shared acknowledgment of the depth of your connection. Lando’s gaze searches yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and affection, silently asking if you’re okay.

You manage a faint smile, though it feels fragile on your lips. “I just had to see you before you left,” you confess softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His expression softens, a warmth in his eyes that speaks volumes. “I’m glad you came,” he replies, his voice gentle and reassuring.

You linger for a moment longer, drinking in the sight of him, committing every detail to memory. Then, with a heavy heart, you reluctantly release him, knowing that time is running short.

As Lando returns to help Max with the bags, you watch him go, a sense of longing tugging at your heart.

Once everything was packed up, Lando and Max walked towards you, their footsteps echoing on the gravel driveway. Max reaches you first, his face lit with a warm smile. Without hesitation, he pulls you into a brief, friendly hug.

“Thanks for the good company,” Max says, his voice full of genuine gratitude. “And for keeping Lando’s mood up throughout this trip. You’ve been a real lifesaver.” He chuckles, the sound infectious, and you can’t help but laugh along with him.

“Anytime,” you reply, your smile widening. “It’s been fun having you both around.”

Max steps back, giving Lando space to step forward. Lando’s eyes meet yours, and there’s a depth of emotion there that makes your heart skip a beat. He takes your hands in his, holding them gently as if afraid you might disappear.

“This isn’t goodbye,” Lando says softly, his tone filled with a mixture of hope and determination. “Just a ‘see you later,’ alright?”

You nod, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “See you later,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

Lando pulls you into a tight embrace this time, his arms wrapping around you protectively. You breathe in his familiar scent, the comfort of his presence grounding you in the moment.

He pulls back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he searches your face. “Don’t think I forgot about giving you a pass,” he says with a small, teasing smile. “I’ll be waiting for you at the race.”

You smile through the tears that threaten to spill over. “We’ll see.”

Max claps Lando on the back, breaking the emotional moment. “Come on, mate, we’ve got a plane to catch.”

With one last look, Lando releases you and heads towards the car. You watch them drive away, a mix of sadness and hope swirling within you. The ache in your chest grows, but you try to push it aside, focusing on ways to fulfill the promise of seeing him again.

As you start walking back home, the exertion from earlier catches up to you. Your breath becomes labored, each step feeling heavier than the last. A sharp pain radiates through your chest, and you find yourself struggling to stay upright. Determined to make it back to the cottage, you push on, but every movement is a reminder of your body’s limitations.

By the time you reach the door, you’re barely holding on. You collapse onto the porch steps, gasping for breath, the world around you blurring as you fight to stay conscious. Moments later, the door swings open, and Isaac is there, his face pale with worry.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, rushing to your side. His voice sounds distant, echoing in your ears.

You try to speak, but the words get caught in your throat. Instead, you manage a weak nod, though it’s clear you’re far from okay.

Isaac doesn’t waste another second. He scoops you up in his arms, carrying you inside. “Mom! Dad!” he calls out, his voice frantic. “Something’s wrong. We need to get her to the hospital.”

Your parents appear almost instantly, their faces a mixture of fear and determination. Your dad grabs the car keys while your mom hurries to gather your things, her hands shaking.

In the car, you drift in and out of consciousness, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you. Your mom holds your hand tightly, whispering soothing words that barely register. Isaac drives with a grim focus, the worry in his eyes reflected in the rearview mirror.

At the hospital, the staff quickly takes over, whisking you away on a stretcher. Your family is left in the waiting room, their anxious faces a blur as you’re rushed through the halls.

As the doctors and nurses work to stabilize you, you catch fleeting thoughts of Lando, Max, and the brief, bright moments you shared. The reality of your condition settles in, and you realize just how fragile your hope had been.

The doctors stabilize you for now, but you wake to the sound of your mother's soft cries in the room. Her face is buried in your father's shoulder, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Your father is holding her close, his eyes red and puffy, a grim expression etched on his face. Isaac stands nearby, his jaw clenched, trying to hold himself together.

You blink, the fluorescent lights above casting a harsh glow on the stark white walls. A doctor stands at the foot of your bed, looking somber. You catch bits and pieces of his words, the clinical detachment in his voice contrasting sharply with the raw emotion in the room.

"...best if she doesn’t return home... too weak... last days in the hospital..."

The full weight of the words crashes over you, and a sense of helplessness fills your heart. You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and the words come out as a rasp. "Mom? Dad?"

Your mother's head snaps up at the sound of your voice, and she rushes to your side, taking your hand in hers. "Oh, sweetheart," she whispers, tears streaming down her face. "We're here. We're right here."

Your father moves closer, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We won't leave your side," he promises, his voice steady despite the tears in his eyes.

Isaac approaches the bed, his usual bravado stripped away. "Hey," he says softly, trying to muster a smile. "We’re all here for you."

You swallow hard, trying to process the reality of the situation. "How long?" you manage to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

The doctor steps forward, his expression compassionate. "It’s hard to say for certain," he admits gently. "But we’ll do everything we can to keep you comfortable."

You nod, a mixture of fear and resignation settling over you. Your mother's sobs have quieted, but the sorrow in her eyes is unmistakable. "I’m so sorry," you whisper, feeling a pang of guilt for putting them through this.

"No, don’t apologize," your father says firmly, squeezing your shoulder. "This isn’t your fault. We’re just grateful to be here with you."

Your family’s presence brings a small measure of comfort, but the reality of your condition is a heavy burden. You look around at their faces, trying to memorize every detail, every expression. The room feels both claustrophobic and infinite, the moments stretching out like a fragile thread.

As the night wears on, you find solace in their presence. Your mother hums softly, stroking your hair, while your father reads to you from a book you loved as a child. Isaac sits by the window, watching the night sky, his expression pensive.

You know that the days ahead will be difficult, but for now, you take comfort in the love that surrounds you. The hospital room, with its sterile walls and beeping machines, becomes a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you can hold on to the precious moments with your family, no matter how fleeting they may be.

—

The sterile scent of the hospital room is overwhelming, the beeping of the machines a constant reminder of the deteriorating state of your health. The wires and tubes attached to your body are a constant presence, their weight both physical and symbolic. The medication dulls the pain, but it also leaves you in a fog, half-aware of the world around you.

Isaac sits by your bedside, his expression a mix of forced cheerfulness and hidden sorrow. He tries to make you laugh, telling stories and cracking jokes, but there’s an underlying tension in his voice.

You take a shaky breath and glance at Isaac. “So, this is it, huh?” you say with a dry laugh, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the sadness in your voice.

He looks at you, the forced cheerfulness slipping from his face. “Still laughing?” he asks, his voice quivering.

“If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t want that to be the last expression you remember me by.”

Isaac’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Remember when you said that you weren’t able to be a proper older sister to me ever since you got diagnosed?” he asks softly. “That’s wrong. You still were because you powered through every moment of pain on your own. Even now, you’re as selfless as ever.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you swallow hard. “I got a taste of how it feels to be selfish recently,” you confess, your voice trembling. “To see what you want right there in front of you, waiting for you to take it, but I almost got too attached to it that fate had to rip it away from me again.”

“Are you talking about Lando?” Isaac asks gently, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, the memories of your brief time with Lando flooding back, a bittersweet ache in your chest. “Life is so cruel, so fickle,” you say, your voice barely audible. “When I finally accepted my fate, it flipped and gave me a chance to be happy, to fall in love, to live like I’ve never done before. When I experienced it all, it just made me greedy. I wanted to keep living like that. But I won’t be able to because in a moment, it’s taken away again.”

Isaac squeezes your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. “You deserved every moment of happiness,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “And you brought happiness to those around you, too. Remember that.”

The days pass in a blur of medical checks, whispered conversations, and the quiet hum of machines. Your parents come and go, their faces lined with worry but always offering words of comfort and love.

Then comes Sunday, one that’s special for you because it’s also race day.

The hospital room is dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of the television screen mounted on the wall. The muted hum of machines and the occasional beep provide a constant backdrop to your labored breathing. Your family surrounds you, their presence a source of comfort even as your strength wanes. The room is filled with an unspoken tension, a fragile hope that somehow, you might find the strength to hold on a little longer.

Earlier in the day, you had pleaded with the nurses to let you watch the race. “Please,” you whispered, your voice weak but determined. “I just want to see him race one last time.”

The nurses had exchanged glances, their expressions softening. “Alright,” one of them had said gently. “We’ll make sure you can watch it.”

Now, the vibrant colors of the Formula 1 race contrast sharply with the sterile white of the hospital room. Lando’s car, resplendent in its sleek orange design, zips around the track with an elegance and speed that seems almost otherworldly. The commentator’s voice crackles with excitement as they describe the race in vivid detail.

“And Lando Norris takes the lead! He’s showing incredible skill out there today, really pushing the limits of his car and his own abilities. The crowd is going wild!”

You try to focus on the race, on the laps ticking by, the thrill of each turn, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult. Your vision blurs, the lines between the real and the surreal beginning to merge. Every breath is a struggle, each one more labored than the last.

Your mother sits by your side, her hand gently stroking your hair, her eyes red-rimmed but determined to stay strong. Your father stands at the foot of the bed, his face etched with lines of worry and sorrow. Isaac holds your hand, his grip firm and reassuring, his eyes never leaving your face.

You gather your remaining strength, turning your head slightly to look at Isaac. “Can you give him a message for me?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, each word a struggle.

Isaac leans closer, his face etched with concern and determination. “What do you want to say?” he asks gently, his eyes locked onto yours, ready to carry your words to Lando.

You pause, the weight of the moment settling over you. With great effort, you manage to form the words that have been in your heart. “Tell him… tell him that he made me believe in living life again. That he gave me something beautiful in my last days. And… and that I’ll always be cheering for him, even if I’m not there.”

Isaac’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and he nods, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “I will. I promise.”

On the television, Lando navigates the sharp turns of the track with precision and grace. The roar of the engines and the thrill of the race create a stark contrast to the quiet, somber atmosphere of your room. The commentator’s voice booms with excitement.

“Norris is extending his lead! This could be his race if he keeps up this pace. The team must be thrilled with his performance!”

On the Formula 1 track, the atmosphere is electric. Lando sits in his car, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He can feel every vibration of the engine, every nuance of the track. The pit crew buzzes with activity, their movements synchronized and efficient. Over the radio, his engineer’s voice provides updates and encouragement.

“You’re doing great, Lando. Keep this up and the win is yours.”

Lando nods inside his helmet, his focus razor-sharp. The crowd’s cheers blend into a singular wave of energy that propels him forward. He pushes the car to its limits, every fiber of his being dedicated to the race.

Back in the hospital, your breathing becomes more labored, and your family’s concern deepens. Your mother’s voice breaks as she hums softly, a lullaby from your childhood. Isaac squeezes your hand, his own tears finally breaking free.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words a final, heartfelt goodbye.

“We love you too,” Isaac responds, his voice choked with emotion. “More than anything.”

On the track, Lando crosses the finish line, the checkered flag waving triumphantly. The crowd erupts into a frenzy of cheers and applause. The commentator’s voice is almost drowned out by the noise.

“Lando Norris wins the race! What an incredible performance!”

In the paddock, Lando is overwhelmed with joy, the culmination of his efforts and dedication. He pulls off his helmet, his face breaking into a wide smile as he celebrates with his team. He can’t wait to share the victory, to tell you about the race, to see the look of pride in your eyes.

You watch from the hospital room, as Lando stands on the podium, lifting the trophy high, a sense of accomplishment filling him. A smile graces your lips, noticing the pure joy on his face. Then, you close your eyes, the vision of Lando’s smile still fresh in your mind.

Time stands still. As the world fades around you, your family holds you close, their whispered goodbyes blending into a chorus of love and sorrow. The light in your eyes dims, and with one last, labored breath, you slip away into a place beyond suffering.

As soon as the machine flatlines, the piercing sound of the monitor cuts through the room, signaling the end. Your mother's cries shatter the silence, raw and heart-wrenching. She grips your hand with desperate strength, her knuckles turning white, as if her hold on you could somehow bring you back.

"No, no, please!" she sobs, her voice cracking with each word. Tears stream down her face, her body trembling with the force of her grief. She shakes you gently at first, then more insistently, refusing to accept the finality of it. "Wake up, please wake up!"

Your father stands by her side, his own face etched with anguish. He places a hand on her shoulder, trying to offer support, but his own tears betray his stoic exterior. Isaac, standing a little apart, is frozen in shock, his eyes wide and uncomprehending as he watches the scene unfold.

The room is filled with the oppressive weight of sorrow, the air heavy with the collective grief of your family. The nurses, having done all they could, step back to give your family space, their own expressions somber and respectful.

Your mother’s cries grow louder, a desperate plea to a reality that feels too cruel to be true. She holds your hand to her cheek, her tears wetting your skin as she rocks back and forth. "Please, don’t leave us," she whispers, her voice breaking. "We need you."

The doctor steps forward, his face grave, and gently places a hand on your mother’s arm. "I’m so sorry for your loss," he says quietly, his words sincere but powerless against the tidal wave of their grief.

The only reality that matters is the unbearable pain of losing you, and the impossible task of trying to say goodbye.

On the top step of the podium, Lando basks in the glow of victory, the thrill of the race still pulsing through him. But amidst the celebration, a nagging feeling tugs at him, a sense that something is missing. A bittersweet undercurrent flows through his triumph.

Unbeknownst to him, a message of love and gratitude is on its way, bridging the distance between the track and the hospital room, connecting two hearts in a moment that transcends time and space.

Suddenly, your phone rings, the shrill sound cutting through the flatline beeping on the monitor. Each ring echoes through the room like a mournful dirge. Isaac’s hand hovers over the device, his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitates to answer. But when the call comes again, he knows there’s no escaping the inevitable.

With trembling fingers, he accepts the call, the voice on the other end sending a shiver down his spine. “Were you watching the race? I told you that you are my lucky charm.”

Isaac’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes welling with tears at the bitter irony of Lando’s words. He struggles to find the strength to respond, his voice choked with emotion. “Lando… it’s Isaac.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by a tremor of uncertainty in Lando’s voice. “Isaac? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

Isaac’s heart clenches at the desperation in Lando’s voice, his own grief threatening to consume him. “She’s gone, Lando,” he manages to choke out, his voice breaking with sorrow. “My sister… she’s gone.”

The words hang heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the cruel twist of fate that has robbed them of their happiness. Lando’s breath hitches, his voice barely a whisper as he responds. “No… no, that can’t be true. Tell me you’re lying, tell me this is some sick joke please”

Isaac’s heart aches as he hears the disbelief and anguish in Lando’s voice. He wishes he could erase the truth, to shield Lando from the devastating reality they now face. But there’s no escaping it, no denying the painful truth that hangs between them like a heavy shroud.

“I wish I could, Lando,” Isaac murmurs, his own voice choked with sorrow. “I wish this was just a sick joke, but… but she’s really gone.”

There’s a long, agonizing pause, broken only by the sound of Lando’s ragged breathing on the other end of the line. Isaac can imagine the turmoil raging within him, the crushing weight of grief threatening to overwhelm him entirely. He relays the message that you had for him, only hearing Lando breathing heavily in response.

As Lando stands there, clutching the phone that brought him devastating news, the world around him seems to blur into a haze of incomprehensible grief. The congratulations from his fellow drivers fall on deaf ears, their voices distant and muffled as if coming from a far-off place. Daniel, Carlos, George—all of them offer their heartfelt congratulations, their smiles genuine, but Lando can't bring himself to respond.

He feels disconnected, as if he's merely a spectator watching his own life unfold from a distance. The cameras flash around him, capturing the jubilant celebrations of victory, but Lando feels nothing but a hollow emptiness gnawing at his soul.

Unable to bear the facade any longer, Lando excuses himself from the crowd, retreating to the sanctuary of his driver's room. Once alone, the weight of his grief crashes over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him in its depths.

With a gut-wrenching scream, Lando releases the pent-up anguish that has been building inside him since the moment he received that fateful call. He falls to his knees, his body racked with sobs as he grapples with the cruel twist of fate that has torn his world apart.

In that moment of agonizing despair, Lando feels utterly alone, lost in a sea of grief with no shore in sight. The victory he had worked so hard for feels meaningless now, a hollow triumph overshadowed by the devastating loss of someone he held dear.

As the echoes of his cries fade into the silence of the empty room, Lando finds himself consumed by a profound sense of despair. In the midst of his greatest triumph, he is confronted with the harsh reality of mortality, and it is a bitter pill to swallow.

Alone in his hotel room, Lando’s victory feels hollow amidst the empty silence that surrounds him. Instead of celebrating with the fanfare of music, alcohol, and camaraderie that would be expected after such a result, he finds himself throwing his belongings haphazardly into his suitcase, his movements mechanical and devoid of purpose.

The room feels suffocating, the weight of grief pressing down on him like a physical force. With a sense of urgency, Lando hastily gathers his things, his hands trembling as he zips up his suitcase.

As he exits the hotel, he fires off a text to his manager, explaining the situation briefly, typing through his clouded vision full of more unshed tears.

Lando chooses not to drive, the mere thought of operating a vehicle feeling like an insurmountable task. Instead, he hails a taxi, his mind consumed by thoughts of you and the gaping void left in your absence.

The taxi driver casts him a curious glance as he climbs into the backseat, his tear-streaked face a stark contrast to the typical fare. But Lando pays no mind to the stares, his thoughts consumed by the overwhelming grief that threatens to consume him.

Throughout the journey to the airport, Lando’s tears continue to flow unabated, his heart weighed down by the magnitude of his loss. He feels adrift, lost in a sea of pain and sorrow, unsure of how to navigate the tumultuous waters of his emotions.

Lando finds himself grappling with conflicting emotions as he boards the plane back to the town filled with memories of you. Despite the overwhelming pain of revisiting every corner suffused with reminders of your presence, he knows deep down that he cannot stay away.

The thought of pretending that everything is fine when it's not feels like a betrayal of the love you shared, a denial of the profound impact you had on his life. And so, with a heavy heart and a mind clouded by grief, Lando embarks on the journey back to the place where his heart still lingers, knowing that he must confront the pain head-on in order to find a semblance of peace.

Lando’s return to town is marked by exhaustion and dishevelment, the toll of a sleepless night evident in the shadows beneath his eyes and the weariness etched into his features. He barely manages to greet Isaac before retreating to the solitude of the lighthouse, seeking solace in the familiar embrace of its quiet sanctuary.

As Lando stands at the top of the lighthouse, his gaze fixed on the horizon, he can't shake the feeling of déjà vu that washes over him. The flickering beam of the lighthouse casts eerie shadows against the walls, the only sound the mournful cry of seagulls in the distance. It's as if he's been transported back in time, to a moment frozen in history, when tragedy and loss hung heavy in the air.

Tears stream down his cheeks, his sobs echoing in the empty space around him as he allows himself to surrender to the overwhelming tide of emotion.

In the stillness of the lighthouse, Lando is consumed by a sense of profound loss, his heart aching with the absence of the one he longs for. He sits there for hours, his thoughts consumed by memories of you, his soul yearning for the warmth of your presence.

In the dim light, Lando recalls the story you once shared with him, of the tragic love that had unfolded within these very walls decades ago. A woman, waiting faithfully for her lover's return, had spent countless nights standing vigil at the top of the lighthouse, her heart filled with hope and longing. But as the years passed and her lover failed to return, her hope turned to despair, her love transformed into bitter regret.

Now, as Lando stands in the same spot, he can't help but draw parallels between that long-ago tragedy and his own situation. Like the woman of the story, he finds himself clinging to a glimmer of hope, praying for a miracle that may never come. In his heart, he still holds onto the belief that you'll come back to him, that the news of your loss is just a bad dream from which he'll soon awaken.

With each passing moment, however, the harsh reality of your absence becomes more pronounced, the weight of grief bearing down on him like a leaden cloak. Yet, despite the pain that threatens to consume him, Lando refuses to give up hope. He remains steadfast in his vigil, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of your return, his heart yearning for the moment when he'll finally see you again.

His gaze sweeps over every corner of the lighthouse, wanting to etch every detail into his memory. The soft glow of the fading sunlight filters through the windows, casting a warm golden hue over the space. He takes a deep breath, trying to imprint the scent of saltwater and sea breeze into his mind.

As he moves around, his eyes fall upon a small alcove tucked away in a corner, hidden from plain sight. Something tugs at his instincts, urging him to investigate further. With cautious curiosity, he steps closer, his heart pounding in anticipation.

Reaching into the alcove, his fingers brush against something smooth and delicate. He pulls out a folded piece of paper, his breath catching in his throat as he realizes what it is. With trembling hands, he unfolds the note, his eyes scanning the words written in your handwriting.

Lando, I hope this note finds its way to you. It's strange how emotions can turn even the fearless into cowards. I couldn't bring myself to give you this letter in person, so I'm leaving it here, hoping it reaches you. I'm guessing you already know the truth, and that I'm no longer here by your side.

As he reads those words, he can hear your voice in his mind. The acknowledgment that you couldn't face him in person fills him with a mix of sadness and understanding. He feels a pang of guilt, wondering if there was something he could have done differently to make you feel more comfortable sharing your feelings with him.

I don’t think a mere ‘I’m sorry’ is enough for keeping the truth from you. The reason why I did is because every moment with you felt like a dream, and in my dreams, my illness never existed. I’ve always cursed fate for the shitty hand it dealt me but I never would’ve gotten a chance to live something close to the perfect life if it wasn’t for fate.

A melancholic smile tugs at his lips as he reflects on the sentiment expressed in your words. Each moment spent with you had indeed felt like a dream, a precious respite from the relentless demands of the racing world.

Before you came to town, I felt like a living corpse, waiting for my illness to take me under, but when I met you, it gave me a purpose to look forward to the next day. Being your tour guide, although I think it was because you just wanted to spend time with me, was probably the most I’ve lived ever since I was diagnosed. While I used your presence as an excuse to live like I used to, I didn’t ever imagine falling in love with anyone, much less a British racing driver.

A wave of emotions wash over him as he reads your heartfelt confession, his own heart aching with a mixture of sadness and longing. Tears blur his vision as he continues reading, slightly tracing over your words with his finger.

I wish I had the courage to say this to you face to face, to witness your reaction and perhaps hear you say the words back. But one thing I admire about you is your ability to live in the moment. So, in this moment, I want to tell you that I love you, Lando Norris, even though I'm no longer by your side. I hope our memories bring a smile to your face, just as they did to mine.

Please, don’t blame yourself for any of this. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You're the reason I found joy again, laughter again. Lando, you brought me back to life. Thank you. I'll love you always.

- Your favourite tour guide

As he reaches the final words of the note, he clutches it to his chest, feeling your presence close to him. In that moment, amidst the quiet solitude of the lighthouse, Lando finds a fleeting sense of peace amidst the storm of his emotions. He knows that no matter what the future holds, your love will always remain a guiding light in his heart.

With tears streaming down his cheeks, he whispers a silent promise to you, his beloved tour guide, into the salty breeze surrounding your favourite place. “I’ll never forget you. I’ll carry your love with me, always.”

Then he adds with a sob wracking through his body, “I love you too.”

As he sits in the lighthouse, Lando no longer waits for your return. Yet, he feels your love enveloping him, every word of the note etched into his heart. Though you may be gone, your presence lingers, filling the space around him with warmth and tenderness. In that moment, he finds solace in the memories of your love, knowing that you'll always be with him, no matter where life takes him.

Taglist: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @sya-skies @dreamingonbed @oliviah-25 @heylookwhoitis @unabashedkoalawasteland @inejghafawifesblog @poppyflower-22 @charizznorizz @booksandflowrs @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @randomnessis-mine-me @whatever7justchillin @kagome45 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @timmy-wife1 @writtenbykirs @lew444 @kansas-kisses @barackosteaa @hellof-1 @itsbwokenln4 @nixily @reengard @candyeollies @customsbyjcg-blog @heeseungthel0ml @sweate-r-weathe-r @mattymybeloved @saturnbloom77 @ltotheucyy @ironmaiden1313

#thef1diary fic #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff #f1 angst #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #f1 series #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #angst #fanfic

567 notes · View notes

rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago

Text

Between Sets and Scenes

SUMMARY: As a dedicated personal trainer in Washington D.C., you've worked with high-profile clients before, but when actor Glen Powell steps into your gym, life takes an unexpected turn. What starts as a simple fitness transformation for Glen quickly evolves into something more when the lines between professionalism and attraction begin to blur. A chance encounter outside the gym leads to late-night conversations, unexpected connections, and the realization that sometimes the best chemistry happens off-screen. But with Glen's rising star and your grounded life, can you keep things casual, or is something deeper already taking shape?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the Anon who sent the request for this in! I hope you enjoy it!

WARNINGS: None.

WORD COUNT: 5.8K

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891

If you would like to be added to my Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

The familiar ping of your inbox echoed through your office as you finished typing up a nutrition plan for one of your long-term clients. Leaning back in your chair, you took a sip of your water, already mentally preparing yourself for the evening rush at the gym. It was mid-spring, the time of year when everyone suddenly remembered they had vacations or summer plans that required them to get into shape. Your calendar was filling up fast, but you thrived in the chaos.

As you clicked through your unread emails, one subject line caught your eye.

Transfer Client: Glen Powell – Ultimate Performance, Los Angeles.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Glen Powell? As in the Glen Powell—actor, movie star, all-around charmer? You quickly opened the email, skimming through the details.

Eddie here, from the L.A. branch. We’ve got a transfer for you—our client, Glen Powell. He’s been working with us for a while, getting in shape for a bunch of his previous roles. Glen’s a solid guy, no diva attitude, but he’s wrapping up filming in D.C. and needs a few weeks of training before his next project. Figured you’d be the best person for the job.

I’ve attached his info and previous programs. Let me know if you need anything else, but honestly, Glen’s a hard worker. You shouldn’t have any problems.

Just, uh, maybe keep an eye on the tequila intake.

Cheers,Eddie

You chuckled at the tequila comment but focused on the rest of the email. This was definitely an unexpected assignment, but you were more intrigued than overwhelmed. A high-profile client like Glen meant there was a level of professionalism and discretion required, but you had handled demanding clients before. Glen Powell would be no different… right?

Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it might be worth getting a bit more insight from Eddie before you met with Glen. He’d worked with Glen before and could offer valuable information that a few attached files couldn’t convey. You reached for your phone, quickly dialing Eddie's number. After a couple of rings, the line connected, and Eddie’s laid-back demeanor and accent came through.

“Hey! I had a feeling you’d call.”

You laughed softly, leaning back in your chair. “I couldn’t resist. Glen Powell, huh? Big name. I wanted to get some inside scoop on him before I officially start working with him.”

“Totally understandable,” Eddie replied. “Glen’s honestly one of the easiest clients we’ve had. No diva behavior, no slacking off. He shows up, puts in the work, and follows the plan.”

“That’s good to hear,” you said, relieved. “Anything in particular I should keep an eye out for? You mentioned the tequila?”

Eddie chuckled on the other end of the line. “Yeah, man loves his tequila. It’s the only food from our restricted list he really ever eats. He’s not gonna go overboard, but just be aware that he likes to unwind with a drink now and then. He’s been keeping up with his workouts since our last session, so he’s not starting from scratch.”

“So he’s already in pretty good shape?”

“Definitely,” Eddie confirmed. “He looks great, but he’s looking to tighten up for this rom-com he’s shooting soon. Wants to get that beach body look, you know? He’s got a few areas he wants to tone up, but overall, you’re just fine-tuning.”

You made a few notes as Eddie spoke, already thinking of some adjustments you could make to Glen’s program to push him toward his goals. “Got it. Anything else I should know about his routine?”

“He sticks to his meal plans pretty well. I mean, the guy’s a professional at this point. You’ll probably notice he doesn’t need a lot of hand-holding. But don’t be afraid to push him—he responds well to a challenge.”

You nodded, appreciating the insight. “Thanks, Eddie. I’m excited to get started with him.”

“You’ll do great. Just keep it fun, keep him motivated, and I’m sure you two will get along fine.”

After wrapping up the call with Eddie, you hung up and set your phone down, staring at Glen’s profile on your screen. This wasn’t just a regular client. This was Glen Powell—known for his charm, his dedication to his craft, and apparently, his love for tequila.

With a deep breath, you stood up and stretched. Time to prepare for tomorrow, when you’d officially meet your new high-profile client. You had a feeling this wouldn’t be your typical training session, but you were ready to rise to the challenge.

A week had passed since your conversation with Eddie, and you’d spent the time crafting the perfect workout plan for Glen. He didn’t need a complete overhaul, just some fine-tuning to get him into peak shape for his upcoming role.

Now, sitting at the front desk of the gym, you were watching the clock, knowing Glen would be arriving any minute.

The gym was quieter than usual—late morning hours had a way of lulling the space into a calm before the after-work crowd flooded in. You glanced over at the door, almost on instinct, when the bell chimed. And there he was.

Glen Powell.

He strolled in with that signature effortless charm, his stride confident but relaxed. His black t-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, and his black athletic shorts showed off his toned legs. A baseball cap turned backward, completed the look. Even with his casual attire, he had an undeniable presence.

You stood up from the desk, offering him a smile. “You must be Glen.”

His grin matched yours as he walked up to you, extending a hand. “That’s me. And you must be [Your Name], right?”

You nodded, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, and warm—just as you’d expected. “That’s right. Good to meet you in person.”

“Likewise,” he said, his eyes scanning the gym behind you for a moment before settling back on you. “Eddie’s told me great things about you.”

“Oh, did he?” you laughed softly, appreciating the compliment. “He said some pretty good things about you too.”

Glen chuckled, shaking his head with a mock-serious look. “Well, I hope I live up to the hype.”

“I’m sure you will,” you replied, motioning toward the gym’s main floor. “Ready to get started?”

His smile widened, and he adjusted the strap of the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Absolutely. Let’s do this.”

You led him toward a quieter corner of the gym where you had the session planned out. “So, Eddie filled me in on what you’ve been up to, but I’d like to hear from you. What’s your goal for these next few weeks?”

As Glen set his bag down, he glanced around at the equipment before turning his focus back to you. “I’ve been trying to keep up with my workouts, but this next role has a lot of, uh... shirtless scenes.” He laughed lightly, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone. “I want to lean out a bit more, just tighten everything up.”

You nodded, pulling up his customized workout plan on your tablet. “I’ve got just the thing for you. We’ll be focusing on toning your core, arms, and legs—nothing too extreme, but enough to get you where you need to be before filming starts.”

Glen leaned over slightly to glance at the plan, nodding in approval. “Looks good. You’ve got me doing some heavy lifts, huh?”

You smiled, sensing his enthusiasm. “I do. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure to push you without burning you out.”

He chuckled, clearly ready to dive in, but before you moved toward the weights, you stopped him with a quick smile. “Before we get started, though, I need to take some baseline measurements.”

Glen raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “Measurements?”

You nodded, setting the tablet down. “Yeah, just so I can document your progress over the next four weeks. It'll help us both see how far you’ve come when you’re a couple weeks in, especially if you’re aiming to get more toned.”

“Fair enough,” Glen said, stepping back as you grabbed a tape measure from your desk. “You’re the boss.”

He stood still, arms slightly raised as you started taking the first measurement around his chest. You worked quickly, not making it awkward, but there was no denying the closeness as you measured his biceps next.

“Okay, now your waist,” you said, dropping to one knee to wrap the tape measure around his torso.

Glen chuckled lightly, the sound relaxed. “This part’s always the most nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

You laughed softly in return. “It’s not that bad. Besides, you’re already in great shape. This is just to see how much progress you make in the next few weeks.”

“You say that now,” he joked, but the smile he flashed was playful, clearly at ease with the process.

After finishing his waist measurement, you stepped back and jotted down the numbers. “All set. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Glen shook his head, still smiling. “I’ve survived worse.”

“Well, I’ll be making sure to push you just enough to keep it interesting.” You gave him a grin as you set aside the tape measure and picked up your tablet again, ready to log the details. “Alright, now we’re ready. Let’s get started.”

As you both headed toward the weights area, you couldn’t help but notice the ease with which Glen navigated the gym. He wasn’t just a celebrity going through the motions—he was here to work. And something about his grounded, no-nonsense attitude put you at ease, too.

“So,” Glen said, stretching out his arms before reaching for a dumbbell, “how long have you been with Ultimate Performance?”

“About five years now. I started as an intern after getting my degree in sports science, then worked my way up. Now I’m doing personal training full-time.”

“Five years,” he said with a nod, looking impressed. “That’s awesome. I’ve only heard good things about this place.”

“Glad to hear it,” you replied, as you both moved through the warm-up. “And since we’re talking about that—Eddie warned me about your... tequila habits.”

Glen laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah, yeah. Guilty. But I promise to keep it in check.”

“Good to know,” you said, smiling as you moved into the first set of exercises. “As long as you put in the work like Eddie says you do, I’ll let you have a cheat day here and there.”

His grin didn’t falter, but his focus shifted, now locked in as he began his first round of squats. You observed his form, making minor adjustments here and there, impressed by his natural athleticism.

It wasn’t long before the playful back-and-forth gave way to the steady rhythm of the workout, Glen pushing himself with the same dedication Eddie had spoken so highly of.

By the time you moved to the free weights, his shirt was damp with sweat, but he never complained or asked to slow down. Glen had a drive that reminded you why you loved working with serious clients—it wasn’t just about the physical change. It was the discipline, the effort, the focus. And Glen had all of that.

By the time you got to the final set of exercises, Glen was visibly feeling the burn. His breathing had picked up, and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. You couldn't help but admire how hard he was working, despite the intensity.

As Glen set the weights down after his last set of deadlifts, he straightened up and wiped his brow with the back of his hand, flashing you a tired but amused smile. “You weren’t kidding about this workout plan. You sure you’re not taking it easy on me?”

You laughed softly, meeting his gaze. “Taking it easy doesn’t get results.”

Glen chuckled, shaking his head as he caught his breath. “Guess I can’t argue with that logic.” He placed his hands on his hips, still winded but clearly impressed. “I’ll be feeling this tomorrow, won’t I?”

“Probably,” you admitted with a grin. “But that just means you’re making progress. A little soreness is good—it’s how you know your muscles are working.”

“Good to know,” Glen replied with a smirk. “I’ll remind myself of that when I can’t walk tomorrow.”

You shook your head, amused by his playful banter. “You’ll be fine. We’ll take it day by day, and by the end of this, you’ll be in even better shape than you were before.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Better than before, huh?”

You shrugged confidently. “That’s the goal.”

Glen flashed you a grin, wiping down the equipment as he finished cooling down. “Alright then, Coach. I’ll trust you to get me there.”

* * * *

It was one of those weekends where you finally had a moment to breathe. You’d been pushing through long days at the gym, so a girls' night out was exactly what you needed. The bar was buzzing with energy—packed enough to feel lively but not too crowded. You sipped your drink, laughing with your friends as the music pulsed in the background.

A larger group walked in, but you barely glanced their way, too caught up in the conversation at your table. Washington D.C. was always filled with all types, so it wasn’t unusual for new faces to pass through. But after a while, you noticed your friends exchanging glances, their eyes darting toward the bar.

“What?” you asked, curious about what had captured their attention.

Your friend leaned closer, her voice barely a whisper as she nodded toward the bar. “Isn’t that...?”

You turned your head, following their gaze—and there he was. Glen Powell. Standing at the bar, his familiar smile in place as he chatted with the bartender. He looked effortlessly casual, wearing a simple grey t-shirt and dark jeans, blending in with the crowd in a way only someone like him could. He seemed completely relaxed, enjoying his night off with a group of friends or maybe coworkers, a drink in hand.

Your heart skipped for a moment, but you quickly dismissed the thought. He was a client, nothing more. It wasn’t unusual for him to be out, enjoying himself. You took a sip of your drink, willing yourself not to think too much about it.

But as the night went on, you found your drink dwindling, and you knew you’d need a refill soon. “I’m gonna grab another drink,” you said to your friends, sliding out of the booth.

As you approached the bar, you felt the press of the crowd around you. You waved at the bartender, but before you could place your order, you heard a voice behind you.

“Should I be worried about my trainer drinking on a weekend?”

You turned, and there was Glen, standing beside you with a teasing smile. His eyes were bright with amusement, and the corner of his mouth tugged into a grin that you couldn’t help but mirror.

You raised your glass in a playful toast. “I’m off-duty,” you said with a smirk. “Besides, I’m not the one who needs to watch their tequila intake, remember?”

Glen laughed, leaning slightly closer as if the conversation was just between the two of you. “You caught me.” He glanced at the glass in his hand and then back at you. “I’ll take it easy. Don’t want you to give me a lecture at the gym on Monday.”

You chuckled, taking a sip of your drink. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

“Nah,” he replied, his voice warm. “But you don’t go easy on me, that’s for sure.” He glanced down at your glass. “Looks like you’re due for a refill though. Mind if I grab that one for you?”

It was an offer so casual, so easy, that for a second you almost forgot the circumstances—he was your client, after all. But his tone was friendly, his expression open and relaxed, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Only if it’s not tequila,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him with a playful grin.

He laughed again, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Deal. I’ll stick to something that won’t get me in trouble with my trainer.”

You smiled, and before you could even protest, Glen signaled the bartender. “Another for her, and I’ll take one too,” he said, his voice smooth but casual, as though he wasn’t really paying for your drink but just sharing in a moment.

The bartender moved efficiently, and within seconds, two fresh glasses were placed in front of you. You picked up yours, the coolness of the glass meeting your hand as you glanced up at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, that easy grin still in place. “I figured it might soften the blow when you destroy me in the gym next week.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, so you’re buttering me up now?”

“Is it working?”

The way he said it, with just the right mix of playfulness and charm, had you smiling despite yourself. He wasn’t being pushy, wasn’t crossing any lines—just having fun with the moment.

You took a sip of your drink, the cool liquid refreshing after the heat of the crowded bar. “I’m still going to push you hard on Monday, just so you know.”

“Good,” he replied, leaning in slightly, his voice lowering just enough to feel like a secret between the two of you. “Taking it easy doesn’t get results, right?”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his words, recognizing your own mantra being thrown back at you. “Exactly.”

For a moment, the noise of the bar seemed to fade into the background as you stood there with Glen, the conversation flowing easily, as if you were just two people sharing a drink rather than client and trainer.

“So, is this your usual spot?” Glen asked, leaning an elbow on the bar as he turned his full attention to you.

“Not really,” you admitted. “It’s more of an impromptu girls' night kind of thing. What about you? Out with friends?”

“Yeah, wrapping up a long week of filming,” he said, motioning toward the group in the back. “Figured we’d blow off some steam before the craziness starts up again next week.”

You nodded, understanding. “Well, you deserve it. Just don’t go overboard. I don’t want to have to kick your ass on Monday for drinking too much.”

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll try to keep it under control, but no promises.”

“Noted,” you said with a smirk, the comfortable rhythm of the conversation settling between you both. There was something almost effortless about it—just enough teasing to keep it fun, but not too much to cross the line into anything more than friendly banter.

Still, as you stood there at the bar with Glen, the energy around you shifting just slightly, it was hard to ignore the way your heart raced just a little faster. You quickly pushed the thought away. He was your client, after all. This was just a chance encounter on a Saturday night—nothing more.

“Anyway,” Glen said after a moment, glancing at your now-refilled drink, “I better get back to the group. But don’t worry, I’ll be ready for whatever workout you throw at me on Monday.”

You raised your glass in a lighthearted toast. “You’d better be.”

With a final smile, Glen gave you a nod and made his way back to his friends, leaving you standing at the bar, a faint smile lingering on your lips as you watched him walk away.

You made your way back to the booth where your friends were sitting, trying to act like your quick conversation at the bar hadn’t just sent a small thrill through your chest. As soon as you sat down, though, you realized there was no hiding anything from them. Their eyes were all wide, gleaming with curiosity, and they immediately leaned in.

“Okay, spill,” one of your friends demanded, barely able to contain her excitement. “What was that?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “What do you mean?”

Another friend nudged your arm playfully. “Don’t act like you don’t know! That was Glen Powell, wasn’t it?”

You blinked, then gave a slow nod, not quite ready for the tidal wave of questions that was sure to follow. “Yeah… that was Glen.”

Their jaws practically dropped in unison.

“Oh my God,” One of them breathed. “You’re telling me you’ve been casually talking to Glen Powell at the bar this whole time you’ve been gone?”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” you replied quickly, trying to wave off the moment as you took a sip of your drink. “We just ran into each other, that’s all.”

One of their eyes narrowed as she leaned in even closer. “Wait a minute. Didn’t you mention a ‘high-profile client’ a couple of weeks ago? Are you telling me Glen Powell is the guy you’ve been working with at the gym?”

You sighed, knowing there was no getting around it now. “Okay, yes. I’ve been working with him for a couple of weeks. But seriously, it’s nothing. Just professional.”

Their eyes nearly bulged out of their heads as they processed that revelation.

“He’s your client?” One of them echoed in disbelief. “How did you not tell us it was him?”

You gave a half-shrug, trying to play it cool. “I mean, I couldn’t exactly name-drop him. It’s a work thing, you know? Confidentiality and all that.”

“Oh, please,” one of them said with a wave of her hand. “You’re too modest. Glen Powell is out there starring in movies, and you’ve been working with him to get him in shape? That’s insane.”

“It’s really not that crazy,” you insisted, feeling your cheeks warm under their eager stares. “He’s just another client.”

“Just another client?” Another one repeated incredulously. “I’m sorry, but you can’t tell me that conversation at the bar wasn’t flirty. He was totally into you.”

You laughed, shaking your head again. “It wasn’t flirting. We were just joking around. If anything, I was warning him about his workout on Monday after all that tequila he’s probably going to drink tonight.”

One of your friends leaned back with a knowing smile. “Oh, come on. He totally offered to buy your drink, didn’t he?”

You hesitated for a moment, then gave a sheepish nod. “Yeah… he did. But it wasn’t a big deal! He was just being nice.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Nice? Or maybe a little flirty?”

You sighed, trying to downplay it. “It wasn’t like that. He was just joking around. Honestly, we talked more about his workout plan than anything else.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, her tone teasing. “I’m sure it was all about the workout plan.”

You could feel their eyes on you, the playful smiles they exchanged as they leaned in with the kind of curiosity only good friends could get away with.

“Seriously,” you insisted, though your grin betrayed you. “He’s a client. It’s not like that.”

Your friends weren’t convinced. “Well, it sure looked like something to me. The way he was talking to you at the bar? He didn’t look like he was thinking about squats and deadlifts, that’s for sure.”

Another one chimed in with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Yeah, and that whole ‘watch your tequila intake’ thing? That was prime trainer-to-client flirting material.”

You laughed again, leaning back in your seat as the teasing continued. “It wasn’t flirting,” you repeated, though their playful accusations were starting to wear down your defenses.

“Right,” one of the girls said with a wink. “Well, even if it wasn’t, he clearly likes talking to you. So maybe that’s a sign of something.”

One of the others nodded, her expression turning a bit more serious. “Hey, we’re just saying—if something does happen, you have our full support.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of their friendship settle around you. “Thanks, but really, it’s all professional. I’m not looking for anything more.”

One of the girls raised her glass in a toast. “To keeping it professional… but maybe hoping for a little fun along the way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you clinked glasses with her. “I’ll drink to that.”

As you took a sip, though, your thoughts wandered back to the easy conversation you’d had with Glen at the bar. Sure, it was just work—just a client interaction—but there had been something undeniably lighthearted, something that had left you smiling long after he’d walked away.

As the night went on, you found yourself stealing glances at Glen from your spot at the booth, the laughter of your friends fading into the background. You couldn’t help but notice the easy charm he exuded, even as he joked with his friends at the bar. It was hard not to smile every time you thought about your previous conversations. The playful banter between you two had definitely sparked something beyond a simple trainer-client dynamic.

After a while, you decided to venture back to the bar for another drink, this time determined to keep the mood light. As you approached, Glen noticed you immediately, his face breaking into a grin.

“Hey! Look who it is,” he called out, leaning against the bar with a casual confidence. “Back for another?”

You chuckled, leaning against the bar beside him. “What can I say? You have to stay hydrated, right?”

He laughed a warm sound that made you feel more at ease. “True. So, what’s your game plan for the weekend?”

“Honestly? Just a girls' night tonight. You know, drinks, gossip—typical stuff,” you said, your gaze lingering on him as you took a sip of your drink.

He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds fun. Any exciting plans with the girls?”

You shrugged. “Nothing too crazy. Just catching up. What about you? Any plans for the weekend?”

Glen leaned closer, lowering his voice slightly. “I was thinking of having a quiet night, maybe get some takeout on the way home. But who knows? My plans could change.”

You smirked, noticing the suggestive undertone in his words. “Oh? What kind of changes do you have in mind?”

He met your gaze, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Well, I could be convinced to do something more… interesting if the right company showed up.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, caught off guard by the implication behind his words. “Interesting? Like what?”

“Maybe a movie night? You know, two people just relaxing and enjoying some downtime,” he suggested, his tone playful yet serious.

“Sounds tempting,” you replied, your heart racing a little faster at the thought. “What kind of movies do you like?”

“Rom-coms, obviously,” he said with a wink. “I’m an actor, after all. Gotta stay on brand.”

You laughed, but then the conversation shifted. “So… any significant others I should know about?” you asked, genuinely curious.

He shook his head, his expression turning thoughtful. “Nope, just me. I’ve been focusing on work mostly.”

“Same here,” you admitted. “I’m single, too. Just haven’t had the time to meet anyone.”

“Funny how that works,” he replied, his gaze lingering on you. “Two busy people, both single.”

There was a charged silence between you as you both processed the moment, the playful tension hanging in the air. Glen shifted slightly closer, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “You know, it’s refreshing to meet someone who gets it. Not many people can understand the kind of schedule I keep.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “Yeah, I'm sure it can be tough.”

“Maybe we should change that,” he suggested, his voice lower now. “Have some more ‘interesting’ nights.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart racing at the unspoken invitation. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

Just then, as the night began to wind down, you glanced at your phone to check the time. “Wow, it’s getting late. I didn’t realize how much time had passed.”

“Yeah, it sneaks up on you,” he said, glancing around. “Are you getting an Uber home?”

You nodded, a hint of reluctance creeping in. “Yeah, I should probably call one.”

Glen frowned slightly, then offered, “Let me give you a ride home. I don’t want you waiting out here for an Uber.”

You hesitated, your mind racing. It was tempting, but you couldn’t shake the professional boundaries. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”

“Not at all,” he insisted, his smile warm and inviting. “I insist. Plus, it’ll give us more time to chat. And, you know, I can promise not to make you do any burpees in the car.”

You laughed, the tension from earlier dissipating. “Okay, if you insist.”

As you both walked outside, the warm spring air wrapped around you. Glen kept the conversation light as you walked to his car, and you found yourself enjoying his company even more. Once you were inside, he turned to you, the playful atmosphere returning.

“So, how bad my pis my punishment going to be on Monday for the drinks I had tonight?” He asked, his gaze locking onto yours.

You smirked, leaning in a little closer. “I might just add some extra reps to your routine.”

His smile widened, and suddenly the air felt charged again. You could feel the intensity building between you, the chemistry undeniable.

“Bring it on,” he replied, his voice dropping lower. “I can handle it.”

And before you knew it, the space between you disappeared. Glen leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a soft yet electrifying kiss.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you realized you’d crossed a line, but it felt exhilarating. You were no longer just trainer and client; you were something else entirely.

“Wow,” you breathed, your heart racing.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Wow, indeed.”

As Glen pulled out of the bar's parking lot, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling in your stomach. The city lights blurred past the windows, and you glanced over at him, catching his eyes focused on the road, a slight smile playing on his lips.

When you arrived at your apartment, you hesitated for just a moment before inviting him in. “Do you want to come in? I mean, if you’re still up for that movie?”

“I’d love to,” he replied, stepping out of the car and following you inside.

Once inside, you hung up your coats and motioned for him to take a seat on the couch. You headed to the kitchen, grabbing a couple of drinks before settling next to him. Glen watched you with that familiar warmth in his gaze, and it made your heart flutter.

“Okay, I’ll let you pick the movie,” you said, scrolling through your options.

“Let’s go classic,” he suggested, pointing at How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. “This one is always a good time.”

You chuckled. “Good choice. It’s one of my favorites.”

As the movie started, you both settled into the couch, the initial awkwardness fading into the cozy atmosphere. Glen’s arm rested casually on the back of the couch, and you couldn’t help but steal glances at him, enjoying the easy banter that flowed between you.

About halfway through the film, you felt his arm move, sliding down to your shoulder as he gently pulled you into his side. A warmth spread through you at the gesture, and you smiled, leaning into him comfortably.

“Is this okay?” he asked, looking down at you with those charming eyes.

You nodded, unable to suppress your grin. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

“Good,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice. “I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“I am,” you replied softly, feeling the connection between you deepening. You could feel his heartbeat against you, steady and reassuring, and the atmosphere felt charged with a sweet kind of intimacy.

As the movie continued, you caught yourself glancing up at him, noticing how he focused intently on the screen, yet you could sense he was aware of you too. Every so often, your shoulders brushed, sending little sparks of electricity between you.

“Have you seen this before?” he asked, his gaze still on the movie.

“A million times,” you laughed. “It’s one of those movies I can watch on repeat and never get tired of.”

He smiled, looking down at you. “It’s one of my favorites too…Kind of like the person watching it.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment, a light flutter of nerves dancing in your stomach. “You’re smooth, aren’t you?”

“Only when the situation calls for it,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

The film played on, but the focus began to shift more towards each other. You felt the tension build in the small moments, the lingering touches, and the way his gaze lingered on you. It was as if the lines between work and pleasure had blurred completely, and you were both caught up in something new and thrilling.

With the credits rolling, Glen turned to you, the air between you electric. “So, what do you think? Think I can pull off this upcoming Rom-Com role after watching one?”

You laughed, your heart racing. “I think you’ve got the charm down already. Just maybe don’t take any advice from this movie for your actual dating life.”

“Noted,” he replied, his voice dropping slightly. “You know maybe I need a few more rom-com movie nights to fully prepare for this role.”

“I might know someone who could help you with that,” you said, your pulse quickening as you realized how much you wanted to spend more time with him.

He leaned in slightly, his expression softening. “You know, I really enjoy spending time with you outside the gym.”

“Me too,” you admitted, the vulnerability of the moment wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Before you could think it through, you leaned in closer, feeling the magnetic pull between you. And just like that, he was closing the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, tentative kiss.

It felt like the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the moment. When you pulled away, breathless, you realized this was more than just a client relationship; it was the start of something new, something exciting.

#Glen Powell #Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction

221 notes · View notes

eddiediaaz · 3 months ago

Text

hi guys, i am kind of ashamed and embarrassed to have to do this, but i figured it can't hurt to ask. basically i am really struggling right now (i know a lot of us are). i need financial help, so i set up a ko-fi page ☕

any kind of help would be so appreciated and i am so grateful for anyone taking the time to read this little post.

long story short: because of situations completely out of my control, i lost my job in vfx after almost 8 years and i am now forced to switch careers. i'm going back to school and can't find a part time job even tho i have been working non stop for 15 years. financial aid will only cover my rent, so i absolutely need to work 20 to 30 hours a week to cover the rest of my living expenses, but it's really hard to find a job. i am also currently over 10k cad in debt from my film school loans and credit cards.

signal boost would be appreciated, if you can 💕

my situation in more details under the cut for those who are curious

i was working in the vfx industry as a 2D compositor since 2016 (i have worked on over 40 films and tv shows), but in december of 2023 i lost my job due to the hollywood strikes (as expected, and as it should—i fully support the strikes). this was supposed to be temporary for a couple months where i could get unemployment benefits (only 45% of my usual salary though). unfortunately, on may 31st 2024, my government announced that they are significantly cutting the funding & tax credits for the vfx industry where i live. what does this mean? mass lay offs. thousands of canadians and other people in the world working in the industry are losing their career, including me. there will only be about 20% vfx jobs left where i live by 2025. vfx shops and production houses have already started to close doors here. i'm still mourning this career i have been working in for 8 years and loved, even tho it's been difficult and demanding at times (lots of overtime), but there are just no jobs right now (unless you are a senior vfx artist with decades of experience) and the future will only get more bleak. i could move abroad and follow the industry that is already moving somewhere else, but i don't want to do that on my own (i am already super lonely as it is!!) and i can't afford it.

my unemployment benefits will run out by the last week of september. in 4 weeks. i've been sending resumes everywhere, both online and in person, but i am just not getting anything in return. even tho i have over 15 years of experience working in various jobs and i have never been fired from anywhere. even tho my resume and cover letters are solid because they have been approved my professional counselors (a free service for people under 35 where i live). so much for they're hiring everywhere...

since my vfx compositing skills are very niche and not really applicable to much else, i decided to go back to school, taking college classes in the admin and excecutive assistant fields, since it's something that i think would be good for me and there are lots of jobs for that here. i will be getting some financial aid, but it's nowhere near enough to survive. it will only cover my rent, and that's because my rent is super cheap for my city. my college classes start on september 30 and i am excited for it, but also very stressed because i still don't have a part time job.

i've been living on my own with a small salary for over 10 years now, but it truly is the first time that i'm struggling this hard. i honestly don't have anything worth selling except some taylor swift perfumes, which i sold this week. i also have over 6k of credit debt and another 4.5k of school loans left to pay. at the bare minimum i will need about $1.000 CAD/month to cover my other bills and expenses after rent, hence why the need for a job ASAP. i am desperate and my mental health has been a huge mess. this is why i decided to open my ko-fi accounts. not that i'm expecting much, but anything can help, i think.

i don't have much to offer in exchange, except gifs? i'm wondering if (cheap, low price) gif commissions are a thing? i have no idea know, but i set up a poll on my ko-fi page to see if anyone would be interested.

thank you for reading if you've made it here, it's appreciated 💖

#little aesthetic gif just for attention lol #signal boost #i have no idea how to tag this #kofi

210 notes · View notes

milfjuulpod · 1 year ago

Text

Guidance, Ch II

lunch, coffee, perfume, emails

read chapter one here

A/N: heyyyy sorry for my absence my writers block is insane rn….anyways i hope y’all enjoy the second chapter, lmk how u feel abt it and what u wanna see! also- i have posted both of these chapters on my ao3, same username. ok here u go bye

The office you resided in was dark, a soft light illuminating from the computer screen, gentle music playing from its speakers. The desk was littered with papers, folders, notes, pens—it was quite the mess. Ava had dropped off a stack of reports on students, those who were falling a bit behind and needed a bit of help. So naturally, you quickly got to work. You knew when you arrived at Abbott that you wanted to help as much as possible, and there was no point in waiting to get started. Sure, it was only the first couple of weeks, but you figured it was best to get a head start on things.

Thus, you launched yourself into work. Most of these students had struggled all last year, and you decided to take some preventative measures to help both the students and teachers. Organizing the files into different piles, you heard a knock at the door. You invited whoever it was inside, and were met with a delightful surprise. “Hi Melissa, how can I help you?” You asked, taking your eyes off of the mess sprawled in front of you. “I think you might be the one who needs help, kid, what's all of this?” She asked, almost laughing at how disheveled your workspace was.

You sighed and leaned back in your chair, as Melissa took place in the seat across from you. “Ava dropped off some files on students, so I’m trying to make plans for them for this year.” She looked at you with such care at that moment, before returning to her usual demeanor. “Well don’t run yourself into the ground before we get halfway into the school year, I have a feeling your desk is gonna look like this a lot,” she teased. You replied with a quiet yes, and went to turn the music down before Melissa stopped you.

“Hold on, is that Italian?” She asked, trying to hide the smile on her face. Glancing at the screen, you realized what was playing. “Yeah, it's called Salvatore, by Lana Del Rey, I listen to this song a lot.” Her smile grew at your statement, and took mental note of it. At this point, you wondered why Melissa came in here, she still has yet to say. As if she read your mind, she spoke again. “I came to bring this to you, I had some extra and wasn’t sure if you’d eaten already, and I’m gonna guess you haven’t,” She gestured to the desk once again before setting down a tupperware in front of you. As she stood up to take her leave, she said, “I hope you like this Italian food as much as you like listening to the language,” and walked out of your office. You felt nearly as warm as the food sitting in front of you.

When five p.m. rolled around, you figured it was about time to call it. Many plans were made for students, the rest would have to wait until tomorrow. You packed up your things to leave, when you remembered the tupperware sitting on the edge of your desk. Melissa’s tupperware. Hoping she didn’t leave, you grabbed it and rushed to her door. Unfortunately, her lights were off and the door was locked. Looks like that will have to wait until tomorrow too.

On the way out, you were stopped by Janine. “Hey! how’s the first week going?” She asked, excited as ever. You told her about the work you had done, and what was still left to do. “I just gotta take this home and wash it now, it’s Melissa’s.” Janine’s eyes widened at that statement, making you feel like maybe you said something you shouldn’t have. “Oh, Melissa gave you that? It took weeks before she even remembered my name, let alone give me something,” She shuffled on her feet nervously. “I hope she’s not trying to butter you up for anything,” Janine’s rambling was cut off by Gregory pulling up to the two of you. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Walking to your own car, you wondered what Janine could’ve meant by that. Melissa had been nothing but kind to you, what could possibly make her say that? Sure, the older teacher had a bit of a tough exterior, but she already took a liking to you. Janine’s words echoed in your head, and the anxiety grew as you thought about what Melissa really wanted from you.

The following morning, you walked to Melissa’s classroom with her clean tupperware and coffees in hand. One for you, one for her. You were just going to return her dish, give her the coffee, and leave. Nothing more, nothing less. The crush on her was a bit ridiculous at this point, you barely knew the redhead, and yet you wanted nothing more but to learn everything. Knocking lightly on the door, you let yourself in. “Good morning, you left yesterday before I could give this back to you. Oh, and here’s a coffee as a thank you.” You greeted Melissa with excitement. Except she didn’t match the energy, at all. She didn’t even look up from her computer as she quietly said “thank you.”

Okay, maybe you were planning on staying a bit longer and chatting with her before getting to your own work, and you felt a bit defeated. Silently, you left the classroom and walked to your own office, wondering if Janine was right about Melissa. It was hard to focus on work feeling this way, and slowly, but surely, it was lunch time. Opting to work through it, you didn’t visit the break room with everyone else. You missed Melissa anxiously looking for you in the break room. But her best friend didn’t.

“Why do you keep looking at the door? Are you waiting for someone?” Barbara asked the woman next to her. Melissa glanced at the cameras, before deciding to lie. “Uh, no. Just…paying attention. You can never be too careful.” Barbara knew what that tone meant, but decided to let it go. Playing the events from this morning back in her mind, Melissa felt a little bad for ignoring you, and this made her upset. Why did she care?

“You’re shaking the whole table bouncing your leg, Melissa. What’s going on?” Barbara questioned. Melissa just sighed in response and leaned back in her chair. With a stern look from her friend, she started talking. “I don’t know. That new guidance counselor came by this morning to return my tupperware and I was busy so I didn’t really say much. And then she just left, but what was I supposed to do? She got me coffee too, I didn’t even realize until she was gone. It was good though, I haven’t been to the place she got it from. Maybe I should ask her where it is? Or…I don’t know…” The redhead trailed off. Across from her, Barbara tried her best to hide the shock from hearing her friend’s words.

“Why are you overthinking this? I’m sure she’s fine and wouldn’t mind you inquiring about the coffee. Go, before the break is over and I have to hear about this all over again tomorrow morning.” Barbara laughed as Melissa rolled her eyes, but she stood up to go searching.

You, on the other hand, decided to pick up a sandwich from the corner store across the street for lunch. Upon returning, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you opened the office door. “Melissa! Oh good god you scared me, what are you doing in here?” You whisper-screamed, adrenaline still rushing for a moment. “I had a question for ya,” she replied, so casually. As if it was normal for her to sneak into your office while you were out. Come to think of it, you remember locking the door, how exactly did she get in?

“A question that couldn’t wait for me to get back from the store? And that’s my chair, scooch it,” You set the sandwich on the desk and leaned against it as well waiting for Melissa to move out of your seat. She didn’t. “Sorry for being so short with you this morning, kid. I was a little overwhelmed with making plans for both of my classes, but thank you for the coffee, that was sweet.” She smiled at you sincerely, and if this is what you get for buying her a coffee, it might become a daily thing. “Where did you get it by the way?”

“Oh! It’s this new place that just opened up by my apartment, Opus. I’ve been a few times already, might become a regular there,” you told her. “Yeah, that makes two of us.” Melissa stood up to leave, and without thinking, you grabbed her hand to stop her. “Wait! Did you say both of your classes? You have two?”

Melissa was visibly surprised at your physical touch, but she didn’t pull back either. “Yeah, a combined second and third grade class. Gonna be a great year,” She informed you, rolling her eyes in the process. You let go of her hand finally and took in what she said. “If you need any help, with lesson plans or grading, you know where to find me.”

The teacher took your hand again and gently squeezed it before letting go, “Thanks hon, I’ll keep that in mind. And next time you need lunch, you know where to find me,” She said with a smirk before walking out the door. Sitting down, you took in the smell of her perfume that coated the area for a few moments more. The sweet scent was quickly forgotten when you looked at your computer screen. Many emails, forgotten assignments, but what caught your eye immediately, was a new email, from Melissa of all people.

Forgot to ask while I was still with you, but would you want to meet this afternoon or later this week to help me with some planning? Maybe we can enjoy a coffee inside the shop this time. Let me know.

-Melissa Schemmenti

#abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary fics #wlw #reader fic #melissa hours #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you

247 notes · View notes

jnnul · 1 year ago

Text

[9:12 a.m.]

gif creds: @jaeyxns

PAIRING ▸ husband!jay park x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, domestic love, husband!au, parents!au, a snippet of what i think jay's life would look like in like 15 years

WARNINGS ▸ mentions of (past/others') pregnancy, uhh i think that's it

WORD COUNT ▸ 1k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ nothing super big but i was writing something else and then suddenly i was writing husband!jay. not sure either <3

"good morning, my love," your husband says from behind you, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple as he goes about fixing himself a mug of coffee.

"good morning, jay," you say with a smile, flipping the omelette in the pan to ensure both sides were well done before then flipping it into the plate next to the stove.

"when did you get home last night? ria, danny, and i missed you," jay says, taking a seat at the barstool at the counter so that he could be in the same space as you.

you turn to him, only to see him already staring at you as though you had hung the sun itself in the sky. you smile, sliding the plate over so that he could start eating before your rowdy children could come and fight their father for breakfast.

"i think around midnight. i'm sorry i had to miss barbie night," you say with a pout, focused on cracking the next egg in the pan carefully.

"oh don't worry about it. is your friend alright?" jay asks, getting out of his seat to grab the bottle of ketchup from the fridge. you nod absentmindedly, mentally trying to track the number of eggs you needed to feed your hungry little monsters (who were still sound asleep) and yourself and jay.

"yeah. in fact, it turns out that she's pregnant!" you exclaim, and jay can't help but smile at the excitement in your voice. "it would explain the sudden flu-like symptoms."

jay offers you a bite of his omelette as you rush around the kitchen. you accept it happily, giving him a thumbs up as you hurry to flip the next omelette.

"i had a feeling from a couple of weeks ago, honestly. i just didn't want to say anything in case it wasn't something that her and her boyfriend wanted," you explain and jay nods in agreement.

"especially since he's in the army. it's a tough decision. i mean we were married for two years before we even thought of danny," jay says and you smile, nostalgia filling the air.

"do you ever miss that? the honeymoon phases and all of the romantic stuff that we used to do before the kids?" you ask, strangely nervous about jay's answer.

jay ponders for a moment before shaking his head no, finishing off the last of his omelette cleanly.

"no. i mean our life might be a lot less 'romantic' and a lot more chaotic because of ria and danny but there's no place i'd rather be than with my kids and my beautiful, smart, and amazing wife," jay says, getting up to accept the next omelette. he sets down his now refilled plate, wrapping his arms around your waist and rocking the two of you side to side.

"i know. honestly, our teenage years were nice. what, with the sneaking out of the house and the awkward prom pictures and everything but this is perfect. barbie nights and spending time with my perfect husband and my little angels?" you sigh, contended, as jay hums and rests his chin on your shoulder.

"keep saying things like that and we're going to have to add to the list of angels running around the house," jay says, his voice deep and full of promise. you clear your throat, a sudden heat rushing up your spine, about to somehow refute his statement when you hear the telltale signs of little feet padding down the stairs and you just barely manage to push jay off of you in time for danny and ria to come down the stairs.

"mama! dad! i'm hungry! i already brushed my teeth! ria didn't so she's stinky stinky but my teeth are sparkly," danny says, rushing up to jay to show off his pearly white teeth.

ria whines in protest, clamoring with all of her five year old might to show her father her clean teeth as well. "daddy, dandan's lying! i brushed my teeth! even all the way in the back!"

"baby, i believe you but remember what i told you? that dandan's gotta watch you brush your teeth just to make sure you're doing it right?" jay says gently, lifting his daughter up to press a kiss to her cheek, laughing when his nine year old son pouts and rushes to your side instead.

"mama, why doesn't dad say 'good job' even though i brushed my teeth?" danny says, fisting your skirt with a heartbroken tone that tugs at your heartstrings and you turn around to fix jay with a glare.

"dandan, good job buddy! i'm so proud of you! in fact, i'm so proud of you that i want you to have the first omelette," jay says, conceding his omelette to danny and ruffling his hair.

your son is easily appeased by the affections of his father and takes his seat at the counter to eat happily and jay gives you a coy wink before pressing another kiss to your forehead.

"let me take my princess to brush her teeth - again," jay adds on at the end when he sees the protest bubbling up in ria's eyes. "you make sure my buddy gets to eat as many omelettes as he wants, okay?"

"daddy! be nice to mommy! you have to say please!" ria scolds jay, pointing her little finger in her father's face.

"yeah! dad, remember a gentleman always says please and thank you to his lady," danny says with a mouthful of omelette and you abandon your post to scoop up your son in a loving embrace.

"oh my god, he's growing up! you used to teach him how to read and now he's telling you how to be a gentleman; soon enough, he'll be telling that to his own kids," you cry out and jay rolls his eyes playfully.

"oh ew! mama, no thanks," danny says, crinkling his nose and making such a funny expression that you and jay can't help but laughing, causing danny and ria to laugh as well.

and your heart is so full. so full because this isn't just today's antics but the beautiful reality you get to experience for the rest of your life.

everything is perfect.

#jnnul #enhypen #enhypen soft hours #jay soft hours #jay soft thoughts #enhypen imagines #jay imagines #jay park #jay park fluff #jay park x reader #enhypen x reader

238 notes · View notes

fantastical-euphoria · 1 month ago

Text

this was me at a one direction concert back in 2014. had myself a blast (besides the last half bucketing down rain). little did i realize just how much this band was going to shape my life, and my tenure on this wonderful place called the internet.

i became massively obsessed over all the boys, harry especially. i thought they were always wonderful people, sunshine and happiness all around. just straight up good people.

i always put my faith in harry, louis, and niall. fan testimonies were off the charts, always stating how amazing they were. zayn i questioned for only a time, but i know now that i was reading too much into it and the golden rule has always been to never fully trust anything you read on the internet. i’m wary of this and have been a sceptic in many, many cases/articles.

now, what i never questioned or considered was liam. he was kind of a wild card for me. i initially thought that he, too, had the same wonderful lovely demeanor as the rest of the boys. they’re british lads, young, so typically you’d stereotype them as innocent charming bucks that are too easy to fall head over heels over.

just these past couple years, that image i had formerly painted for liam has since been tarnished. i feel safe in saying that liam did it to himself. he was the igniter of his own downfall. it wasn’t the fans. *it wasn’t maya.* did his former management and current management play some type of role in it? possibly and probably.

still, i’ll echo what millions of others are typing at the moment, this was far too sudden, far too soon. i didn’t expect any of what was being published on the internet to get to his head that fast, let alone that much. the mental toll that this, *all* this, has taken on him, coupled with addiction torment that he has clearly been battling for a few good years now, is probably the most lethal combo out there. it can lead to what the articles were describing. aggression. that’s not the liam that so so many of us knew. it was the drugs. it was the alcohol. it was the mental drainage. still, we know that the past cannot be erased and his actions are still irreversible, and abuse/assault can never be forgiven.

i cannot imagine the weight that’s setting in on his whole family, and his young son who now has to grow up without a father figure in his life. i cannot imagine how his management is feeling right now. but most importantly of all, i cannot imagine how the boys are feeling. they just lost a brother. they will always remember/commemorate him as their lifelong brother. i cannot even BEGIN to imagine them in tuxes at liam’s funeral… if they even decide to show up. i highly doubt zayn or harry will. if anyone, louis and/or niall, because they’ve been the more actively and vocally supportive of him. i expect all of them to post at least some little thing about this, however, knowing their history of being respectful.

as the days, months, weeks, and years pass, we are slowly watching this grim reality of a disintegrating childhood and, at least for me, teenage-hood unfold before our eyes. this definitely has been one of the more devastating blows. as much as i somewhat anticipated it… i never expected it to come so soon.

i know the fact that this will never become a reality will forever haunt us. if one direction hasn’t been scarred enough in their tenure, this will definitely feel like a gaping gunshot wound.

i’m still reeling, and i’m still processing this. for those who have checked in on me, thank you. for those that i’ve checked on, understand that i’ll still be here, with a hand extended, and an ear to listen. we’re all in this together, grieving over such a devastating loss, not just to the one direction community/fanbase, but to the entire world. liam touched a lot of people, not just fans.

if you have any further thoughts on this, feel free to sound off in the comments. this is a safe space for everybody. ❤️

#one direction #1d #liam payne #harry styles #louis tomlinson #zayn malik #niall horan

19 notes · View notes

backtothefanfiction · 1 year ago

Text

One Last Date For Christmas | PART ONE: An Arrangement At The Christmas Party

Summary: Another year, The same Christmas party and holiday hook up... or is it?

Warnings: 18+ Only, Smut (oral M & F receiving, p in v, mild dirty talk with Christmas references), Mentions of Cancer/Death, Fake Dating, Fuck Buddies to Lovers, this is basically Hallmark/Netflix Christmas movie vibes

Word Count: 5.9K+

A/N: Okay, so I've been feeling crumby lately and really need a boost, so although we took a poll and it was decided this whole story would go up as one piece at the same time, I need the motivation and have had a crumby week mentally and need a boost. So here is part 1. If you do enjoy PLEASE LEAVE ME FEEDBACK!!! I am like Tinkerbell, if I don't get attention I will die haha. But seriously my mental health needs the kind words for energy so please take a moment to share some if you like this part and not just like it. Anyway... ENJOY!!!

Another year, another fancy corporate business party Peter was obliged to attend due to his job. It had become such a regular routine over these last 7 years J. Jonah Jameson didn’t even bother asking if he was available to come anymore, just automatically emailed over the details so he could attend.

Peter couldn’t completely complain. He got free drinks and fancy food for the night. I mean in reality he got to act just like any other guest, despite the camera he had around his neck for the night. And instead of paying to be there, he was instead getting paid to be there. Sure it was only an extra couple hundred bucks, but at this time of year it really did make all the difference.

Being a freelance photographer only made him so much a year, especially when the rest of his time was spent moonlighting as the local superhero which didn’t pay a thing. Not that he couldn’t have made some money as a public figure. A couple grand here to endorse a few products. A donation of thanks or two from business owners or generous members of the community there. All of which had been options that he had turned down. That wasn’t who Spider-Man was and definitely not who he wanted Spider-Man to be. And so at almost 40 years old, this was Peter’s life.

No wife. No kids. Not even a pet, because he couldn’t commit to spending enough time at home in his tiny run down box of a studio apartment, to look after it. He sometimes brought girls home, he did have needs after all, but no matter how interested they had been in him, he’d never let himself get attached. After Gwen he would never get attached again.

The only one to ever even come close was you. He had met you 5 years ago now at this very event. Just like him, you always felt like a fish out of water at these parties, despite always being on the guest list. Your Father was one of the big business benefactors of the party and ever since the divorce you had become his regular plus one.

Just like Peter you were a chronic singleton, always too busy traveling for work to be able to sustain an actual relationship, despite your Mother trying her best every time you were home to set you up with some poor soul. She just didn’t get it. You didn’t believe in marriage anymore as most of them ended in divorce, your parents marriage and even two of your Uncle’s marriages prime examples alone; and as for children? You had decided at the age of 13 you wouldn’t have kids and no matter how many times your Mother, Grandmother or Aunt Sarah told you, you would change your mind, you hadn’t. If anything the birth of your brother’s kids had only cemented things more.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like your niece and nephew, you were just always glad you could pass them back off to your brother and his wife after a few hours of their shrieking play and demands for cookies and ice cream, while fighting over what to watch on the telly. No, you had never wanted kids and you never would. You had however always wanted to get a cat, but until you changed jobs or just simply didn’t have to travel for work anymore, that would just remain a lovely little dream for the future.

Peter always arrived to the party early. After all, he was getting paid by the hour, so the longer he was there taking photos, the more money he could claim from the Daily Bugle finance department on Monday. He aimlessly wandered around taking photos of the venue and the table settings and the odd entering guest as people arrived. He helped himself to horderves off of shiny platters and the odd glass of champagne as he worked, seamlessly floating through the crowd, formally stopping people every now and again for more posed group shots, other times just taking candid photos of people mingling. He took the occasional booming order from J. Jonah Jameson, “Hey Parker! Make sure you get a shot of me with the Mayor. Parker! Come here and take a photo of me and Mrs Perez! Parker! Take a picture of me and my wife!”

“Yes, sir.” Peter would respond with a smile. Usually you were here by now to laugh at the way he followed the head of the Daily Bugle around like his lap dog, but as of yet you still hadn’t arrived. Then a horrible thought crossed Peter’s mind, ‘what if you weren’t coming this year.’ He had seen your Father walking about, had even taken a couple of photos of him with various business partners and city officials, but as of yet there had been no sign of you.

Peter checked his watch again hoping you were just running late, but the closer it got to 8.30pm and the start of the meal portion of the night, he started to give up hope. He knew you were busy, always flying between Tokyo, Milan, London and Paris for work; but you were always usually back home for the holidays. He was just about to check his watch again when you came through the door like a whirlwind in red.

He watched you like a Spider sizing up his prey as you made a beeline for your Father. You gave him a rushed greeting and an apologetic kiss to the cheek, before you followed him and the rest of his group to their table, placed closer to the small makeshift stage that had been erected at one end of the long window lined room. He kept his focus on you as you took your seat, your father pushing your chair in for you as you turned to greet one of the other women at the table a couple seats away from you. That was, until J. Jonah Jameson’s booming voice called him away again.

“Parker! You’re over here with us!” He barked as he ushered Peter over to a table on the other side of the room. He was just able to lock eyes with you and give you a friendly smile before he took his seat. “I’ve sat you on this side so you can get the wife’s good side.” Jameson continued to say.

There was a couple of speeches and awards before the food was served. Peter was pleased to find that he was in fact in a good vantage point in which he could take pictures of the stage this year without having to move. He also had a clear sightline to you too, his lens unconsciously moving in your direction every few shots then back again.

Peter had chosen the steak and hasselback potatoes for his dinner with a rich chocolate pudding for dessert. When he finished his meal, he dismissed himself from the table, as he traditionally did, to go around the tables and take a few more candid shots of people before taking a break at the bar.

“I’ll take an old fashioned, please.” Your familiar voice suddenly came from beside him. “I’m sorry I was late.” you said as you leaned into him as if conspiratorially. “My flight got delayed.”

“Where were you coming from this time?” Peter asked as he took a sip from his own drink.

“Boston.” You said with a sigh. It definitely hadn’t been the answer he was expecting and his quizzical look at you said as much. “I was visiting my Mother. Her and her new partner Brad moved there a few months back to be closer to his grandchildren.” You explained.

“I’m guessing that means you got away with not being set up on a blind date this visit.” Peter fished, knowing your Mother’s habits and routines well after these last 5 years of annual hookups.

“You’d think so.” You said as you took a sip of your stiff drink, just to emphasize the drama of it all. “Turns out Maggie’s teacher is single and available.” you say with mock enthusiasm.

“Maggie?” Peter questions.

“One of Brad’s grandchildren.” you fill in with another sigh and eyebrow raise. “I wish she’d just give it a rest, you know?” You pause as you take another sip of your drink before you tell him, “I’m thinking of coming up with a fake boyfriend just to get her off my back. But then I know she’ll be all like ‘when do I get to meet him?’” you say doing an exaggerated impersonation of your Mother’s voice.

“Yeah, I think about doing the same thing with Aunt May sometimes, but I’d hate lying to her.” Peter confided.

“How is your Aunt?” you ask. The one blessing of only seeing each other once a year meant there were always things for you both to talk about and catch up on.

You watch as his face falls, his eyes turning sad as he looks into his drink. “Umm, they’re not good actually. We found out this year she has stage 4 breast cancer. The doctor said this is probably gonna be her last Christmas.” He struggles to look at you.

“Peter, I’m so sorry.” you say, mustering up as much empathy as you can as your hand instinctively comes to rub at his back. “Is there nothing they can do?”

“They said they could try a few different treatments but it wasn’t guaranteed to work and May ultimately decided that… Well she said that she’s lived to a good age and if this is how she is meant to go, this is how she is meant to go.” He paused, blinking hard as he continued to stare at the liquid in his glass. “She said I was a grown man and didn’t need her anymore.” He let out a small unsatisfied chuckle that wreaked of denial, before he finally looked at you again. “I just… I just feel guilty, you know?”

“What for?” You asked him.

“It’s just. I know she was always holding onto this hope that I’d meet someone. That I’d end up finding someone and settling down. Live a life like her and Ben did.”

“But that’s not what you want from your life?” you question him now unsure, as you finally sit yourself on the bar stool next to him. “I mean, if you wanted that, isn’t that what you would have done? Gone out, met a girl. Settled down. You can’t be someone you’re not just to please others.”

“But it was what I wanted.” he suddenly confides. “And that’s why I feel guilty because she knows that. When I first introduced her to Gwen, I said, ‘that’s the girl I’m going to marry Aunt May.’” he says with gusto, like he’s saying it exactly how he had said it to her, before his body deflates again.

“But things change. People change. We’re allowed to change Peter.”

“I know, but… she just, I know she never gave up hope.”

“You know what they say about hope?” You say.

“It breeds eternal misery,” he bristles.

“No.” You chastise. “It’s like the sun, if you only believe in it when you can see it, you’ll never make it through the night.”

Peter’s brow furrows as his head turns back to you. “Did you just quote Star Wars to me?”

“Princess Leia.” you smile.

“God I love you.” he says casually with a smile.

“I know.” you continue to beam back before you raise your glass towards him. “For Aunt May?”

“For Aunt May.” he agrees before clinking your glass with his own.

You both creep away a little before midnight, catching a cab back to your apartment. You always went back to your apartment. Peter said it was because he wanted you to be comfortable and said it was more homelier than his place, but the truth was, Peter was ashamed to take you back to his own apartment. It looked like a dingy run down squat or some really dodgy student housing in comparison to your place.

He didn’t want to kid himself, he knew he was definitely punching above his weight a little when it came to you, not because he necessarily thought he was ugly, but more simply because you had more money than him. You’d never made him feel inferior for it. In fact you’d always wanted to help him by offering to put him in contact with some galleries so he could get more of his work out there. Maybe make some extra cash by selling some of his photos as art for the rich and wealthy, not just to a local paper, but Peter had never had the guts to take you up on the offer. It would make him feel indebted to you and throw the balance of your relationship off even more than it somewhat already was.

“Did you choose red because it’s my favourite color or just for the festivities?” He nibbled on your ear as his fingers ran across the velvet skirt of the dress, dragging it up to your thigh as he pressed himself against your back.

You hadn’t bothered turning on any other lights than the Christmas tree, before you stopped to take a moment to look out your window at the city. Christmas in New York was your favorite time of year. Every year to mark the occasion, you would go down to Rockefeller Plaza, grab a hot chocolate and watch as they turned on the lights. As kids you would go ice skating there. Less so now you were adults, your brother and his own kids had their own tradition of skating in Central Park on Christmas Eve, but some years you would still partake.

“I chose it for the season.” You sighed, your body relaxing back into him, head resting on his shoulder as he kissed his way down your neck.

“My festive little elf.” He teased as his fingers continued to work up the hem of your dress until they could reach your panties, which you had in fact bought new and chosen with Peter in mind.

“I even brought presents.” You plaid along teasingly.

Your breathing hitched slightly as the pads of his fingers dragged over your lace covered clit.

“Really? For me?” You could feel him smiling into the exposed skin of your collarbone.

“Mhmm.” You hum. “Maybe, you should unwrap me.” You tease back.

“Mmm.” He hums back deeply in delight as he turns you around to face him. The hand that was just ghosting at your centre, now wraps firmly around the back of your neck, as he smashes your rouge stained lips into his.

His other hand begins pawing at the velvety fabric of your dress again before he’s pulling his face away from you, his grin growing too big and you can’t help but give a satisfying smile back as you notice how your lipstick has transferred from your lips to his, marking him as yours for the evening. Your hand reaches for his and you begin taking steps backwards, pulling him in the direction of your bedroom and awaiting bed.

Your room is a slight mess from your hasty packing before you left for Boston and your equally hasty unpacking upon your return. You’d just had enough time to get home and get changed, rushing your make up and hair, before you left to go to the party. Your suitcase lay open on the floor, some of the contents lay spilling out from where you had hunted around for your makeup bag. The little pink bag from Victoria Secret sat upside down on the floor beside it. Peter spies it the moment he enters the room.

He feigns shock, “Did you buy this for me?” He teases as he picks up the bag.

“Don’t get too excited Parker, they were having a sale.”

“I don’t care.” He says with a boyish grin, despite his 39 years of age. “Come here and let me see.”

You smile at him as you begin to step closer to him before calling out into the room, “Alexa, turn on mood lighting.”

His eyebrows raise as a lamp in the corner of the room turns on, illuminating your bedroom in a magenta hue. “Mood lighting huh?”

“Do you wanna be able to see your Christmas gift or not?” You sass back with a hand on your hip.

“I mean, I’ve always thought of you as my Christmas present, regardless of what you wear.” He says as his fingers begin to grab for you again and pull you into him.

“Next year I won’t bother then.”

“Oh no, you’ve made it a thing now. I’m gonna expect this, every- single- year- from now on.” He says between kisses across your cheek and down your neck and upper chest. You begin to giggle and shriek in delight as his lips gently nibble at your skin. “Mmm. Come on then. Let’s see what you got for me.” He says ripping himself away from you so you have the space to reach behind you for the zipper to your dress.

The dress begins to relax its hold on your body, slowly exposing the black strapless lace bra to Peter before you slide the dress down the rest of your body to show off the matching lacey bikini briefs. You carefully step out of the puddle that now is the red velvet dress on your floor, your ankles only wobbling slightly as you still stand in your heels for him to take in the full sight.

He pauses for a moment silently taking you in before he gives a small nod. “Yes. Yes, this will do. Excuse me a moment while I go and write my thank you letter to San-“

“Peter.” You whine.

“Oh come on, don’t be bratty with me now.” He says jokingly as he steps closer and wraps you in his arms again.

“I thought you liked it when I was bratty.” You joke back as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Nope. You become completely intolerable and insufferable and…” You roll your eyes as he continues to list words, but nonetheless, begin to snake your arms from around his neck, trailing them down his chest as you begin to get down on your knees before him.

You begin to work open the button of his jeans, freeing his semi hard cock from its confines. He only stops his fake monologue about you acting like a brat when you take his length into your mouth and his hand involuntarily reaches out for the side of your head as he sighs.

The only sounds that fill the room now are his small gasps and moans and your saliva slick lips around his cock. One of your hands braces itself on his thigh, whilst the other works the rest of his shaft your mouth won’t reach.

You pull off him with a sloppy pop of your lips and Peter groans before you begin to circle the tip of his cock with your tongue and he jumps away from you with sensitivity, suddenly worried he’d blow his load too soon if you continue like that. It makes you giggle.

His fingers reach around the flesh of your bicep and he pulls you up off the floor before pulling you into him, his head nuzzling into your neck, lips and teeth nibbling and teasing at your skin and driving you crazy. He’d worked out that you liked that on the second Christmas you had slept together. He loved the way it made you sigh but also giggle and shriek when the sensation grew too much.

“Ahhh Peter.” you cried out with a high pitched moan.

He reluctantly broke himself away from you and the intoxicating smell of your favorite perfume so you could latch your mouth onto his, a satisfied smile struggling to be contained on your lips. He can’t help but smile back.

“Peter!” you shriek and giggle as he reaches around to pick you up and drop you back onto the covers of your bed.

Your hands get lost in his hair as he begins kissing his way down your chest. Your stomach involuntarily twitches as his lips move across it and the way his hands reach for your hips to forcefully hold you in place sends you reeling, a wave of arousal soaking your panties. His lips skip over your underwear, instead kissing at the inside of your thigh as his hands begin to relax on your hips, his fingers curling under the waistband of your underwear, ready to pull them down.

As he removes you of your underwear, he also takes the opportunity to rid himself of the flattering black long sleeved top he’d been wearing all evening. The removal of his shirt reveals a silver necklace that had been hiding beneath the shirt and the way the chain hangs off his neck has you biting your lip. It is so rare to see a man wear jewelry so you never realized the effect the sight had on you before, but there's something about the connotations and hidden meaning to it, his choice and confidence to wear it, makes you want to rub your thighs together in want.

His fingers are suddenly teasing at your entrance though and its almost enough to take the edge off, or it would be if his finger hadn’t stopped at the first knuckle of his middle finger. You realize he’s only done it so he can spread the arousal that was already leaking out of your cunt around between your folds and across your clit so he can then go in and lick it all off. Your head falls back into the pillows of your bed as you sigh out his name in relief.

You can feel the focus he has radiating off of him without even looking as he begins to expertly lick up from your entrance, swirl his tongue around your clit and then back down again as he draws moans, ever increasing in volume, from your lips. You found out very early on in your yearly dalliances that he was an expert with that tongue, making you cum not once, not twice, but three times just from his tongue alone, when you told him no one had ever actually gotten you off that way before.

You could feel your first climax of the night building low within you, your muscles growing tight, clit growing extra sensitive as your fingers tangled themselves into his hair, encouraging him and guiding him and not allowing him to pull away until you finished. The pressure of his tongue grew firmer and you ground your clit down against it until that tight thread within you snapped, your hips stuttering as pleasure rippled through you. He held tightly onto you, lapping up everything you gave him and helping you ride it out until you were actively pushing him away from you. He gave your bare thighs a small satisfactory slap as he gave you his smug tight lipped smile that seemed to say ‘another happy customer’ and you couldn’t help but let out a little giggle before turning your head and trying to hide the ear to ear smile that was on your face.

You were able to compose yourself as he shifted from the bed to shuck himself fully off the rest of his clothes, his jeans joining your red dress in a puddle on the floor, before he carefully lifted the necklace off over his head and placed it on your bedside table. You shifted yourself over on the bed as he came down to rest beside you, his hand reaching out to pull your face to him as he gave you a kiss before he encouraged you to climb up on top of him. Your lips didn’t part from his as you straddled his waist, your cunt involuntarily rubbing itself along his hard length as your tongues intermingled with one another.

His fingers reached round to grab a hold of your ass cheeks, squeezing the flesh as he encouraged you to grind down harder. You moaned and gasped against his lips at the drag of your clit across his skin. Your open mouth before him allowed him to reach out for your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth making you moan louder, before he began to trail kisses down your chin and neck. You closed your eyes, getting lost in the feeling and the sounds of your own voice. It sent a new flood of arousal between your legs and you could feel Peter grinning against your skin as you worked your slick over his length.

You paused only long enough to reach over to your chest of drawers, pulling a box of condoms out of the second drawer. The position allowed Peter to attach his mouth over your breasts, his teeth biting at them over the lace bra. You reached behind you to unclasp it and take it off as you sat upright, Peter’s hands resting patiently on the tops of your thighs as he waited for you to then open the condom. You held out the torn open packet for him to take the condom and start rolling it down onto his length as you reached back over the side of the bed to drop the wrapper in the bin.

You shifted your legs back slightly as you recentred yourself, one hand balancing on the bed, the other on his bare chest as he lined himself up with your entrance. He glided the tip of his cock against your folds, covering the tip of his cock with your slick before he began to encourage you back onto it. The slow fill of his cock inside you had you letting out a long sigh of satisfaction, your eyes falling closed, head tilting back as you savored the feeling.

It had been a slow year. Despite a brief hook up with a guy over the summer after a night out with friends and a quick tinder hookup in your hotel in Rome (where the guy spoke barely a lick of English), your only companion had been your old reliable rabbit toy. You’d be lying if you hadn’t been counting down the days to tonight the whole time you had been visiting your Mother. When your flight had been delayed, it was the thought of missing out on your one good and guaranteed fuck of the year that had stressed you out. Now it all seemed worth it.

Peter started slowly, his hips pushing up into you at an agonizing pace as he guided you down and your hips back with every thrust, the contours of his cock dragging agonizingly slowly across every sensitive spot inside you, working you up gradually to another earth shattering climax. Your body bowed over him as you let out small gasps of praise into his forehead, your fingers gripping tightly into the sheets either side of his head. You felt one of his hands run soothingly up your back and it sent shivers down your spine that only added to the sensation building in between your legs.

“Peter.” you sighed against him, as you pressed your forehead into his, your eyes closed in concentration as you chased that feeling inside you.

“What is it? What do you need?” his voice gently calls to you as he moves the hand that was caressing your back round behind your neck, pulling your lips down to his for a kiss.

“More. I need more.” you say equally as gently back into his lips.

You feel his head give a small nod in acknowledgment before he seals the deal with a kiss, as his thrusts begin to grow quicker and firmer in pace. It makes him hit something deep inside you that has you crying out. Your eyes fly open, desperate to lock onto his. He looks up at you with such beauty and gratitude. It makes you want to kiss him again and you do, your tongue licking deeply and slowly into his mouth in rhythm with his thrusts.

Your thighs shudder slightly as the sensation between your legs changes and you know your cumming again but the feeling of his cock moving between your legs doesn’t stop. It works you through the high and he still doesn’t stop. Instead his thrusts grow fast as he searches for his own release. You brace yourself, holding yourself over him as he just takes what he wants. If he holds out long enough you think you can get out one more orgasm of your own.

You balance yourself on one arm as your other hand reaches between your legs, swirling rapidly at your clit as you push yourself against his length, feeling every sensation of his rapid thrust. Peter grunts in response at the sensation of your fluttering cunt and it forces him to find one final push, his hips sputtering only slightly before he increases his angle and speed one last time, then he’s embracing you.

His arms wrap tightly around you as your final climax soaks his cock. Your head is buried into his neck as you try to shut out the overstimulation for just a few more strokes of his cock before he stills, his length pulsating as he finishes, only adding to the sensitivity between your legs making you squirm. He’s quick to push you off him as you do, his own sensitivity unable to take the feeling.

You both pause breathing deeply as you come down before he gives you a small tap and you flop onto your side on the bed. He quickly gets up, kicking his legs out to disperse the blood around them as his cock softens. You close your eyes to revel in the last dregs of your orgasm as he goes to your adjoining ensuite to sort himself out.

He takes a little longer than usual and you begin to frown, but then you hear the flush of the toilet and the door opening and you settle. You quickly get up, flashing him a smile as you hobble to your bathroom with legs like a newborn calf. Usual he’d let out a proud little chuffing laugh but this year he doesn’t.

When you return to see him sat on the side of the bed in his underwear, his fingers reaching to fix the necklace he had taken off back over his head and around his neck, you realize he looks distracted. “What is it? What’s wrong?” you ask him as you climb over the bed to your rightful side and slip between the covers.

His head turns, eyebrows raising as if he’s only just noticed you’re back in the room. “Huh?” he says. “Oh, nothing.”

“Really?” you say as he shuffles himself round to face you, put he doesn’t get under the covers. Peter doesn’t sleep over. He stays for a debrief and a chat for maybe another hour, some years two, but always leaves to return to his own apartment and bed.

“It’s just,” he says as he places an arm under his head as he gets himself comfortable, “I was just thinking about what you said earlier.”

“What did I say earlier?” you reply as you shift into a similar position to his, facing him. You look like two kids at a slumber party who have moved so close to each other so you can whisper really quietly and not disturb the others who are sleeping.

“About pretending to have a boyfriend to get your Mom off your case.”

You frown at him, “Yeah, but it’d never work because she’d want to meet him.”

“Okay, yeah.” he says, but his tone isn’t one of defeat, it instead says ‘wait, hear me out’. “But what if you had someone to take home and pretend to be said boyfriend?”

You’re still confused. “What are you trying to get at here Parker?” You suddenly sit up, placing distance between the two of you as a realization hits you. “Wait, this isn’t you asking me out or trying to be my boyfriend is it? You know I don’t really do the whole dating thing. We have our arrangement and that's-”

“No. NO. Would you just hear me out.” he speaks over you and cuts you off as he too sits up defensively. “Look, I just thought we could come to some sort of arrangement.” You’re silent as he pauses and takes a deep breath and you wait for him to continue. “Okay.” he says, his hands folding in his lap, “This is probably gonna be my Aunt May’s last Christmas.” he says and the implication of his words make you bristle. He struggles to look at you, but your eyes remain fixed on him so he know that you are listening and paying attention, even if his words are starting to make you uncomfortable. “I don’t want her to die thinking I’m gonna spend the rest of my life alone, you know? I mean,” he sighs, collecting his thoughts before he continues, “I don’t want her to die without hope.”

“Okay.” you acknowledge quietly as you follow his words.

“So I was thinking, what if- just for this christmas,” he emphasizes, “what if we pretend to you know, actually date. Come the New Year we go our separate ways as normal, no strings attached, but you know, just to get our families off our backs so we can live our chosenly single lives.” He screws up his face a little at the word chosenly, which he’s all but sure he’s made up but figures he’s gotten his point across.

“So, we pretend to date for the holidays to get our parents off our backs?” you frown, checking you’ve got his proposal right.

“Yeah. You’d come for Christmas Eve dinner with my Aunt and I’ll…” his voice trails off as he wracks his brain for an equal solution for you.

“You’ll come to Boston with me for my Mother’s New Years party.” You fill in for him.

He hesitates a second realizing he’d actually need to travel and stay with you and your family to make things even on your side of things, but the thought of letting May die thinking he’s going to be lonely forever, has his stomach turning more so he hastily agrees. “Fine, but-” he interjects, knowing a single day with his Aunt for a supposedly 2-3 day trip with your family isn’t a fair exchange, “if my Aunt is still with us in February, you have to stop by on Valentines day.”

“I thought you just said we go our separate ways come January.” You respond.

“Yes, but one meal with my Aunt in comparison to a multi day trip to Boston is hardly an equal-”

“Fine. Fine.” You concede with your hands raised.

He relaxes slightly as you come to an agreement. “You wanna shake hands on it or something?” he offers. You roll your eyes, your fingers reaching for the pillow you’d pulled into your lap to nervously fiddle with instead, picking it up and throwing it at him. “Hey.” he jokingly exclaims as he holds his hands up to catch the pillow before it hits him in the face. “Is that any way to treat your new boyfriend?” he deadpans.

“Uuuhhgg.” you scoff back with another eye roll but you can’t help the tiny smirk that creeps into the corner of your mouth.

I'm going to upload the other parts of this mini series on the dates that match up with the story (Christmas Eve, New Years Eve), if you want to be added to the list below, please put it in writing. All current tags have been taken from likes, reblogs or comments from other posts about this series, if you wish to be removed, just let me know. (I had a few more names who liked posts but it wouldn't let me tag you, apologies, I'm not sure how to fix that but I hope this finds you anyway.) Once again if you did like this, please don't just like it, respond with some words of your own to give me a boost.

@sincericida @tarzinnia @raindropsandteaandtears @xenasolos @dil3mma @ms-wild-card-56 @shivani1902

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #andrew!peter parker #peter parker imagine #spider-man #andrew!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #Christmas Peter Parker story #tasm peter parker imagine #christmas imagine #holidate #fake dating #Peter Parker smut #one last date for christmas #andrew peter parker #andrew garfield peter parker

69 notes · View notes

genericpuff · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Maybe this is a difficult question with no answer, but as a fan of Rekindled who might want to start their own comic, what do you suggest to avoid burnout? Do you start wiht writting the script right away, you doodle a bit,..? Thanks for reading, I love how you draw big noses, makes me more comfy with mine!

no fr my dark secret is that i've been experiencing burnout with my main original project that I've spent the last decade working on for literally a year now. this isn't the first long hiatus i've taken, the longest one i've ever been on has lasted two years, and it's undoubtedly not the last i'll experience because the lump of salt and fat and tissue that is my brain often overworks itself into exhaustion like a big dummy

rekindled has been my reprieve from the burnout. it has been my vacation from years of working on the same project, meeting the same deadlines, drawing the same characters, over and over and over again since before i was in college.

if there's anything working on rekindled has made clear to me, it's that i'm still capable of drawing comics. the comic-making isn't the problem. it's just that when you work on the same project for years and trap yourself in an uphill battle, eventually your climbing gear is bound to break.

if there's another thing that rekindled has opened my eyes to, it's the insanity that i put myself through prior to rekindled that led to my burnout in the first place.

i get people telling me that they couldn't imagine doing what i do, that even before i had my assistant helping me out, i was still able to put out 30-40 panel updates every week.

but before that, i was putting out 70-90 panel episodes of my original work. every week. full color. full spread action scenes. no assistant. very little financial gain aside from a couple patrons on patreon and one dedicated viewer on twitch, which i was also streaming on 2-3 times a week.

and now that i've been working on rekindled and even finding myself often crunched for time with that, i have zero clue, no idea, a complete lack of comprehension of how i pulled off 70-90 panels a week for months on end. there's a reason it resulted in burnout and i know that now. this comparison is not for the sake of a flex - this comparison is to make it clear that much of what i do isn't the norm and isn't exactly a healthy standard. case in point, i sneezed while sweeping up yesterday morning and it caused a muscle strain in my lower back/hips and i've been working out of my bed since, i'm in a lot of pain and it might mean i don't make any money this week if it's not better by the time i have to do my appointments at my day job on thursday. my need to create my personal passion projects is often at odds with my bad habits of not taking care of myself 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。

when it comes to tackling burnout, your guess is as good as mine. really it just comes down to rest. when burnout - real, true burnout - hits, it's not just "man i'm bored of working on this", it's "i can't even think of looking at this thing let alone working on it", it's basically akin to depression and it's an awful thing that i wouldn't even wish on my worst enemy (even with Rachel, I don't want to psychoanalyze her mental health but it does seem like she's possibly been experiencing burnout with LO for years now and that really sucks for her if that's true). so the solution is just as complicated as the cause, it's not something that you can just rest from for a week and come back from, it takes real long-term healing.

when I found my way out of that 2 year hiatus, it was in spring of 2019 and I decided to just work on a random comic page that wasn't even in the comic I was working on. and then suddenly it was like a switch flicked back into the on position and i didn't even finish what i was working on, i just went back to my original project and i kept working on it until it was finally finished at the end of 2021. as suddenly and randomly as it had set in, it was gone. but i can't just do the same thing this time, it just doesn't work that way.

that said, through all this, i've learned that my need to create is not restricted to any one tangible thing, i'm not doomed or designed to stick with the same words, the same faces, the same ideas until the end of time. while i do try to keep up healthy routines for myself to ensure i'm looking out for my future self and their deadlines and their upload schedules, sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants. and in my case, the heart wanted to take a break from the self-reflective psychological analysis dark fantasy weebo stuff and just draw some pink and blue characters a little less ugly. the self-reflective weebo shit will still be there when i'm done with the pink and blue stuff, and i'll surely have loads of new things to unpack through it once i return.

there are still times when i'm working on rekindled and i'm feeling the creeping hand of my routine destruction digging its claws into my back. the reality is that 30-40 panels is still a lot for someone like myself who's doing this entirely for free, but my definition of normal for a while was so insanely inhumane that even what's still considered a lot by most people's standards feels sane and normal to me after what i put myself through.

i've learned to be more gentle with myself, and to loosen my own expectations of what i'm capable of to ensure i don't do anything like that to myself, by myself, again. i give myself room to create without expectations or the pressure of eyes watching when i can, and i remind myself that even if burnout rears its head again, and again, and again, the will to create is not gone. it's just tired, and resting, and growing, and healing as i am.

anyways that turned into a self-reflective essay post, to answer your question about making stuff ahead of time, i find that's more helpful with just like, planning out a structured story (so you don't write yourself into a corner) but whether or not it helps with burnout kind of depends. because it can just as also easily be the cause of the problem because constantly seeing the stuff you wanna be drawing so far away can be just as much of a morale killer as a motivator. some of the stuff i'm super psyched to write and draw with time gate is years away and that timeline grows longer the more the burnout goes on which makes the struggle feel even more overwhelming and pointless and defeating. so plan ahead, but keep it all within your means if you can. i find what works for me is planning out just general beat-to-beat plot structures (to ensure i at least have a plot skeleton going on so i know where i'm going) then i leave the finer details to when the actual episode i've planned gets closer to fruition and i can get myself in the headspace to write it fully.

also remember that just because you're really excited and motivated to work on your comic doesn't mean you should work yourself into exhaustion - it's a good thing if you're going through the mundane of your daily routine and the whole time you're hyped af to work on your hobby/personal project/etc. because that's what will keep you moving forward, so don't spend all that hype in one place by working and working and working until you're exhausted, because that hype is REALLY hard to get back after you've spent it all.

long post over! hope that helps! best of luck in your projects! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

#also aaah thank you for the nose compliment haha #i love drawing different kinds of noses <3 #ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything #self post

65 notes · View notes

thebluntstudent · 6 months ago

Text

FIVE TIPS FOR STUDYING WHEN ILL OR OTHERWISE INCONVENIENCED...

disclaimer: when at all possible, you should always prioritise physical and mental wellbeing over a good grade. If you are seriously ill to the point where it is heavily impeding your capacity to study, you are not fit to take an exam, or write an essay, and I hope your educational institute has measures for exceptional circumstances/extensions/deferrals to allow you to do so! Alas, it isn't always possible to do the ideal thing in life, and that is where my experience comes into play.

°•☆•°

Sometimes you find yourself in a crappy predicament a couple weeks before an essay is due, or an exam is scheduled, and you find yourself slipping further away from the stacl of textbooks on your desk, and closer to the comforts of your bed and the rest you really wish you had the time to make the most of.

Right now, my hormones are currently out of whack in a way that could meaning anything from (the most likely cause) PCOS to perimenopause at 22 to plenty of other less likely possibilities I'd rather not dwell on. This means that sitting up for more than 5-10 minutes in the same position sends my abdomen into spasms and sharp pains, and generally existing hour to hour is a painful, emotional, hot-flush filled experience.

That being said, I have an exam in a few days, and since deferral is not an option for me (this is my last attempt, I can't take any more time off of uni, my last attempt was last year during a period of several losses that occurred on an interruption year I had taken due to burn-out and unresolved trauma sliding into my life- you get where I'm going with the 'sometimes life is a bitch and your general and academic life can't be pretty and pristine' bit) I have been doing my best to balance comfort and productivity in a way that helps me look out for what I need right now whilst still getting in as much revisiom as I'm able to.

So! I thought I'd share my little tips for building a comfy study space when conditions are not ideal but you still gotta keep moving:

• abandon the 'do not study in bed' tip, but only for as long as it helps you as opposed to hindering you. I have tried sittimg up at a desk with pillows and blankets swathing me- and all I get for it is hefty back pain and constant awkward readjustments every time I start heating up or shift around in my seat too much. If you're ill, you aren't doing yourself any good sitting hunched over a desk either- and frankly your sleep is probably going to be buggered until you're feeling better anyways. So, if sitting at a desk is putting you off, prop up some pillows, rest your writing materials on a hard surface (a folder, an A4 hardback- a chopping board works for a cute wannabe lap desk too), and set a zone of your bed aside (or just use a bedside cabinet if you have one) for anything you'll be using fairly often- by which I mean stationary, textbooks you'll be using over the course of the next hour or so- just enough stuff to save you constantly getting up out of your comfy study bubble.

• listen to tesco: every little helps. What I like to do to get myself going when I'm feeling naff- which works also if you're simply having a difficult time focusing yourself for the day- is to do micro pomodoro sessions, where I'll dedicate myself to 5 minutes minimum of focused study. If I really can't bring myself to continue longer than 5 minutes, I'll let myself rest for a little while (up to 20-30 minutes) before getting myself to do another micro session. This may not seem very productive, but you are more likely to do a good hour of work on a bad day when you tell yourself you only need to do little 5 minute sessions, than procrastinating studying because you feel as if you'll have to sit up and focus for a much longer period of time for it to count. Every. Little. Helps. In 5 minutes you can run through a topic of flash cards, do a slide of lecture notes, answer small exam questions, do a page or two of readings- and on a good day, that 5 minutes might turn into 10 with a small break, then 15, then you'll find yourself picking up your regular pace in no time! But again, even 5 minutes, just one little session, is a win when the world is throwing hurdles at you <3

• maximise your comfort: you know the little things that bring you joy, and you don't habe to be rolling in cash to surround yourself with little things to keep you going when all you want to do is sleep. My current comforts are the loyal presence of my cat next to me, a few old blankets I can swaddle myself in to stare at the ceiling when my ovaries are throwing a tantrum, a little variety of teas (currently rocking a chai latte with home bargains vanilla syrup, girl gotta have her sweet relief), a pack of energy drinks, some painkillers, and a little incense tray nearby that I forget to use 70% of the time (though the remaining 30% makes up for that). None of this is in particular mandatory- if it were, the dog people of the world would be doomed. The point is, find your little comforts- an activity you can do from the comfort of your bed like a puzzle, sensory toy or just a book to doodle in, a certain type of drink or snack you really love, some smellies (perfume, incense, candles, wax melts, and so on), supplies for whatever ails you- little personal things to relax you whilst you try to gather your energy.

• Now is not the time to push it. I tend to find the times in which I am most likely to push myself past my limits are the times in whicj something is inhibiting me- the frustration of being bed-bound, fatigued due to chronic conditions, etc tends to make me feel even more than usual that I am not doing enough because of my awareness of my present restrictions. Though this post is about pusning through bad times, you should be doing so with self-compassion, and with the mindset that every little bit you achieve in your current state is a win, a bonus, even if you find yourself unable to work to the same standard as normal. You aren't well- you aren't supposed to be functioning at 100% because your body is only functioning at 50%, and if you want to get back to your regular stressed student self you need to rest! Remember that a slightly lower grade than you were expecting in the short-term is not a reflection on your character, and it's better to *be* better for the long-term than to work yourself into a ditch and burn-out when you are already at a low point.

• If healthy study you is a carefully rehearsed play, then sick study you is a completely improvised show. Don't knock the analogy, even if it is silly and obscure- when I am at my peak, I will time-block my studies, plan to do certain topics on certain days, do 30-5 or 50-10 study sessions, work during a set period from the morning to the mid afternoon.

When I am ill, I do not know when I will be unable to sit up to work. I do not know when I will be able to sleep, to stomach food, to concentrate- so I have to accept that the normal routines that keep me consistent have to be chucked in the bin for the time being. Instead of planning my whole day, I create a vague, rough outline of the next few things I want to get done. This way, I don't feel crushed when I start working on lecture notes and find myself flat out on my back crying 10 minutes later- I just pick up where I left off when I'm ready, and work in increments from there.

°•☆•°

Right now my sleep is a bit fudgy because of night sweats/panics and p a i n, and by building a cosy space and letting my plans adapt to my body's needs I've managed to get 3 hrs of lecture notes, 2 sets of flashcards, and a set of logic practise questkons done over night between 8pm-4:30am. If I had tried to stick to my regular 'good day' study routine, I don't think I would have lasted 15 minutes before giving up and crawling over to youtube with a bowl of white chocolate and a horlicks in hand.

It is this kind of adaptability to external conditions that allowed me to survive an unstable home situation during college that meant weeks without wifi, constantly moving between different homes and constant fear of eviction due to family debts I was too young to do anything about- and allowed me to get into the top university in London* as a working class girly from a council estate.

I was given the opportunity to do an extra year at college for free due to these circumstances and a great support network within the institute to make sure I got into the specific university that I wanted to, and I had to take an interruption after my firdt yesr of university because I am not a super-human, and I knew my limits- but I'm still going, and the time away I've had has paid off and gotten me back to my scrappy, chaotic, passionately nerdy self.

You can be messy and be a good student too- and you can get through the worst of times with a little adaptability, perseverance, a good support network and a little self care ♡

*Times Good University Guide, 2024.

#student #studyspo #study blog #study motivation #studyblr #study tips #student tips #university

26 notes · View notes

freddiemercurylegendabovelegends · 9 months ago

Text

Today - March 12th, 1974 - Queen Story!

Interview with Freddie Mercury – NME

by Julie Webb

It was clear for all to see that Queen’s Freddie Mercury wasn’t in the best of health. His hair lacked the recent attention of heated curling tongs; a cold sore was erupting above his upper lip; and horror – seems he’d not been able to summon enough strength to apply Biba black nail polish to more than one hand.

Mercury was worried as the camera lens zoomed in on him. He beseeched us to “touch up the picture to remove the cold sore if you can.”

I know it sounds like we’re setting the guy up, but he takes it all in good heart. Why, last time we met he stated he was “gay as a daffodil” – and here he was, willingly holding a daffodil in hand, outside Buckingham Palace. He posed regally, shirt temporarily coming unhitched from his trousers, revealing a hairy chest.

The British tour sapped most of the Mercury energy. Bedridden with laryngitis when it finished, he had just a few free days to repair any mental or physical damage before Queen joined Mott The Hoople on their two-month tour of America.

He is, in short pretty knackered – and if the American tour seems to be happening too soon after Britain, there’s no way he can change things.

I’d like a couple of weeks off, but you’ve got to push yourself. But we’re at a stage in our careers, my dear, where it’s just got to be done. I shall be resting on my laurels soon…”

He stops, considers the last remark and realises he may have said the wrong thing. Hurriedly he comes in with, “To put it another way, I shall try and reap my profits. I’ve worked my ass off these past few months. I’ve worked till I’ve dropped and after a while you physically can’t do it.”

Didn’t he think the British tour was a bit too busy, what with so many gigs included. “Yes it was a heavy tour, but it put us in a different bracket overnight. It’s a tour we had to do and I think now we’ve done it we can do the next British tour on our own terms, exactly how we like.

“With this tour we were booked in well beforehand at semi-big venues and, by the time we came to doing them, we had the album out, we’d got a bit of TV exposure and everything escalated. I think if we’d waited we could have done all the big venues – it’s just a matter of timing. But I’m glad we did the tour when we did. Even though there was a lot of physical and mental strain – so many things to worry about other than the music.”

A situation not improved by the fact that all members of Queen are, according to Mercury, “very highly strung”. Add to that his admitted bad temper. “I’m very emotional. Whereas before, I was given time to make my decisions, now nearly all of us are so highly strung we just snap. We always argue but I think it’s a healthy sign because we get to the root of the matter and squeeze the best out. But lately so much is happening, it’s escalating so fast that everybody wants to know almost instantly, and I certainly get very temperamental.”

“You’ve got to know where to draw the line. But the public always come first – it’s a corny thing to say but I mean it. Lately I’ve been throwing things around which is very unlike me. I threw a glass at someone the other day. I think I’m going to go mad in a few years time; I’m going to be one of those insane musicians.”

It’s at this point that I begin to wonder about Mercury. On stage he lords it around like some old slag. Offstage, he’s vain, camp – yet a nice enough dude.

He just has an unfortunate way with him during interviews, coming out with quotes and stories that are bound to be misconstrued or lay him wide open to mickey-taking. This could well account for some of the unkind press the band have received.

“I think, to an extent, we are a sitting target because we gained popularity quicker than most bands and we’ve been talked about more than any other band in the last month, so it’s inevitable. Briefly, I’d be the first one to accept fair criticism. I think it would be wrong if all we got were good reviews – but it’s when you get unfair, dishonest reviews where people haven’t done their homework that I get annoyed.” Unlike many British bands, they’ve waited until the time was right and are appearing on the same bill as Mott, who will assuredly pull in large crowds.

So the present and the future seem well assured I enquire about the past – like, what kind of family background does a guy like Mercury have?

“Middle-class. Musicians aren’t social rejects any more. If you mean; Have I got upper class parents who put a lot of money into me? Was I spoilt? – no. My parents were very strict. I wasn’t the only one, I’ve got a sister, I was at boarding school for nine years so I didn’t see my parents that often. That background helped me a lot because it taught me to fend for myself.”

Boarding school… if we are to believe stories that circulate about boarding schools – brutish behaviour, homosexual goings-on – well, the mind positively boggles in Freddie Mercury’s case.

I broach the subject…

“it’s stupid to say there is no such thing in boarding schools. All the things they say about them are more or less true. All the bullying and everything else. I’ve had the odd schoolmaster chasing me. It didn’t shock me because somehow boarding schools… you’re not confronted by it, you are just slowly aware of it. It’s going through life.”

So was he the pretty boy who everyone wanted to lay?

“Funnily enough, yes. Anybody goes through that. I was considered the arch poof.”

So how about being bent?

“You’re a crafty cow. Let’s put it this way, there were times when I was young and green. It’s a thing schoolboys go through. I’ve had my share of schoolboy pranks. I’m not going to elaborate further.”

Oh dear. And just when we were doing so well.

📸 Pic: 1974 - Freddie Mercury posing

#nme magazine #freddie mercury interview 1974 #1974 #interview #julie webb #freddie mercury #queen band #london #zanzibar #legend #queen #brian may #john deacon #freddiebulsara #roger taylor

41 notes · View notes

foreverrandomwritings · 2 years ago

Note

I keep sending so many! 🙊😂 How about cupping your face in their hands and them telling you, “you. you are the one i love.” (1) and you’re not alone. you never were. (2) with Hangman? ❤️💙

Loneliness

Summary: 2 prompts for my mini celebration.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Warnings: This gets pretty mentally dark. Talks of anxiety, depression, glides over eating disorders. Probably a couple more but I can’t think of them. Just heavily dark themes. Angst.

Word Count: 2375( I don’t even know how it got so long okay)

Masterlist

Jake had never had many friends other than Javy. They had been stationed together handfuls of times and had quickly become a bromance that couldn’t be swayed. Then you came into the picture. The chemistry was instant and you were married within the year. He had continued to go out with Javy normally bringing you along If you were up to it. Occasionally going out with other pilots he was stationed with. But normally when he and Javy weren’t stationed together he spent most of his time with you.

When he had been permanently stationed in Fightertown you had been excited. You felt hope of finding a group of friends for yourself. You hadn’t made many over the last 4 years of being with Jake. The ones you had were left at different bases, cities and countries around the world. You knew he got along decently with the rest of the squad after the mission where he proved himself not a complete asshole.

Once you had made the move to Fightertown you had joined the squad at The Hard Deck a few nights. They had developed inside jokes in the short weeks they had all spent together, they had formed bonds and were just as close as a family. You don’t think that they had meant to make you feel so left out. Bob had often sat with you and drank whatever soda or water you chose that night. Javy had brought you into conversation and danced around the bar with you. Jake had just about always been standing a couple feet from you checking in frequently.

The sinking loneliness had set in slowly. You felt as though you weren’t wanted at The Hard Deck. So you started to make excuses as to why you couldn’t go. A headache, grocery shopping, a made up book club, feeling tired, and a phone call with your parents or grandparents. Jake asked if you wanted him to stay with you often. You always insisted that he go and spend time with his friends and to have a soda with Bob for you. You didn’t express your feelings to Jake and he didn’t push too much. He knew that you often liked to spend time alone and he didn’t want to push you into situations that made you uncomfortable.

But then the loneliness turned into anxiety and depression. Jake had been deployed again and it was slowly eating away at you this time. You had made no friends here, your family was thousands of miles away and it was just you in your apartment. Jake wasn’t able to communicate with you like he normally was during missions. It was barely 1 email a week.

When he had left he told you it was supposed to be barely a month away. But then that barely a month turned into two months. Then it turned into three. At the two and a half mark you realized you could no longer stay in the empty apartment and had decided to go stay with your parents awhile. You didn’t know how to break the news to Jake through email so you didn’t. You simply left a note explaining where you had gone.

You had turned your phone off when you arrived at your parents and had kept it off since. Not replying to the emails Jake had sent that the mission was extended another 2 weeks or the worried emails from Javy asking how you were doing and why you weren’t replying to Jake.

You knew that this wasn’t the way to handle the situation. Knew you should’ve just pushed through the last 2 weeks and acted like everything was fine. It killed you to run away from your problems, especially to run from Jake. But you didn’t know how to explain it to him. He was always strong, never wavering, always confident.

At the week and a half mark of being at your parents the thoughts of Jake finding someone better had eased its way into your brain. That was your first thought waking up in the morning and your last thought before going to bed. Your parents had become worried for you. You had stopped eating, barely showered and some days you didn’t get out of bed. You had lost track of how long had passed since you arrived at their house. They were at a loss of what to do.

Then they received a call from Jake. He said he had gotten back to California and you weren’t there to pick him up so he went to the apartment and found the note you had left. He begged them to tell him how you were doing. They didn’t hesitate to tell him everything that they knew. You hadn’t told them much upon your arrival. You showed up with 2 suitcases on a random Saturday afternoon and a request to stay. He told them he would be on the first plane out to get you.

They didn’t tell you about the phone call or the fact that he was heading to get you. Afraid that you would flee somewhere that they wouldn’t be able to find you. They had figured that there was no way he had intentionally done anything if he didn’t even know why you were gone.

Two days had gone by since the first phone call. He had called again and told them that he had talked to his superiors and told them he had a family emergency. He had gotten on a plane with a connecting flight which was the first flight he could find. The third call was to tell them the connecting flight was canceled and he couldn’t find another one so he was on his way by car. But he was going to arrive early that night.

Your parents had tried to get you out of bed when they heard he would be there that day. You didn’t budge. They tried to give you some food. You didn’t budge. They tried getting you to shower. You didn’t budge. They asked if you wanted to get changed. You didn’t budge.

They realized once Jake got there that they would have to send him up to your room. Which was exactly what they did. You had been lying there staring at the ceiling when you heard the front door open. You heard mumbles but couldn’t discern any words or voices. You figured they had guests over so you decided to ignore them. Until you heard footsteps walking up the steps and then whispering outside your door.

The door creaked open, the light from the hallway leaking into the room. “Darlin’ are you awake?” You heard a voice that sounded a lot like your husband's voice. You closed your eyes imagining him there. But there was no way that it was real, he was on a mission that only he and a few others knew where. Then the footsteps moved to the side of your bed. A hand was on your cheek. “Darlin’ can you hear me?” His voice broke the silence of the room again. You slowly blinked your eyes open. Taking in the light of the room and the face above you.

“J-ja-jake? Is that you?” Your voice scratched out for the first time in weeks. The both of you cringing from the way you spoke. Then suddenly your throat was sore. Your body and head ached. Your stomach suddenly felt empty. The emotions you had become numb to all came back to you like a tsunami rushing through a city.

“It’s me darling, I’m here. Can you tell me what happened? I got to the apartment and you were gone. I read the note but I didn’t know anything was wrong darling. You seemed fine in your emails. Everything seemed to be okay before I deployed. I don’t know what happened. Please just tell me what I did wrong. How can I fix this please?” You could feel tears on your face. But you knew you hadn’t been crying, that’s when you realized they were Jake’s tears. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek, wiping away a few tears.

“I didn’t want to worry you cowboy. I didn’t want to ruin your new friendships. I felt like a bother to you guys. You had these bonds with each other, all these inside jokes and moments I had missed. I know how badly you wanted friends like that. I wanted you to be able to have that. I didn’t realize I was shutting down until you left. I just felt so alone. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I want you to be able to find someone better than me Jake. Someone that won’t hold you back.” You croaked out your throat still sore. You slowly sat up reaching for one of the many waters your parents left on your night stand. Jake helped you and turned on the lamp on the same table. When the lights hit your face he could see how sick you looked. Face sunken in, skin much paler than usual and you had looked as though you had lost about 20 pounds since he saw you last. He gasped, swallowing the lump forming in his throat.

He wished he had dug deeper when he realized you were pulling away from him. Every time he had asked if something was wrong you always gave him a smile and reassured him it wasn’t.

As you sat the bottle down he cupped your cheeks in his hands “Darling, you. You are the one I love. You’re not alone. You never were. I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you were.” He paused for a second taking a deep breath preparing for his speech to you.

“The squad asked about you all the time. Bob missed the silent hangouts you would have at the bar. Javy missed the way you would dance around the busy space with him. The rest of the squad were desperate to get to know you more. I wish I had done more to make you feel like you belonged there. Because you did, you belong everywhere that I am.” You grabbed one of his hands that was still cupping your cheek, emotions wrecking through your body at a speed that you couldn’t comprehend.

“I can’t stay in California without you. I can’t call it home without you. I need you to come back to me please.” Jake begged you tears steadily working their way down both of your faces. “I never wanted you to feel like you were alone. Like you couldn’t come and talk to me. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to. I will leave the Navy the next time my contract is up. I promise. Just please promise to not leave me again.”

“Jakey, I never should have left. I never should have run from you. I just didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t realize how much it hurt me to be alone until you left. How much I desired to have you back and desired to spend time with you until I couldn’t. I didn’t know who I was anymore without it being me, you and occasionally Javy.” You disclosed to him.

“I thought I was ready for you to have friends and for me to be a part of that. But it was all just so overwhelming. I missed it just being us. Having my time with you. I missed you so much. I miss California and I miss our home. I want to come back to you Jake. I don’t want to run anymore. I love you so much. I love the life that the Navy has given us. I love everything that has to do with you.” Your shoulders slumped as you finally spoke the words that had been taking your breath away everyday. Feeling like you could finally get air into your lungs. You could finally breathe without feeling guilt.

“If you come back to California with me. I’ll take as much leave as I can and we can spend time, just you and me. We can do anything and everything you want. If you want to spend time with Javy like we used to then we can. Anything and it’s yours. Just say the words.” He pleaded with you. You brought the hand that wasn’t on his to his cheek. Looking into his eyes you knew he would do absolutely anything it took to have you back.

“I’d like that, cowboy. I just want to spend some time with you first. Then maybe have Javy over. After I start to feel better I think I’d like to slowly be introduced to the rest of the squad if that’s okay with you?” You asked him anxiety rolling over you again not wanting to disappoint him. His face lit up at your words.

“Darling I will give you the world if that’s what it’ll take. You tell me when you’re ready to go back home and we will go. Until then we need to try to get you healthy enough to travel. I don’t want to be rude but you look terrible.” He told you with a slight smile on his face. His hands slowly falling away from your cheeks.

That had you letting out a loud laugh. “It’s good to know you haven’t lost your charm cowboy. Can we start with a shower then something to eat?” You quietly asked him with a small smile on your face.

“If that’s what you want to do, that's what we’ll do. I’ll go start the shower and you stay here.” He told you about to stand up. But you were putting your other hand on his face bringing his lips to yours.

“I will love you until the end of time Cowboy.” You whispered to him resting your forehead on his.

“And I will love you longer than forever Darling.” He spoke back to you giving you a final kiss before heading to the bathroom. You realized then that he wasn’t always strong, never wavering, always confident. There was one thing that could change all of that for him and it was you.

A/N: I struggled with what I was gonna do with this prompt since I got it. Then lighting struck me of course at the craziest time. I had been bouncing between this, @wkndwlff latest installment of Safe Word and spending time with family. Please let me know if you like this part. I’m begging you.

#jake seresin x reader #jake Seresin angst #Jake Seresin fluff #Jake hangman Seresin imagine #Jake hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin imagine #hangman imagine

256 notes · View notes

chimivx · 4 months ago

Text

TASTE. -> 'Haven' from the POV of Hyunjin. (Part Six of Six)

summary: 1998 is his year. He's sure of it. (With a bonus snippet of the future.)

word count: 12k

warnings: 18+, mentions of alcohol abuse, struggles with mental health themes, cursing, drug use mentions, sex is insinuated, physical violence between male friends is talked about, if I missed anything PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

a/n: I don't even know how to say goodbye to this. This has been two years of my life. Thank you to everyone who's been on this wild ride. <3

more about Beomgyu and his family in NMWID.

“You can take this, and you can sit down,” Felix’s voice carried through his kitchen, our kitchen, as he handed Seungmin a pitcher of water and waved him away. “You haven’t slept in thirty six hours, you’re nuts if you think I’m going to let you do too much.” Laughter followed, pulling a smile out of me.

From the kitchen table I heard Changbin reprimand the boy as well, telling him again and again how he’s been working too hard, too much. Glancing their way from where I stood at the counter plating a couple dishes, I couldn’t help but laugh. Seungmin had all eyes on him, and several different people doting on his every need.

Felix, setting the table up making sure he had what he needed in front of him. Changbin, filling up his glass with water when he set the pitcher down. Jeongin, unfolding a napkin and laying it across his lap to protect the scrubs he hadn’t changed out of yet. Changbins girlfriend, Yeri, who he’d been seeing for over a year now fussed over Seungmins messy hair, jokingly brushing it away from his forehead like a mother. Jisoo, Jeongins new girl of a few weeks, sat back, watching the chaos unfold before her.

“You didn’t even change your clothes,” Yeri nagged, and Changbin agreed with her. The two were a perfect pair, Yeri knew how to match Changbin’s playful side perfectly. She plopped beside her boyfriend and narrowed her eyes toward the nurse. “Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten today.”

Seungmin, sipping his water, nearly choked, planting the glass down with persistence. “I didn’t change my clothes, you think I had time to eat!? Why do you think I’m here!”

Insistent messy chatter erupted once more, the table full of so much life my cheeks hurt from smiling. Taking the plates to the group I sat them down, the finishing touches, and relished in the happy sounds from every mouth. Wasting no time they dug in, letting Seungmin fill his plate first, taking turns helping each other with their portions.

Folding my hands in front of myself, I stood a foot away and watched them indulge. Taking in every smile, every compliment, every little piece of this evening that brought me comfort, and I pocketed it with the intention to remember it on a bad day. Seungmin, Changbin, Jeongin… Friends who stuck by me through the worst. The last two years that pulled me through the ringer, a challenge in every waking moment. Yeri, who slipped right into our dynamic with ease, becoming everyone's mother, and Jisoo who I’m sure will slip into a role at any minute. They were my people. My family.

And then, at the end of the table, an empty chair beside him, sat Felix. A smile resting on his lips he watched me watch them. The blonde, baby faced Aussie, love of my life.

A month after our decision to take our time we dove headfirst into the deep end. Neither of us could help ourselves, certainly not when you spend every waking second together. Though, I won’t lie, the beginning was rough.

After Minho fought dirty and I was able to go home, Felix took me to my apartment. Changbin followed and helped us inside. Once things were deemed safe, and I was somewhat okay, he headed out for the night knowing I had Felix to look after me. I had a shower, that I’m ashamed to admit Felix took with me, a platonic shower. Nothing happened, he may have kissed me, and I may have kissed him back, and I may have had to sit on the edge of the bathtub because it was hard to stand for so long, but it doesn’t matter!

He helped me into bed and he laid with me, and I watched him fall asleep. Those long lashes brushing his freckled cheeks tore me to pieces. That night they weren’t enough to keep me where I was supposed to be, in bed, next to him.

Awake for hours, my mind raced, thoughts I couldn’t even begin to put together now that I’ve worked them out with Namjoon, the therapist I’ve been seeing for two years. He’d been able to fix most of what had happened, even though Felix tells me it was I who did the work…

The thoughts were coming toward me rapidly, faster than ever, and we still don’t know if it was purely just a panic attack or if it was the aftereffects of what had happened to me, and the oxygen to brain thing. I was near hallucinating, hearing my father, seeing him… Wondering if the fight had really been between Minho and I, or he and I… Your mind is the scariest place to be trapped in.

Living through this before, I knew only one way to cope. And it wasn’t by waking Felix up.

I snuck out of bed, almost toppled to the floor, and inched my way into the kitchen to that goddamned cabinet that was still full of my vice. Felix will tell me he found me before it got too bad, I don’t really remember anything after rolling off my mattress. Part of me thinks he’s saving my feelings by telling me it wasn’t bad, and that he himself doesn’t want to relive it by telling me the truth.

I forgive him for that.

We ended up in the emergency room anyways, so protecting my feelings or not I know it was awful. The only thing he’ll tell me is that he took me there because he loves me, and they were the only people capable of keeping me safe. I stayed there for a few days, and then I was sent back home.

Great system. Really, really great system.

It felt like I had been thrown straight back into the nightmare I had been living for a year. Sleepless nights, unable to leave the apartment, drinking myself unconscious… Was a wonder why Felix signed himself up for this trainwreck so quickly. Through the start of my hours in therapy it soon came to my realization that Jade was never the main issue like I had thought she was.

Did she cause some of my distress? Yes.

Did I cause most of her distress? Yes.

Did we both deserve that? No.

The main, huge, horrific issue that bitch slapped me across the face was my childhood. A topic that took months to unravel, and is still being unraveled. A terrible thing to uncover and relive, truly.

But, I’ve been sober for three months now so something must be working.

I find joy in having my friends, our friends, over for dinner once a month. Moving into Felix’s home at the start of this year it was his idea to start the tradition, to keep us all close. No one found interest in Haven anymore, so it was a win win. Our home became the spot for them to loiter, the couches for them to snooze on, the fridge to raid. And we loved every second of it.

It brought me genuine joy now that I could process it clearly.

Felix pulled out the chair beside him and wiggled a finger at me toward him. Giving him a small smile and a nod, I backed up to the fridge first to grab us drinks, not realizing Jisoo had beaten me there. She let out a quiet laugh as I bumped her with my back.

“So sorry,” I breathed, whipping myself around, taking an appropriate step back. Flashing me her heart shaped smile she shrugged it off.

“You’re good,” she pulled the fridge open and quizzed the selection with narrowed eyes, flashing me a look. “What are you drinkin’?”

Folding my hands over my front like they had been, I tilted my head and said, “I can grab it, don’t worry.”

A smirk grew on her pink lips as she eyed me. Reaching into the fridge she fumbled with a box for a second, then handed me a beer before grabbing two for herself. “Here, it’s Jeongin’s favorite, try it. We brought a whole case, he won’t miss one.” With a quick wink and a push of the fridge door, the crop top, jean wearing girl with long dark hair sauntered away, leaving me with an ice cold bottle of beer in my hand.

She’s lucky beer wouldn’t be my first choice.

It did look good though, the label talking about some brand new flavor supposed to be as crisp as ever… The brown tint of the bottle was all too familiar. It was a twist off, too. We didn’t have any bottle openers in the house. This one would pop right off in my hand. It’d be cold going down, and if the label told me the truth, it’d chill me out in seconds.

But, I didn’t need to be chill right now.

I was already chill.

She put this in my hand without knowing a thing. Our friends were allowed to bring their own drinks over, knowing we never kept any in the house, we allowed them to bring what they wanted as long as it left with them. No one offered me any, no one made a big deal over where to put them or whether or not they had to hide them.

I could control myself.

Changbin has lessened what he drinks around me, but I don’t force him to stop completely, he’s done that on his own. He tells me he’s started doing it for himself, but I know after watching me do what I’ve done I’m the reason why. Seungmin never really enjoyed drinking, but he’d have one occasionally if the day was special. Jeongin, the youngest of us all, compared to Changbin.

And Felix, he’s been sober since that one night at Haven where the two of us were first shoved within that tiny bathroom stall.

Opening this, drinking it, would undo three months. This is the longest I’ve gone without a single sip since I was probably fifteen years old. I felt proud of myself. It felt like a major accomplishment, and everyone around me seems to think so as well. On the date, Felix took me to dinner. Changbin and Yeri called, Seungmin stopped by before his nightshift, and Jeongin got to me a day or so after when he could make it by the house. He brought me pink frosted cupcakes and couldn’t stop hugging me.

I was going on month four. If it was to end with dinner with my boyfriend, phone calls and hugs from my best friends and pink frosted cupcakes… I wasn’t about to fuck it all up.

A deep, beautiful, lilted laugh from the table confirmed my decision.

I popped the beer back in the box and grabbed two cans of Sprite, then hightailed it over to my gorgeous boy. Pressing a kiss to his head, I cracked his open and slipped it into his hand. Amidst the chatter he glanced at it, smiled, then looked up at me.

This was what we’d bring each other in moments of gratitude. A reminder of all we’ve done, all we’ve been through, all we continue to get through, day by day. An ‘I love you’ of sorts.

Major props to Namjoon for suggesting we implement something special into our lives for occasions where words won’t give it justice. Something only Felix and I would understand.

Bending over halfway, my hair shielding his face from the room that paid no mind to us, I caught his smiling lips in a soft kiss, one that’d last me until the hours of night after our friends have gone, when I can finally take care of him in ways he always deserves.

Turns out he really is a good teacher.

“Got a question for you, better answer now!”

Changbin had a beer in his hand. On his feet, his chair pushed out from behind him, he held it in the air as the table sang back, “Yeah!”

Yeri sat backward, a hand covering her jaw as she laughed at her boyfriend, shamelessly singing along with him. Looking over at her Changbin pointed and shook his head.

“No, no!” he shouted, a shit eating grin on his face. “You’re the one who loves them so bad!” The three boys around the table were goners along with Yeri, unable to resist the energy Changbin filled the room with, their laughter loud and entertained. A smile rested on my lips, I didn’t sing along, but I was enjoying the show.

“Am I original?” Changbin leaned toward Yeri, acquiring his ‘Yeah!’ from the people who actually listened to this song. “Am I the only one?” Another ‘Yeah!’ sounded around the room, and with each word he closed in the space between him and Yeri. Then, he slipped around the back of her chair running a hand through her hair before he popped next to Felix, laying his head on his shoulder as he gave me a funny look. “Am I sexual?”

Raising my brows, my laughter finally cracked through, his aim of the game. I joined in the final ‘Yeah!’ and he shouted with glee. I wasn’t dumb, I knew who the Backstreet Boys were, Felix was obsessed with them much like Yeri was. He loved Kevin Richardson, or whatever his name was, which blew my mind because Nick Carter is right there. Not that I paid attention to it or anything.

“You like this song.” Felix’s smile still had the power to flip my stomach in cartwheels. Changbin hummed from his shoulder and pursed his lips.

“Do not,” I huffed, looking around the table. Jeongin sipped his beer and hummed the rest of the song to himself and Seungmin who took part in tapping the beat with his glass.

Changbin shared a devious look with Felix, Yeri giggling from her chair.

Together they both sang, “Rock your body right!”

Everyone sang, “Backstreets back…”

Lifting my gaze, planting it on my grinning, hopeful boyfriend, I raised my almost empty can and gave them what they wanted. “Alright!”

Felix lurched forward and grabbed onto my arms while Changbin held his up in triumph. “Hyunjin loves the Backstreet Boys!”

“Do not!” I sneered at my best friend, a smile pulling at my lips the entire time. Working his way back to his seat, Changbin finished his beer and shot me a glare.

“Do too, Mr. Nick Carter,” he said.

Seungmin smacked his hands together and laughed. “Are we shocked?” He gestured to Felix and the Aussie blushed. “He’s got a crush on that guy from Titanic, too.”

Felix giggled. “Leonardo DiCaprio.”

“Yeah, him,” Seungmin said, sitting back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest.

Jeongin narrowed his eyes, his attention on me. “Blondes,” he half whispered.

Holding up my hands, feeling my cheeks flush, I looked hurriedly from Felix to my friends in defense. “Whoa, whoa, hold up, I do not have a crush…” Felix took one of my hands in his.

“Darling,” he said, smooth as butter. My walls fell quick. “You have a type. And, you do have a crush on Leonardo DiCaprio. We went to see that movie in theatres three times, and I knew it wasn’t ‘cause it’s your new favorite love story.” He tried to copy my voice and got everyone to laugh.

Locked into his eyes, I nodded. “I do have a crush on Leonardo DiCaprio.” Felix danced a finger around my palm looking at me like a lost puppy.

“You do, don’t you?” he asked, and when I nodded again, our friends answered with laughter.

“That,” Changbin held out his beer toward us, gathering our attention. “I love that, when you do that.”

Jeongin snickered. “You mean when Felix makes him all gushy?” Seungmin and Yeri agreed.

Trying to shake his hands away I sat forward and furrowed my brows. “Hey!” I’d lost the bark in my tone over these last few months. Everyone will tell me it’s a good thing. “I do not get gushy, you jerks! I am still…” Seungmin cleared his throat and pointed to Felix with his eyes. Turning my head, Felix’s eyes were slightly wide, his brows somewhat flipped.

“Keep going,” he said softly. Sitting back, I shook my head a bit and reached for his hand. One graze of his thumb over the boney back of my hand and I was down for the count. Then, a smirk grew on his lips and he threw our friends a look of success. “Twice!” Laughter roared from every corner of the room.

Groaning, I took a hand to my forehead. I couldn’t hide my smile, I knew it, too. He had me wrapped around his finger. Leaning over to him as our friends tossed around the discussion some more, my lips ghosted his ear and I whispered to him a promise of what I’d do to him later if he stopped his teasing. I’d never seen him straighten out faster, his cheeks going pink.

The best part of it all, we were equally wrapped around each other's fingers.

“Who’s got a kid?” Jisoo called out as she rounded the corner into the kitchen from the dimly lit hall. Felix’s grip tightened on my hand ever so slightly, but it didn’t stop my heart from sinking into the floor. The girl wore an innocent smile, unable to read the room as she sat down beside her boyfriend, having only gotten up moments prior to use the restroom. Jeongin threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in, whispering paragraphs into her ear.

This poor girl must’ve not been briefed before she walked into the building. Her smile wiped away halfway through Jeongin’s lament.

Changbin held up his beer once more. “Mr. Hwang Hyunjin,” he said with pride. Yeri smacked his bicep, not that her tiny hands had any effect over his insane muscle.

Jisoo lifted a hand to her lips, her eyes going wide. “I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head, her gaze darting between Felix and I. Jeongin, lips pulled into his mouth, gave us an apologetic look. Seungmin simply refilled his water and watched everything go down. His eyes were heavy, he’d be leaving shortly if he wasn’t crashing on our couch.

To everyone's surprise, I was calm. Turning my chin to peek at my boyfriend who was studying me, I asked between us, “Jeonghan’s door is open?”

Tracing circles into my palm, Felix poked his tongue through his lips and bobbed his head. “I don’t think you closed it when you put his new clothes in there yesterday.”

The room was my choice. My decision. Everything that went on with it, my choice. I usually keep the door shut. These past few weeks I’ve been keeping it closed unless I’m going in to work on it, or add something, or fix something.

Most of his shelves were stocked now. Clothes, shoes, hats… Anything that made me think of him while I was out, I bought. He’s even got clothes for when he grows up, when he gets bigger. Some of my stuff is folded in his drawers, old clothes from middle school and high school I’d kept in my possession after all this time, just in case.

I never knew what for. I wasn’t sure why I held onto the stuff that could somehow hold meaning until he was born. June 8th, 1997, the day I knew he’d be getting everything I own, everything that meant something to me. He deserved it all.

When I had moved out of my house before college I didn’t think to take anything with me other than what I had, what I owned personally. So many things that belonged to my mother, even my father, were all left behind, and now it's one of my biggest regrets. I have some photos of my childhood, some photos with my mother, but I longed to have something that belonged to her. Either something she wore, or something she loved.

Felix would reassure me and tell me how I am what she loved, and that’s enough, but I had plans to reach out to my family, her family, just one more time. Her younger sister, Jihyo, had to have something. If she did, Jeonghan would one day get that too.

Jeonghan. The name of my grandfather. My mother’s father. Essentially the man who saved me by sending me to college, getting me through years of school. The man who gave me my mother. Another regret… Not spending more time with him, or putting the effort in to see him more. Sometimes I wonder if my mother never got with my father would our story be different. She was raised on and around love, and ended up with him anyway.

Throughout this whole therapy process it’s been fun and somewhat bittersweet to learn how much I am exactly like her.

I don’t want to know what she'd have to say about my situation now.

I feel like I can hear her when the days go quiet.

Get that baby back.

Don’t you leave that girl alone with your child, he’s yours too.

You can do this. You can make it through this.

Fight for him.

There wasn’t a day in my life that I’d ever think about one day becoming a father. It was never in the plan. And, when I didn’t have a plan, it was never a thought. Who in their right mind would want to have a child with me? Two years ago, who would want to have a child with me?

And so, she did.

It was last January, 1997, I was here in the house on the couch sipping on a cocktail beside Felix with the radio playing and the phone rang. I was too tipsy to get up and logically answer the phone, so Felix did it. The call lasted no more than thirty seconds, and he appeared in the doorway to the living room like he’d seen a ghost.

He had told me it was Changbin, and that he had just spoken to Chan. Bahng Chan, Jade’s best friend. He took my glass from my hand and sat next to me, taking my arms in his hold. Chan had spoken with Han, who had spoken to Minho. Jade was pregnant, and she didn’t know who the father was.

Apparently it had taken them a while to get a hold of us, and to this day I don’t know how much of that reigns true. If they hadn’t gone through the grapevine in true Jade and Minho fashion they would’ve gotten to us straight away. Then I learned it had something to do with the both of them not wanting to deal with me. At the time, even through my drunk blindness I could see how immature that was.

A week or so later I met Minho face to face for the first time since he tried to kill me, though he’ll say that wasn’t the case. Jade had accompanied him, and Felix accompanied myself. In a doctor's office, bright, white and sterile, I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t speak two words to her, and it wasn’t because I was hungover. Stunned by the whole idea that this child could belong to me, the one that already made a little bump in her belly… I couldn’t fathom it.

That night Felix almost had to take me back to the emergency room.

And so, he was mine!

Now, one would think she’d take the easy way out here and do what she had to do to be rid of me like I longed to be rid of her. Why would she do this knowing that for eighteen years we’d be connected? We hadn’t seen each other in five months, and sure they weren’t awesome five months, but they were better than they were. Not having to see or deal with one another was the best thing to happen to us.

Not for nothing, her boyfriend tried to take me out.

But, that wasn’t the case!

Things were a mess until he was born, and even after he was born things were a mess. Nothing got better until this summer. Three months ago. After two years of me only hearing things through phone calls she’d have with Felix we were standing side by side in the parking lot of the grocery store down the street from Haven. I was a tad tipsy, it was a bad time. I had bottles in a bag and I was about to get into the driver's seat and take myself home.

I can understand why she’s been the way that she’s been.

Jade tried to hand me over a child support agreement from her lawyer that she pulled out of her front seat. I didn’t even hear one word of her reasoning, or why she was attempting to involve me when she had been going through Felix all this time. In fact, I said that to her. Angry, I yelled. Alcohol in my system didn’t really help my case. I ripped the paper in half and threw it on the ground. Once I was in my car, the bottles in the passenger seat, I swallowed my nausea and broke down. I sat in the parking lot and cried for an hour.

That’s when I realized I was ready to move the fuck on.

To grow the fuck up.

Only three months ago.

Jeonghan had a room, and I took care of it. Felix helped me when I asked and in turn would offer me a hand if it seemed I needed one- which was often. I could count on both hands how many times he’s snuck his way into the sky blue bedroom quietly and wrapped his arms around my waist and laid himself along my back to hold me while I cried.

He read me the instructions when I was forty five minutes deep into building the crib that would flip into a bed whenever Jeonghan grew big enough. Felix left me in the room alone when I started to take the box apart, though I’d catch him tiptoeing by the door every so often. It wasn’t until I was on the floor, hair tied back tight, holding two different pieces of the baby’s furniture that he decided to slip inside and start reading aloud where to put what.

Over the last three months I’ve put together a space for him I was proud of. To do it with Felix made it all the more special.

It’s been over a year. My priorities are straight.

I could be a dad.

I want to be a dad.

Felix would make a great one. Leading by his example, I’m sure I could too.

The house was vacant just shortly after ten o’clock. Seungmin took himself home an hour before everyone else, by the time Changbin was on his seventh song he could barely keep his head up. Thankfully he lived close by or else I’d be offering a ride home. Yeri ushered Changbin into their car before anything by Tupac could come out his mouth.

The poor guy wasn’t over it.

We fear he never will be.

With a kiss on Felix’s and I’s cheeks Yeri took him home, asking us to wish her luck, making sure the rest of her boyfriend's bottles were in his possession before they pulled away. Jeongin did the same while Jisoo held a gentle touch to my arm and spewed endless apologies for her fumble at the dinner table. The sweetest girl, she admitted her ignorance, that things between her and Innie were brand new and that she was trying her best to impress us.

Felix, accompanying Jeongin around the kitchen straightening things up, gathering their case of drinks, shot us a couple smiles. It wasn’t everyday I held up a conversation with someone I didn’t know for longer than a month or so. Jisoo seemed to care, and with how she latched onto Jeongin’s arm and fluttered her lashes toward him when he took to her side, I accepted that she was alright.

“You are in trouble for letting me do those things,” she said to him.

Jeongin, eyes shooting open wide, gestured between her and I. “I didn’t… It’s just that’s his business, I didn’t know… How am I in trouble? I was-”

“No one is in trouble,” I smiled at them both. “She’s cool,” I had said to Jeongin. “If she’s sticking around she can know.” Felix later gently scolded me for potentially beginning a lovers spat between the two. Flashing him a mischievous grin I pulled at his lip with my thumb and kissed him like I’d been longing to all night.

Though it didn’t last long.

We had a kitchen to clean and a house to put back together. Dishes were washed and dried while he sung the goddamned Backstreet Boys to himself, and the floors were swept and the table was wiped while I swallowed my smile, not letting him know how much I really fucking loved hearing him sing the goddamned Backstreet Boys to himself. Dancing around one another, moving in perfect rhythm to reset our lives that were happily disheveled for the evening, we ended up down our hallway in front of Jeonghan’s bedroom. The open door I forgot to close after I put his new clothes away in his drawers.

This was normal.

One of us, usually me, is standing here, staring into the vacant space, wondering when he’d come around to fill it. Live in it. Wondering when I’d be allowed to show it to him. Allowed to bring him here, bring him into our life, teach him, hold him.

She wouldn’t let me have him.

And not one part of me could blame her.

“She doesn’t hear anything you tell her,” I mumbled, leaning into Felix’s touch at my side.

Felix pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Keep talking.”

“I hear you on the phone,” I continued, gazing at the blue striped sheets on the mattress in the chestnut wood crib. “Leaving messages, even talking to him. Neither of them believe you.”

Taking a deep breath, keeping his hand over my back, Felix said, “A lot has happened. They weren’t here next to you throughout this last year.”

“No, they weren’t,” I spat, looking down at him. “They were playing house with my son.”

“Hyunjin,” Felix said, tone steady. “He’s Jade’s son, too.” He may as well have reached into my chest, grabbed my heart, and squeezed it until it stopped beating. I knew he didn’t mean it. He was the voice of reason, my voice of reason, why I’ve been keeping such a good track record lately. “She’s his mother.”

A sigh fell from my lips, one in relation with a cry. “I wanna be his dad.”

Gripping the fabric of my shirt Felix gave me the tiniest smile, then lured me into our bedroom. “I know, darling,” he whispered.

Moving in the quiet, the peace, we readied ourselves for bed, handsy as ever without a single word spoken as we brushed our teeth and washed our faces. Like clockwork, after I took my hair down, he gave me the little white pill from the tall orange bottle in the medicine cabinet and kissed the back of my hand after I’d taken it. Lacing his fingers in mine he pulled me to the bed and threw the covers back, the two of us cozying up in the center, a plethora of pillows surrounding us now that mine lived here too.

“The last time I spoke with Rachel,” our lawyer we’ve been working with, “She told me that in another month they’d revisit… All of it.” Felix laid himself over my side, his cheek fitting perfectly into the valley where my neck meets my shoulder. “It’s been a month. I’ve been sober longer than that. You’ve told them that.” He tilted his chin to look at me, his eyebrows a bit low. “You told them that, the last time they called. When… Yesterday?”

Felix was our middle man. He had to be our middle man. Jade refused to talk directly with me, but she had to contact us somehow. He’s given them so much advice, so much of our money, and he’s heard updates about Jeonghan that he’d relay to me if I was in a good mood. Curious how she’d keep the child away from me, but then slip things to Felix in a hushed voice as if she was hiding it from her fiance.

“They still have a lot to work through, Hyunjin,” Felix said. “For them it’s been over a year.”

“Okay?!” I huffed. Too harshly I might add, because Felix moved when my chest rose. “A year ago I had a foot in the grave.” He didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked back up at me, and I down at him. “They have a lot to work through,” I sighed.

“They do, give them time.” Felix kissed my shoulder. “You’ve been doing a really, really good job, Hyunjin. Give yourself some credit.”

Three months was good. I felt good. All of the people in my life agreed.

I have been doing a good job.

I just prayed it’d all be worth it.

“You’ve put together his room so that when the time comes you’re prepared,” Felix’s voice fell to a whisper. Gazing down at his loving brown eyes, I couldn’t fight back my smile. “He’s got bath toys waiting for him under the bathroom sink. Sippy cups in the cabinets.”

I was prepared. We were ready. We could do this.

“We need a high chair,” I breathed, lurching forward, turning over so I was facing him.

Felix giggled, the sound painting my cheeks pink. “We’ll get one. We can go this week.” He smoothed a hand over my cheek and drug his thumb beneath my bottom lashes.

“Thursday?”

“Thursday.”

Graco. Graco. Graco.

The aisles stretched on for miles. Felix kept up with my pace at my side, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Boots squeaking on the scuffed tile of the store's floor, I messed with the long sleeves of my black shirt and darted my eyes across the shelves, dodging the occasional mother with a hoard of children surrounding her.

We’ve nearly circled the entire store, after being in this building only two other times, I had no idea where to go. I wanted the best. Jeonghan had to have the best.

“Y’all need some help?” A woman asked Felix and I as we turned around a corner into an aisle full of bottles and kitchen stuff. Scanning the things hanging along the walls, I sighed, and Felix stepped around me, his sunshine charm overcoming her.

With a soft smile he asked, “Do you happen to carry those Graco high chairs?”

Her short brown bob that curled perfectly beneath her cheerful cheeks bounced with delight as she nodded. “‘Course we do, hon. They’re all anyone wants right now, but you might not find them out here.” She gestured around her. “Let me give you a hand, follow me.” Bustling by, she had to turn her chin almost all the way up to smile at me.

Prime customer service. I wasn’t on the receiving end of an uneasy look. Felix got the smiles, the random extroverts swarming to his side if we were out and about. I usually lingered behind like some kind of shadow until he’d decide whether or not the person was worthy of our time, then he’d pull me into the conversation.

This lady, no older than forty, in a red dress with strappy sandals on her feet didn’t seem to care. Her smile was friendly. She could see me.

“Who’re we looking for?” Asking us questions as we weaved through the aisles toward the back of the store, Felix and I shared a few looks as her curiosity strangled us. “Baby shower gift? Who’s having the little one?”

Approaching a quieter part of the store, I gulped and pressed my hands to my jeans. “For my son,” I said, and my heart leapt out of my chest. A smile pricked my lips as the woman turned with a grin on her cheeks. Felix, looking between us, wore pride on his face. Though I watched him try to hide it.

“How wonderful,” she said. Taking us through a makeshift wall of boxes, she gestured up toward a few Graco high chairs on the top of the piles of other brands, a place only I’d be able to reach. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she laughed, holding her hands up to spot me as I shimmied it off the wobbling towers. Light in my arms, I shifted the box to my hip and shrugged, unsure of what to say.

“Can’t tell you how often he has to do that for me,” Felix laughed, which in turn made the woman laugh as well. “Thank you for the help.”

“No worries,” she said, eyes flickering from Felix to me. “So, where is the little guy?”

Blinking, I glanced around at the other boxes and names of brands that were somewhat familiar to me now, I said, “Probably at home with his mom.”

“Probably,” the woman let out a single laugh. She was trying to make jokes, I knew she was, but that didn’t stop it from making me anxious. “Don’t you know where your son is?” I could hear it in her voice. It was a joke. A joke. She didn’t know what happened. She didn’t know me at all. Felix rubbed a hand over his jaw, his head turning from me to her, waiting.

“Uh,” I stammered, looking away from her as I said, “His mom and I aren’t… together.”

She was unphased. Without missing a beat she said, “Oh, I see, so this is for your place.” Intaking a breath, I nodded my head. Felix crossed his arms over his chest. “Listen, I get it. My sister had a baby with a boy she went to school with. They were both young, yanno? They were a disaster. They couldn’t have one conversation civilly, it was argument city, I swear.” Gulping, electricity sparked in my veins.

As if Felix could feel it, he took a step closer to me all while trying to be polite and listen to this woman's life story. She made herself comfy, leaning against one of the boxes.

“My sister, God bless her, she thinks she’s better than everyone,” she rolled her eyes. “I liked the guy, sure it was unconventional and our mother was mortified, but he was nice. It wasn’t his fault he was swamped with school, trying to work, and now having a child on top of it all. They got married, and he tried so hard, but my sister, she wasn’t having any of it. Poor guy couldn’t hold a job because he was so busy, so she took the kid away from him.”

I couldn’t feel my breath through my lips. “Where is he now?”

“I still see him around from time to time, he’s stayed in the area for the time being,” she shrugged. “He’s doing alright, but I think he’s waiting for her to come back. I saw him a couple of weeks ago, he’s living in Delo. We caught up at the grocery store, he asked me how I was, he asked me how his kid was…”

Felix took a hand through his hair, spinning in a small, slow circle. He wanted this to be over, I could feel the energy coming off of him.

“Did you tell him?” I asked.

“Yeah, but I didn’t have much to say,” she said, adjusting a dangling earring hanging from her left ear. “My sister moved into Tamoe when his daughter was, like, five. She’s dating someone else now, she’s barely talked to any of us, her family, since she moved. Can’t even tell you the amount of guys she’s tried to be with between him and the poor sap she’s got now. He’s got a kid, too. She can barely handle one, can’t wait to see what happens when she’s dealing with two of them.”

“He has no idea, the… the daughter's father?”

She shrugged. “I told him everything. He deserved to know whatever I could give him. That’s his flesh and blood. Like I said, he’s a good guy. A good guy who bad things have happened to.”

My blood ran cold.

“Thank you for this,” Felix cut in, taking the highchair from my arms. The woman gave him a pleasantry in response and propped a hand on her hip. “Ready, darling?” Looking up at me, stepping almost in front of my gaze that had fallen to the floor, empty, Felix tried to smile.

Looking to the woman before turning on my heels, I caught her curious eyes trying to figure us out.

Once we checked out I darted from the store with Felix again trying to keep up with my pace. I could feel the lightning in my veins. Sick to my stomach, I couldn’t stop myself.

“Do we want to stop by Jihyo’s today? We’re closeby, we can head there now and then get lunch somewhere?”

My lips were glued shut.

“She said she’s got clothes and stuff, I know that,” Felix continued, placing the box into the trunk I opened for him. It was a small space, the trunk of the blue sports car I had revived back to life, but thankfully it fit. “Beomgyu’s grown out of everything,” his laugh didn’t make me smile this time, “And, she has toys on toys he doesn’t want anymore.” He looked at me with the sweetest grin. “Toys she said he wants to give to his baby cousin. It’d be nice to go see them, Jungkook was asking for you.” That kid had a bit of my mom in him, too. Jihyo and my mother were almost identical. Seven years between them, they were best friends. Raised as best friends. She never got to meet her nephews. It was up to me to bring her to them, my responsibility to keep that bond there. Unlike my failure with my grandfather, I intended to do my best with Jihyo and her kids, but I didn’t make any promises. Part of me knows that Jihyo knows that.

But, I mean, Beomgyu was adorable. An ankle biter that screamed when he spoke. Jungkook was a cool kid, too, and hearing he was asking for me filled me with some sort of joy. They didn’t have their father around, so it really was up to me to stick around. It wasn’t my intention to fill that role, I didn’t want to act as a father to them, but within these last three months I’ve learned what a huge hole it is that I’m filling for them.

One that I wanted with my own son.

“Please don’t internalize anything that woman was saying,” Felix breathed as we slipped into the car. “I didn’t think we’d get a life story today. Don’t internalize it.”

“I’m not,” I grumbled.

Felix tugged his seatbelt over his chest and shot me a look. “I know that face, Hyunjin.”

Clicking my own belt into place, I started the car and tried to smile at him. The sarcasm was evident. “She could take him.”

“Court won’t let her do that,” Felix said, always ready with the facts that seemed to slip my brain. “She can’t move far away from you. She’s got full custody, but you still have some boundaries.” His voice lowered drastically. “You didn’t give everything up.”

I scoffed. “I was drunk when I gave it all up.”

“And now you’re not,” he added quickly. “Now you can think clearly. That story that lady told us is not you. It’s not going to happen to you.”

“Felix, they’re engaged already!” I snapped, throwing my hands up. “What the fuck do you think happens next! She’s never wanted to stay here, around here. Minho, either. The two of them are probably already thinking about getting on a plane.”

“Take a deep breath,” he said, calm as ever. “Please. Let’s talk this out.”

A scary feeling I didn’t like roiled in my gut. Jade could take him and run. I could lose him forever, and with what the court already knows about me, it wasn’t looking good. My fingers gripped the steering wheel as I backed out of the parking spot and started for the road. Everything Felix was saying was going in one ear and out the other, I couldn’t hold onto any of it.

She was going to take my son.

She was going to take Jeonghan away from me.

“The next time you go to court everything will be revised. All of it.” Felix truly was incredible. His voice never shook. Always level headed, he looked at things realistically. Something I could never do. “They’ll see the progress you’ve made, we’ll bring everything with us, and maybe they’ll reconsider visitation.”

At a stop sign, I waited for pedestrians to cross the street, then mumbled, “Mm, visitation. Good idea.”

I turned the other way, away from our home. Felix sat forward.

“Don’t you dare, you take us home,” he said. “I’ll call her when we get there.” I kept going. None of what he said got through to me. I was driving to Minho’s. “Hyunjin, this is not the way to do this. You’ll put yourself in a deeper hole. You want things to get better, you leave them alone and let your lawyers do their part. But, in order for that to happen, you have to do your part.”

I couldn’t help myself. Blind with sickness, deaf to all worries.

I didn’t even know if anyone would be home, I hadn’t been here in years.

Pulling up into the driveway next to the Range Rover that ruined my life, they were home.

A conversation. I just needed to talk to her.

Felix tried and tried to keep me in the car. But, I couldn’t stop.

Slamming the door shut I hurried for the stairs, but the back door to Minhos flew open before I could get up a single one.

“What the fuck do you want, Hyunjin?” Jade spat, her stance wide at the top of the stairs as if she was trying to block me from barging inside. Looking up at her from the ground, I drug my tongue across my bottom lip and tried to smile.

Three months was a long time. I looked different than the last time she saw me, more aware. She’d be able to tell I was better, doing better.

She looked good. Beautiful, as usual. Her cheeks were a tad fuller, her hair tied back, but still flowing with life, and she wore her pajamas. I’ve interrupted a quiet morning. My heart squeezed. She was glowing. A mother.

Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I grabbed onto both railings and lifted a foot to the bottom stair, hoping to appear as casual as possible. She copied me, planting her hands on the railings. Eyebrows low, living right above her bright eyes, she was angry.

“Answer the question,” she spat, her eyes going sharp.

“Not even a hello,” I sighed, feeling the jerk come out of me. Trying to will it away, I kept trying to smile. “You’ve changed.” It fell from my lips before I could stop it.

“I haven’t heard from you in three months, you don’t deserve a hello,” she said. Twisting my brows in confusion, I gave her a look. She’s spoken with Felix weekly. She’s heard about us, about me. “What the fuck do you want, before I call the cops.”

Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head to the side and whispered, “I want my son.”

A loud, humorless cackle of disbelief escaped her. Tossing her head backward, she sighed heavily and couldn’t hide her fury that manifested as a maniacal grin.

“You’re unbelievable,” she said.

“I want my son,” I said a bit louder, tightening my grip on the posts. She was laughing, and I was totally serious.

“Then you should’ve called the judge,” she threw in my face. “Three months, Hyunjin. Thats a lot of time to miss, you broke the fucking agreement, and now you show up without permission, which is also against the agreement, and demand me to give you my son.”

My son.

She was going to take him.

“Our lawyers alway said that if we could work it out on our own we wouldn’t need to go to court,” I said, confusion laced in my voice. Her fingers dug into the wooden posts.

“I’m dealing with you, I have to go to court,” she grilled. “My son is a year and three months old. He's going to start recognizing who is and isn’t around.”

“That’s why I’m here,” I shrugged. Groaning audibly, she laughed again.

“It’s damaging, Hyunjin,” Jade shook her head. “You come around every few months like he’s a dog who’ll be excited to see you no matter how long you’ve been gone. He's a baby, this shit is psychologically damaging and I won’t let it happen to my son.”

“Our son,” I smized, knowing the words would get under her skin. The jerk was here. If she was going to take him, this is how it would be. “Jeonghan. You named him after my grandfather. My mother’s father.” She hardened her glare and clenched her jaw.

A laugh came from the house, the door behind Jade. A baby’s laugh, Jeonghan’s laugh, my sons laugh. The most beautiful sound I think I’ve ever heard.

He wasn’t in the house alone. Of course he wasn’t, babies couldn’t be left alone. Minho was here. This was his house. Jeonghan was in there, laughing with the guy who walked away from me while I was unconscious on the floor. Because of him.

“Oh, wow, he’s actually home?” I scoffed. “Thought he took any chance he could get to go to work. I heard flirting with customers for tips doesn’t make you much.”

“You should really get your facts straight before you try to piss me off,” she said, firing back quickly, raising her brows. “Where do you get your information from? Minho hasn’t worked at the bar for like six months.” Prodding my cheek with my tongue, I shook his head and glanced away.

He was in there with him.

“Let me have him, I’ll bring him back tomorrow,” I said, shifting only my eyes over to her. The buzzing beneath my skin threatened to bubble over.

She grinned and nodded toward the car. “You even have a carseat? A crib? Bottles? Formula? Maybe a stroller?” Opening my mouth to speak, she cut me right off. “What do you even need him for? You didn’t want him!”

Slamming my fists into the posts, I wanted to scream, and I did.

“What if I want him now, dammit?!”

Horrible idea, really.

The door creaked open behind her, and he came out. With Jeonghan in his arms. A bottle was in his mouth, he was holding it himself all cozy in Minho’s hold, fitting right in the hook of his arm.

“What’s going on?” Minho asked, looking down at me with disgust.

Jeonghan. My baby.

Dark hair brushed over his head. His cheeks were soft, squeezable, and how I longed to get my hands on them. He was awake, alert, his deep brown eyes looking up at Minho, the man who’s been, hopefully, caring for him the last year.

“I don’t appreciate the noise,” Minho nearly growled. “Especially while there’s children present.”

Snapping out of my gaze, I rolled his eyes.

“It’s ten in the fucking morning,” I said, glaring at him.

“Language?” Minho furrowed his brows.

“Please, you live with this one,” I pointed to Jade, “She’s no fucking Mary Poppins. When did you get so soft, Min?”

Titling my head to the side, I smirked. I forced our past out through my glare, reminding him of all he’s done with one singular look in milliseconds.

“A lot changes when you become a father,” Minho narrowed his eyes. “But I don’t need to explain, you already get it, don’t you?”

Stepping up onto the bottom stair, I opened my mouth, ready to unload his life before him and Jade, vocally express what he did to me, because I know the sweetest, most awesome little fun fact.

Jade has no recollection of what he had done to me.

She doesn’t know.

The man holding our son wrapped his hands around my neck, obstructed my fucking airway until I was out cold. Then, from what I’ve heard, Chan grabbed him and took him away. Minho left me there. Chan ended up coming back, that good guy curse, and checked in with Seungmin to make sure I was breathing. Then, he was gone.

Minho left me there.

Jade left me there.

She didn’t know.

The passenger door of the car slammed shut, gathering everyone's attention from the porch.

“Hyunjin,” Felix called out to me. “Let’s go.” He shared a look with Jade, as if he was apologizing to her. My heart began to crack in two, more than it had when Minho brought Jeonghan out to the porch.

“Really?” Jade frowned.

Felix shrugged. “I’m sorry,” he said, giving his head a small shake. “I tried to stop this.”

“Always,” I groaned, rolling my head backward. “You always have to take her side.” Felix took three steps closer to me, folding his arms.

“I do.” Looking back at Jade, his eyes flickered to Jeonghan for a second, a breath corrupting him, then he looked back to Jade. “Y’okay?”

“Be a lot better if I had a warning,” she said. Closing his eyes, Felix shrugged and shook his head again.

“We weren’t coming here,” Felix muttered, sending a glare toward me, but I was grilling him right back. “Let’s go. I told you how to go about this, this isn’t it. I’m driving us home.”

Behind Jade the baby cooed and shifted himself around in Minho’s arms to look where Felix’s voice was coming from. The bottle fell from his lips, Minho catching it quickly before it rolled onto the ground.

Jeonghan lifted a finger and pointed toward Felix, uttering a quiet, “Who?”

It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.

I could see his whole face now.

God, he was my mom.

He was me.

But, he wore Jade in his face, his shape.

Sharing a look with Minho, she took a breath and said, “That’s Felix.”

“Vee-liss,” Jeonghan tried to repeat, making Minho chuckle and my stomach roll. His inquisitive little eyes scanned his surroundings, and once they found Jade he reached out his arms. “Mama,” he cooed.

Mama.

I felt like melting to the ground.

She scooped him into her arms and swapped her smile for a cold glare when she looked down at me.

He was… everything. I couldn’t take my eyes away from him.

No words could begin to describe the foreign warmth in my chest.

“He's beautiful,” I whispered, not wanting to disturb his peace as he looked around the yard.

Sighing, Jade nodded.

“He looks like you,” I said, pulling my eyes away from the baby for half a second to look up at her.

She scoffed and pulled a silly face. “Not in the slightest.”

I laughed, and Jeonghan searched for me. His big eyes met mine for the first time.

Breath hitching in my throat, I smiled at him.

He lifted a finger to point at me and asked, “Who?”

A lump formed in my throat.

My own flesh and blood.

Jade gulped.

No one seemed to be able to speak aside from the one year old.

“Who?” He asked again, looking to Jade for instruction.

“Jinnie,” she muttered as Jeonghan was about to ask for the third time.

Placing one hand on her shoulder and the other over her heart, Jeonghan looked at me and gave me a once over. I wanted to laugh, but I shoved it away.

“Chi-nny,” Jeonghan said.

“That’s me,” I breathed.

“Chi-nny, well, Mama,” he said, his tone sad, laying his head down on Jade's shoulder.

“Time to go inside,” Minho suggested, smoothing a hand over both of their backs. Eyeing his hand on Jeonghan's back, I furrowed my brows.

“Why?” I asked.

“Jinnie, yell, Mama,” Jade repeated clearly for me to hear, bobbing her head with a sureness.

“What!” I screwed his face up in confusion, raising my voice.

“He remembers you,” she shrugged.

I sucked in a breath. “Remembers… me?”

She rolled her eyes and said, “We were in the parking lot of the grocery store. I was picking up his birthday cake, you were visiting the liquor store next door.” I broke my gaze and looked at the stairs. “It was the first time in a long time I’d caught you, so I tried to give you the paperwork.”

“You took it from her, ripped it to pieces and screamed in her face,” Minho added. “While this one watched from the window.”

Jeonghan turned around to look at Minho, a grin breaking out onto his chubby cheeks. “Dada,” he cooed, holding out a hand toward him.

What?

Whipping my head up in a flash, I burned my eyes into Minho’s.

“Really?” I grit my teeth. “Kid calls you Dada? I’m half of him, and I get Jinnie?”

“Hyunjin,” Felix said, taking three more steps toward the stairs. “Let’s go.”

I took a step, getting closer as I rose on the stairs. Behind Jade, Minho pulled her aside, taking her place at the top of the staircase. His arms fanned out to hold onto the railings, asserting his dominance.

“You don’t deserve that title,” Minho grilled, narrowing his eyes. “And last time I checked, you aren’t listed on the birth certificate, did you forget about that?”

I did. I was drunk.

I shot Jade a glare, Jeonghan watching me from her hip.

“Did you forget the kid’s a product of her cheating on you?” My expression broke out into a grin. “Remember that?” I took another step up the porch, and just before I was eye level with Minho, who’s temper was rising by the millisecond, Felix was grabbing onto my wrist.

Minho’s grip on the railings relaxed, color returning to his knuckles as he said, “You’ve gone soft, Jinnie.” Teasing me with his own words, the nickname, what Jade used to call me, stabbed me in the chest. “Felix wear the pants now?” he said while Felix pulled me down to the grass. Felix hit him with a glare.

“Sorry, Lix,” Minho said softly after a look to Jade, shaking his head.

Felix wrapped an arm around my back and parted his lips to speak, until a car whizzing down the street took the scene. It came to a screeching stop at the curb.

He needs to get that fixed. Chan.

“Wonderful,” I chuckled, grabbing onto Felix.

The car door slammed shut behind him, his expression angry, on defense as he started up the lawn.

Felix sighed in frustration.

“We’re leaving,” he raised his voice, holding a hand up to Chan.

“Damn right you’re leaving,” Chan said, puffing his chest, stopping beside my car.

Jeonghan shouted, “ANNIE!”

Snapping my neck, he was sitting up in Jade’s arms holding his out to Chan. Angry Chan waiting for us by the car, who was here to see angry Minho standing on the porch with my son. Jade was angry, too. They were all so angry.

Felix pulled me to the car. I couldn’t feel my fingers, or my face.

We were leaving, and Jeonghan was staying here with these angry people.

“Let me get the door for ya,” Chan snickered, yanking the passenger door of the sports car open. Felix ignored him.

Gripping the edge of the door, resisting Felix’s attempt to sit me down, I frowned, watching the porch. My baby was up there, and I was leaving him here.

“Darling, in the car, please,” Felix whispered to me. “I promise you, we will fix this. I promise. But, I need you to get in the car.”

“Need some help?” Chan questioned, rounding the door to grab onto my arms, yanking them off of the door.

I snapped.

Tearing my eyes of off my son I pushed Chan away by the chest. The smirk he wore spurred me on. Throwing a hand back, somewhat of a fist, I tossed it toward him, but he caught it, and he laughed.

Flinching, Felix groaned and shoved Chan backward himself with his hip.

“Fuck off!” he shouted at him. “Chan, fuck off!”

Holding his hands up, Chan smized and took two steps back.

“I like this Felix,” he said. “Control your man, yeah? You leave my family alone.”

He got me in the car.

I couldn’t breathe.

Felix got in the car, and took my hand. “Deep breaths.”

Wet hair dangled on my bare shoulders where I sat at the kitchen table with a cup of green tea in front of me. Feet tucked up onto the chair, my arms were wrapped around my sweats, my chin resting on a knee while my gaze rested on the table.

Felix moved about the kitchen, putting dinner together for us to share.

He didn’t sing.

We didn’t talk about what happened. The drive home was silent, aside from my breaths. When we arrived home he helped me out of the car and into the house. We spent too much time on the couch, me buried in his chest, sobbing.

I felt stupid.

It was stupid, no matter what positive affirmation Namjoon or Felix wanted to feed me.

What the fuck was I thinking?

After a shower, I found myself here.

“I’m sorry,” I said, interrupting the peace that had made itself comfortable around us.

Felix glanced up from the counter. “Don’t be,” he said. “You’re allowed to hurt.”

“But…” Sighing, I dropped a leg to the floor and sat up, stretching a hand across the table to hold onto the warm mug of tea. Felix watched me grab it and take a sip.

“Tell me,” he said when I put the mug down, recognizing I’d need help pushing the words out.

“I shouldn’t… Shouldn’t have lost my temper,” I said, meeting his gaze. “I should’ve listened to you. Shouldn’t have gone there, at all.”

Felix pursed his lips, focusing back on his work at the counter. “Do you regret it?”

Thinking to myself, I placed a finger between my teeth and glanced about the room, his house that was turning into ours as the days passed by. I shook my head. “I don’t. Is that horrible?” He didn’t answer, he only encouraged me to keep going with a smile. “I liked it when you used to tell me what I was feeling, and if it was wrong.” Dropping my chin, I shot him a look out my lashes and he laughed.

“You have to tell me, darling,” he shrugged. “I’m not allowed to do that anymore. You know what you’re feeling, you know if it’s wrong. Though…” his voice trailed off, and he danced his gaze upward in thought, “If you care so passionately about something, and you’re fighting for it… I don’t see how it’d be so horrible.”

The smile that found my lips made him roll his eyes. “Thank you.”

He jutted the knife in his hand toward me. “That was not me telling you how to feel.”

“Sure,” I winked, and the knife almost fell to the floor. He caught it, flustered, and brushed the moment off with a gentle laugh.

Standing to my feet, I made it a point to drink more of the tea Felix had made me before I took myself to his side, dragging a finger over the back of his hand that worked the knife. He paused, smiling, and gave me a look over his shoulder. My eyes, glued to his hands, avoided his. Wrapping my other arm around his front, I stood behind him and rested my weight against his back, letting my hand live over his, working with his as one.

Laying my cheek to his hair, I basked in his warmth, allowing my other hand to slip beneath his shirt, resting over his belly, keeping him close to me.

“Twenty seconds,” I whispered, and he stopped moving altogether.

Without another word he had spun around in my arms, slipping his around my shoulders, yanking me into his grasp. His fingers slid into my hair, keeping us pressed cheek to cheek until I dropped my head and buried it into his neck, my hands pressing into the small of his back. I could feel him taking deep breaths, the steady beat of his heart keeping mine in the same rhythm. Soon enough I was breathing in time with him.

Twenty seconds came and went, but we didn’t move.

Not until the phone rang.

Felix expressed his disappointment with a sigh as I pulled away. His brown eyes, shinier now that they were full of tears, gave me the sappiest look.

Tipping my chin down, I placed a finger beneath his and lifted his lips to my own. “I love you,” I whispered, my heart erupting into flames within my chest.

Felix kissed me one more time, smiling. “I love you.”

Leaving him for the phone, the loss of his warmth killing me internally, he turned himself toward the counter to continue his work. A steady hum started to come out of him. I prayed he’d start to sing.

Lifting the phone off the wall opposite Felix, I rested my hip against the counter and pressed it to my ear. “Hello?” I asked, voice more lifted than before as I took in the view of Felix’s backside. A smile found my lips when he began to bop his head to his own voice.

“Hello? Hyunjin?”

The phone nearly slipped from my grip.

“Jade?” I choked out. Felix whirled himself around, eyes wide.

“Yeah, Jinnie, it’s me.” Her voice was quiet, and partially broken. Felix was by my side in seconds with an open hand.

“H-hang on, Felix is here, here, I’ll give-”

“No.” She cut me clean off, stopping me. “I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you.”

~ july 5th, 2021 ~

“You should not have come with me,” I muttered as I pulled my car up to a stone edged curb where dozens of other SUVs were parked. The unnecessarily big house was decorated in pink balloons, streamers and banners alike. Music pumped from the backyard, we could hear it over our radio. An offended sort of laugh came out of my son.

“What are you talking about?” Jeonghan’s eyes bugged out of his head as he yanked off his seatbelt. “I know these people.”

Grinding my teeth I followed suit and took my belt off, shutting the car off and opening my door. Sure enough, a song from the latest popstar at the height of her career poured into the car from the yard full of people. Their chatter could also be heard from here.

“Yeah, but there’s a lot of people,” I narrowed my eyes. Clenching his jaw, his mother came out of him. At least my appearance still reigned superior. Paired with his dark brown hair pulled into a bun on the back of his head, he would forever be my twin. “This is always a toss up.”

Jeonghan pulled his lips tight. “He’s my cousin. I’ve seen this happen before. I’ve had to do this without you before. I’d rather be here with you then have you come alone.”

Taking a breath, I almost had one of those I can’t believe he came from me moments. Felix had taught him so much. I, me, myself, I’ve taught him so much. Even his mother and his stepfather, as much as I still hate to admit it to this day. Looking over my shoulder, taking into account what cars were here and which ones weren’t, I gave him a nod.

“Okay, thank you,” I said. “Just… be you.”

He smiled, his eyes curving upward. “Always,” he said happily, shoving my shoulder.

“Do you think they did this one big enough?” I asked him as we ascended the paved driveway. Giving me a silly look, he laughed.

My boy was always happy.

Now at twenty four, still wanting to hang around both sets of parents, he was happy. He had a girlfriend now, one he brought around occasionally. It was still new, but she was great. I couldn’t wait for the day Felix and I could tell her about Jeonghan’s gay crisis he had at fifteen. At the time it wasn’t funny, but now whenever he brings it up another detail is added that has the potential to cripple every audience. He was unapologetically himself. Very little scared him, and I admired him for that.

“Nothing is ever too big for Sana,” Jeonghan breathed, mounting the grey brick layered steps. Glancing up at the banner that hung in the front door alcove, pink and bright and sparkling, with a ‘Happy Birthday Rose’ in the center, I huffed a laugh.

“Think we’re in the wrong color,” I said quietly. Jeonghan with a hand on the doorknob, pushed the heavy door open and glanced back at me pointing up to the banner. Widening his eyes and his grin, he looked at our matching dark clothes and laughed aloud, the sound echoing as we stepped into the air conditioned home.

Small children we didn’t recognize ran by us without a care, one almost taking my boy out by the knee. Tucking his hands over his chest he stepped closer to me and swallowed another laugh. Shooting him a knowing look we started through the home, large, spacey, echoey, yet full of so much stuff that one had to weave through each room. The tall walls painted white had family photos hanging up, portraits of two forced smiles holding their babies brought into a world where they’d one day succumb to the same fate as my Jeonghan.

It wasn’t a thing yet, but I could feel it.

That poor boy. Not a photo was genuine.

Poor boy, but good man.

I wondered if he’d let me have a conversation with him, too.

Leading Jeonghan into the kitchen where things fell quiet, a pair of hands grabbed my shoulders with an exasperated sigh. Shorter than me, straight hair hung in front of his naturally big eyes. His strung out eyes.

“I didn’t expect you to get here so fast,” Taehyun said, breathless. His fingers dug into the bone of my shoulders. Jeonghan narrowed his eyes, keeping watch over the entire situation. My boy had a sharp brain, he was observant. In moments like this he’d be able to relay every detail back to me once it was over.

Putting my hands over Taehyuns, I took them off of me and returned them to his personal space. “Are you okay?” I asked. He was high, but that was normal. Something else had happened. He was fuming.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, scratching the top of his head, then at his arms. “I’m good. Why?”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Taehyun,” I said, lowering my chin. He laughed, a singular sound, then shrugged. I wasn’t going to get anything out of him. Poor boy couldn’t speak for himself.

“My sister just left,” he sneered, and his jaw set into place.

Right. That.

He gestured behind him. “Beomgyu’s there,” he said. “Bathroom. I can’t get him out.” Jeonghan started for the hall, looking back at us for permission. With a nod I told him he could go. Shifting my eyes back to fidgeting Taehyun who couldn’t make himself comfortable, he said, “It’s getting worse.”

“For who?” I asked inconspicuously, eyeing the way he moved his hands over his skin. “Beomgyu, or you?”

Taehyun’s glare wanted to kill me if the boy could’ve wielded the power. “Him, damn.” He folded his skinny arms over his chest and did his best to stand still. “He was high when he got here, then he started drinking. She showed up, and he was a mess.”

“Did they speak?”

Taehyun narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck do you think?”

He’s lucky his words were ineffective over me. If I was Jeonghan’s age or younger I’d attempt to kick his ass. At least Taehyun didn’t have the strength to choke me unconscious, not in his current state anyway.

“Okay, well did he see the kids? He didn’t do anything, did he?”

Taehyun pursed his lips and shook his head. “He never does. He just watches them.” With a side eye to myself, he muttered, “She had another baby, yanno?”

Knowing what this meant to him, I tilted my head to the side and hummed. “I had no idea they were expecting more.” He rolled his eyes at my words, my insinuations, and laughed. When the smiles calmed down, I caught a glimpse of how it really made him feel. He was torn apart. That only meant the one in the bathroom was equally, if not more heartbroken. “I’m sorry.”

He scrunched his brows and shook his head. “God, no, don’t do that, I mean… I’m fine. It’s fine. If anything it just means she’s-”

“Hey, Dad?” Jeonghan’s voice carried down the hall, echoing in the tall ceilings. He appeared and my blood ran cold. The look on his face coupled with the worry in his tone told me I’d have to step in. I’ve never had to step in for him before. Not when it came to Beomgyu.

I was right, he shouldn't have come with me.

Leaving Taehyun in the kitchen I walked with a purpose, laying a hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder as I passed by him, letting him know that he did his best. The further I went, the louder the cries became. The sobs. The heavy breaths. The murmurs of words that scared me shitless.

Not that I’d ever show it.

Turning into the dim bathroom lit up by the window on the wall, I stopped in the doorway and took a breath. Jeonghan stood behind me, his lips pulled down.

Beomgyu was on the floor, splayed out on the floor, yet curled into himself. He was conscious, he was breathing, but he was saying things I never wanted to hear ever again.

Stepping closer to him, not letting his panicked breath affect my own, I squatted beside him and pushed his shaggy hair from his damp forehead. He was a sweaty mess. A sweaty trembling mess. Taking hold of his arm I yanked up the sleeve and rolled my head back with a groan.

“Beomgyu,” I said gently, placing a hand to his cheek. He stopped mumbling and looked up at me. “You’re gonna come home with me, okay?”

“Home,” he whispered. His empty glare wrecked my heart. “No, you’re gonna take me… back there.”

Keeping my grip on his wrist, I attempted to move him, but he wouldn’t budge. “We’re going to go home. To my house. Felix is there. I brought Jeonghan with me, did you see him?” Gesturing behind me, the boy's eyes followed and I swear a smile tried to light up his face. “Come with us, you’ll feel so much better at home.”

“Better at home,” Beomgyu nodded, his cheek against the tile of the floor. Jeonghan came closer and he watched him.

“Unless you want to stay here and listen to Ariana Grande, and eat pink candy,” he said, and Beomgyu laughed between sobs. “It’s better at our house. I promise. You know that.”

To my surprise, he tried to sit himself up, wobbling back and forth as he did. Once he was somewhat stable, I pulled a rubber band from my wrist and worked his hair backward out of his face, and tied it into place. Yanking the hand towel from the wall beside the sink, sorry Sana, I cleaned him up and adjusted his clothes to where they belonged. He watched me as I did this, his cries having ceased the second he was upright.

“Better?” I asked, placing a hand to his cheek, pinching some life into it. Thinning his lips, he frowned and wrapped his arms around my back, pulling me into a hug. Dropping down onto my knees, I wrapped mine around him and held him. Fingers grabbing my shirt in despair, face down on my chest, I let him cry.

My promise.

Those words I said to myself so many years ago, before I had ever even held Jeonghan in my arms. Beomgyu and Jungkook. They were my responsibility. Even more so now that we only had each other.

I promised.

“I got you,” I whispered to him, drawing my hand in circles over his back. “Not gonna let anything happen to you, Beomie. I promise. We’re gonna help you.”

haven masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ thank you for reading <3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

17 notes · View notes