#I feel like a grandparent looking back at their high school yearbook

[m-a-d-e-l-e-i-n-e]

I was cleaning up my room a bit and I found this Valentine that the first girl I ever had a crush on gave me. It is from 2013 and I kept it. Third grade me was simping

[parvuls]

fic: at certain times

word count: 12k

tags: year 2 canon-divergence, getting together, first kiss

summary: The Swallow's Samwell Awards issue of '15 crowns Jack and Bitty as Samwell's cutest couple. It is somewhat unfortunate, then, that they're not actually a couple at all.

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The kitchen smells like something burnt, a smoky tang that clings to the walls and floors, stings inside Bitty’s nose. April should smell like hot cross buns and zucchini bread, he thinks wistfully, but it turns out that some Aprils poor ovens are pushed to their last legs prematurely, leaving his kitchen smelling like Ransom forgot his frozen pizza in the microwave again.

Dex has been tending to Betsy on her deathbed all month, spending most of his free hours at the Haus. Bitty called him again after class, while he was standing in Superberry with Jack, and promised to pay for his services with froyo. Said froyo -- which Jack insisted on paying for, bless him -- is still on the table, untouched, yogurt melting over the rim of the paper cup and dripping onto the wood. Dex has been kneeling in the same strip of sunlight on the floor since he arrived with his toolbox. Bitty isn’t sure what exactly he’s been doing, but he seems to be too busy waving a screwdriver in the air and ranting to remember his abandoned bribe.

“So we finally got over the fucking Samwell Republican sticker thing,” Dex says, his face red and his brow furrowed. He’s been disgruntled all day because of an email he’d received, which he claims Nursey will never let him live down. "And Bitty, I know this is Massachusetts, okay? But I haven’t even actually voted yet! Fucking Swallow. How can I be Best Republican?"

Bitty hunches over in his chair, palms clasped together on his knees like a prayer. He’s anxiously following the motions of Dex’s screwdriver with his eyes while listening with only half an ear, deeply confused by the conversation subject. “The Swallow does pieces on politics? I can’t even imagine what an article like that’d look like, honestly.”

Dex grumbles quietly, shoving a hand under his backwards snapback to scratch at his hair. “No, it’s like -- their Samwell Awards thing? I don’t know, I just got an email about it this morning. I guess it’s like that 50 Most Beautiful shit they do.”

Bitty’s never heard of it, but then again, Bitty carefully sidesteps most articles of The Swallow whenever he comes across them. Those guys write about their team an uncomfortable amount for a university with almost ten thousand students. As long as Holster or Ransom aren’t reading it aloud at team breakfast, Bitty’s not eager to find out what The Swallow has to say.

He asks, though, because Dex seems to be upset about this and his frogs need to be handled with care. “Like in high school yearbooks?” Heather Barron was his class’ Best Laugh back home, and she made everyone who signed her yearbook tell her a joke so she could laugh for them.

“I guess,” Dex says distractedly. He bends down low to reach something close to the floor. “This girl from my Intro to CompSci class got the same email about it -- she won Best Dressed. I mean, who even judges these things? That’s a matter of taste.”

Dex wipes a dusty hand across his forehead and Bitty momentarily forgets to care about The Swallow in favor of looking on worriedly. Betsy is unplugged from the wall with her back side facing the room, surrounded by loose cables and scattered bolts. She looks old and frail. Bitty kind of feels like he’s watching an open-heart surgery occurring right in front of him.

“Can you save her?” Bitty presses a hand over his heart, dreading the reply. Dex wrinkles his forehead even further and doesn’t meet Bitty’s eyes.

It is then that their ordinary afternoon is interrupted by three emphatic knocks on the front door of the Haus.

"Did someone just knock on our door?" Shitty yells from somewhere down the hall. Bitty assumes he’s still curled up on the couch of sins in a t-shirt and flimsy underwear, mourning his grandparents’ affirmative RSVP response to graduation.

His tone sounds downright shocked at the sound, but that’s probably reasonable. Bitty’s been living in the Haus for over nine months now and he’s never once heard anyone knock on that door. It’s always unlocked, anyway; it’s actually nothing short of a miracle that they’ve never been burglarized. Not that there’d be anything to steal, of course, other than Holster’s collector's edition Simpsons DVD box set, or maybe one of Jack’s used jerseys to be sold to the highest bidder on ebay.

"Well, whaddaya know,” Ransom appears in the hallway outside the kitchen doorframe, likely summoned downstairs by the abnormal noise. His eyebrows are high on his forehead as he stares down the hall at the door. “It didn't collapse. I told you it’s sturdier than it looks."

Neither of the boys makes a move to actually open the door. There’s a second set of knocks, this one slightly louder than the first, and Bitty huffs as he gets off his chair. He casts one last hopeful look over his shoulder. Maybe, he wishes silently, Betsy has performance issues and would be magically fixed once she’s not under his constant scrutiny. Or maybe Dex does, and would magically fix her. “Y’all, when someone knocks on a door, they generally expect you to open it for them.”

He shoulder-checks Ransom on the way to yanking the door open, and is presented with some guy Bitty’s never seen before standing on their front steps. He’s wearing an atrociously ugly plaid vest and an awfully wide smile, which only grows wider when he sees that it’s Bitty who’s opening the door.

“Eric Bittle!”

“Yes?” Bitty agrees, eyebrows drawing together. He’s usually pretty good with faces, but he doesn’t think he’s seen this guy in any of his classes. Maybe a hockey fan. Still -- Bitty’s mother brought him up right, and he’s resolved to stick to his manners even if he now lives in a frat house. Someone with malicious intentions, he rationalizes to himself, wouldn't knock before entering. “Hi. Wouldya like to come in? I’m afraid our oven’s down, so I don’t have much to offer in terms of baked goods --”

“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary!” The man dismisses quickly, his smile not waning any; it’s hard not to eye it suspiciously. Absently, Bitty can make out the sound of feet shuffling, which presumably means the boys are crowding together behind him to peer curiously at the stranger on their doorstep. “I’m from The Swallow, I’m here to deliver a message for you. And Jack Zimmermann, but I’m sure you can pass it on. Our annual Samwell Awards issue is coming out early next month, as you know --”

“Sure,” Bitty confirms politely, although he’s never heard of the thing until about two minutes ago. There’s no sense in getting the man down.

“-- and we wanted your response on the win. We do that for the real popular categories. If you want to draft a short statement, you can reply to the email we sent you two --”

“I’m sorry,” Bitty cuts him off, maintaining a carefully polite tone. He hasn’t checked his email since the previous night, too preoccupied with avoiding his American Publics essay and fretting over Betsy. Somewhere behind him there are more heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and one of the boys whispers excitedly, Bitty won a Samwell Award!, though he’s not sure which. “What win? Who’s you two?”

“Oh,” the Swallow guy blinks, obviously taken aback. His smile doesn’t completely disappear but thankfully thins a little bit, at last stretching over less than two thirds of his face. He looks marginally less maniacal like this, Bitty thinks uncharitably. “You and Jack Zimmermann?”

There’s another shuffle of feet. Bitty turns his head to catch Jack pushing Shitty aside, coming to stand a step behind Bitty’s right shoulder. Bitty hasn’t seen him since they got back from Superberry and Jack headed upstairs to study, chirping Bitty for not doing the same all the while. He’s taken his thin fleece jacket off since, and the soft V-neck he’s had underneath clings to his biceps, to the shape of his pecs. His hair is messy, the smell of his aftershave hasn’t faded yet, and his palm rests lightly between Bitty’s shoulder blades to keep his balance in the narrow, crammed doorway. Bitty’s stomach jumps at the sight of him and he can feel a reflexive smile tugging at his lips. It’s an uncontrollable reaction to Jack’s presence, no matter how many times Bitty’s seen him that day. Good gracious, but it’s plumb pathetic.

Jack is oblivious to Bitty’s eyes on him, too busy frowning at the Swallow guy from above Bitty’s head. “What is this about?”

The guy’s expression is clearly confused, despite the upturned mouth in his creasing face. His eyes survey the huddled group in front of him searchingly, as if waiting for them to catch up. When no one adds anything his smile drops entirely and he says: “You guys won Cutest Couple!”

Time seems to slow down while Bitty’s mind stomps on an emergency break and short-circuits completely. He knows things are happening in the backdrop, can hear someone behind him, probably Holster, choking really loudly on their spit, but none of it truly registers.

The Swallow guy is frowning now, looking completely baffled as to why they’re not enthused at the news. “Seriously, did you not get the email?”

“We. What?” is the only thing Bitty manages weakly. Whatever smile was on his face is thoroughly wiped off now. His heartbeat begins pounding in his ears, drowning out any further background noise under its heavy thrumming. From the brief glance he braves, Jack is not coping much better. His mouth is opening and closing silently.

"Yeah!” The guy recovers, apparently blind to the catastrophe he’s inadvertently causing. “I mean, I’ll be honest, some of the staff was like, ‘enough with the fucking hockey team’, and Khalil and Sara who did that awesome Halloween costume, they came really close -- but I was totally on your side. Anyway, the draft should be in your inboxes. We’d like to have your response in the next couple of days so we can start running it. The more romantic and gooey the better, of course. Thank you!"

He smiles and then skips down the stairs before Bitty’s brain fully catches up with what has just occurred on his front porch. He can barely grasp at tail ends of thoughts before they slip away from him, disappearing in a cloudy daze of absolute horror. His pulse is still racing and his fingers, wrapped around the door handle, are trembling.

Behind him, Ransom makes a slow wheezy sound and then descends into hysterical laughter. Bitty’s feeling rather hysterical himself, actually, but he’s not in the mood for laughing at all.

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“Can’t believe it’s another year we didn’t win Best Party,” Holster mopes back in the kitchen, sprawled out spread-legged in a chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s because of Alpha Sigma Phi and their fucking tropical Christmas party, I know it, Rans, I can feel it in my booze bones. Like, okay, they served drinks in real coconuts while bare-ass naked in twenty degrees, so what."

Ransom reaches out to give him a consolatory clap on the back. "We've always got next year, bro. Our names will appear on the holy Swallow pages, I promise."

“You’re right,” Holster sighs rather dramatically, sagging down a few extra inches in the chair. “We mustn’t despair. I’ve already bookmarked some ideas -- think we can keep live parrots in the Haus? Only for a few hours!”

“What I would like to know,” Shitty muses, stroking his mustache between two fingers while looking from Jack to Bitty’s flaming face and back again, “is who the fuck is their source. I mean, no offence, Bits, but if anybody is going to be Jackie’s fake-ass boytoy I call double fucking dibs and I’m willing to fight you on it.” He then considers it for a split second longer and says, “Or negotiate with food, honestly, I’m amendable.”

“Cooking is a touchy subject right now,” Dex mumbles from his perch by the counter, away from the cluster of boys that’s spread out at the table.

Dex looks like Bitty feels, actually: like he’s seriously regretting being present in this instance, and is looking for any excuse to make a quick escape. Or -- maybe only partially how Bitty feels, anyway. There’s another whole side of Bitty that’s feeling like there’s a vacuum in his chest, a ringing in his ears, a voice in his mind whispering, they know, they all know, Jack knows and he hates you for it.

Bitty has been studiously avoiding Jack’s face since they all withdrew from the door. He’s convinced that his feelings are written all over his face, pining daydreams altering his features and sappy midnight fantasies painting his cheeks bright red. He’s sure that one look in his eyes would give away every guilty thought he’s had since November, so he determinedly keeps his head down. Only, then Jack clears his throat and Bitty can’t help but spring his eyes up to look at him -- like a moth drawn to the flame that’d inevitably scorch it.

"Well, whatever is the misunderstanding, obviously they can't actually run that, Bittle. I mean, because. Hockey, and." His eyebrows do something complicated that Bitty cannot bring himself to study too closely.

The words hit like a two-hundred pound flour bag dropped on Bitty’s chest, weighing him down into the floor. Bitty tries to swallow, fails, tries again. His throat still grates like it’s made of raw sandpaper when he speaks.

"Right, no, of course," there’s this horrible sinking in his gut, a phantom sensation of freefalling that tastes like acid when it reaches the back of his tongue. "Of course, Jack. I know that. The last thing you need right now is --" he finally swallows past the lump in his throat, drops his eyes to watch his toes curl inside his shoes and dent the fabric upwards. “-- rumors about the gay kid on your team.”

Shitty says, “Bitty,” with a sharp edge in his tone, and when Bitty looks up Jack looks like he’s been struck.

"Hold on, Bittle, that's --"

“It’s okay, Jack!” Bitty makes a valiant effort to smile reassuringly. His chest is growing tighter and tighter, and he really can’t handle hearing Jack’s explanation right now. He feels like he’s shaking all over, like more and more words are being rattled out of his mouth without his permission. “I mean, it’s utterly ridiculous, but that’s The Swallow for you, I ‘spose. We’ll tell them it’s nonsense before anyone in the league catches wind of it. I’m sorry I even put your career at risk like that, honestly.”

“Bittle,��� Jack says again, more firmly. He looks almost angry.

Holster’s stunned look is flickering between the two of them, and Bitty can feel the humiliation crawling up the back of his neck. He thinks that if he stays sitting in the kitchen any longer the boys might actually hear the splintering sounds his heart is making in his chest. Or he might start crying, whichever comes first.

“Don’t worry about it, really,” Bitty forces himself out of his chair, squeezes Jack’s elbow in passing for good measure, even though bringing his hands anywhere near Jack feels like torture. He doesn’t want Jack to feel guilty about this -- it’s not his fault. “It’s fine. I gotta go, I’m meeting Prof. Atley, but we’ll talk about it later, okay?”

He bolts out of the kitchen and rushes down the hall. The last thing he hears is Ransom saying, “Dude, I’m pretty sure his meeting with her was like, four hours ago,” before the Haus door slams shut behind him.

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The worst part is, Bitty knows Jack is straight.

Jack dates 50 Most girls from the tennis team, he takes ladies in tall heels to Screw, he brings puck bunnies to his room during kegsters. Or -- that turned out, actually, to be not all that true after all -- but.

Jack is straight. Bitty knew this all along. Bitty knew this and still let his foolish, stubborn heart say, maybe. Bitty saw Jack laughing at his weak chirps, and looking at him sometimes when Bitty was turned away, and there was that party, with Parse, and Bitty’s blood was rushing in his ears and he tried so hard not to listen, but they almost looked like they -- and Bitty thought, maybe --

But Jack wasn’t. Of course not. And Bitty knows it’s so unfair and so unjustified that he’s allowing himself to be mad about Jack’s words. Because these boys accept Bitty for who he is, have never shied away from him, have always been comfortable with his presence in their lives and their house and their locker room, and that’s not something to be taken for granted. It’s not their fault that they’re straight and that’s easier, not their fault that Jack’s straight and Bitty can’t bring himself to let go. Besides, something like this, it could wreck Jack's career even if it were true, and it isn't, so of course Jack would want it gone. It's not personal, Bitty knows. He has no reason to be so hurt.

Except maybe it stings a little, how untrue it really is. Maybe it burns a little inside to know that other people see what he sees, what he wishes were true, and still know that he can never have that for real. And maybe it hurts, that Jack can so easily make the article go away and never deal with those rumors again, because it's simply not true about him, but it will always be true about Bitty. Maybe he’s tired of how he will always have to fight for his place while people like Jack Zimmermann can walk right in.

Maybe.

But none of it is Jack's fault. Because Jack is straight, and Bitty isn’t, and he’s gone and fallen in love with him anyway.

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Breakfast with only Lardo and Jack is a quiet affair the next morning. Habit has them settled down at the team’s usual long table, but they take up significantly less space just the three of them. Bitty is surprised by the two empty seats remaining to each side of them despite the crowded dining hall, but considers that maybe the Samwell population knows whose seats are available and aren't willing to risk it.

Lardo is chewing her toast silently by Bitty's side, oversized hoodie draped over most of her face. Jack is sitting across from them, peeling the shells off a pile of hard-boiled eggs. His body is curved in a stiff line over his plate and his elbows are tucked in close to his sides. He keeps sneaking glances at Bitty every few minutes, looking torn; Bitty busies himself with spooning exactly three banana slices in every dip into his oatmeal bowl, keeps hurriedly shoving them into his mouth every time Jack looks like maybe he’s going to actually say something.

Bitty spent the majority of the previous night hiding out in a quiet corner of Norris library, binging episodes of The Great British Bake Off on his phone. When he ultimately found the courage to come back to the Haus, he power-walked straight into his room and didn’t venture out for anything more than brushing his teeth. The walls in the Haus are thin, however, and he could still hear Jack in his own room through the closed doors, speaking on the phone with his father in brisk French. They didn't exactly sound angry, but Bitty had unintentionally overheard enough of Jack’s phone conversations to recognize Jack’s business tone easily.

Jack’s lawyer had sent The Swallow a sternly phrased email first thing that morning -- for formality, Jack informed Bitty when the two of them left the Haus for breakfast with Lardo. His hands were tucked deep in his pockets and his eyes were hidden beneath the bill of his Habs cap. He kept his body angled away from Bitty, maintaining a careful six feet between them, and Bitty’s whole body ached like he’d spent the night playing consecutive shifts instead of tossing and turning in his bed. It was the only time they’ve acknowledged the Swallow article since the previous afternoon. Bitty changed the subject immediately after, and prattled meaninglessly the whole way to Commons.

The three of them separate after breakfast, Lardo heading for the studio and Jack and Bitty for their respective classes. Bitty spends most of his spare noon hours trying to do work in the kitchen, but he steals longing glimpses at Betsy more often than he does the reading for US Intellectual HIST or the darn American Publics essay he still hasn’t started.

This day needs an assist, he justifies when he eventually deserts his open notes on the table in favor of hunting down a clean towel. Polishing dishes is a more effective way to escape his blues. Maybe he’ll make some jam -- that doesn’t require a working oven, and it’d be a longer-term distraction from the mess he’s landed in.

Jack’s lawyer's actions in mind, the knock on the Haus door doesn’t really surprise Bitty. He can’t help the way his body tenses at the sound, though; the blood rushing through his body is too much like the terrible lightheadedness he experiences when checked.

Jack comes down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and grinds to a halt when he sees Bitty leaning against the wall at the entrance to the kitchen and staring at the door.

“It’s probably the Swallow rep,” Jack states the obvious, voice completely monotonous and face blank.

Bitty's gut lurches. He tries his very best, but he’s certain that his smile looks even more put-on than it was the day before.

“We should probably go get it, then,” he says. He keeps his hands wrapped in the dish towel as they move to open the door, to have something to do with them and to cover up the way they’re shaking.

The guy standing on the bottom of their stairs is the same one from yesterday. His loose printed shirt is somehow even uglier than the plaid vest, but this time no smile is taking up the majority of his face. In fact, he isn’t smiling at all; he kind of looks like he’s been sent to the gallows and couldn't beg out of his sentence.

“We've been informed that a mistake was made,” the guy says promptly, glancing between the two of them. Everything about his face and his body language appears cautious.

“Yes,” Jack confirms firmly. The guy blinks in sync with Bitty, both of them waiting to see if Jack has any intention to follow that statement with an explanation, but none seems imminent.

“We understand that it’s an honest mistake and we just want it scrapped," Bitty says instead, trying to keep his voice from betraying any emotion, even when his vocal cords are wound tight. "We can't be the cutest couple if we're not -- if we're not."

“You talked to your lawyer,” the guy says faintly. Bitty's not sure that he actually heard a word of what was said. He keeps eyeing Jack’s rigid posture and bulging muscles like he’s afraid that he’s going to be dragged into a fist fight right there on the lawn.

“It’s a legal matter,” Jack replies curtly, frowning.

“No one ever sent his lawyer after us,” the guy says, fainter still. “It’s just The Swallow, man.”

Jack's frown deepens. He’s wearing his hockey face, mouth pinched and eye narrowed, every angle of his face turning sharper. He looks serious, assertive, like he’s getting ready to step out on the ice for the puck drop. Bitty’s heart hurts so badly looking at him that he has to turn away. His eyes, mid-movement, catch on three faces eavesdropping from behind the living room’s doorway. He just barely suppresses a heavy sigh.

"-- you’d be spreading misinformation with unwelcome consequences,” Jack is talking, apparently, and Bitty tuned out most of it. “So you understand why we need you to retract that immediately and delete all further copies."

"Yes," the guy nods tentatively, eyes jerking in Bitty’s direction and then immediately back to Jack. "I'm -- sorry? We really thought you were --"

"Well we ain't," Bitty says, wringing the towel in his hands to hinder an uncommon urge to break something with them.

"Yes, I -- I understand," the guy seems as spooked by Bitty now, contemplating him and the towel as warily as he did Jack. "But we --"

"And I've got a date!" Bitty blurts, before he can hold his tongue from making his situation worse. Shitty whispers, the fuck, brah?, loud enough to carry all the way to the front door. "A date! With. Someone else, obviously, who is very much not Jack Zimmermann, so if you could -- make it go away -- good heavens this could be embarrassing for my date --"

"Of course,” the guy is nodding more vigorously now, head bouncing much like a dashboard bobblehead. He takes a cautious step back. “We're, uh, sorry. We’ll take care of it."

The guy retreats from the porch, glancing back every few steps as he hastens down the sidewalk.

Jack shuts the door behind them when they step back inside, and has to move closer to Bitty to allow the door to close. It brings his arm flush with Bitty’s back, solid and warm through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Bitty’s breath catches. His look flits sideways to watch Jack’s face twist into something Bitty hasn’t seen since the playoffs last year. He really felt like Jack and him were getting steadily closer throughout the year, considers Jack one of his closest friends, but he doesn’t think he’s imagining the distance between them in the last twenty-four hours. It’s more painful than the verbal confirmation that Jack will never like him back was. It’s painful that Bitty’s been shoving his feelings so far down to avoid this very outcome, only to have it blow up in his face through no fault of his own.

"What's that now!” Holster’s booming voice snaps Bitty out of his brooding, and he jerks his eyes up to see that Ransom, Shitty and Holster have crawled out of their eavesdropping spot and are blocking the hallway. “You've got a what and didn't tell us!"

“It’s not a big deal, y’all,” Bitty mumbles, mortified at how much he’s really not lying at all. He slinks away from Jack’s touch, tries to at least be subtle about it. Jack's expression is shuttering further with every moment that passes and Bitty is feeling irrationally miserable about it.

“Is too, Bits!” Ransom claps him on the shoulder excitedly, shaking his entire frame. "You know you gotta tell us all about it, we get veto rights! Is he hot? What's his name? Is he going to be your shoulders for Spring C?"

Bitty’s lousy day has only been getting progressively worse, which he thinks validates the way he bristles and knocks Ransom's hand off his shoulder. "I am average height, Justin Oluransi!"

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So it's not -- really a date.

Anthony from his Eating Practices Since the 19th Century course, who sits two seats away from Bitty and always forgets to bring a pen, caught up with him after class and offered to study together. Bitty’s doing alright in that course, but Anthony is smart and friendly and it’s a good incentive to actually get some work done before finals, so Bitty smiled and said yes. He didn’t think a few days later he’d be lying about it to his friends.

They meet outside Annie’s because Anthony preferred it to Founder’s, which Bitty didn’t mind. He was a little embarrassed about how the librarians might react to the sight of his face. They, unlike some others, don’t have a problem believing he’s a member of the Men’s Hockey Team, and the treatment earned by his teammates’ behavior extends to him.

Ransom wouldn’t let him leave the Haus until his outfit has been appraised, which means he’s maybe a little overdressed for a platonic study date -- but Anthony is in nice jeans and wearing neither a team logo shirt nor a marijuana crop top, so he’s already setting the bar higher than Bitty’s usual company.

"After you," Anthony beams, opening the door for Bitty. It’s awfully nice of him. Maybe Bitty should consider running cotillion classes for his boys before graduation.

It’s easier to revert to his sunny nature in the company of someone new. Anthony keeps up chatter about the last subjects they covered in class, relates to Bitty’s chronic procrastination tendencies, and even insists on paying for both of their drinks. Bitty tries to refuse, instantly dejected by the stark reminder of coffee runs with Jack, but Anthony argues that they’d probably refill several times and Bitty can get the next one. His winning smile is so convincing that Bitty can’t find it in himself to say no.

It happens again when Bitty begins leading them to a larger table in the middle of the café where they’ll have more room to spread out. Anthony points at a table by the windows instead, says, “There, it’ll be quieter,” and Bitty instinctively thinks, those are the windows Jack and I always sit by. He then thinks, good Lord, ERB, get a hold of yourself, and agrees. There’s not much point in attending a study date if he’ll be constantly thinking about Jack Zimmermann.

They spread out all their notes and laptops and books, settling on both sides of the small, round table. Anthony drinks his coffee extra hot and the steam fogs up his glasses, which causes Bitty to laugh and Anthony to grin sheepishly. It sets a good mood for their joint studying.

They work decently well together. Anthony's been more diligent with his schoolwork but Bitty is a faster reader than him, so they catch up with each other fairly quickly and proceed from there. Bitty finds it fun, partnering with someone who doesn’t consider violent food breaks an essential part of studying, and enjoys having somebody to complain about the professor with. The two of them are just starting on technological advances at the end of the century when Bitty’s shoulders fully loosen for the first time in three days and he thinks: this is going well, this is nice, maybe we can do this more often.

This is also the exact point he looks up to tell Anthony about Louis Pasteur and catches Holster and Ransom spying on him from outside Annie’s front window.

His knee-jerk response is uncontainable: he groans out loud. Anthony seems alarmed, twisting in his chair to look over his shoulder and detect what Bitty’s glaring at. Ransom, who clearly knows they’ve been caught, looks directly at Anthony with a deliberately threatening face, pointing two fingers at his eyes, then at Anthony, and back at his eyes.

Anthony makes a confused face into his mug and says, "Um."

"Gosh, I am so sorry," Bitty drops his face into his palms, trying to smother the waves of heat rushing to his cheeks. "It's my teammates -- they have no boundaries and they -- gracious, they think this is a date --"

Anthony swallows a mouthful of coffee too quickly before he sets his mug on the table. "Oh, uh. Do you… not think this is a date?"

Bitty lets his hands fall into his lap. His eyes dart to where Holster and Ransom are waving their thumbs up in the air as they mercifully walk away from the window and then back to Anthony, whose face is unmoving. "...What?"

The top of Anthony's cheeks pink, and he adjusts the glasses on his nose with a knuckle. "I... totally asked you meaning this to be a date."

"Oh," Bitty exhales numbly. Oh, butter my butt and call me a biscuit, he thinks, and then opens his mouth to say something to Anthony -- anything at all, because the poor boy is starting to squirm in his chair -- but all his words seem to get stubbornly stuck behind his teeth.

Because Anthony is perfectly nice. He’s mild-mannered, has a pleasant smile, and he's made Bitty laugh in class a few times when the professor wasn't looking. He's sitting across from Bitty with his hands twitching on top of the table, like Bitty's answer on the matter of their date is important to him. Like he would actually really like it to be one, so he found the courage to ask.

"Oh boy, I really didn't realize," Bitty confesses, finally, clutching his coffee tightly between his fingers. He's never thought he'd be this bad at this, but apparently he's just completely and entirely blind to anyone's affections as long as anyone isn't Jack Zimmermann. And now he made this difficult for both Anthony and himself.

"That's okay," Anthony says, clearing his throat. His lips quirk up in some intimation of a smile, which is, while still very pleasant to look at, much less genuine than his usual smile. "No, really, it's cool. My fault for not being clearer. We can -- I can go and order a refill for this coffee, and when I'm back we'll forget about it? We still have work left to do." He drags his legs out from beneath the table, turning sideways in his seat, before he risks another look at Bitty. "Unless you --? I mean, now that you -- realize -- would you want it to be…?"

The answer to that, Bitty thinks regretfully, is too complex for an acquaintance. Because how does one say, you're very nice and I imagine liking you could be very easy, but I've never dated in my life and right as I thought maybe I'd give it a try, I went and fell head over heels for a grumpy, kind-hearted, heterosexual Canadian?

One doesn't, Bitty reckons, but one also cannot keep waiting forever for something that will never, ever come. So he straightens his back and says, with his best Georgia smile, "Well, how about we carry on studyin’, and maybe we'll see how things go?"

It's a little more strained after that, but that's more Bitty's fault than anything. Anthony is still as perfectly polite as he was before, as focused on the reading. It's just that now every time Anthony smiles at him Bitty freezes, and then feels guilty for freezing, and gets mad at himself for not giving this a fighting chance, and by then he's not smiling back for so long that Anthony's smile shrinks, and Bitty feels even guiltier --

"Look," Anthony tells him after they packed everything back into their bags and walked companionably outside. "This hasn't been ideal, but I still had a good time. I'd like to maybe -- do it again?" Anthony smiles genuinely this time, and his smile is so pleasant, and he tilts his head the slightest bit closer to say, "As an official date this time?", and --

This is the second time Bitty freaks out about a very nice boy leaning in to possibly kiss him at Annie's, and it's exactly as mortifying as the first.

Bitty jumps back painfully obviously, as startled himself by his physical reaction as Anthony clearly is. He's blushing fiercely when he stammers, "Oh -- I -- I don't think it'll work out, I'm so -- I'm so sorry --" turns around, almost breaking into a run, and calls out, "I'll bake you a pie!"

The corners of Bitty’s eyes begin to burn, indicating the impending shameful tears. He’s terribly upset with himself for his reaction, but he’d be even more upset if he allowed himself to cry over it, so he makes the effort to blink furiously the entire way home.

.

.

.

The team gathers to eat dinner together that night. Bitty’s still a little vulnerable in the aftermath of his failed study date, but he does his best to hide it, pushing himself to be cheerful and revel in quality time with his boys. It’s easier when Ransom spends most of the walk to the dining hall engaging him in a conversation about wild alien conspiracies. It’s harder when Shitty and Holster join forces to cajole him into giving deets, and don’t take his, “Oh good Lord, there’s nothing to talk about!” as an acceptable answer. Telling them the truth is not an option -- they’re his best friends, but they would absolutely, no question about it, chirp him to death, and he’s really not in the right mood to take it good-naturedly.

Bitty’s surprised when it’s Jack who eventually tells them to knock it off, shoving Holster’s shoulder to force his way into sitting between him and Bitty at the table. Holster topples sideways into Nursey, and Jack seizes the vacated space and grants Bitty a miniature triumphant smile.

Jack’s dour mood had persisted through yesterday and during their walk over, but Bitty’s been watching him gradually thaw ever since they arrived at Commons; this smile is the first true, earnest one in days, and it melts Bitty on the inside. He’s immensely relieved that at least their friendship isn’t ruined, that the past few days have only been an unfortunate bump in an otherwise smooth road. Bitty tries to cling on to that, use it to move forward from the raincloud lingering over him since his afternoon with Anthony.

A baby-faced freshman approaches their table while Chowder is telling them about a text conversation with his sister. Bitty has his phone out before anyone else even reacts -- the nervous look in the kid’s face is enough warning, and he’s not disappointed; the kid zeroes in on Jack and asks for a signature on his Samwell jersey. There is absolute silence at the table while Jack surrenders to his inescapable fate and pulls out a pen. He then ducks his head and hangs on to that pen once the kid is out of earshot and the boys begin chirping him ruthlessly, yelling loudly enough to rattle the cutlery.

Bitty’s hiccupping laughter comes as a surprise to himself, but it’s the welcome sort. He directs his smile at his phone while he tweets -- true friends don't care that you're a professional hockey player; true friends ask you to sign their mashed potatoes during dinner -- and when he raises his head Jack is peeking at his screen and grinning at him.

“Not a professional player yet, eh? You can’t go lying to the Twitter.”

Jack is so obviously pleased with himself, white teeth gleaming in his mischievous grin. Bitty's heart soars and then swiftly sinks to the bottom of his stomach. He tries to hang on to the gratitude for what he has, but something in Jack’s voice triggers the memory of it stating, obviously they can't actually run that, and then, consecutively, the memory of Anthony's dumbfounded look when Bitty fled away from him.

Not even Jack's benign chirps or his concerned glances can restore Bitty's uplifted mood after that.

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Can’t make it to Founder’s tonight. Sorry! :( :( Raincheck?

The reading room is quieter than the rest of the Haus at night. It's dark out, gray shingles lit only by the lamp inside Bitty's bedroom and the faint glow of the streetlights down the road. Bitty lets his legs dangle from the edge of the roof, cradling a can of Twisted Tea and watching his shoes swing twelve feet above the shadowy green of the lawn.

There's the sound of a creaky window sash sliding up behind him. “Hey, Bittle.”

Bitty turns around. Jack is sitting on the ledge of his windowsill, holding a folded blanket in his lap. It takes a few seconds to blink away the disorientation caused by rumination and beer. “Jack! What’re you doing?”

Jack shrugs. “You said you’re not coming with me to Founder’s, and then you didn’t answer your phone. I wanted to check in.” He holds out the blanket with a modest smile. “Here -- so you won't get cold. Spring is pretty rough on you Southerners, eh?”

Bitty snorts inelegantly at the chirp, but stretches his arm to accept the blanket. He twists back to watch the twinkling Christmas lights on the LAX frat house across the road. They never take those down, and never add any new ones during the holidays. It’s as good a reason as any to hate the lacrosse team.

Jack clears his throat, an obtrusive sound in the relative silence. “Can I -- do you want me to stay? I mean, I can leave if you need some quiet.”

Bitty looks at him from over his shoulder, chin digging into his collarbone. Jack’s face is gentler than Bitty’s seen it in a while, mellowed out by the orange tint of the streetlights, and it’s so unfair. Even when Bitty’s upset about Jack he wants Jack near him, wants to hear Jack’s opinion, wants his straightforward, pragmatic type of advice. He wonders what Jack’s face would look like if Bitty was brave enough to tell him the truth about what’s bothering him. A sardonic laugh almost escapes him at that visual.

“No, you can stay,” Bitty says instead, and then makes a herculean effort to brighten up. “As long as you promise not to prattle on, you chatterbox, you know I like silences.”

The chirp falls flat when Bitty’s cheery façade cracks. Jack swings both legs out the window and slides down to sit by Bitty while Bitty takes another swig out of the can. There’s a lot of space on the roof, two empty lawn chairs on Bitty’s end, but Jack sits right next to him. Bitty’s shoulder knocks into Jack’s bicep and Jack’s thick thigh brushes against his, but Jack doesn’t take any action to inch away.

Bitty collects his knees close to his chest, leans his chin on top of them and continues watching the span of street visible from their roof. Beneath their feet, some couple probably returning from the bars by the river stumble together on the sidewalk, the echo of their giggles drifting up to the reading room. Bitty can’t quite cover his grimace in time to hide it from Jack.

"You're upset," Jack jabs Bitty’s elbow with his own, brow furrowing.

"No!" Bitty objects quickly, hoping his voice is only a lick squeaky. He's not drunk by any means, but the Twisted Tea makes everything a bit fuzzy, softens the world at its fringes. "I'm not upset. It's -- finals are coming up in two weeks, and I've got this essay I haven’t started, and -- you know, Betsy hasn’t been well and what am I gonna do, if I can’t bake to distract myself before the tests --"

"Bittle," Jack cuts him off quietly. Bitty lifts his head off his knees just enough to enable a quick glance; Jack is looking at him, those intense eyes trained on Bitty’s face, making his cheeks flush self-consciously. Jack’s expression is his distinct blend of uncomfortable but determined. "You're upset. Are you -- is it -- your date was this afternoon…?"

Bitty’s blush deepens, and he lays his cheek down to avoid eye contact. "So?"

"So," Jack begins, clumsily, and then shifts his arm so it nudges Bitty’s, fingers curled loosely into his palm. "Did he -- I mean."

It takes Bitty a moment to decipher Jack’s faltering sentence, but -- "Gosh, no," Bitty denies with profound embarrassment once he follows Jack's train of thought. Jack, unable to shake off the role of captain, is assuming some boy hurt him. Bitty doesn’t know how to tell him that he couldn't even get through the date to get hurt how normal people do. "He was a gentleman. If anything, it was me who was on my worst behavior."

Jack doesn’t look convinced. He bumps the back of his curled fingers against Bitty’s thigh. "But you're upset."

Bitty loosens his grip on his knees, keeps the hand not holding the can busy by fiddling with the hem of Jack’s blanket. Jack is both the last and the only person he wants to talk to about this. Bitty’s original plan was to get tipsy enough to fall asleep without thinking his emotions through, and then spend the next day compartmentalizing it away -- but Jack’s presence brings everything to the forefront of his mind, plucks at the tangle in his chest until it unravels.

"Well, because --” he sighs, and the expansion of his lungs must fracture some dam, because the words begin spilling out in long strings of nonsense. “I just -- I came here from Georgia because I thought it’d be different, y’know? I couldn't fit in there, and I know -- you said yourself -- I know it’s not any different here, not really, not in hockey, but outside of hockey it’s Samwell, so at least I could be me, right? But apparently I can't even be that, because I can't manage a simple thing like a date with a cute boy," he stops to take a deep breath, buries his face in the nook between his knees. "And, goodness, I can't believe I'm -- none of this is on you, I'm sorry --"

"Bittle," Jack touches his knee, inches away from his cheek, causing Bitty to look up. Jack doesn’t move his fingers from Bitty’s bare leg after Bitty lifts his head. "Don’t be sorry. It's okay."

Bitty searches Jack’s face. He doesn’t know how to read it, what the tiny microexpressions currently mean, but Jack’s fingers are splayed in the valleys of his joints and there’s something grounding in it. He takes another big breath in an attempt to calm himself down.

"I guess," Bitty whispers, but the turmoil in his chest doesn’t settle, not after he started letting it all out. He can almost picture it surging in him, clawing its way up to his mouth. "But -- is it? Okay? I'm just." He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself, both for feeling so much and for being unable to articulate feelings with the proper words. "I feel like I can't just be me. Because who I am isn't good enough at home, and isn't good enough for hockey, and who I am likes boys but apparently I'm no good at liking them right, or -- the right ones --"

He restrains himself from saying anything incriminating, biting his lip hard enough to taste the metallic flavor of blood.

"You are good enough for hockey," Jack says, stilted. His hand tightens on Bitty’s knee and belatedly pulls away. "You're a strong player, and you did a great job this season. I know we lost, but you still did good. You'll be even better next year."

Bitty exhales sharply, rubs his eyes. He knows Jack; he knows he chose to latch onto hockey because that's something he’s capable of expressing. Telling Bitty he's a good player is something Jack can find words for. Bitty didn’t expect Jack to be the right person to talk through an identity crisis, but it’d be an easier evasion to accept if he wasn’t wrong.

"Jack, no offense, but that's a load of horseshit." Jack is clearly caught off guard, seems to be gearing himself up for retaliation, but Bitty talks right over him. "It is! It is, because I might do alright now -- here -- but if I wanted to go into real hockey, into the league, you think they'd be alright with who I am? You've heard what some guys’ve got to say on the ice, and this isn’t even professional hockey."

"You want to play professionally?" The familiar glint in Jack’s eyes indicates that he’s losing track of the grand scheme of the conversation.

"No! But that's not the point!" Bitty swallows, because it isn't, but getting to the point might as well be impossible with Jack. He can't exactly tell him that he's heartbroken and disappointed in himself and everything looks more bleak from this perspective. He's no better than Jack right now; they’re both afraid to dip their toes into the murky waters of everything Bitty said that isn’t about the game. "I couldn't if I wanted to because of who I am."

"You could," Jack says, looking away, his shoulders tight. The conviction in his voice gets Bitty's attention. Jack really isn’t the most emotive of guys, and it takes a lot to get his voice to change pitch. "The league isn't a very welcoming place, but it's hockey. The whole point is hockey. And if you're good at hockey, they'll just have to accept that -- at some point. It might be hard, but if hockey is what you want, then --" he looks up, catches Bitty's eyes. Jack’s are unfocused, like somehow he forgot Bitty was even there. "I mean -- you said it isn't, but if it was -- all I'm saying is --"

"Sure," Bitty brings the can up to his mouth for another swig, skeptical even in the face of Jack’s unanticipated speech. "I get it. You can play, and all."

"Yes,” Jack insists, turning his upper body towards Bitty. Their knees press together and Jack’s face is suddenly a lot closer than it was before. Bitty has to blink a few times until he can get his pulse under control. “You can. Because you are good enough, Bittle."

They stare at each other, time stretching between them, caught up in the unforeseen gravity of the situation. Bitty can’t really wrap his head around hearing Jack defending him with such vigor, but he knows there’s nothing he can say to argue. That’s Jack’s opinion. He’s never been guilty of handing out compliments he doesn’t believe in.

"Thanks, Jack." Bitty whispers. "'m sorry. It's been a rough day. Sometimes --” He sighs again, bows his head, and musters the last shreds of his courage to be at least a little honest. “I guess sometimes it can get lonely. And it sucked to realize that it's my own fault I'm alone in the first place."

Jack subdues gradually, his shoulders folding inward and the fire in his eyes dying out, leaving room for something much more empathetic than Bitty expected.

"I'm sorry, Bittle." He reaches out to grasp the ball of Bity’s shoulder in his large palm, squeezing it tightly. It’s a friendly gesture of comfort, one the boys in the team offer each other all the time, but Jack’s thumb is absently rubbing small circles on the base of Bitty’s neck and it spreads tingles through his skin.

“It’s alright,” Bitty moves away, smiling, but the words are like dust in his mouth and it isn’t really alright at all. They settle back into sitting side by side, and Bitty notices Jack's fixed eyes on the side of his face, but he doesn’t turn to look.

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Friday evening finds Bitty scrambling to complete last-minute assignments before Spring C the next day. He shuts himself away in his room and turns off his phone, tries to make his eyes focus on long lines of text instead of on any creaking noises in the Haus that might provide a distraction. This tactic has failed him more often than not, but for once the Haus is completely empty and any creaking Bitty might hear could only be chalked up to Ransom’s ghosts. Lardo and Shitty are out buying booze for Spring C, Holster is with the frogs, Ransom is at his weekend study group, and Jack has been in Providence with his mother all day, looking at potential apartments, and will be returning later to have dinner with her and her former Department Chair.

Studying is easier when Bitty’s using it to avoid thinking about other things. Lately, since his oven has been acting up, it’s been easy using studying as a distraction from thinking about Jack -- about Jack moving to Providence, about Jack taking the first steps in his adult life away from Bitty and the team. It isn’t a better distraction than watching Say Yes To The Dress with Holster or listening to music with Lardo, but in the absence of all other options, it’s good enough to push Bitty to make his deadlines, even if it’s at the last minute.

Bitty’s laptop emits a sharp ping that alerts him to a new incoming email, and Bitty scrambles up from the floor, almost tripping over two piles of reading material on his way. His room is an absolute mess; papers covering the bedspread and the desk, textbooks spilling from inside his bag onto the floor, pens scattered haphazardly. He’s been reviewing for the HIST test while emailing back and forth with the TA for his American Publics course -- the last three lectures of which he honestly cannot remember, but is somehow expected to write two thousand words for anyway.

The new email in his inbox isn’t from his TA, however. It reads, RE: RE: Your Nomination in the 2015 Samwell Awards, and only contains one line of text, visible in the thread’s preview without Bitty clicking it open. Attached is a confirmation for the removal and termination of the aforementioned article.

Bitty pauses, his essay forgotten, and goes over the subject lines four more times.

Bitty hasn’t read the article. Bitty didn't want to read the article, had convinced himself that he was indifferent and was more interested in putting the whole ludicrous affair behind them. But now he’s incapable of dragging his cursor away from the email’s subject line. He can’t help but want to know what they have to say -- want to know why anyone would mirror his misguided feelings for a close friend.

It can lead to nothing but trouble. Bitty still opens the article file for the first time since the whole mess began on Monday, because he won't have the guts otherwise, but for some masochistic reason he just has to know.

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The Samwell Swallow

Vol. 26, Issue 31 | May 2015 | Special Edition | The Samwell Awards

CUTEST COUPLE AWARD: ICE HOCKEY AS A LOVE LANGUAGE

Our most dedicated readers will know that the title of Samwell’s Cutest Couple is highly coveted. Perhaps only second to Dream Date or Biggest Gossip in prestige, this award is one of the greatest honors young Wellie lovebirds can strive for. This year, we’re proud to elect JACK ZIMMERMANN ‘15 and ERIC BITTLE ‘17. We know: enough with the fucking hockey bros. But hear us out.

These unlikely candidates were initially nominated by Zimmermann’s fellow photography class students with an exclusive scoop. Bittle was the subject of Zimmermann’s midterm project! (Awe.) Such a grand romantic gesture could not go overlooked, and we set out to investigate. Copies of Zimmermann’s photos are brought to you here, courtesy of the Department of Visual Art.

[Images: a collage containing a dozen semi-professional photographs, all depicting BITTLE. His character is consistently linked to themes of warmth and light, and is obviously portrayed with great affection.]

We were delighted by what we learned. Observant Wellies report that the two are often seen taking long romantic walks around campus, with Zimmermann’s lens sometimes pointed at the scenery, but more often at his boyfriend. Sources at Annie’s, the local café, tell The Swallow that, “Yeah, they’ve been like, coming here at least two or three times a week this year? There’s their table [points at a secluded window table in the corner]. The tall guy always pays -- what? No, they’re almost always alone. Except this one time that they were here with this other couple? I don’t know, man, I see lots of people on dates, but these guys kinda stand out. They’re always giggling with each other, it’s ridiculous. And loud.”

Our research yielded clear results: service staff at Samwell’s Jerry’s, Superberry and Stop&Shop have gone on record with similar statements; students who shared a class with the two disclose that their constant whispering and flirting have been impossible to ignore; even the janitor at Faber Memorial Rink reports that current team captain and fellow liney spend every weekend skating alone as they watch the sun rise, while no practice is scheduled! It’s official - Bittle and Zimmermann are, indeed, 2015’s Cutest Couple.

[Image: BITTLE and ZIMMERMANN at the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team’s #Epickegster this winter. The two are standing very close in the midst of what appears to be an intimate conversation, leaning towards each other under a bag of free condoms. Text under image reads: Our staffers report that the two then disappeared upstairs while the party was still in full swing. Get it, boys!]

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Bitty spends a long, breathless moment staring at the screen with unseeing eyes.

It’s like an out of body experience. Bitty can’t feel the tips of his fingers, can’t feel his toes. He can’t lift his hand to ram the laptop lid shut so his eyes are still glued to the block of text, words blurring together into a solid sheet of gray. His mind keeps losing footing, coherent thoughts cutting off before they can run their course, parts of sentences jamming into one long sequence -- grand romantic gesture, long walks, whispering and flirting -- that plays over and over. Distantly, he’s aware that there are stray tears in the corner of his eyes, but he’s too disconnected from his limbs to do something about it.

People look, he thinks, brain stuttering over the realization, pushing itself out of its shock, people look and see -- people look at the two of us and what they see is --

A loud noise behind his back scares the living daylight out of him, enough to send him spinning on the chair. The door to his bedroom swings open, nearly banging against the wall with the strength of its motion. Behind it is Jack, standing in the doorway with his eyes blown wide and his face pale, looking like he's seen a ghost; panting for breath like he ran a marathon to get there.

Bitty nearly collapses out of his chair, stumbling over the papers on the floor to step closer, arms reaching out automatically. “Jack -- what --? Is everything alright? Aren’t you supposed to be with your mom --?”

“Bitty,” Jack breathes out, unsteady, and then tumbles further into the room. His hair is disheveled and his buttoned shirt is smeared with stains of sweat, and Bitty’s brain is still coming back online but he’s suddenly overcome with how handsome Jack still is, even like this.

And then Jack takes a lengthy step forward right into Bitty’s space, his body enveloping Bitty’s and his broad palms cupping Bitty’s burning cheeks, and tips Bitty’s mouth into his.

Bitty’s eyes remain wide open for one paralyzed split second, taking in the sight of Jack’s dark eyelashes and sculpted brow bone from extreme up close, and then Jack’s lips move and Bitty’s eyelids flutter closed, melting into the unfamiliar action.

Jack's mouth is as soft as Bitty imagined, as hot, velvety lips sliding against Bitty's and catching on the dip of his cupid’s bow. Bitty’s mind keeps up a remote chant of oh my god, Jack is kissing me, oh god, what is happening, before that too is silenced by the thrill of Jack’s mouth parting against his, deepening the kiss, and then everything goes blessedly silent.

An undetermined amount of time later, Jack’s phone begins buzzing insistently; Bitty can feel the vibrations from where his hip is aligned with Jack’s. Jack ignores it, separating their lips to angle his head in the other direction and suck Bitty’s bottom lip into his mouth, tongue wet and tentative. His phone buzzes again, though, and subsequently two times more, and then Jack finally sighs into Bitty’s mouth.

“That’s my mom,” he says quietly, breaking their mouths barely far enough apart to speak. His lower lip is shining with spit and Bitty feels faint, needs to sit down before he falls over, needs to step back before he sinks his teeth into it impulsively. “She’s waiting for me...”

“Oh,” Bitty says. His voice sounds like it’s coming from very far away. He has so many things he wants to say -- what the hell, and what does this mean, and but aren’t you, and stay, stay, don’t go -- yet the only sounds his mouth can apparently make are, “Uh. Okay.”

“We have this… dinner…” Jack continues, and his eyes are so blue and his lips are so red and his cheeks are so pink, and Bitty thinks that maybe this is a very vivid stress-induced hallucination, and also thinks that he wouldn’t mind hallucinating a little longer. “I gotta go, but I’ll -- I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” Bitty says again, even though he’s not sure it is. He’s pretty sure, actually, that once Jack exits the door of his bedroom this spell will break like at Cinderella’s midnight clock strike, and Jack will return from dinner with his mother still painfully perfect, and still painfully straight, and still so, so far out of Bitty’s reach.

Jack backs up towards the door, eyes lingering on Bitty as his hands drift down Bitty’s arms. “I’ll be back,” he repeats, although Bitty’s not any more convinced, and then he takes his hands away and fumbles blindly for the doorknob, slips out into the hallway from whence he came.

Bitty hears his breaths shallow into nothing more than gasps of air, and promptly crumples backwards onto his chair.

.

.

.

Bitty spends the entire time Jack is absent slowly going out of his mind.

Once the shock passes and the fogginess clouding his thoughts clears, all he can do is think: think about Jack kissing him, and the lovely shape of his mouth, and the bewitched look on his face; wonder how the hell it happened, and why, and what it even means. He conjures a dozen, a hundred versions of what transpired to bring Jack to his door, and even more of what would happen if he does indeed come back.

Bitty paces back and forth across his room, unable to focus or hold onto any one scenario for more than a few seconds. His heart beats so fast for so long that it develops into nausea; he continues pacing while clutching his stomach and praying that he won’t throw up, because he doesn’t think he’d survive that kind of embarrassing memory.

Shitty and Lardo come back at some point, stoned and bearing three bags of sour worms. They squint at his messy room but don't comment on the condition of his hair or his shaky limbs, kindly offer him some sour worms and the opportunity for contact-high in Shitty’s room. They back off and close the door as soon as they see the look on his face. Bitty runs his hand through his hair one more time when he tries to imagine what his face must look like to successfully scare them away.

A long while later there are footsteps in the hallway outside his door. Bitty braces himself to tell Holster or Ransom or, god, Chowder that he’s busy right now. He tries to remind himself that he loves them even when he's in a state, and sits down on the bed to tell them that he isn’t feeling well -- except then the door opens, and it’s Jack standing in the doorway.

Bitty’s heart jumps, somersaults, and plummets all in the space of one millisecond, as he stands up abruptly from the bed and stares, openmouthed.

Jack doesn’t look as rumpled as he did earlier. His collar is adjusted neatly and the tails of his shirt are tucked and smoothed into his pants, but his face is a rich shade of pink and he’s clenching and unclenching his fists by his side. He seems so awkward, standing there, that Bitty’s continuous state of panic morphs into a different chaotic mess of confusion and affection, all while Jack does nothing but stare at him.

“How was dinner?” Bitty squeaks out, eventually, when it’s clear that Jack’s not going to speak anytime soon.

Jack looks like Bitty has veered off script unexpectedly. His eyes widen and he clenches his fists and then releases them again, compulsively. “Eh -- good, good.” Bitty nods. There’s a long stretch of silence neither of them fills. Jack inhales and says, right when Bitty is sure that his heart is sincerely going to beat out of his darn chest, “I. Bittle. About earlier.”

The color in his face deepens further but Bitty can’t tell what that means, if he’s already regretting what he’s done or if he’s just tripping over his own emotions like Bitty is. “You should -- the door,” he stutters, because whether he’s going to be kissed again or be let down gently, he’d rather do it without an audience. Jack looks at him like he spoke in a cryptic foreign language, so Bitty forces out, blushing to the roots of his hair, “Come in and shut the door, Zimmermann.”

“Oh -- shit, ouais,” Jack jostles into action, stepping away from the threshold and kicking the door shut after him. It’s the first time Bitty has seen him move with anything other than practiced poise.

Bitty’s room isn’t very large, and with the door closed the atmosphere in it quickly shifts. There’s an inherent intimacy in the short gap between their bodies that heightens in a small, enclosed space, and Bitty can feel his body heat rise and spread to his palms and his face as a result of it.

It’s unsettling, and Bitty suspects that he could grow to crave it, but not as long as he has no idea what is going on. “Jack --”

Jack interrupts him, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Wait, Bittle, listen. I -- it’s really important that you know that you shouldn't feel obligated.”

There are maybe a hundred thousand things that could’ve come out of Jack’s mouth after Bittle, listen, and Bitty spent two and a half hours imagining a good deal of them. Telling Bitty that he shouldn’t feel obligated is so perplexing that Bitty’s too wrongfooted to protest, and Jack carries on speaking. “I know as team captain I have a certain amount of authority and I didn’t even -- think about that, before, which is really wrong --”

Bitty squints, slowly gaining a renewed grasp on this bizarre situation. The only thing he manages to think with clarity, through the storm brewing in his chest, is, You doofus, what on earth are you talking about. “Jack. The season is over."

"Right," Jack shoves his hands in his pockets, squares his shoulders. "But -- still. Technically we kept up with a.m. practices even after the playoffs, so."

Because you are an insane person, Bitty thinks to himself, coming to terms with the fact that the tone of his thoughts is on a scale ranging between neurotic and cloyingly smitten. He opens his mouth, not sure what’s going to come out of it, but Jack keeps talking without pause.

"Anyway, the NCAA allows intra-team dating but doesn't say anything about involvement with captains. I checked."

This bowls Bitty over, a new wave of warmth rushing to his cheeks. "You checked?"

There's a sheen of what can only be nervous sweat above Jack's upper lip that shines under the glaring ceiling light. “It’s only thirty pages.”

Bitty feels lightheaded again, as he allows himself to consider for the first time that evening, with some measure of possibility, that Jack Zimmermann in fact came into his room and kissed the right sense out of him with the intention to date him. It’s almost too much to consider, making him weak at the knees. He grabs the edge of his desk to be on the safe side.

“You -- I -- dear god, what is even happening? What brought this on?” Because they’ve been spending -- well, they’ve spent almost every waking moment together this semester, excluding this odd week since the damned Swallow article. Jack had plenty of opportunity to confess his feelings had he possessed any, and the best time certainly wasn’t while his mother was waiting for him downstairs to go to a formal dinner.

“Well, I,” Jack stammers, dropping his chin to his chest. His ears are bright red, dark enough to be seen from a few feet away, and Bitty is enchanted by it. “I didn’t know, but. I read the stupid thing in the car because I couldn’t -- my mom said -- I kept thinking about you in every kitchen that we looked at, and I…”

Bitty can feel his eyes widen, his organs flipping over inside him. "You… did?"

Jack lifts his head, and when the two of them finally make eye contact it zings through Bitty’s body. "Yes. I mean, I guess it’s hard not to. If you're not on ice, you're baking, Bittle. Or tweeting. Or baking and tweeting."

He winces as soon the words are out of his mouth, and Bitty can’t help it: he bursts out in laughter, high-pitched and giddy. This boy, Bitty marvels, and euphoria spreads like thick cotton candy in his chest, making it hard to speak; to breathe.

Jack’s face still looks vaguely horrified, like he’s regretting ever opening his mouth. "Crisse, sorry, it's not -- I wasn't trying to --" he blows out air, starting over. "It's fine that you do. I mean, more than fine. I thought about you in the kitchens because I like it. I like you."

His voice is unmistakably uncomfortable, and beads of sweat are glinting on his temples. Bitty’s so overwhelmed by hearing Jack speak candidly about his feelings that he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. "You like me? But you're -- I mean, I thought you --"

Jack’s eyebrows draw down and his mouth thins. He looks irritated, but Bitty knows it’s the shape his face takes when he’s distressed. "I know last year it didn't seem like -- but I thought this year you knew things changed --"

"-- were straight," Bitty exhales, chest heaving. God. This is real. "I thought… you were straight."

Jack squints, stopping himself in the middle of his sentence. He seems honestly, genuinely confused, the big lug. With a more functioning part of his mind Bitty recognizes that this is probably the most facial expressions he’s seen Jack make since meeting him.

"But I kissed you."

"Yeah," Bitty swallows, cheeks probably glowing bright red. Somehow it’s so much more jarring hearing the words out loud than it was to have Jack’s mouth on his. Like something that’s not supposed to be discussed out in the open. A secret lifted right out of Bitty's subconscious, manifested by sheer will. "Uh. Sure did. Thus my confusion."

"Your -- confusion…?" Jack trails off. His flushed face begins shifting by degrees, a smile spreading slowly but steadily and creating the smallest, sweetest crinkle at his eyes. He wipes his shiny brow with the back of one forearm and then crosses the distance between them in a few short strides, sweeping in to kiss Bitty.

It’s not any less mind-blowing the second time around. Jack's fingers slot under Bitty's jaw, titling his head up, his other palm sliding from Bitty’s neck to his shoulder and down his back in a tantalizing stroke. Bitty grows hot all over, bending his body into Jack's to press their chests together, his hands hesitatingly finding their way to Jack's hips. He hooks them over the sharp curves of Jack's hip bones, feels the strength in Jack’s obliques through his clothes.

Their mouths create a soft slick sound when they glide against one another, lips meeting and parting smoothly. Bitty gathers the confidence to attempt parting his own lips, applies the slightest pressure of tongue to Jack's bottom lip, and is rewarded by Jack's shudder and the tightening of his hand on the small of Bitty's back.

Jack pulls his face back slowly enough for Bitty to blink his eyelashes open and catch Jack licking his lips, exhaling shakily.

"I like you, Bitty," Jack leans their foreheads together. His eyes are staring right into Bitty’s, drooping and soft and so clearly fond that Bitty feels the tremor flow in his body all the way to his toes.

"Me too," Bitty whispers. His heart is still beating irregularly, vainly trying to catch up with the emotional upheaval of the last few minutes. “Jack --. I like you, too.”

Jack smiles at him, and it’s more honest, more tender than Bitty's ever seen it. It makes Bitty so happy that he wants to burst into giggles, wants to hide his beam in Jack's chest until butterflies stop fluttering in his ribcage.

Jack runs his fingers into Bitty's hair, gently brushes through it. He's bashful, both of them avoiding prolonged eye contact, and it's so absurd that they're shy after kissing like that, but Bitty can't help it. Jack tips his head to kiss Bitty's chin, his temple, makes Bitty actually giggle when he kisses his ear and then settles his lips in Bitty's hair, tugging him closer into the crooks of Jack's body.

"Hey, Jack?" Bitty says quietly, leaning his cheek on the curve of Jack's shoulder and wrapping his arms around Jack's waist, hands linking at the arch of his spine.

"Yeah?" Jack mumbles into Bitty's hair, mouth moving against the crown of his head.

Bitty presses his lips briefly to the closest patch of Jack's skin he can reach, which is the dip in his clavicle. It's barely a kiss, but his entire body shivers with the knowledge that he’s allowed. "Wanna be my date to Spring C tomorrow?"

Jack draws back far enough to be able to look down, tilting his chin into his neck and catching Bitty's eyes with his. His face is pink and his lips are swollen and Bitty's so unbelievably in love with him, but it's the furthest thing from pathetic now. It seems funny that it was ever something shameful at all.

"It'd be my pleasure," Jack smiles, and leans in for another kiss.

[purplesurveys]

1213

Have you ever been in weather below 0 Fahrenheit (-17 Celsius)? Nah. The coldest I’ve experienced was probably something like 10 or 11ºC, when I was in Japan. At the time I still didn’t care too much for traveling and ended up being really underdressed for the weather, so I was extremely uncomfortable the whole time we were roaming around the city. Have you ever been caught outdoors away from shelter during a thunderstorm? LOL yes, notably on the last night of my college internship. My car was parked in another building so I had to walk outdoors, when all of a sudden it fucking poured. I ran to the nearest building for shelter but I was still absolutely drenched and ended up having to call my mom (who works in the same city) to ask her to come pick me up.

What’s your favorite macaron flavor? Chocnut or milk chocolate.

How often do you have friends over to your house? Once in a blue moon. I had my ex over all the time but since then I’ve only had one friend - Angela - come over once.

Have you ever had a boss who acted unprofessionally? I mean, we’re very open with each other with regard to our frustrations at work.  That could technically count as unprofessional but I’m honestly just glad we don’t have to be fake around one another and pretend like everything’s dandy.

How many times have you stayed at a hotel in the past year, and where? Just once, for my dad’s birthday. We stayed in Tagaytay for a weekend though we Airbnb’d a condo unit and not a hotel.

Have you ever done a flip on a trampoline? Nah. I could try but I’m too afraid of not being able to support myself and accidentally breaking my neck or something.

What about a flip off of a diving board? Nope.

Are you embarrassed by your school yearbook photos? No. I barely look at them and I’m sure people barely look at yearbooks too.

Who taught you to tie your shoelaces? My grandma.

Currently how many pictures are on your cellphone? 8,067. There used to be around 10,000 but I had a ‘huge’ deleting spree that brought it down to around 6,000 – but clearly I’ve brought it back up again lol.

Do you think dimples are cute? Yes, super.

Would you rather chew fruity or minty gum? It’s whatever. They all lost their taste anyway.

The last time you went to the mall, who did you go with? Just me. That’s usually the case nowadays.

What’s something you used to collect when you were younger? Pogs.

Have you watched a movie today? I haven’t watched a movie since like September.

Aside from your own, whose house did you last set foot into? Angela’s, but it was super brief as I only went in to greet her parents.

Do you love soft pretzels? Yep, that’s how I prefer my pretzels as well.

Who was the last person who cried around you? Why did they start crying? Was it unexpected? I really have no clue. I haven’t been around too many people in such a long time, much less people who’ve cried in front of me. I want to say maybe Gabie???? during one of our last meet-ups. The name feels so foreign now.

Are you more likely to like someone before you really know them, or do you feel you like them more after you know a lot about them? After.

Do you buy people cards on special occasions, or do you prefer to make your own? Giving people cards isn’t much of a tradition here. We’d much rather get you a physical gift altogether.

When was the last time you were being hypocritical? I probably do it without realizing, so I can’t say exactly when.

Where on your body was the last cramp you had? Why did you have this cramp? Fortunately I haven’t had one in a while but I usually get cramps on my neck and shoulders after a whole day at work.

What is the weirdest name you’ve ever heard? My sister went to school with this girl whose name was her surname in reverse.

Do you get embarrassed when people hear you sing/compliment you on your singing ability? If so, why is that? Yeah. I’m not confident in my singing, so I never sing around people and it would embarrass me if I was ever caught/heard.

Are you good at comforting people when they’re upset? I try to be. It works for some people.

Do you have any exercises you do everyday? Nah.

Do you own one of those singing fish? Do you think they are silly or funny? I don’t know what this is referring to.

Has anyone ever accused you of being bipolar or any other mental disorder? Do you really have any mental disorders? No one has accused me; at least not to my face. As for the second question, I’m sure I have one or two; I’ve just never gotten myself professionally checked.

Did you buy the last thing you bought with your own money? If not, whose money did you buy it with? Yabu because I was craving; paid with my own money. It actually feels pretty weird because Yabu had been mine and my ex’s thing, and I haven’t had their food since the breakup. I’m looking forward to having it again tonight and finally changing the narrative for it.

Do you like to put your feet up on the dashboards of cars? Do you parents yell at you if you do that in cars? I don’t like to do it but I’ll sometimes do it if I wanna feel relaxed. No, it wouldn’t bother them too much.

Which Beatle is your favorite, or do you love them all equally? I don’t listen to them.

Do you enjoy classic rock? If so, who are some of your favorite classic rock artists? Not really, but I have nothing against it.

Did you ever own a Tamagotchi? Yep.

Are you more of a dog or cat person? Dog.

Have you ever failed math? Just the advanced courses, like calculus, back in high school. I find math pretty fun and easy if I get the topic and know the formulas; but if I find something hard, it’s very difficult for me to keep up. There’s really no in between haha I either pass with flying colors or absolutely flop.

Skittles! What's your favorite color? Whichever’s not too sour. Idk, I never buy Skittles.

Have you ever had a dream of stabbing someone? Nope but I used to have nightmares of watching my loved ones get shot.

What would you want your last words to be if you could choose them? That I had fun.

Can you sleep with the light on? Only if I’m pissed tired. Otherwise bright lights would bother me.

What’s the most bizarre horror movie you’ve ever seen? I know my answer won’t count as it doesn’t technically fall under horror, but Eraserhead was just very bizarre and unsettling. I’ve never seen the whole film without pausing several times.

What band can’t you stand listening to? Again, this probably won’t count as they’re a boy band/group more than anything, but I cannot stand The Vamps.

Would you ever take a lie detector test for your significant other? Yeah, sure, I guess, for fun. I think those are mostly bullshit anyway so I’ll only take a test with bullshit questions as well.

What is your favorite Mystery/Crime/FBI related show? Those genres never really were my cup of tea.

Would you ever have a bird as a pet? We had two lovebirds some years ago. They were lovely, but idk if we’d do it again. No reason, just that we prefer dogs.

How's your relationship between you and your grandparents? It’s great, even with my maternal grandpa who’s already passed. But I’m well aware of the fact that they’re also a bit wary of me since I’m the most vocal and outspoken of all their grandchildren, whereas they’re intensely conservative and traditional. Still, I always feel their love, especially through food and how they always make sure to stuff me whenever I come over haha.

Ever had a forbidden love or lover? In a sense, yeah. I was in a same-sex relationship that I hid from my family for four years.

Have you ever had to speak at a funeral?  I’ve never been to a funeral but I doubt I could speak at one without breaking down.

Do you know someone who’s been cremated?  Yes, my grandpa was cremated.

What is your current problem?  Just some deliverables at work that I would rather not think about now.

Do you like canopy beds?  Eh, I don’t mind them.

What is your favorite animated movie?  Toy Story.

Would you rather live in a small town or a big city?  Big city. I need lots of noise, lots of activity and lights where I live. I’ve lived in suburban neighborhoods all my life and I would love a change in pace.

If you could summon any animal to come to your rescue, what animal would it be and why?  Idk.

Have you ever watched The Golden Girls?  I’ve watched snippets and it’s HILARIOUS. I’ve always wanted to start the series but never knew where to watch it.

Did you ever like the Ninja Turtles? Was never into it, no.

Last alcoholic drink you had?  Peach soju and plum soju that got me absolutely hammered.

What are you known for?  These days, probably for doing an extreme 180 and having my life be all about BTS now.

Has anyone ever threatened you?  Yes.

Have you ever gone frog hunting?  No? Doesn’t sound like my type of activity at all.

Do you ever suffer from dry skin?  Yeah my face is a little dry, but I don’t think it’s something I ‘suffer’ from since no issues have come out of it so far. It’s just the way it is.

Do you still sleep with a stuffed animal?  Not a stuffed animal but I need to hug a pillow to fall asleep.

What’s the weather like right this moment?  It’s weather that says “it’s gonna get really hot in an hour or so” and I’m not enjoying that very much.

Do you bite on straws, lollipop handles, or ice cream sticks?  If there’s no trash can around, I tend to.

In what type of area was your first sexual encounter?  It was in a hotel.

Where is your mother’s side of the family descended from?  Just somewhere in the Philippines.

What do you occupy your time with on flights?  I’m honestly really happy with just staring out the window. If not that, I bring something to read or listen to music. I haven’t had a flight that lasted 6+ hours, but I imagine I would also bring my laptop for a series or movies to watch if I find myself in that situation.

Do you dog-ear pages in books?  Yup.

What’s a made up word of yours?  I don’t think I have any.

Do you use Q-Tips?  I do.

Ever gone out with somebody you didn’t like?  No. I don’t think I could bring myself to do that.

What hero or heroine do you most relate to in history, fiction, or song?  I don’t really like content with a hero/ine plot.

What makes you dizzy?  Amusement park rides, car rides, headaches.

Are your parents liberal or conservative?  Conservative.

Do you like your teeth? Did you have braces?  Not my middle teeth, but in general yeah. I did have braces but I lost my retainers at one point so my teeth just went back to their original position eventually.

Are you happy with your height?  It’s fine. I’m small but it’s the average here so I don’t really complain.

[majwrites]

Profiling friends (Part 1)

Malcolm Bright x platonic!reader

Don Flack x platonic!reader

Description: The reader is a young profiler for the NYPD and works with Don Flack and the Crime Lab most of the time. On a case they meet Malcolm Bright.

A/N:this is my first reader insert fanfiction, I hope you enjoy it. This contains incredibly unrealistic descriptions of profiling and law enforcement. And my grammar is really bad.

You felt like something was off the very moment Flack and you got out of the car. Something about this crime scene was odd. Well, more odd than other crime scenes, but not because of the murder.

"Flack, there's a guy sniffing the victim already", you weren't sure why there were people present who you didn't know, this was your part of town. Only after looking at who appeared to be another consultant you noticed that Hawkes was already there too.

"Seems like we're sharing this case", said Flack before spotting an older looking Lieutenant he seemed to recognize. Then he looked back at you:"Go ahead and sniff the corpse, kid. But listen to what Sheldon tells you". "Sure thing, boss", with that you made your way over to where the victim was located.

You didn't let yourself be bothered by the unknown guy, and sat down on the floor in front of the victim starting to analyse the scene. "She's been most likely poisoned", said Hawkes after he felt like you were ready with looking at the corpse, "what do you think?"

The way she's placed on the ground all dressed up and killed with a poison that I can't smell I say that killer is definitely a bit extra. He wants his victims to look perfect even after they died...she probably didn't even know that she was about to be killed, it was totally unexpected for her and then she just died out here where everyone could see".

You saw the unknown guy who sniffed the victim before you even got your chance to do so approaching. He definitely looked fancier than you. He was wearing a suit and you had given up on the formal outfits after two days on the job. Flack didn't care and you felt uncomfortable all dressed up so you stuck to your favourite clothes you used to wear in college. But you weren't about to let him intimidate you. "Hello, my name's Malcolm Bright. I'm a consultant for the NYPD". "Same", you replied, "You know, your eyes remind me of Tobey Maguire". By that point Flack and the older lieutenant had approached too. "Don't worry about them", said Flack, "(Y/N)'s way of thinking is a bit different and their conversation skills reflect that". He really occasionally acted like a parent. The lieutenant, you'd learned by now that his name was Gil, looked at Flack in an understanding way. Then he looked like he got an idea.

"I think we should not fight about who gets this case and instead work together. Bright and (L/N) can work on a more detailed profile together". While you really listened carefully to Gils idea you got distracted by something. You trailed away from the victim over to a nearby dumpster. You spotted a pair of flat shoes, they still looked very pretty with glitter and all that stuff. You called over Lindsay who by now had also arrived at the scene so she could take some photos of the dumpster and then put the shoes in an evidence bag.

You both presented them to the rest of the team. "It seems like the shoes belong to our victim", concluded Malcolm. "She's in high heels here...",he began. "So she took flat shoes in case she wanted to go dancing later",you finished his sentence. "Exactly", he confirmed.

Once everything was done at the scene you found yourself sitting in the car with Flack again. "Where are we going?", you knew the way to Flacks office building and this wasn't it. "As we said, this is gonna be a shared case, so I'm gonna drop you off with Gil and Malcolm. You can help him with the profile". "But that's a different office, I want to use the board in our office and I don't even know if they have neon post-its and red markers", you didn't really enjoy changes in the routine. "Don't worry, (Y/N), you can call me whenever you want. And I have something for you to make this change a bit more bearable", he pulled a package of (favourite candy) out of his suit pocket and threw it to you. You caught it right in front of your face.

So Flack dropped you off at Gils office and properly introduced you to the other detectives, Dani and JT. Like the well raised profiler you were you offered them some of your candy before Flack said his goodbyes and left to discuss the case with Lindsay and the others at the Crime Lab. You and Malcom were left alone to profile in peace. You focused on that and gladly used the board and red markers they had. Malcolm apologized for the post-its (they only had basic yellow) and threw in his ideas. In the end you came up with a pretty decent profile.

"It'll be a few minutes until everyone gets here and we can present our profile", said Malcolm, "why don't you tell me how'd you get this job?" "I feel like you know that already", you answered, "because I know your backstory, it's not that hard". "Your face was all over the news, but how you ended up at the NYPD is beyond me. (Y/N), you have a criminal record", Malcolm wondered. "You know that I exposed that political scandal", you started, "profiled the guy, got my hands on some info, had my best friend hack the NSA server. Since that guy deserved to be exposed and to my own luck Flack was the one to arrest me I was given a choice. It was either being stuck in a state prison for a few years or being stuck in a contract with the NYPD. And unfortunately I hate to be bored so this was the better option". "What happened to your friend", asked Malcolm. "They got hired by the NSA, but got passed on to Homeland. They work there now". "How do you know about my backstory then? You most likely weren't even born yet in 1998", Malcolm sounded slightly confused. "My main task is to look into cold cases, but to solve those you need some reference. So I was given access to a bunch of solved cases, including the surgeon case. Wasn't hard to make that connection".

The moment you were finished with your explanations Flack, Lindsay and Gils team entered the room. They all looked at Malcolm and you with an expecting expression. Flack started talking first: "We'd like to hear the profile". And before you could open your mouth to speak he added: "And (Y/N), please try to explain it to me without pop culture references, stories about your grandparents or high school yearbook quotes this time". "Alright", you started, "The murderer seems to be a person who's slightly older than the victim. They knew her well cause they got close and the victim got most likely dressed up for them"

[italianstoryteller]

“How Did You Not Know?”

Recently, I had the pleasure of reading a fellow schoolmate’s story about coming out. I read about their struggles, their hardships, and their acceptance of who they are. I have touched on this subject myself with close friends, but never to great extent. I feel this is something I need the universe to hear, but I didn’t know where else to turn. Thus, I created this account to tell my stories as they are, or as they were, or as they will be.

In July 2019, only a few weeks before my 19th birthday, I came out as gay to my mother. She was very accepting, but there’s more to her story, put a pin on that. Over the following weeks, I slowly started coming out to my friends however I felt fit. Whether it be walking down the street with my best friend, dropping it nonchalantly in a group setting, or simply making an Instagram post that would lead people to asking me so I could come out like that.

What followed has been one of the most difficult repeating question that I have ever had to explain my way through: “How did you not know you were gay?” Many factors went into my “confusion” if you want to call it that, but we need to start way back in my roots to truly understand how I didn’t know.

In elementary school, around the age of 7 or 8, I knew pretty quickly that I did not like boys on a whole. I thought they were annoying, immature, stupid, and just overall not good people, so I spent all of my time around girls. It wasn’t until I was 9 or 10 that I actually had a male identifying friend. I would get teased a lot for only playing with girls and whatnot but I never thought anything of it. I would play make believe with the girls and boys would call me gay without calling me gay if that makes sense. I never had the word “gay” used as an insult on me before, and I really didn’t think much of it. Partly because I didn’t understand how the word “gay” WAS an insult (that and f*gg*t, which as an adult I finally understand how disgusting that word truly is, but that’s besides the point). 

That’s basically how my life operated for many years. I was never like other boys. I was much more invested in the arts, and I hated sports with a passion. Around 8th grade, my parents started asking me “are you sure you’re not gay?” This was, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the worst things my parents could have done. Now, don’t get me wrong, my parents are the most supportive parents a kid could ask for. They are total progressives, they love looking to the future, and they have been LGBT+ allies since before I came out. However, in that prime age of 12-14, my parents practically urging me to come out as gay meant I wanted to defy them and prove to them I wasn’t.

Enter high school. I was still on that prime “boys suck” mindset which was actually another major factor in my confusion of sexuality. I thought to myself that I didn’t want to be around boys, which meant that I wanted to be around girls for the rest of my life, which must mean that I want a wife. At the time, it seemed like simple logic. When I was 15, I started becoming really good friends with one of my female classmates and thought to myself “I’d love to spend the rest of my life with her”. So, age 16, I asked her to be my girlfriend. At the time, it seemed like a great relationship, but looking back, it was horribly flawed. She and I entered the relationship under the pretenses that we were “friends first, dating second”, because we believed that our friendship was worth more than an extra title that society was going to put on us. However, that meant we really continued on just as friends during the entire relationship. We graduated high school and began a long-distance relationship freshman year of college. Being away from her helped me finally understand what it meant to be sexually attracted to someone. When I was with her, I only had eyes for her. But once I stopped seeing her for 6-10 hours a day every single day, I realized what it was that I actually wanted. Our relationship did not do well as it was long-distance, and it came at a perfect time for us to end things mutually. May 2019, we broke things off, and less than two months later, I came out.

Society has this whole stigma of “hetero is the norm” and in a society like that, how can we expect people to truly know who they are? When your family and friends always say how cute you are when around another girl, you eventually just roll with the punches because that is all you CAN do. When I did come out, like I said at the beginning, my mother was incredibly supportive of me. My father needed a little bit of time to “wrap it around his head”, but within probably two days he was fully on my side. The thing that sucked the most was that because I came out at such a “late age” and following a nearly three-year hetero-relationship, I felt ashamed. Ashamed that I didn’t come out sooner, that I had this “fake version of myself” that I was parading around because I just truly didn’t understand myself and what I wanted.

After I came out, I received bullying in the most twisted way imaginable for a gay boy. And the bullying was the question this is all prompted on: “how did you not know you were gay?” Apparently to other people, it was very obvious that I was gay. It was clear that I was putting on a show. People genuinely found it comical that I came out so late and after such a long hetero-relationship. I get some snide comments from my friends of like “hey look, penis, you like that, right?” which I’m sure is all in good fun, but it comes to this unnecessary beating of the dead horse that yes; I’m gay. There doesn’t need to be more discussion on the matter. It’s not even a discussion, it’s just a statement. 

At the end of the day, here’s the thing: we all grow up in a heterosexual-driven society, where being homosexual just isn’t normal. In a world where I have to please my grandparents talking about all the cute girls from school, where it was genuinely an annual tradition to go through my school yearbook so my family could circle all the cute girls they think I should date. A world where we played a game about which celebrity crushes you would like to date, and me saying anything besides pretty actresses would be considered weird. A world where once it’s known that I am who I am, that belittlement and mockery will ensue. People always ask me “how did I not know”; well now you know.

[petri808]

Memory Lane

Day 1 @nalu-week On the Road prompt

They’d been traveling for several hours now only stopping to eat and switch places behind the wheel. His wife Lucy had driven the first leg and now it was his turn. Natsu smiles as he glances over, seeing her curled up in the passenger seat. Lucy was so excited to meet their new nephew, that she chattered almost the entire time she was driving. It was quite adorable.

Natsu’s sister-in-law Mavis had recently given birth and it was a very big deal for the Dragneel’s, for this was the start of the next generation. He remembered how nervous his brother Zeref had been through the whole pregnancy. While looking calm and collected, it was obvious beneath that facade lay an anxious new papa.

He couldn’t blame his brother for being worried. Mavis was a tiny little woman and child birth even in this modern era still held complications. But luckily, all went according to plan, and nine months later, out popped little Larcade. Natsu knew that when their time came, he’d probably be an even bigger worry-wort than Zeref had been.

Starting a family was something he and Lucy had discussed, both wanting at least two, maybe three. And truth be told, after the arrival of Larcade, Natsu noticed a change in his wife’s feeling about the subject. It had gone from, we’re still young and have plenty of time to, maybe we should start now.

He chuckles quietly in his seat, remembering their last conversation, and his wife’s idea of not-so-subtle hints. Whenever she was ready to get off her birth control, Natsu was happy to oblige. Because, of course he wanted to expand their family unit. He could just imagine a daughter or son, would they look more like him, like Lucy, or a combination of the two? Either way, those kids would be cherished... and probably spoiled rotten by their grandparents.

Lucy shifts in her seat and Natsu glances over to check on her. She was still out cold. He didn’t know why she chose to curl up in the passenger seat when she could have stretched out in the backseat instead. That was okay, maybe she rather be closer to him, and he didn’t mind being able to look over easily at her.

They’d been friends for many years before officially dating in high school. Took them long enough according to their friends who’d surprised them with a page in their senior yearbook titled ‘NaLu sweethearts.’ It had been such an awesome gesture to see a page filled with moments he and Lucy had shared over the years. Definitely something he’ll show their future kids one day.

Sometimes Natsu was still amazed to have landed her in the first place. Lucy was such a smart and beautiful person that she could have had any guy she wanted. But she always said, he was the only one who could truly make her smile. Well, Natsu was willing to spend the rest of their lives keeping that smile on her face and if it included wrangling dragons or just making Lucy breakfast in bed, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Why are you grinning like that?” Lucy’s ethereal voice breaks through Natsu’s journey down memory lane.

He reaches over and takes ahold of her hand, squeezing it gently, “just thinking about our past and future.”

“Oh?” She sits up with a yawn. “What about our future?”

“You know us, kids, growing old together, all that sappy stuff.” Natsu kisses her hand quickly before returning his eyes to the road ahead.

“Mmm, I see,” Lucy smiles, settles back into a new position to sleep, and closes her eyes. “So, I’m not the only one with babies on the mind.”

Natsu chuckles. “Go back to sleep Luce, we’ll be there in a couple more hours.” He sees her nod and smiles. ‘Nope, your not the only one...’

[slutforalistairtheirin]

Sanders Sides High School AU

Roman Prince:

-16, Sophomore

-Drama geek, almost always gets leads in the school musicals/plays

-Best friends with Virgil

-Very very very gay. Out to the school but definitely not his parents.

-His parents (or at leas his father) are very homophobic

-Lives only a few blocks away from the school

-Has a major crush on Logan

-His mom is Cuban

-Father is very white

-He speaks Spanish but avoids doing it around his father

-Loves Virgil’s dad

-has very bad anxiety

-Loves make-up/dressing up

-He’s usually a huge charmer until someone calls his bluff *cough* Logan *cough*

-Always has impeccable outfits

-Mama’s boy

-good cook

-His friends mean the world to him

-Dreams of going to Broadway

-unfortunately he lives in the middle-of-nowhere Indiana

-On the swim team

-His dad wanted him to be an athlete and said he could only stay in theatre if he joined a sport

-Actually adores being at school

Virgil Windsor:

-16, Sophomore

-Roman’s best friend

-Demisexual

-Stylish emo

-purple hair obviously

-Out to everyone

-Adopted

-Adores his father

-Also drama geek, usually stage-managing 

-Lives a ten minute walk away from Roman’s house

-Enjoys teasing Roman about his crush

-Often has sleepovers at his house with Roman, Grace, and occasionally his little sister will join

-Would literally die for his sister

-History whiz

-Eats lots of gummy worms

-really digs dragons?

-Can’t cook worth shit but he can bake for days

-Sometimes has nightmares about his birth parents dying

-Calls Roman Princey

-has throwing knives

-has really good aim

-Lowkey has a crush on Remy but would never admit it (not to be confused with Remus)

Logan Addison:

-17, Junior

-Debate team, yearbook photographer, runs school instagram, Mathlete 

-Super gay. Not officially out to anyone but his mom but it’s not like he’s hiding anything. Everyone knows.

-Dresses kind of like a hipster

-Had dark blue hair a in middle school so now he has a few blue streaks leftover.  Barely noticeable unless you’re looking for them

-Lives kind of far from the school so he drives there

-Drives a blue Ford Fusion

-He has doctor who stickers all over it

-He’s a sucker for Neil Gaiman

-His only sibling is in college

-His older sibling is Joan btw

-knows all the science 

-mostly just psychology actually

-he aspires to be a psychiatrist

-eats a pretty healthy diet, but he really enjoys brownies

-Pretty infatuated with Roman

-Terrible at expressing emotions

-His debate hoodie has “Data” on the back

-Enjoys the paranormal

Patton Windsor: 

-35, works at the local library

-Asexual/aromantic

-loves books, animals, and hot cocoa

-he also likes dying his hair different colors

-his favorite so far has been pink

-Dresses exactly like Jim Hopper in ST3 but like everyday and times 100

-Drives a minivan even though he only has two kids

-He has hippie/rainbow bumper stickers

-loves his kids with his entire heart

-Loves easy to enjoy books, such as Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, the like

-Loves carbs.  Always makes some kind of pasta or comfort food for dinner.  

-Adopted Virgil when he was 5

-Virgil’s favorite that Patton cooks is Potato Soup

-Patton also adopted a baby girl when Virgil was 10

-The baby girl is named Isabel

-Adores his kids

-Very openly emotional

-Has lots of #1 Dad paraphenalia 

-Loves Roman, too

-Absolutely 100% willing to adopt him

-The sweetest man you will ever meet

-Wears large, round glasses

-has freckles literally everywhere

Remus Prince: 

-15, Freshman

-Roman’s half-brother

-The result of Mr. Prince having an affair

-aromantic homosexual

-Lives with his mom

-Doesn’t meet his father/brother until he’s about 7

-Doesn’t have many friends, he’s a little bit odd.

-While he doesn’t often hang out with Roman, his brother is there for him when he needs it

-Dyes his hair green

-Dresses very dramatically

-He’s really good at chemistry

Dee Harper: 

-17, Junior

-On the debate team with Logan

-Asexual, homoromantic

-When they were sophomores, he had a crush on Logan, but he was never interested

-Dee is very good at math

-likes the color yellow

-dresses very well

-Logan and Dee are good friends

-No one ever actually catches Dee’s eye, but he’s okay with being single

-He lives in the rich part of town with his wealthy grandparents

-Loves old classic books.  Like Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, The Anne of Green Gables books, Oscar Wilde, all of them

-He also loves The Lord of the Rings

-He has a pet snake named Legolas 

-and a rat named Gimli

-he plays the sims a lot

-volunteers at the zoo

-Dee is a very good singer

Remy (Remington) Gray:

-16, junior

-hella gay, out and proud

-extremely intelligent

-and intuitive

-most people think he’s a psychic

-honestly he never denies it

-he plays along

-thinks school activities are dumb

-but he does work at the local art museum

-he has a great appreciation for art

-he’s also a really good artist but no one knows that

-he likes to draw people

-including his friends.  He’s very close with Logan and Dee, and eventually will be with Virgil and Roman

-Virgil is his favorite to draw ;)

-its rumored that he’s from another planet

-really he’s just eccentric and mysterious

-likes birds

Mr. Sanders, Thomas: 

-30, drama teacher

-really, really gay

-connects really well with his students

-he’s very empathetic and just a sweet man

-He always dresses super eccentrically and nobody questions it because that’s just Mr. Sanders

-Sometimes he bets with the other teachers about which students will end up together

-he usually wins those bets

-perks of being the favorite teacher

Characters that aren’t sides: 

Grace:

-16, sophomore

-Roman’s other best friend

-raging lesbian

-she’s very sweet, but she can also be very scary

-do not piss her off

-she enjoys hiking, travel, and theatre 

-she aspires to be an anthropologist 

Mr. Prince, Fred:

-40, lawyer

-Roman’s father

-he’s extremely homophobic

-he had an affair with a 30 year old woman

-also kind of racist but he married a cuban woman??

-he doesn’t let her speak spanish

-he’s also borderline abusive to Roman and his wife

-He doesn’t like Virgil. or any of Roman’s friends for that matter

-Honestly he’s an all around shitty person

-he’s not going to have an arc okay

Mrs. Prince, Estrella:

-35, works at the library with Patton

-Roman’s mother

-Not homophobic, but if Roman ever came out to her it would take her a bit to get used to it. She wouldn’t hate him at all though. She would still love him equally

-She wants to leave Fred, but she hasn’t been able to make enough money to get her and Roman out of there.

-sweetest mother

-always worried that Roman isn't eating enough

-she even thought Virgil had an eating disorder, but he’s just skinny

-delightful woman

Isabel Windsor: 

-6, 1st grade

-she only cares about Voltron, Mickey Mouse, and rainbow crayons. 

-her brother is her best friend

-she adores Roman

-all of Virgil’s friends are also her friends

-Sometimes Virgil and Roman pick her up from school and they go get ice cream. 

-She loves cats

-she thinks unicorns are real but not santa

-she’s a very bright kid, too

-she loves coloring books

-

All done! Man that was longer than I expected. This is based off of my Logince fic.  Feel free to send asks about this!

[outhereontheprairie]

Sheyenne River Academy Campus, North Dakota 1

Those of you who know me, know that ever since I could talk I would point to places and ask, “Who lives there?” As I got older I zeroed in on abandoned houses and then abandoned places in general. There’s a pull about them. They call to me. But no matter how many abandoned places I explored, no matter how cool or historical, there was always my white whale in the back of my mind. Sheyenne River Academy. I asked dad for years and years to take me there. I could photograph and explore all the abandoned places in the world, but if I didn’t see SRA, what was the point?

You see, SRA is where my parents met. Several of my grandparents went there, too. In fact, most of my family members attended SRA before it closed in the late 1970s. There is such history about this place. And yet I only saw it briefly on an old video or two. One taken in the 50s, one in the 90s after it had been abandoned. 

My parents were the second-to-last graduating class of SRA: 1976. After the class of 1977, everyone went on to the place where I attended high school: DAA. SRA was near Harvey out in the country. DAA was near Bismarck out in the country. SRA was a classic brick and mortar campus with many buildings. DAA was all in one - a strange building, shaped like a spider. Some say that the goodness left the school after SRA closed, and with DAA it was never the same. All of this has culminated in creating a place that I have been obsessed with visiting, no matter the state it is in. 

Especially since my mom passed away in 2012, I wanted to visit. I wanted to see where she “endured” high school, where she and my dad met. And although the tour wasn’t as thorough as I would have liked (SRA continues to be a bit of my “white whale”) I had a blast exploring this place and hearing dad’s stories. 

I’ll do my best to recreate our time there for you. I’m not a great photographer, not a perfect writer, and don’t have a super clear memory about all I learned that day. But here is my level best to share Sheyenne River Academy with you all.

--

Would you like a full, immersive experience of our visit to SRA? Let the music take you back while you scroll along!

Click here for the secular playlist for 1970s SRA.

And click here for the special SDA playlist!

Let’s go! 

When we first arrived at SRA, it was shrouded by trees. Taunting me. I was close. So close. But not there yet. Dad ran around (literally) trying to find the person who owns it now to get permission for us to walk around. After quite awhile he got it. We were in. 

While dad ran around, I prowled the perimeter taking photos from a distance. 

I couldn’t miss the overgrown driveway, nor the brick columns. So fancy. So formal. So overgrown and mysterious. 

We couldn’t have picked a more beautiful day. A perfect fall day. However the light was very harsh, which didn’t help my photos. 

Here’s a photo from the old 1976 SRA yearbook taken around this same area. Dad thinks these two guys did a week of prayer that school year.

When we first arrived, I noticed there was a sign . . .

. . .and a curious cow. 

There were also many houses surrounding the campus. If you didn't know what this place was, you’d probably be confused. The houses you see were where the teachers and staff lived.

The sign once said Sheyenne River, but now had a pretty painting with the words, “Villa Bonacci Peaceful Valley” on it. I did hear that after the school closed, someone tried to reopen it as a health retreat of some sort. 

Finally it was time! We parked at a house that used to belong to the principal and walked down the road to SRA. 

Sheyenne River Academy first opened in approximately 1904 (so says my dad). Being open over 70 years doesn’t feel long enough for this beautiful old campus. 

I couldn’t wait to hear dad’s memories - he was the best tour guide, as I knew he would be. Dad is very unsentimental on the whole, so instead of being upset at the state of his alma mater, he was simply curious and recalled all sorts of stories and facts about the place. 

We first arrived at the boys’ dorm. The building to the left was the Ad Building, and we will get to that later. 

Immediately dad pointed out the window to his old dorm room from his senior year - it has an auger sticking out of it. 

Since his room was right at the end on the ground floor - could we see it? 

Yes, we could! 

Here is is! Dad’s dorm room. He said it was old even when he lived there - the pipe was still sticking out of the ceiling then, too. Although it was considerably less...cluttered. However, one of dad's friends apparently says it looks much neater now than when he lived there. Ha! 

Look past the clutter and picture it has it would have been. And enjoy this story dad shared with me that deeply impressed me. 

I asked dad if they were allowed to have music in their dorm rooms (that policy was fairly lax by the time I got to DAA and dad of course had me set up with a great stereo my years in the dorm) because I figured if anyone would have had a stereo in their dorm room it would have been my dad. He said radios were in fact not allowed until his senior year. So they rigged up a system. Because when you live at your school, you have to find a way around the arbitrary rules! (Believe me, I know!) 

Dad says that many guys, himself included (of course - I’m guessing he was a pioneer of this system*), had their rooms “wired”. I was picturing a Ferris Beuller situation as he said this and, it turns out, I wasn’t far off. 

These guys used wires and switches to set up their radio so that if someone (the dean) came in while you had your music on, it would shut off when the door opened. Dad also had a switch wired in the dresser drawer so you could subtly turn the music on/off as well. 

I have to say I’m proud to be related to one of the people who did this. So innovative! It made my dorm shenanigans look pathetic in comparison! 

* Update from dad: Clandestine sound wiring (with door switches and drawer switch cutoffs) was around for years before I got to SRA, so definitely not my invention.  I just followed how the pioneers did it!

And here is the hallway. More junk. 

The dorm room across from my dad’s room - he said to belonged to his lifelong friend, Lynn. 

Lynn, your room needs cleaning. It’s full of old foam insulation.

Back out we went. Lots more to see! 

Here is the back of the boy’s dorm. The original structure was built sometime in the late 1920s. 

You can see the added-on shower wing. It was built in the early 1960s.

Here you can tell the difference in brick - the original structure vs the add on. 

The original portion is quite old - my grandparents would have been familiar with it. 

Below: a page from the 1976 SRA yearbook, a bunch of cool guys rock out by the boys’ dorm in the spot pictured above.

Dad noted that this picture had the negative reversed when it was put in the annual.

Cars littered the property. The owner uses it as a wrecking yard now. Not for the first time did I find myself thinking, “What a waste.”

This building looked quite old, so it caught my eye. 

Dad said it was just a maintenance/storage building. 

Looking back at the boys’ dorm. 

Here we have the cafeteria and gym! Look closely - someone ran dirt (which eventually grew grass) up the steps so it would be a ramp instead of stairs. 

We headed around the side. 

This may be storage now, but back in the day it was the cafeteria! 

I was shocked. At DAA, where I attended, the cafe was the most beautiful part of the school, overlooking the Missouri River valley. One of my favorite things was seeing the mist rise off the river on a chilly fall morning. SRA’s cafeteria is so...well it’s a basement! This is where the students would eat chili and cinnamon rolls on Friday evenings (a tradition carried on at DAA). Where people agonized over who to sit beside. I just had trouble picturing it, even though I was right there. 

I remember mom telling me that at the entrance to the cafe there was a ledge where a boy would sit and when she and her friends would pass through he would swing down and scare them.  

A photo from the 1976 SRA yearbook below, taken in the same spot. 

Below: a photo from the 1975 SRA yearbook.

Dad pointed out that to the back on the right was where they served the food. I wanted to go back but dad said no. 

Fun facts: dad’s favorite breakfast was Friday morning coffee cake. My mom got the recipe and made it for us more than once when we were growing up. I still have it somewhere. One of dad’s favorite meals was Friday evening, which I mentioned above, chili or fruit soup and cinnamon rolls. I didn’t mind that particular meal when I attended DAA, but got sick of it after awhile. Dad’s only real negative comment about the cafe (when I asked him) was that sometimes, as a growing teenage boy, it felt like you didn't get enough food. However, on the whole it was good, he said. 

Below: a photo taken in roughly the same location, from the SRA 1976 yearbook. That’s my mom with the long blonde hair, somewhat facing the camera on the left.

I heard from my mom that the food in this cafe was good, and she even had some hand written recipes she got from the cooks here! I believe one of them is for “melting moments” cookies. I have that recipe card, and made those cookies with her as a child. SRA students - what food did you enjoy eating here? And what made you cringe? 

I looked down at the muddy floor. How many bell bottom jeans brushed across that floor in the last days of SRA? 

Below: photos from the 1976 SRA yearbook - a banquet! 

This banquet - “Nights in Satin” according to the yearbook. Most of our banquets at DAA were just as cheesy.

Note from dad: It was "Nights in White Satin", a popular song of the day by the Moody Blues. I think they made the student banquet organizers change it to "Knights in White Satin" to remove any suggestive/amorous connotations. Of course, this spelling made no sense, but I think Kathy Diede, class artist, drew up a picture of a knight along with the chosen theme to hang on the cafeteria wall to decorate for the event.

We walked around the back of the cafe/gym. 

Dad told us the tale of how part of this building exploded. Yes, exploded. In 1973. He didn’t recall from exactly what, but possible natural gas build up he speculated. 

They rebuilt it with food delivery in mind - there you can see my husband peering into the window where there was a “slide” for the food boxes to go down. 

Looking down the ramp of the food delivery system. 

I really wanted to see inside the gym portion of the building. But this is as close as I got. 

You can tell it was massive and had a beautiful wooden floor (now buckled from water damage - see the ceiling?) and I sure wish I could have gotten closer. 

Goodbye cafe and gym! 

If any SRA alumni have tales to tell about this building, please comment! 

Here is a photo from the 1975 SRA yearbook of the same building.

Of course I had to ask dad about this odd building with a big chimney. And he was very familiar with it because this building was related to one of his jobs he had while he attended school here! 

You see, everyone who goes to SRA or DAA had/has a job. As a freshman at DAA I worked in the cafe, and after that for the development office, and senior year I had a job in town. 

Here is a quick view from the side of this building - SRA has quite a beautiful location! 

Anyway, up top here was a garage type setup with a carwash in one area, says dad. 

It looked like there was a fire in this building after it was no longer SRA. 

Here is the road that goes down to the lower part of the building. 

As you can see, it is two stories. Dad’s job was on the lower level. 

For his junior year, dad worked hauling coal from Harvey to the coal fired boiler that heated the school. There was a tunnel network that led from this building to each major building on campus, quite the setup) It was hard work, but kind of a coveted job because you only worked one day a week! Sundays. 

However, dad said went on to other work his senior year because they changed the pay for the job and it became less desirable. 

The boiler house structure was where the "firemen" worked, one guy on duty to make sure the boiler was correctly operating, usually around the clock, particularly in winter. 

Flashback time! Here is a photo from the SRA 1976 yearbook featuring Ted (on the right), one of my dad’s lifelong friends, who took over the job after dad left it.

There were desirable jobs when I was at academy too. Some things never change. I didn’t always have a desirable job at academy - I would say working for development was as good as it got. Working in the cafe was a freshman job because it was not cool. But my freshman buddies and I made it fun by singing our hearts out while washing dishes! Anyway, what were the most desirable jobs? Maintenance (you had the run of the school in some aspects), working as a reader for certain teachers was cool, and being an RA was usually desirable. I’m sure there are others, but I just don’t remember them. 

We moved away from one back edge of the campus and on to the other.

Here is the back of the Ad building. We’re coming to that soon.

When we reached this garage, dad had another interesting tidbit for us. 

This was where some staff kept their cars. Somehow, my dad was allowed to bring his dad’s snowmobile (!) to school one winter, and the dean allowed him to store in his stall!

Ok. This somewhat blew my mind. 

First of all. A personal snowmobile. What!? 

Second - he got to keep it in a staff garage!? At DAA we certainly wouldn’t have been allowed to mix our things with those of the faculty.

Third - dad had access to this snowmobile, and got to ride it in the winter, and  remembers taking it out and getting it up to a high speed on the road outside of campus.

I suppose, approaching this with a 2019 mindset instead of a 1970s one, this just sounds crazy. The liability alone for a student having their own snowmobile is insane to me. 

We walked over to the farm area of SRA. Yes, SRA had its own farm! 

Note the giant barn and silo. A few students worked there! I think that job was less desirable than dad’s once a week coal hauling job. 

Here’s a photo taken in the same area from the 1976 SRA yearbook. You can see the south end of the barn on the left.

Looking toward the girl’s dorm. 

Here is some staff housing, dad didn't remember any specifics about who lived here.

Here is our tour guide himself. 

Looking back at the Ad Building from the back corner of campus.

A closer view.

We headed down the road to a building I very much wanted to see - the Girls’ Dorm. It looked shabbier than the boys’ dorm, and was in terrible shape. I so badly wanted to see the rooms where my mom lived during her time here. 

As you can see, it’s terribly overgrown.

My mom had various room mates over the years. One of them was my dad’s sister (her future sister in law!) and another was her lifelong friend Karlene. They had such fun stories of their time in the dorm! 

Mom actually was a very quiet, shy, homebody. So living in the dorm was very hard for her. She wanted to go home quite a lot. 

I saw something in the distance.

Can you spot it? 

The flag pole, still standing strong. A remnant of when this was a pretty and organized campus. 

Dad said it was his friend Lynn’s job to raise, lower and fold the flag each day. 

Here is the ad building again. From a distance it looks ok. 

We’ll get there soon enough! 

We headed toward the girls’ dorm.

You can hardly see it now, it’s so overgrown. It looks like it doesn’t have the same nice additions as the boys’ dorm. I don’t understand that. 

We had to push through a lot of overgrowth to get inside. The doors were just hanging open. 

The glass was out of one door anyway. Why bother closing it?

Immediately the smell of decay hit me. It was bad. My husband ran out practically gagging from the mold smell. Dad immediately wrinkled up his nose and left. 

It was clear this place was in terrible shape. I knew it wouldn’t be safe to explore. I was so disappointed. I wanted to see where my mom and many aunts and family friends lived! 

A quick side story: during a recent holiday, I was able to speak with two great aunts on my dad’s side of the family. They told me how it felt to go to SRA during WW2. They talked about how that time was permeated with worry. How many of their male classmates were drafted. "You mean, after graduation?" I asked. No, they said. During the school year. 

They also recalled how nylon stockings were required to be worn at school for the women. That made me cringe! One my great aunts then informed me that her job on campus was to mend the nylon stockings with a tiny hooked needle. She said it was very difficult. And often, by the time the stocking was repaired, it cost more to repair than it was worth. But nylon stockings were terribly hard to come by during the war. 

It was wonderful to talk with these two great women who have seen so much change in their lives. And to hear them reflect on what an absolutely beautiful campus SRA used to be. They made it clear they were not pleased about the campus being closed, and a new one being constructed. "We thought the conference had all this money, back then." They said. They indicated they had to be sold on the idea, and trusted people they shouldn’t have. It sounded like a very controversial time. 

How many girls came sweeping out of this entryway in their church clothes, all dolled up in their 1970s best? How many boys stood outside these doors wishing to be on the other side? 

The mold and decay smells overpowered me and I had to leave. I knew mom would be heartsick if she saw what happened to a place she lived for three years. A place where she met lifelong friends and met my dad. I felt awful seeing the state of it all. 

I caught up to my dad who was explaining to my husband about how the campus was heated. He pointed to the sidewalks and said that underneath them were the tunnels that piped coal-powered boiler heat to the entire campus. 

My husband headed closer to the Ad building. 

There was a hole just cut out of where doors used to be. I looked inside. 

I was sick at heart to a) see the state of it and b) see HORSES living in this! They looked so lonely. I was afraid the ceiling was going to collapse in on them. 

And here is what remains of this side of the Ad Building.

We followed dad to the front of the Ad building. There were still some paths left around campus. 

I love the front of the Ad Building. I think it’s imposing. There used to be a sign over this entrance that indicated it was built in 1948.

Another hole cut right in the side of a beautiful building to store an old grain truck. What a shame. 

You can see how many windows are knocked out.

Here is the entrance to the Ad Building. 

And don’t you love this architecture? I think it’s so art deco and cool. 

Dad says that this is where the boys would say goodnight to their girlfriends under the watchful eye of a faculty member. Then the girls would head to the left and and boys to the right to their dorms.

Here is a photo of the same building via the 1975 school yearbook. 

Below: a photo from the 1976 SRA yearbook taken kind of in the area above between the Ad Building and the Boys’ Dorm. That’s my mom, second from left!

I made my way away from the front of the Ad Building.  I never even went here and it was getting depressing. However, my dad didn't seem to feel that way which was good.

I love finding little details like this buried in the brush. Little brick columns, just adding to the pretty campus. From what I’ve seen on old video, this campus was so nice.

Here is a yearbook photo taken in 1975 near the same spot. One of my mom’s good friends, Karlene, second from right.  She’s still my friend today!

Here’s a view of the columns (you can hardly see them) as seen from the front of the Ad Building. 

We headed back to this Auditorium building which is near the Ad Building. 

Dad said they’d go here for rec time after supper. He’d walk with mom to the front of the Ad Building and they would say goodnight. 

We went around the side. 

Dad said there used to be a weight room back here he would use. He of course made a comment about how he recognized the full potential of how "ripped” he could be. Those who know my dad know his sense of humor. 

Flashback! Here are some photos of the gym from the 1976 SRA yearbook:

Backing away from the auditorium building. The building on the left were the bathrooms that campers and cabin dwellers used to use during camp meeting (we’ll get to that!) And on occasion students would meet there for boy/girl shenanigans. Scandalous. 

In part two we will continue to explore this part of campus - the camp meeting cabins, and circle back around for a tour of the boy’s dorm and more! Stay tuned for part two!

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*Please be kind to me and others! No need for nasty comments.*

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Thank you for taking the tour with us! It takes time to photograph these places and edit the photos, and I happily share for all to enjoy. If you’ve enjoyed or appreciated this trip back in time to SRA, please consider supporting me with a donation of a couple bucks! You can donate here, or if you’re interested in prints you can find them here! If you can’t find the print you’re looking for, please let me know and I’ll be happy to help.

[thestarsaroundyourscars]

Richie writing something weird and cryptic in Eddie's year book

Amelia ❤️ I know I take forever to write these prompts and I’m sorry for that but I hope they’re worth it and you like it. 

Handwritten Confession

Word count: 3,997

Pairing: Reddie

Read on AO3

Tag list: @daddyphantomtbh @yes-dillman-yes@richietoaster @beepbeeprichiellc @its-stranger-than-you-think@lemonaayyee @pennys-pet-kitty @tinyarmedtrex @richiefuckfacetozier @sam-i-am2468 @nicoperryy @richardtoz @aizeninlefox @chocolatemangoose @godtozier @reddie-for-anything @reddies-spaghetti

“Can you believe we’re done with school? Like, forever?” Richie asked while spinning in Eddie’s desk chair.

“Richie, don’t do that, you’re going to get dizzy.” Eddie chided, without even turning to look at him. “And it’s not forever. We still have college.”

“Fine. Done with highschool at least.” Richie sain. He stopped spinning and moved on to rolling the chair around the room, much to Eddie’s annoyance. “Can you believe that?”

“It is kind of crazy, isn’t it?” Eddie replied, moving around the room himself, getting a bag ready for their sleepover at Bill’s.

Richie had shown up a little while ago so that Eddie could drive them both there, where they would be meeting the rest of their friends to celebrate the end of high school while watching movies, filling their bellies up with pizza and snacks and getting drunk. Well, Richie wasn’t drinking, he was supposed to get on a plane next afternoon and he didn’t want to be hungover for that. He was meeting with his parents, who were currently in California with Richie’s grandparents, who wanted their grandson over to give him his graduation present.

“It’s beyond crazy. No more Derry High, no more detention, no more Henry Bowers or Greta Bowie-”

“Can you believe she signed my yearbook?” Eddie cut in with a snort, shoving a pair of socks inside his bag.

Richie stopped the chair abruptly, whirling around to face Eddie. “The fuck? What did she write? Was it something offensive? Because if it was we can drive there on our way to Bill’s and egg her house. I still haven’t forgiven her for writing ‘Loser’ in your cast that one time.”

“She didn’t write anything bad, don’t worry about it.” Eddie said, then he smiled sweetly at Richie. “Thank you, though.”

“Anytime, but forgive me if I don’t believe she didn’t write something bad, it’s fucking Greta Bowie we’re talking about.” Richie said and used his long legs to propel the chair towards Eddie’s desk, where Eddie had left his yearbook earlier.

He opened it to the signatures section and let out a whistle when he saw just how many messages there were. “Damn, Eds, when did you get so popular?”

“I didn’t,” Eddie said, with a laugh. “It’s mostly people from the track team and you guys. Your message alone took pretty much half the space.”

Richie ran his fingers over his messy handwriting that in fact took over most of the page. “Seems fitting, since I take all the space in your heart.” He said, blowing Eddie a kiss.

Eddie rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth curling up and Richie smirked at the pink blush on his cheeks.

He looked down, reading over what other people wrote. There was the usual stuff, countless ‘never change’ and ‘stay cool’ and ‘have a great summer’, Greta’s message being one of those, she had even signed off with a heart next to her name.

“I will miss you?!” Richie shrieked, in disbelief. “Did she really write that? Well, Greta, I know for a fact Eddie won’t fucking miss you .” He said, sticking his tongue out at the book in his lap, as if Greta could see him through it.

Eddie laughed, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Well you’re right about that, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t even know it was my yearbook. Someone must have handed it over to her.”

“I don’t get it,” Richie said, shaking his head, “Why sign someone’s yearbook if you’re going to write some shitty generic message.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t write ‘never change’ at least once on someone’s yearbook today?”

“Well, yeah, but I meant it. Like with you! I don’t ever want you to change, Eds, that’s why I wrote it.” Richie said, shrugging. “But take this girl from my English class for example, she wrote that, even though she spent the past year telling me to shut the fuck up every day. Clearly she thinks I should change.”

Eddie shook his head, laughing. “Well, you don’t. Need to change, that is.” He said. “But I get what you’re saying. All those ‘we should’ve hung out more’’ and ‘wish I could’ve known you better’, like you could’ve, yeah, you just never tried.”

“Fucking idiots, all of them. They didn’t know what they were missing.” Richie said, then he winked at Eddie. “Me, on the other hand, I always knew just how special you were, Eds.”

“Shut up,” Eddie said, tossing a pillow at Richie but still smiling at him, before continuing to fold up his clothes for tomorrow.

Richie kept reading through the messages on Eddie’s yearbook, making it to the more personalized ones. Most of them were from the losers, he recognized Stan’s neat handwriting, Bev’s bright pink ink, Mike and Ben’s sweet words and Bill’s sketch, he had drawn animated versions of each of them in their yearbooks. Richie also recognized the names of Eddie’s track team members, Eddie wasn’t particularly close to them but they all wrote about how great Eddie was and how happy they were to have him on the team. It made Richie smile, knowing that there were people outside their group that knew just how amazing Eddie was.

Then Richie’s eyes caught something that made his breath catch in his throat in surprise. Eddie must have heard him because he whirled around, his face pinched in confusion.

“What? Did someone write something bad?” He asked, and he tried to sound unbothered by it, but Richie could tell that the idea of having a rude comment in his yearbook forever didn’t seem appealing at all.

“Uh, no.” Richie said, clearing his throat to try and get rid of the lump that had formed there. “Someone, uh -  someone asked you out. On your yearbook.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, annoyed. “Yeah, right. Not funny, Richie.”

“I’m not joking, Eds.” Richie said, earnestly, but Eddie only stared blankly at him. “Fine, here, ‘Hey Eddie, I never gathered enough courage to say this to you in person, but I think you’re really nice and really cute, if for some reason you ever want to go out, give me a call, have a great summer, with love, Aaron.’ Who the fuck is Aaron?” Richie asked, voice an octave higher at the last sentence.

By then, Eddie was sporting an adorable blush.“It’s uh, a guy from my History class. We did a project together this year, but I- Did he really write all that?”

“See for yourself.” Richie said, handing him the yearbook, watching him closely as Eddie read the message. He saw his eyebrows disappear behind his hairline and a small, disbelieving smile appear on his face, the sight making Richie’s stomach clench.

“Are you- uh. Will you take him up on the offer?” Richie said with a small voice.

Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet Richie’s. “I- uh. Do you think I should?”

No , Richie thought and he almost blurted it out. “If that’s what you want.” He said instead but the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wished he could tell Eddie not to go out with this Aaron guy, but it wasn’t his place nor it was fair to him.

Eddie stared at Richie, as if expecting him to say more but when he didn’t, his eyes moved to the yearbook again.

“So,” Richie prompted, as he waited impatiently for Eddie to make a decision. “Is it? What you want?”

Eddie closed the yearbook, shaking his head. “No, Aaron is a good guy but I just- It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

“Because you don’t see him like that?” Richie couldn’t help but ask, the knot in his stomach loosening now that he knew Eddie wouldn’t be going on a date with someone anytime soon.

Eddie stared at him, unanswering and Richie stared back, feeling like there was something happening between them, but he didn’t know what. He racked his brain trying to make sense of the look on Eddie’s face but before he could figure it out, Eddie sighed and looked away. “Uh yeah, sure, that’s why.” He said, taking a couple of steps back. Richie didn’t know how Eddie had ended up standing in the V of Richie’s legs without him noticing it. “I need to grab some stuff from my bathroom and then I’m ready to go.”

Richie nodded, dumbly, watching as Eddie left the room. The yearbook was back in his hands and he opened it again, his eyes immediately going to Aaron’s message.

Earlier that day, when Eddie had given the yearbook to him so that he could sign it, Richie had had a hard time trying to figure out what to write and it wasn’t just because Eddie had threatened to beat him up if he wrote anything about his dick or Eddie’s mom, ruling out most of his repertoire, but because of a conversation he’d had with Stan and Bev a couple of days before.

Because Aaron hadn’t been the only one to think about confessing his feelings through a yearbook message, Richie had thought that too. Beverly had agreed it was a romantic idea and that he should do it, Stan on the other hand had said it was stupid and that he should tell Eddie in person. In the end he hadn’t listened to either of them, writing a loving yet completely platonic message on Eddie’s yearbook and refusing to say anything to him. Seeing this Aaron guy’s message made Richie wonder if he had lost his chance.

Or maybe not, he thought.

Richie looked cautiously at the closed door before grabbing a pen from Eddie’s desk and filling yet more of Eddie’s yearbook with his messy handwriting. Before he could sign his name, the door opened and he tossed the yearbook and the pen on the desk before standing up abruptly, almost sending the chair flying to the floor.

Eddie raised an eyebrow at him, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Richie chuckled nervously, hanging his hand on the back of his neck. Eddie narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious. “Uh. Bill called, wondering where we are. We should get going. You’re ready right?” Eddie nodded. “Great, let’s go then.”

Richie steered Eddie outside of the room by his shoulders, sending a final look to Eddie’s desk and his yearbook.

-

The next morning, Eddie woke up to the sound of Richie’s alarm blaring right in his ear. He searched blindly for it, hitting Richie instead, who had fallen asleep next to him at some point last night in the process.

“Eds,” Richie whined against the pillow. “Turn that off.”

“ That happens to be your alarm, Rich. The one you set because you’re supposed to get home?” Eddie told him, but still turned off the alarm for the sake of their friends, that were sprawled around them in the living room, still sleeping.

“Ugh. I don’t wanna. I just want to sleep.” He said, covering his face with the blanket Bill had given them last night.

“You can sleep on your flight.” Eddie said, getting said blanket away from him. Then he pushed at Richie’s shoulder until he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before putting on his glasses. “Now go get ready.”

Richie sighed, stretching his arms over his head with a yelp. Eddie’s eyes drifted to the sliver of skin showing from under Richie’s shirt and he shut his eyes to keep from staring. “Wait, you’re going back to sleep?” Richie asked, and Eddie nodded, already curling up under the blanket that was all his now. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t have a plane to catch.”

“But you have to take me home.” Richie whined, nudging Eddie insistently. “You promised.”

Eddie groaned, “Fine, wake me up when you’re ready to leave.” He said, before closing his eyes, hearing Richie mutter something before making his way upstairs, where their things were.

After what felt like five minutes, Richie was nudging him awake and Eddie felt like hitting him. When he had agreed to drive Richie to his house in the morning, he hadn’t taken into consideration he would be tired and hungover.

“ Eds .”

“Ugh. I’m coming, Richie.” Eddie said, annoyed, finally crawling out of the blankets.

Richie snorted. “That’s what she said.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, throwing a pillow at Richie’s face as he stood up.

They said goodbye to their friends, Richie more effusively than Eddie, since he wouldn’t be seeing them for a week, meanwhile Eddie would probably be seeing them tomorrow at the latest.

When they arrived at Richie’s house they sat in silence in the car for a couple of minutes.

“Thank you for driving me home, Eds.”

“You’re welcome, Rich. Are you sure you don’t need a ride to the airport?”

Richie shook his head, offering a smile. “I’m not making my Eddie Spaghetti drive for an hour just so he can stare at my beautiful face some more before I leave. You’re tired, you should go sleep.”

“I wouldn’t be staring at your face, I would be staring at the road.” Eddie said, deadpan, before yawning. “But I guess you’re right about me being tired.”

“I was also right about my face being beautiful, which you didn’t deny.” Richie singsonged, nuzzling Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie pushed him away trying to fight off a smile. And a blush. “Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

“Yeah, I do.” Richie said with a sigh, grabbing his bags from the back seat.

“Goodbye, Rich.”

Richie scoffed, “That’s all? A ‘goodbye Rich’ is all I get from my best friend? Not even an ‘I will miss you’?”

“You’re leaving for a week, Richie.” Eddie told him, raising an skeptical eyebrow.

“So you won’t miss me?” Richie pouted.

Eddie rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh. “Of course I’ll miss you, dummy.” He said, and Richie grinned. “But you have to go.”

“Fine.” Richie groaned, then he leaned over the console and planted a loud kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I’ll miss you too, Eds.”

“Richie!” Eddie said, exasperated when Richie only stayed in his seat, grinning at Eddie.

“Okay, okay!” Richie said, finally getting out of the car. He waved at Eddie from outside, “Bye, Eds.”

Eddie waved back, and drove off, knowing very well that if he didn’t, Richie wouldn’t go inside. When he arrived at his house, sneaking in silently so that his mother wouldn’t hear him, he felt pathetic by how much he missed Richie already, even if he had just said goodbye to him, even if the had spent the night together, even if he would be seeing him again in a week.

He groaned, falling face first on his bed. He had thought keeping his feelings in check was hard when Richie was around, it turns out it’s even worse when he isn’t. He rolled over, noticing his yearbook had fallen to the floor.

He groaned, “Richie, you damn slob.” He muttered, stretching over the edge of the bed enough to pick it up. He peered over the pages, laughing at some pictures and cringing at some others, until he made it to the signatures section.

He found himself reading Aaron’s message over and over again. Eddie hadn’t been lying when he told Richie he was a good guy, but he also hadn’t been lying when he said it wouldn’t fair to him if Eddie went out on a date with him, especially since he was so hung up on someone else. His best friend, no less.

Eddie sighed, he wished it had been Richie who wrote that message.

He was about to close the yearbook when something caught his eye. Right under Aaron’s message, were two lines that Eddie was pretty sure weren’t there yesterday.

“I never took you for granted, granted I wish I had taken you out.” Eddie read, eyes widening both at the line and the handwriting. “What the fuck? What the fuck? ”

There was no mistaking who that handwriting belonged to, the same person who had filled half a page with countless ‘Eds’ and ‘Eddie Spaghetti’ and every joke he could think of that didn’t involve Eddie’s mom.

“What the fuck?” Eddie muttered again, breathing speeding up, scanning the page for something else that Richie could’ve written, like a ‘just kidding, Eds’ or a ‘haha, you fell for it didn’t you?” but there wasn’t anything like that. Part of him, knew Richie wouldn’t do something like that but Eddie made a habit of overthinking things and having his lifelong crush confess to him after years of pining felt too good to be true.

Eddie jumped from the bed, he couldn’t wait an entire week to confront Richie and he wasn’t doing this over the phone, because there were only two ways this could go, either Richie meant it and Eddie would very much like to kiss him or it was all a joke and Eddie would gladly punch him in the face. Either way, he needed Richie to be there in person.

He grabbed the yearbook, picked up his car keys and rushed outside.

“Eddie bear, is that you?” Sonia called from her bedroom.

“Shit.” Eddie muttered, he didn’t have time to deal with his mother, Richie would be leaving his house to go to the airport any moment now and Eddie would miss his chance to talk to him. “Yeah, Ma, I’m- I was making you breakfast but we ran out of- of milk, I’m going to get some.”

And before she could reply, either in agreement or to tell him there were several boxes of milk in the pantry, Eddie slipped through the door and ran to his car.

He made it to Richie’s in record time. There was a cab parked in front of the house, but Richie wasn’t outside. The front door was opened and Eddie rushed inside, running into Richie who was coming down the stairs, carrying a suitcase.

“Eds?” Richie asked, blinking at Eddie in confusion. “What are you doing here? You miss me already?” He said, smirking.

Eddie ignored the questions, instead he opened his yearbook and shoved it into Richie’s face, pointing at the two lines that had made him rush here. “Care to explain this ?”

Richie fixed his glasses, squinting at the words before his eyes widened comically. “That’s- that wasn’t me, Eds.” He said, but Eddie could see right through his lie.

“Cut the bullshit, Richie, I’ve been staring at your awful handwriting for more than half my life.”

“Shit.” Richie muttered, biting his lower lip, nervously. “I was kinda hoping I’d be on the other side of the country when you read that.”

“Because you knew I wouldn’t take the joke well?” Eddie asked, narrowing his eyes at Richie.

“The joke?” Richie asked, frowning. “Eddie, I wanted a whole country between us to spare me the inevitable rejection I knew was coming.”

Eddie stared at him, warily. “So it wasn’t a joke?”

Richie shook his head, “I- no. I meant it, what I wrote.”

Now Eddie’s eyes were the ones that widened, “Oh.”

Richie grimaced, refusing to look at Eddie. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, Eds, but Aaron’s message? I had the same idea, before he did. And I was going to, confess my feelings and shit that way, even if Stan said it was stupid, but I chickened out and I- ouch!” Richie’s rambling was cut off by Eddie using his yearbook to hit his friend, hard. “What the hell, Eddie?”

“What the hell yourself, Richie?” Eddie said, glaring at Richie.  “You can’t just write some cryptic message in my yearbook and disappear for a week!”

Richie knitted his eyebrows together. “You’re not- that’s what you’re mad about?” Eddie nodded. “Not the part where I caught feelings for you, potentially ruining our friendship?”

Eddie’s expression softened, hearing the worry in Richie’s voice. “You didn’t ruin our friendship, Rich.”

“I didn’t?”

“If you did then I did too.”

Richie’s eyes widened again, when the meaning behind Eddie’s word registered. “Do you mean- are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’m saying, I wished I’d taken you out too.” Eddie said, voicing the words Richie wrote in his yearbook. Even if he was ninety nine percent sure that Richie’s feelings mirrored his, saying the words out loud still made Eddie feel like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, ready to take to jump.

But the way Richie’s eyes lit up, the biggest, dopiest grin appearing on his face at Eddie’s admission, made it worth the risk.

Eddie found himself smiling back, just as bright, until there was the sound of a car honking loudly.

“Fuck! I forgot my cab was here already.” Richie cursed, glaring at the door behind Eddie.

“Shit, your flight! You have to go!”

Richie groaned. “But I didn’t want to go before, I definitely don’t do now! I want to take you out on that date!” He said, whining like a kid.

Eddie smiled softly at him. “I do too, but your parents will kill you if you miss your flight and then we won’t get to go on our date.”

“ Fine .” Richie sighed, picking up his suitcase and dragging it behind him on his way to the door, shoulders hunched over, pouting.

Before he was out of the house, Eddie rushed over to him. “Wait! You forgot something.”

“What’s tha-”

Richie’s question was cut off by Eddie pulling him down by the lapels of his shirt, pressing his lips against Richie’s. He barely had time to register what was happening, before Eddie was pulling back, smirking up at him.

“I didn’t want to wait an entire week to do that.”

Richie sighed, staring at Eddie with a dopey smile and a dazed look. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

Eddie chuckled, patting Richie’s chest. “Okay, now you really need to go.”

“I will miss you.”

“We already went through this earlier, Rich.” Eddie said, rolling his eyes, but Richie just blinked at him. “I already said I would miss you too.”

“But you’ll miss me more now that we’re boyfriends.” Richie told him, waggling his eyebrows. Then he frowned. “We are boyfriends, right?”

Eddie stood on his tiptoes, kissing Richie’s cheek. “If that’s what you want.”

“There’s nothing I want more, Eds.” Richie said, chasing Eddie’s lips as he pulled away but before he could kiss him, there was another honk.

“I’m coming!” Richie yelled at the cab driver. When he turned around to face Eddie again, he found him smirking. “What?”

“That’s what he said.” Eddie said, using Richie’s joke from earlier.

Richie let out a loud laugh, ruffling Eddie’s hair. “Eddie Spaghetti gets off a good one!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie saw the cab driver exit the car, no doubt tired of waiting. Eddie pushed a still laughing Richie towards the door. “Jesus christ, Richie, go !”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Richie said, stepping down the front steps.

“Call me when you land?” Eddie said from the front porch.

“And every day after that, Eddie my love!” Richie answered, waving at Eddie while getting in the car.

Eddie waved too, until the car and Richie were out of sight.

Then he drove back to his house and snuck in for a second time that day, thankful that his mother appeared to have fallen asleep again.

The empty feeling on his chest that came with Richie’s absence was back and Eddie searched for his phone, planning on texting Richie even if he wouldn’t see it until a few hours from now. But when he unlocked his phone he saw there was already a message from him.

‘Missing you already, Eds. I’m gonna spend the entire week coming up with the fucking best first date ever!’

The message was followed by a bunch of heart emojis that had Eddie fighting off a smile. And a blush.

He was already counting down the days for his boyfriend to come back.

[mitchmarnier]

BLOOD IN THE WATER

summary: “That’s ridiculous,” Ben said, feeling his hands shake around the pen he was using. The accusation made the back of Ben’s neck break into a sweat though his body had never felt so cold. “We’re not at war.”

Tozier looked up from underneath his messy fringe, a humourless smirk sliding across his face. “You’re a fool if you believe that.”

[or: after the gruesome murder of his younger brother, Bill Denbrough is determined to bring about the end of the string of crimes in Derry no matter the cost. As stories unwind and fall apart, there’s only more questions as everybody’s lives hang in the balance.]

chapter count: 3/20

chapter warnings: mentions of past character deaths, mentions of hate crimes, mentions of past statutory rape, 

[Read Full Story on AO3] [Playlist]

Taglist: @honkhonkrichard, @hufflepuffkaspbrak, @reddie-for-anything, @saddhippiee, @reddiesetrichie, @wowdidiask, @emmieliabedelia, @beepbeepbitchard, @lemonadeandrice (if you want to be added, message me off anon!)

Mike Hanlon tucked the small, crooked wing back against the duck’s shaking body and held him closer to himself. The small bird quivered slightly and Mike frowned for a moment, having to wonder if the shaking was him or the duck. Mike’s father entered the kitchen with a load of groceries in both hands and crinkled his brow at his only son.

“What’s that you got there, Mikey?”

“A duck.”

Will Hanlon looked at his son for another moment before sighing, smiling slightly. “You always were a regular old Fern Arable, son.”

“That was a pig,” Mike said, smiling softly down at the now-sleeping bird in his arms. “This is a duck. We have enough pigs anyway.”

“That we do,” Will placed the groceries on the counter and began to unload them. The feeling of discomfort and sadness that had been sitting in his stomach all afternoon returning now that Mike had another moment alone with his thoughts. Those same, disturbing thoughts. “They found another body today.”

Mike noticed his father’s stature stiffen, the way it always did when Mike brought up the string of murders. Will Hanlon hated talking about the Derry Murders in way that was different than other parents in town. The other adults in Derry didn’t want their children brining it up as they liked to pretend that nothing was happening as best they could. Slap on a curfew and act as though anything that happens was then out of their control. The mayors own son was murdered, and everybody just shrugged their shoulders and went on about their everyday business.

Will Hanlon was a much better father than most in town, Mike had known this since he was old enough to know anything. Something about these murders settling deep within Mr Hanlon’s bones and a part of his father shut down every time it was brought up. In any other situation, William Hanlon was open and would answer questions that Mike had ever had about anything in his life- until last spring, when kids started getting killed.

“The Corcoran boy, right? Edward, was it?” Mr Hanlon shook his head. “A damn shame. Kid’s been through the ringer already. Ain’t nobody deserve that but after all that boy had been forced to go through.”

Mike nodded solemnly. He’d gone to school with Eddie Corcoran since he’d been switched into public school once high school started, a whole four years ago, but Mike had always kept to himself. A bit of a loner, by choice he supposed. He knew, though, of course about Eddie’s father and the death of his little brother just the year before. In a town like Derry, it was impossible not to hear about terrible things that happened to other people. Mike supposed that enough people, in time, would just chalk up Eddie Corcoran’s deaths to the same as his brothers- anything to continue pretending that the curfew was helping jack shit.

“Yeah, it’s…” Mike started but Mr Hanlon quickly closed the doors to the cupboards and looked expectantly to his son.

“Can you finish putting the groceries away?” Mr Hanlon asked, rubbing at his temples. “I think I need to take a nap. I feel a headache coming on something awful.”

“Yeah, Dad, of course,” Mike said, quickly setting the injured duck back into its tissue box bed as he stood. Mr Hanlon patted him on the shoulder once as he walked past, and Mike tried to make the quickest work of the groceries that he could.

“You know why he won’t talk about it, don’t you, boy?”

Mike jumped, and turned around to find his grandfather moving slowly to sit at the table. He had a big leather bound notebook in his hands and he looked more lucid than Mike had seen him appear in many months. Grandpa Hanlon’s diagnosis of Alzheimer’s was all but official, though Mrs Hanlon always said he didn’t have quite enough symptoms for doctors to give it the name it deserved. Mike was watching the old man struggle with things that he never would have imagined his grandfather would, but now the man that sat at the kitchen table looked so much like the grandfather Mike had grown up with that he almost forgot about his deuterating brain cells.

“I…” Mike shrugged, rolling a can of gluten free gravy between his hands. “I supposed because it makes him uncomfortable. All those kids getting killed.”

Grandpa Hanlon hummed, opening up the notebook and sliding it further across the table. “It does make him uncomfortable but not just because of those poor kids… because it’s happened before.”

Mike crinkled his brow, leaving the groceries discarded behind him as he moved to sit across from his grandfather. “What are you talking about?”

“Thirty years ago, there was a string a killings. All young teens, just like now.” Grandfather Hanlon patted the notebook and Mike reached out to take it. Inside were several newpaper article dated between 1990 and 1991, all about deaths of students from Derry High- northside and southside alike. Mike frowned deeply, flipping through them. There were twenty one in total, Mike stopped at the one… the only one that seemed to have been a leading story in the paper.

LOCAL TEACHER ARRESTED FOR ILLEGAL RELATIONSHIP WITH UNDERAGE STUDENT

Mike raised his brow and looked up at his grandfather. “What does this have to do with the murders?” Mike rang his finger tips across the man’s face, admitting to himself that there was something sinister to this man. The image itself appeared as though it were taken directly out of a yearbook, the teacher in question just smiling at camera but just the smile brought a deep chill to Mike and brought goosebumps up around his arms.

“That has everything to do with the murders, my boy.” Grandfather Hanlon said deeply. “That man is Robert Gray, and he killed all those kids back in 1991. And would’ve have gotten away with it, too, if he hadn’t been caught messing around with that poor, young girl.”

“What girl?” Mike asked, his voice coming out barely above a whisper.

“Goodness, I couldn’t tell you her name.” Grandfather Hanlon shook his head. “It was so long ago and my memory isn’t what it used to be. She was only fifteen, couple years older than your father was back then, and they kept her identity very hush hush.”

Mike nodded. “What happened to her?”

Grandfather Hanlon sighed. “I don’t know, most people believe that the poor girl just changed her name and moved from Derry. It would make sense, given what he was.”

“You don’t believe that?” Mike asked lightly, rubbing his thumb into the old newspaper. Grandfather Hanlon sighed, shaking his head.

“I’m not sure how the girl could have been with this evil a man, and not know what he was.” Grandfather Hanlon said. “But I can’t pretend to know. They found all the evidence for his other crimes while searching his house for the rape charges and we know the girl never testified against him.”

“She could have been afraid.” Mike said, but he too had a slight twinge in his stomach that told him there was much more to the story than simple fear. “Why does Dad have all this stuff?”

“Because Robert Gray went to jail for twenty one murders, but your father and I know he committed at least twenty four.” Grandfather Hanlon said darkly, a look coming across his face that Mike had never seen on his before. “Your father was only eleven, guess he was too young for Gray’s type but I’ll.. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving town that weekend.”

Mike swallowed harshly. He knew that his aunt and uncle had died when his father was very young, while his grandparents had been away for the weekend. The only explanation to it he’d received had been “an incident” but the deep, dark words in his grandfather’s speech made Mike want to throw up.

“This Gray guy… he killed them?” Mike asked, forcing his voice to stay light. He pushed the newspaper ridden notebook away from him, reaching for his duck and pulling the small animal close to his chest.

Grandfather Hanlon nodded. “Your father and I have always believed so but… Robert Gray was never tried in their deaths, despite the similarities in them. The Derry Police had ruled it a hate crime by the next morning, and that’s they’d had to say about it. Robert Gray never faced justice for my baby’s deaths, and your father has never truly gotten past that.”

Mike squeezed his eyes shut. “Is that why Dad hates talking about the deaths now? It reminds him of what happened?”

“Partly.” Grandfather Hanlon said lightly. “Though, my boy, if I can be honest with you- there are enough common actions in these crimes and those of thirty years ago that even a man with as poor a memory as I can say that it leaves me with unease.”

“You think the same person is doing this?” Mike said, hearing an irregular pitch in his voice. “I thought you said he was arrested.”

“Arrested and dead.” Grandfather Hanlon said, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the old mans’ face. “Bastard took a plea to escape the death penalty but it did him no good. Would’ve lived longer waiting on the Green Mile than he did going into the lions den. Robert Gray didn’t live to see 1992, If there’s anything they hate up there in Shawshank, it’s kid killer and worse- kid fuckers. Robert Gray was both, and doomed from the moment he walked into that building.”

Mike nodded, digging his front teeth into his bottom lip. Grandfather Hanlon tapped the notebook and nodded at his grandson. “You read these.. read them, Michael. Know your enemy. No gangster is killing these kids.”

Mike nodded in response, keeping eye contact with his grandfather until the man stood and shuffled from the room.

There was burning curiosity deep in Mike Hanlon’s stomach and knew that, with the new information, there was no way he’d be able to just sit on this and let bad things happen. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to do this alone… and he knew the exact right people to help him.

xxx

“Benjamin Hanscom, please report to the journalism office, immediately. Benjamin Hanscom to the journalism office.”

Ben gathered up his books and walked from the classroom, feeling the eyes of his classmates staring at him as he moved. There was nothing Ben hated more than having attention drawn to him, and he could feel Stanley Uris’ eyes burning into the back of his neck. Ben knew only where the journalism office was because the guidance counsellor had tried to encourage him to write for the school paper when he’d first moved to Derry. He’d known it was because of his aunt and mother, so Ben had refused.

He came into the open office door, and frowned at the two other students that seemed to be cooing over a small duck in Kleenex box. He recognized the boy as Mike Hanlon, whose family ran the farm on the edges of town and Ben wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him interacting with other students anymore than Ben himself did. The girl beside him was Aurora Morgan, who ran the Derry High Harold and was- in truth- one of the prettiest girl that Ben Hanscom had ever seen.

“I’m…” Ben scratched the back of his neck. “I was called here, I don’t…”

“We called you, Ben Hanscom.” Aurora said, voice high and sweet like a song. Ben felt his face turn pink and forced his eyes down to the small duck in Mike’s hand. “We need you.”

“Need me? I…” Ben shook his head, swallowing harshly. “Why?”

Aurora and Mike smirked at each other.

“We’re going to solve a murder.”

[yuniesan]

One-Shot - Through Her Eyes

A/N: I haven’t written a one-shot in a long time...... There are a few notes below the cut. This is only going to be posted here for now because I haven’t decided if I want to share it with the world just yet.

Through her Eyes

Prompt: It’s been over a year since Maya last spoke to Riley, the triangle broke apart their friendships, Lucas won’t talk to any of them, Farkle transferred to a different school, and Maya has gotten new friends, she’s the popular girl in school, she sits at the popular table, laughs and smiles with everyone. But is seems as if something has been missing from her life something that has been missing since that fateful night almost two years before. After an accident leaves her unconscious, Maya is sent back to the past to relive everything that happened since yearbook, but through Riley’s eyes… and what she sees makes her realize just how big of a mistake she had made by breaking her best friend’s heart.

A/N: This is an AU so some things will happen in the same way they had on the show while other things will be completely different.

Sophomore year of high school was half way done, and Maya couldn’t believe she had gotten as far as she had. Everyone in the school knew who she was, she was popular and as crazy as it sounds she had good enough grades that she didn’t worry about disappointing her mother. But as the year came to a close she felt something pulling at her heart, something that had been missing since middle school and she couldn’t understand why everything had ended the way it had. It happened the year before as well right around the holidays, as the lights around the city began to glow with festive fairy lights, and those little pop up shops appeared everywhere.

She missed Riley.

The one person that had always been there for her, through the hurt and the pain of her father leaving, through the uncertain times she had once had with her mother, through the good and the bad. She couldn’t figure out where everything went wrong and she lost her best friend, everything had been fine until the summer after the end of middle school. After those two months had passed without Riley who had spent it with her brother at their grandparents’ place. Everything changed after that, Riley had let go of their friendship, Farkle had gone to Einstein Academy with Smackle, Lucas stopped talking to everyone, and Zay just tried his best between the bunch of them. They all separated from one another, and Maya couldn’t understand why it had happened.

At the end of the first month of freshman year Maya went to see Riley to ask about what had happened and why she wasn’t talking to them, to talk about what was happening. Their friendship ring, Riley’s ring was sitting on the center of the bay window, pillows no longer there no bears, no stuffed animals, no color at all. The window was bare, a curtain covering it from the room, she couldn’t see into Riley’s room anymore, the windows had been sealed shut.

It had hurt Maya, more than she let anyone see, but instead of dwelling on how everyone in her life abandoned her, she pushed forward and moved on. Just like when her father had left so long ago. She no longer saw the Matthews, unless she went to see her mother at Topanga’s. She didn’t talk about them, she moved on because she didn’t want to deal with what had happened. She sealed her heart away… she didn’t need these people.

Yet when the holidays came she could feel the pain in her heart, the pain of something missing. Christmas with the Matthews, seeing Josh and acting like she was cool and mature, talking with Riley over hot chocolate at the bay window which was covered in decorations. It hurt to think about it, so she tried to push it aside.

Lucas, Zay, and Riley all went to the same school, but they never saw one another, she never saw any of them at all, the school was too big. Some days she swore she saw the flutter of Riley’s long brown hair, the top of Lucas’s blonde hair in the crowd, or she could hear Zay’s loud voice in the hallway. But they were almost always out of reach. So, she stopped looking for them, and started living her life. Art Club, choir, drama club, keeping herself busy was the way to go.

Everything was going to be fine.

Until it wasn’t.

It had happened on December 8th of all days, Riley’s birthday, Maya hadn’t been paying too much attention as they finished the sets for the school play. Romeo and Juliet. The memory had been playing at the back of her mind, Riley and Lucas that moment just before he kissed her as she lay dead in the play. Just before Farkle interrupted everyone just so he could stop Lucas from kissing Riley. It had been during happier days, in what felt like another world. She knew that she shouldn’t have been distracted, she should have been paying attention, she should have heard them calling out to her telling her to jump away. Instead a piece of the set fell on her and knocked her unconscious.

And this is the story of how Maya learned the truth about what happened to her friendship

When Maya woke up she was looking out into Riley’s bedroom, the room before the forced remodel, before Riley had wanted her room to grow up with her. With bright colors, and swatches of purple and blues all over. She was confused, why was she in Riley’s room, but as her body began to move Maya had realized that she wasn’t in control.

I want to show you, a voice said to her. The truth of how your friendships ended.

Maya was confused, she couldn’t understand why this was happening, but as Riley jumped up and smiled into the mirror, looking at a picture of her and Lucas from their first date, and then a picture of her, Maya and Josh at Christmas, Maya had realized that if she was being shown something, this would help her understand her friendship with Riley and what had gone wrong.

So, she watched, as the day went by, it was the day of the yearbooks, the day where Maya had been named best couple with Lucas. That’s when she felt something inside of her breaking, but it wasn’t her emotions… they were Riley’s. Maya couldn’t understand it, she had lived through this moment with Riley, so why would it cause her best friend pain. But she watched through Riley’s eyes, and felt the hurt inside of her, as Maya’s image stood in front of Lucas and ha-hurred at him, made comments to him. All the while the twinge of pain went through her body.

Maya couldn’t take the hurt anymore she wanted to close her eyes, to shut out the world, but she couldn’t because she was connected to Riley and through that connect she was seeing what she had missed.

She watched as Riley turned dark, and as Maya herself turned into Riley, and there it was again, the hint of pain. The moment Lucas’s eyes had met Maya’s own, the moment where it hadn’t mattered to the whole class that Riley was no longer Riley because Maya could be Riley. She watched as Riley watched Lucas interacting with Maya. And when Maya heard the words.

“Aww, Lucas, you're a very sweet guy. That's why I always liked you since I fell onto your lap on the subway. It's why we should have been favorite couple. Because we're so much alike. You know, it's like we're two sunshiney people from the same sunshiney family. That's why I like you so much. It's like you're my brother. Oh. It's like he's your,” Maya heard herself say.

“What,” Riley had said but the pain inside of Riley intensified.

The rest of the conversation blurred out, she couldn’t hear it over the dull roar around her, the pain of her feelings being pushed aside. This was where it had started, where their friendship had that first real crack in its foundation, this is where Maya realized as she watched the world through Riley’s eyes, this is where she had lost her best friend.

Slowly as the memories flooded through her, as the days passed by, she saw it, the small moments where the cracks began to form. The next happened with the semi-formal, with Lucas not asking her, but the pain became worse after a conversation with Riley’s uncle and his friend, after Riley had seen Lucas dancing with Maya’s physical form. Each passing day the pain slowly grew, as Maya watched on, seeing the world through Riley’s eyes. Acting like Riley during the yearbooks, was nothing like being Riley, like watching the world slowly crumble in front of you.

Riley tried to make herself happy, she had her little awards ceremony after school, she danced around, she skipped in front of everyone. But suddenly the smiles slowly became fake, slowly Riley began to fade away whenever she was alone. When no one else was around.

That’s when the messages began, the texting, the painful moments, a bully.

There was a part of Riley she had never seen during those days, a part of her that Maya should have known, a piece of her best friend that had been hidden away. As Riley stood in front of her mirror every morning before Maya would show up to pick her up for school.

“I am Riley Matthews,” she would begin. “I’m a good person, I can get through the day, I can be happy… I’m fine… I’m fine…”

The mantra would begin every morning as she got up and got dressed for school. They helped Riley with the bully, but in the end Riley had been better about hiding things than Maya could have given her credit for. She had once believed that Riley was perfect, that she couldn’t lie to anyone, but as the days passed she hadn’t realized just how wrong she had been about her best friend. Every morning Riley would tell herself that she was good enough, but would cry herself to sleep at night. With each day Maya could feel the broken pieces of her best friend begin to grow. When they saved the art program, just the act of Lucas saying that he wanted Maya to be happy, a moment shared between the two blondes, had cause a bit of pain. But Riley hid it well, she hid everything.

Once she became a cheerleader, the pain didn’t go away, but it dulled because she was at practice, surrounded by others. She was making new friends, but in the back of her mind it was there, the doubt that anyone truly liked her.

Everything was building up to a single moment, and Maya knew this, but she couldn’t figure out where it was, or where it was coming from. And then, they were in Texas, and Riley understood what Maya had been feeling, slowly everything within Riley shattered into a million pieces. Even though on the outside she acted like nothing was wrong, and smiled like everything would be alright. She saw the moment through Riley’s eyes as she told the world about Maya’s feelings, as she walked away to give Maya and Lucas a moment.

“I can give him up,” she whispered to herself. “Maya deserves to be happy, and if it’s with Lucas… if it’s with Lucas it’ll be fine,” she hiccupped as she tried to regain in her emotions.

Then it happened, something Maya had never known, Riley had seen it, that almost moment between her and Lucas. Riley had walked back to the campfire, she had forgotten her phone and wanted to use it to listen to music. That’s when she saw it, the moment that would define what would happen to them for the rest of the year. Her best friend had known it had happened all along, and all that was left was the feeling of Riley turning around and running as fast as she could. She continued to run until she was far enough from the house, from the campfire, from everyone she knew, and the one boy she loved, she ran until the only sound she could hear were the huffs from the horses, and the sounds of the cows in the pasture.

And when she was sure that no one was around… she cried out to the world, until her voice was hoarse and her body shook.

As Maya watched, and saw everything happening through her best friend’s eyes, she realized just how far gone their friendship had become. The cracks in the foundation were permanently going to be there. For the rest of their lives. There was no going back from this.

So, in the days since they returned to New York, in the days where the truth was revealed to the whole class, Riley’s mantra had slowly become her way of reminding herself that she was allowed to be in pain even for just a little while.

Maya felt the pain, the fractures within Riley growing, as Riley’s own mother passed her along to Maya so that someone else could deal with the problem, as her father tried to teach lessons to them about growing up and moving on. As their friends started to divide themselves trying to figure out where to stand in this new world. As Riley lied to them each and every single day.

Farkle saw, he tried to help, but even he couldn’t see where this was all headed, and Maya could kick herself for not realizing it was happening because she was too lost in herself to notice. Lucas had tried to talk to Maya in the same way that he had talked to Riley, because Texas Lucas no longer existed and that was probably the one version of Lucas that Maya could have liked.

Then the moment she hadn’t expected, it was strange that she hadn’t ever realized that it had happened, but she realized that she never truly knew Riley. The only version of Riley that she knew was the happy go lucky mayor or Rileytown, she hadn’t realized so long ago that the reason why Riley always wore shirts with such long sleeves, was because she had been covering something else up.

It started with a cut, it was small, almost as if she had accidentally brushed up against something, a pain to take away a different pain. It didn’t happen all of the time, it only happened when things built up, when it became too much to watch Maya and Lucas together. They had all missed the signs, they had all missed everything that had happened. Most of the cuts could be blamed on her clumsiness, she had done them in places where no one would question them. But Maya knew the truth, and she hated herself every moment for it as she watched the days go by.

They only increased when Farkle revealed everything to the whole class, and Maya started playing everything back in her head. She had been too busy looking at herself that she had to look back to see the differences in Lucas as well. Maya in the middle, breaking the two of them apart. Even to this day she couldn’t figure out why she had started to like Lucas in the first place, why it had all started in the first place. Why she had hurt her friend so badly. She looked deeper into the recesses of Riley’s memories, and saw them, the looks she sent Lucas, thinking no one would see her, the small moments they shared even though Riley had pushed him away.

It was after the end of the year, the end of middle school, when she had seen someone truly notice something was wrong. That someone was Josh, who Maya hadn’t seen since that day after she had seen him in the dorm when she had made Riley sneak out. The day she told her mother the truth about her sneaking out and making Riley cover for her. Josh who still made her heartbeat just little faster than most boys out there.

“I messed up,” Maya whispered into the void of her own mind.

Maya watched as Josh pulled Riley aside and pulled up her sleeves, his face filled with horror as he saw the scars. The one everyone else dismissed as a part of her clumsiness, he didn’t say a word, instead pulling Riley into a hug and running his hands up and down her back as Riley broke down into tears. Everyone else nearby, close enough that if they had been paying attention they would have noticed that something was wrong. That something had been wrong for so long and they had all missed it.

Instead he pulled her into her bedroom and closed the door, and for the first time since this had all started Maya wished that she could close the gates into Riley’s life and pull away.

“Since when,” Josh said once Riley had stopped crying.

“Since just before new year’s,” she whispered to him, and all Josh could door was look at her with nothing but sadness in his eyes.

“You need to tell me everything, from the beginning Riley, because I want to help you so I want to know what could have caused all of this,” he said pulling her towards the bay window.

Maya watched Josh’s face as Riley told him every detail of every moment that had happened in the time since he had last seen them. He had been too busy with school, working part-time with his father and getting ready for NYU to be able to go back to New York for even a short while. And from the look on his face, he had hated himself for it, because he had missed the chance to help Riley, to help their friendships.

“How about you spend the summer with me and your grandparents in Philly,” he said after she had finished.

Riley had spent the summer with her grandparents, and her little brother, after Josh had yelled at his own brother for missing everything that had actually happened. He yelled at both of the Matthews for not realizing just how much pain Riley had been in, because in the end it was easier to ignore the harsh reality than deal with it head on. No amount of lessons inside of a classroom would have prepared them for what had been happening. He yelled at them for paying more attention to the kids that their daughter was friends with over her, he yelled at them for not being there when she had needed them the most.

“You shouldn’t have let her go to Texas in the first place without an adult there,” Josh had said before rushing off Riley to her room to help her pack.

There had been a fight between the brothers, but in the end, they had all realized just how much they had missed in the months since Texas.

Do you see? The voice said. Do you see how much you have missed?

When Riley went to sleep that night, Maya had woken up in the hospital, a bandage on her head and her mother standing over her, as worry marred her face. She remembered everything, and she wasn’t sure just how much of it had been real.

“Momma,” Maya said looking up at her mother’s relieved face. “I think I messed up.”

Her mother didn’t say anything, Maya wasn’t sure if either of them knew what to say, but in some way Maya understood that her mother had known about what was happening all along and had said nothing. Why would she, Maya and Riley hadn’t been friends in a long long time.

Maya watched as the doctors checked her out, worried about whether she needed to be kept for observation. In the end they moved her into a room and her mother sat down beside her, a look of sadness on her face.

“I know about Riley,” Maya said looking out towards the wall hoping to make herself as invincible as possible. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t my place,” her mother said after a long moment had passed. “The Matthews had asked me to take care of the café, they weren’t going to be able to run it for a while, they told me that they needed to take care of their kids. I knew something was wrong, but they told me that I shouldn’t tell you because they were afraid of how you would react.”

“So, keeping me in the dark was better?”

“No, but in the end, that had been Riley’s decision. She wanted time to heal, to get pass everything that had happened, because she wanted you to be happy.”

Maya looked at her mother as the words sunk into the recesses of Maya’s mind, she only saw everything up to the day Riley had left, she didn’t know what had happened afterwards. She didn’t know what Riley had decided to do, everything was meant to show Maya that something had happened, the rest was up to Maya to decide.

A knock on the door drew her from her thoughts, as a familiar blonde boy stood in front of her door, his face filled with worry and sadness.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” her mother said before patting her on her knee. “I’ll be down the hall getting some coffee.”

Her mother left them alone, and Maya couldn’t help but wonder what Farkle’s part in all of this had been. She remembered him knowing about Riley holding back, on her feelings on telling them the truth but she didn’t know how far it went.

“Hey,” he said before sitting down in the chair her mother had been sitting in not too long ago.

“Farkle,” she said as fresh tears fell down her face. “I’m sorry for being a bad friend.”

“Maya you’re not a bad friend,” he said but she shook her head.

“I was a bad friend to Riley, I hurt her, and in the end, I didn’t see what she had done to herself.”

“Maya, we all missed it,” he said before taking her hand. “It’s the reason why I went with Smackle to Einstein Academy instead of going with you all. I felt ashamed for missing it and I ran away instead of standing beside her.”

“How long did it take for you to find out about her cutting herself, about her depression, about everything?”

“Too long, I noticed just before graduation, around the time you three had decided on just trying to be friends, and it hadn’t been working for any of you. I noticed only because she had messed up and cut herself somewhere that was impossible for her to get a cut on unless it had been deliberate.”

“And you ran,” she said softly as he nodded.

“I didn’t know what to do, but she got help, even if it hadn’t been from any of us.”

“Except Lucas had spiraled out of control because of it,” she murmured but Farkle had stiffened next to her. “What is it?”

“Lucas doesn’t know,” Farkle said, sighing to himself. “Zay and I decided to keep it from him because he was already in pain. He missed Riley, and he couldn’t figure out where everything went wrong, and he went and got himself drunk on something.”

“Why didn’t I hear about this?” she asked shocked about being kept out of the loop on something else. She had hurt them both in her quest to find herself.

“It was right after Riley had left for her grandparents, we didn’t tell either of you because she asked us not to, she told me she wanted to figure somethings out, except when she came back everything had gone to hell and she was in therapy. Lucas is still working on himself, I hang out with him and Zay sometimes, but without Riley there I think he’s always going to look for that anchor.”

The tears started coming out, she had been the one to push Riley away the most, after she had come back, just because Riley hadn’t spoken to her, because Riley had spent the whole summer without her, without telling her where she had gone. She had felt abandoned by her best friend and in the end, didn’t speak to her until it had been too late. Riley hadn’t forgotten her, she just didn’t want to burden her with what had been happening. All it had taken was three months of radio silence to make her feel like she had lost her friends.

“How did you know I was here?” she said wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Riley sent me a message,” he said to her. “Maya, I know what you’re thinking and Riley didn’t abandon you, she was hurt and confused and so much was happening to her at the exact same time as the yearbooks, and the semi-formal, and well Texas.”

“I was too wrapped up in myself,” she interrupted him.

“We all were, we all had our own lives outside of our friendships, outside of school, we were all trying, the problem is that in the end, we sometimes miss something important.”

“When did you get all grown up?”

“When I realized I had abandoned you,” he said before pulling her into a hug. “You can fix this, the first step is to talk to her, and Lucas, and Zay, because we all need to start fresh.”

“Where do I start?”

“Well that librarian had told Riley back in seventh grade to start at page one, so maybe that’s where you start. Except go through the front door, the window isn’t open right now.”

“Thanks, Farkle,” she said giving him a small smile.

“It’s my job as your ex-husband,” he said with a laugh.

Maya had been out of the hospital for three days before she had gathered enough courage to speak to Riley. In those three days she had blamed herself for a lot of things that had happened, but in the end of it all what had been the real problem was communication. As close as Riley and Maya had been, they never really talked about what they felt, instead they hid it behind masks until it bubbled over enough for someone to notice.

She knocked on the Matthews’ apartment door, someone had left through the front door as she had walked up so she had used it as an opportunity to take her time until she wanted to knock on their door. Now she stood there as Mrs. Matthews opened the door and gave her a wide smile.

“I was wondering when you would be back,” Mrs. Matthews said before opening the door for her. “Riley’s in her room.”

“You know this was going to happen?” Maya said shocked for a moment.

“Yes, we all did, especially after Riley had started therapy, because in the end it was up to the both of you to mend your friendship.”

“But she locked the bay window, she took off her ring.”

“Yes, but she left it there for you, in your spot, waiting for the moment when you would both be ready for this moment,” Mrs. Matthews said as she closed the door and led Maya towards Riley’s room. “Time for the both of you to talk, without interruptions.”

Maya nodded and stood there for a moment as Mrs. Matthews walked away. Maya could feel in her heart that this was a long time coming, she knew that she should have come back again and again but she had been left behind before so she hadn’t tried. She opened the door and saw Riley sitting at the bay window waiting for her with a small smile on her face.

“I heard you coming up here with my mom,” she said as she slowly pulled on the frayed edges of her ripped jeans. Maya watched as she took in the new appearance of her once best friend. Her short bob haircut, an oversized sweater, things she would never have thought Riley would wear. “I haven’t sat on this window in a long time.”

“I guess you were waiting for me to come back,” Maya said with a smile. “Ring power?”

“Ring power,” Riley answered before she started to cry.

“Riley I’m sorry,” Maya started but Riley held her hand up.

“My therapist tells me I need to learn to talk about things better,” Riley started before patting the seat next t to hers. “She tells me that I can’t hold on to things because it hurts.”

“Do you talk about me?”

“Sometimes,” she answered with a shrug, “We talk about my family, my friends, you and Lucas, actually Lucas started going with me a few months ago after I stopped him from getting into a fight.”

“Are you two… together?” Maya asked wondering if they had repaired their relationship without her knowing. She wasn’t jealous, she was more worried, because he wouldn’t have started down this spiral if they had all just stayed together and worked out their problems. But that was the past, and if Farkle was right they had to start at page one for the second time.

“We’re kind of unofficial again,” Riley said smiling at her. The same smile she had once had long ago. “We’re taking it slow, and talking like we used to, but for now it’s one step at a time.”

“That’s good,” Maya said smiling back. “I realized that what I had felt a long time ago wasn’t the same as what you two have.”

“I want to know something,” Riley asked her. “How did you find out?”

“I don’t know some,” she said, it was the same question she had been asking herself for days since she had woken up in the hospital. “Cosmic power made me see everything through your eyes and from there, I guess I realized that I missed a lot of things.”

“I’m sorry for not tell you,” Riley blurted out.

“I’m sorry for listening to what people were saying,” Maya said back realizing that if she hadn’t listened to her classmates so long ago none of this would have happened.

“Peer pressure is a bitch,” Riley said sighing.

“Since when do you curse?”

“Well, it’s still new,” she laughed. “Blame watching action movies with my dad and Lucas.”

“I feel like I missed out on a lot,” Maya said pulling her legs to her chin. “I was too hurt by everything to figure out that I had missed so much.”

“Yeah well it took a long time for me to get to where I am now, I mean I have the scars to prove it, but it took a lot of work.”

“You don’t cut yourself, anymore right?”

“I don’t,” she said before rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “I have the urge sometimes, especially when I miss my best friend, or when I feel like the world is watching me and judging me, but I have a support system in place. I start by texting Lucas, and if he’s not around I go to my mom, or I email my therapist.”

“My mom knew about all of this, and she didn’t tell me,” Maya said wondering where she had lost control over her own life.

“It wasn’t her story to tell, but in the end, you were always going to come back I knew that for sure.”

They spent the next two hours catching up with one another, filling in the gaps in their lost year and a half, Riley telling her about her time in Philly with her grandparents, about the family dinners with her parents and her brother and the work they had to do to get to where they were. She told Maya about the hardest times she had faced, and learning to live with the scars from her decision to cut herself. Maya told her about her clubs, and he classes, about how she had grown closer to her mother, and lived without her friends by making new ones.

“I missed you Riley,” she said after a while.

“I missed you too peaches, but I think we had to go through all of this in order to find a stronger part of ourselves.”

“So, what now?”

“Now we move forward, it’s a new beginning so we find a middle ground and keep moving until we’re comfortable.”

“Can I go with you and Lucas to therapy?”

“Sure, we’ll bring Farkle, Zay, and Smackle too, it’s time we finally find our happy middle, after a rocky beginning.”

“I hope so too.”

A/N: This was an idea, of a reality based reaction towards the triangle, but mixing in all of the things that could escalate to this. The bullying included. Why did I write this? I grew up in an environment where people swore my family was happy, where both parents worked and raised their children. An environment where my own family missed the fact that I had been bullied relentlessly throughout middle school, where I developed self-esteem issues, where I self-medicated myself as a way to try and kill myself because the pressure had been too much. I received death threats even in high school, where one person said to my face that they would kill me because they had believed that it had been my fault that they had been kicked out of a summer program. I have anxiety because of this, I suffered from depression (although now it’s more well managed), and I have issues with the world at large to the point where it’s hard to truly trust others. It takes a long time for me to pull down those walls and feel normal, but I try my best.

So, when I started writing this story I wanted to make it as realistic as possible, and the most realistic thing is that something like this would break Riley from the inside out, but it would also break their friendships to the point where none of them would speak to one another again. The person who the story would be viewed from would blame themselves no matter what, because in the end we will always blame ourselves if something were to happen to someone close to us and we couldn’t do something to stop it. Although I gave it a happy ended because I will always wish for that happy ending for myself.  

The other side of this is that I handed in my master’s thesis on Tuesday, a thesis project which is a memoir about my time in middle school and high school and how I dealt with bullying. So now I think I’m projecting it into this story.... I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not, I don’t know if people will like it, but in the end, it’s just one story in an endless amount of stories.

[heatherdayton]

task two ; character questionnaire

I. ARE YOU A WILMINGTON NATIVE? IF NOT, WHERE DID YOU GROW UP? TELL US ABOUT YOUR CHILDHOOD. 

“Know what?” She narrowed her eyes with a cheeky grin, pointing. “Sometimes I feel like I am a native. I’m not. I consider myself a hybrid of sorts.” She hoped that if anyone had asked this question and if it would be published, the previous statement would be used as a pull-quote in fancy, italicized lettering. “In Savannah, Georgia is where I spent most of my diaper wearing days… Atlanta, Carrollton, Brunswick… Lived in different places in Georgia and upstate New York. Manhattan. Just moving around and letting some parts of this world know my name. Well, country. Alright, two states. Three, counting North Carolina. I know that sounds dramatic, but just work with it. I’d lived in a house, a basement, an apartment complex, and I was too young to really remember, but we were in a trailer home. My environment was constantly changing. Mom couldn’t stay in one place for too long.”

II. WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP LIKE WITH YOUR FAMILY? DO YOU HAVE SIBLINGS? A LARGE EXTENDED FAMILY? 

A genuine, immediate smile formed upon her face, contrary to the reaction she would’ve had if she hadn’t moved to Wilmington. “Robert and Colleen Dayton are the coolest, lamest grandparents on the planet,” Heather shook her head in admiration. “Love ‘em so much. Seriously, come and spend one night at our dinner table. Psst, gramps a little TMI, but you get used to it.” She laughed. Talking about the woman who’d partially raised her was difficult. Part of her wanted to mention her father in Rochester having spent time with him for part of her upbringing and how he’d been working towards being a better father, though bringing him up would undoubtedly spark questions about her mother. Despite nothing had happened yet, it comforted her that he was making an effort to some degree. As for the mother, Laura—prior to Heather, there was Haley. A half-sister she was a stranger to before she stepped foot in North Carolina.

III. DESCRIBE YOUR HIGH SCHOOL EXPERIENCE. 

“Mm, yes. High school. Let’s see. I was,” she hesitated for a bit, “in some way… a teacher’s pet.” Her body winced. “I know, I couldn’t help it. I was that kid. People used to say that I possessed a knack to knowing and understanding things before the questions were even posed. Sounds philosophical. I don’t deny it at all, though. Here’s why: I used to write-in my own bonus questions at the end of exams. Freakin’ show-off. Overall, I was dang focused on my work and had my nose in a book at the library during my free period. Pretty much everything I did in high school was at high school. Didn’t go to any wack high school parties. As for prom, there was this kid in my class. I'm sure we had only two conversations before he’d hit me with the promposal : ‘Heather Dayton, oh Heather Dayton, be my Heather Nighton. I’ll be your Night-on shining armor, join me for prom?’ Corny as hell. I couldn’t say no. I didn't say no.”

IV. WHAT WAS YOUR YEARBOOK SUPERLATIVE? WHY WAS THIS SO? 

“Most Likely to Accidentally Discover Something Life-Changing, then Claim That It Was All Intentional.” She recited the words exactly how they’d been written in the yearbook. “I don’t understand it, either. Oddly specific. It was the longest one on the damn page. I never knew whether to accept that as a compliment, because it’s as if people think I can’t discover something totally life changing on purpose? I have to rely on, I dunno, an accident? But at the same time, I guess it’s quite telling of killer instinct, so I usually go with that detail and that makes me feel better ‘bout it.”

V. WHAT DID YOU DO AFTER HIGH SCHOOL? DID YOU GO TO COLLEGE? IF NOT, WHY? 

“I did go to college, I graduated here. UNC Wilmington. I’ve got a B.S. in Chemistry. No bullshit,” Heather winked. “If it weren’t for tuition, I’d go back. Hell, I’d pay the loans if desperation called for it. I don’t have any plans currently to go back, I’m quite happy with interning at different places. I’m only stating that I’m not opposed to returning,” she added with a shrug.

VI. WAS THERE AN EVENT IN YOUR LIFE THAT GREATLY IMPACTED WHO YOU ARE NOW AS A PERSON? 

“It’s somewhat of a cliché, but I’ve come to the realization that things will fall into place. That stillness becomes a radiance, as Morgan Freeman once said. Moving to this city and making the decision to stay, I could say that it honestly…frightened me. I was afraid that I was missing something, that I was gonna be held back in some way. I don’t know, I feel like I was conditioned to think that seeking change all the time would satisfy me and bring me happiness, but that wasn’t the case at all. Sure, change is good. Change is difficult and hard decisions are necessary. But oh, no. Choosing to stay here—and this is the longest I’ve ever lived in one city before—it was an easy decision. Truthfully, I’d made a plan after college graduation to move again on my own terms, except I’d let the idea of staying here come up, then I just did it. I trusted my gut that this was the right thing to do, for me. It was a good type of change.”

VII. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE? IF NOT, DO YOU THINK THAT IS POSSIBLE FOR YOU IN THE FUTURE? 

“I hope so,” she spoke softly. The nearly twenty-three year old claimed to know an abundance of concepts; however, the chemistry of love remained as something complex. "Looking back at my first relationship as a fourteen year old. At that time, I knew I felt love. I really did, I knew it. I could attempt to explain what goes on, scientifically speaking, in the brain when that happens. Then, as time passed I thought, ‘No, that couldn’t have been love.’ But could have that really been love, for a mere teenage girl?” Her brows furrowed. It was possible that she was overthinking it—that had been something she couldn’t control, a tendency to be looking at things analytically, more often than necessary. “Maybe none of this makes sense. Maybe it’s not supposed to make sense. That’s what’s exciting about love, I presume.”

VIII. WHEN WERE YOU BORN AND WHAT IS YOUR ASTROLOGICAL SIGN? DOES IT INFLUENCE YOUR LIFE IN ANY WAY? 

“June 12, that would make me a Gemini.” She pressed her mouth into a scowl. “I’ve heard people trying to prove,” the girl rolled her eyes without finishing her thought, “that astrology is a science. I, [laughs] what? Listen, I understand that every side needs to be heard. Many possibilities out there to prove, whatnot. But astrology? A real science! I took this astronomy course in college. Meet this girl, super sweet. Sits next to me on the first day. We’re lab partners. Hit it off, you get me? We talk ‘bout the stars and it’s stupid cute. Then, brings up zodiac signs.” Her face went stone cold. “No. She told me I was a Gemini before I’d even told her my birthday. God? I don't mess with it. She must’ve really studied that nonsense shit real hard, huh? We’ll be here all day if we continue this discussion.”

IX. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE TIME OF YEAR? TELL US SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE ACTIVITIES TO DO DURING THIS TIME. 

“Autumn! I love everything about fall. The weather, the fashion, the mood. Wearing scarves happens to be one of my fave activities. Kidding. Well, that’s real, but fave activities do include pumpkin picking, pumpkin carving, doing my annual Harry Potter marathon. I bake a lot of things at this time ‘cause usually me and the g’parents do fruit picking, so.”

X. WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN TEN YEARS AND WHAT DO YOU HAVE HOPED TO ACHIEVE? 

“From what you can tell based on one of my previous answers, I have this mindset that I simply roll with. That I sort of let life do its thing.” As of now, Heather was experiencing work and growing to appreciate different aspects of her interning job in clinical lab science. The girl had an undeniable curiosity in several branches including clinical, nanotech, forensic, and industrial work. Whatever it may be, she strives to be the best version of herself. “I simply want to be happy and do what I love. I’ve got this crazy inkling,” she teased, “that I'll exceed my high school superlative. Totally do something wild and intentional. I realize that’s a big dream, to want to make that big of an impact, but it all starts from within. And I feel very confident that I have what it takes.”

[tfcrp]

THIS IS YOUR GAME

Name: McKenna Monroe Age: Nineteen Class Year: Sophomore Position: Vixen Hometown: Prairie Village, Kansas

THIS IS YOUR MOMENT

People always say we look more like sisters, her mother would say, her cheek pressed to McKenna’s cheek, their blonde hair mixing together. It was both true and it wasn’t. There were only fifteen years between them, McKenna’s mother just as much of a child as her daughter was for much of McKenna’s childhood. But, at the same time, she was older than her years, forced to grow up too fast—not only did she become pregnant with McKenna in high school, but her parents kicked her out of the house for it, unable to bear the thought of their friends and neighbors knowing their family’s shame.

Her mother was determined to be a good mother, proving a point even though her own parents weren’t around to see it, but was often too hurt and too young to manage it. She treated McKenna like a dress-up doll when she was a child and, when she was a little older, like a best friend, too. They moved around a lot, with friends and roommates willing to also act as babysitters, oftentimes barely keeping their heads above water—her mother was a high school dropout, a young single mother, unable to make a living wage. And McKenna was made to share the weight of that stress, of that unhappiness. She was her mother’s confidante, sometimes revered and sometimes resented, either the reason she was suffering or the only thing that made her life worthwhile.

In the end, it only took a little to tear them apart: a DUI on top of a few prior citations that meant that McKenna’s mother couldn’t avoid jail time, and that saw McKenna placed into the care of her grandparents, whom she had never met, had only heard of through her mother’s pain-streaked recollections. But they welcomed her with open arms. For them, she was a do-over—they weren’t sure what went wrong with their own daughter, but they were determined not to let it be repeated, and so they were strict with McKenna to the point of smothering: all of her friends were carefully vetted, every social engagement carefully scrutinized for the potential presence of boys, and church, every single Sunday, was mandatory. And, when her mother was out of jail, they fought to keep her, letting her mother visit but never stay, until the bitter fights they got into meant that she came back less and less—until, eventually, McKenna barely saw her once a year.

McKenna did her best to be good—she knew from her mother, after all, what the consequences would be if she weren’t—but that never stopped them from being suspicious. Teenagers lie was the mantra her grandparents seemed to live by, and no amount of truth-telling seemed able to convince them otherwise. She wanted to be good, but that wasn’t all she wanted: she wanted to be pretty, she wanted to be popular—and she couldn’t help but feel that she was neither of those things. Their community was riddled with gossip, and she was an easy target for it, all of the blanks left around I live with my grandparents easily filled in by whispers, speculation matched with judgement that circled too close to the truth. And, determined to find a path to social acceptance, she set her sights on what seemed to be the pinnacle of popularity: cheerleading. The only problem was that she knew it was something her grandparents would never allow.

And so she decided not to give them an opportunity to refuse. She decided to lie—because when they already assumed she was a liar, treated her like one, there didn’t seem to be much point in telling the truth. She joined her high school’s squad, uniform kept hidden in her locker, and for her grandparents she concocted an elaborate lie of joining the yearbook staff and, for awhile, everything seemed to be perfect: her grandparents, always so suspicious, didn’t seem to have a clue; and, at school, her social isolation lifted, and she roamed the halls arm-in-arm with her newfound friends, with a short skirt and a cross around her neck.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down. She was caught in a lie, caught dabbling in the very things her grandparents feared would lead her astray—popularity, and all the trappings and moral failings thereof. And, as soon as her social isolation had seemed to be lifted, it fell down on her again, sending her back into shy obscurity as her grandparents watched her even more closely than before. The fights that sprung up between them, however, were something new, McKenna too upset to care about being good, her grandparents indicting her as too much like your mother for your own good and not budging at all when it came to enforcing their strict rules.

SEIZE IT WITH EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT

College loomed on the horizon and, with it, another battle: her grandparents, predictably, wanted her to stay close, wanted to keep her closely supervised and out of trouble; McKenna, however, wanted anything but that, poured over glossy pamphlets for schools hundreds of miles away. Palmetto was just one among that number, one that took endless amounts of pleading for McKenna to even be allowed to apply, but when it offered her the most in scholarship money, her grandparents couldn’t come up with a good enough reason to say no.

She’d never exactly set out to be rebellious, she’d only wanted too many different things that had pulled in her different directions. Being allowed to come to Palmetto had filled her with goodwill towards her grandparents—she found it was easier to believe that they only wanted the best for her when it was from a distance—and with cheerleading the subject of so many bitter fights throughout her high school years, she initially hadn’t had any intentions of trying out for the squad. But the Foxes intrigued her and, though a part of her felt guilty about it, she couldn’t resist the pull, the desire to be a part of something, somewhere where she might belong in a way she never had back at home. She hadn’t been allowed to cheer nearly long enough in high school—but this time, with the Vixens, she’s determined to see it through to graduation, to not let anyone make her quit.

McKENNA MONROE is portrayed by VIRGINIA GARDNER and is TAKEN

[auroraphilealis]

Metamorphosis (1/10)

Metamorphosis (1/10) | Once upon a time, Dan Howell and Phil Lester were best friends. They did everything together, from hanging out at each other’s house, to sitting next to each other at school - but one day, Dan was torn away from Phil by none other than Phil himself. Five years on, and Dan still doesn’t know why his best friend threw Dan away. Was it the fault of the bullies who relentlessly picked on Phil, or was it Dan himself? Dan just didn’t know. So when a chance to protect Phil and get his best friend back arises, Dan jumps on it in a heartbeat, and uses his own confidence to boost Phil’s just enough to make the bullies back away. | Phan | Teen and Up | High School AU, Bullying, Getting Together, Make Over Fic, Kissing Booth, Kissing Lessons | 2,641 Words this chapter 

Disclaimer: In no way do I pretend that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.

This has been a roller coaster to work on, and I loved every second of it. It is truly the fluffiest thing I have ever written, and I truly hope that you guys will enjoy it as it goes up these next few months. As the entire fic has been pre-written, I will be posting on Wednesdays and Saturdays every week! If you’d like to receive writing updates, chapter snippets, or even be given the chapter a whole day earlier than everyone else, please consider pledging to my patreon, which can be found here!

I would also like to give special thanks to my beta @etoilesdephan for her wonderful help editing this fic. Their feedback has made me incredibly happy and, of course, they’ve done the gracious work of fixing my typos hahaha. Thank you phantom <333

(Ao3) 

Chapter One

Once upon a time, Dan Howell and Phil Lester were best friends. They did everything together, from hanging out at each other’s houses, to sitting next to each other at school. They were absolutely inseparable, and for a long time, Dan had thought it would always be like that. He couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without Phil by his side, and he didn’t want to.

That’s why it came as such a shock to him when he went from seeing Phil every single day, laughing and teasing him on the playground and wrestling him for the video game controller in each other’s rooms, to not even knowing what his best friend had done over summer vacation.

It happened insanely quickly. They were eleven years old, and the school year was just coming to a close. Phil had, at one point that year, attempted to dye his hair a ridiculous shade of red when it came out orange, and while Dan had thought it was hilarious and loved the way it brought out the freckles on Phil’s pale skin, the rest of the school had taken this as an excuse to tease him even more than they already did.

He went from getting bullied from time to time when he was alone and Dan wasn’t around to give the older kids a dirty look, to being poked fun at by even the kids in their grade and below. Phil skyrocketed from that weird boy that sometimes walked the playground alone with the hood of his black jacket pulled up over his head, muttering something about “the shadow world,” to being that freak with the orange hair who bred hamsters and didn’t know how to speak up for himself.

It was horrid, and while Dan did his best to push away the people who tried to hurt his best friend, he couldn’t be there to protect Phil from everything, no matter how badly he wished he could be. See, Dan Howell, in opposition to Phil, was actually pretty well liked by most of their school, confident and just dramatic enough to make all the other kids laugh, but nice enough not to make any waves. Much of their grade questioned why Dan was even friends with a freak like Phil, but Dan had always only answered that Phil wasn’t a freak, and that if people just took the time to get to know him, they’d see that too.

The issue was, Phil was kind of an odd ball, even Dan could admit to that. He had a different way of seeing the world, a creativity that rivaled even Dan’s, and while that was something Dan loved and cherished about Phil, it wasn’t so easily accepted by the rest of their school.

So Dan did his best to protect Phil, never wanting to see his best friend change, or hurt himself because of the horrible actions of others. However, that didn’t mean that Dan could always be there to protect Phil, and it was no surprise that sometimes, Dan didn’t have enough time to prevent Phil from getting his ass kicked behind the playground, face shoved into the dirt and eyes watering from the sensation of his glasses being forcibly pressed into his skin.

Of course, that day, the final day of the year, Dan found himself cornered in the classroom by a bunch of classmates who insisted they needed a signature from Dan, because they’d all be moving off to secondary school after that summer, and some of them might never see Dan again. Unaware of anything strange going on, Dan had laughed and agreed to sign all their yearbooks, only to realize, far too late, that Phil was nowhere to be seen. The thing was, Phil was quiet, and often Dan forgot he was even around, when other people were talking, but he never went anywhere without Dan. Sometimes, Dan thought Phil was like a lost puppy, trailing after him and begging for attention, something Dan was always willing to give despite wishing Phil were more confident and sure in the friendship the two of them held.

When Dan realized Phil wasn’t there, of course, he figured out what exactly was going on.

“Where’s Phil?” he remembered himself asking, dropping the pen he’d been holding to sign yet another yearbook, and instantly shoving past the few remaining classmates in front of him in order to get out of the classroom. No one answered him, but that was answer enough, and Dan had taken off running through the sliding glass door of their old classroom out towards the playground behind the school, likely unmonitored that afternoon because school was officially out, and summer was about to start.

He was right, of course. Before he even reached the back of one of the slides, where older students were known to take their victims, Dan could hear Phil crying out as he was likely shoved into the dirt. There were other voices, shouting teasing, hurtful words, but Dan couldn’t hear a word of what they were saying for the way his heart was breaking at the sound of Phil’s near screams. He could feel his chest clenching, and he was screaming profanities inside of his own head for being so stupid as to have not made sure Phil was still there.

How had Dan let this happen?

Dan only really remembers tackling the older boys after that, the sensation of his own body hurling into the back of another, and sending them both tumbling to the floor. A fight had broken out, and Dan remembered getting his ass kicked for the very first time while, beside him, Phil cried for them to leave Dan alone.

Dan had given as good as he got, but in the end, he was left on the ground, outnumbered, and with a mix of a bloody nose and a black eye.

Phil had walked him home, and that had been the last time they spoke.

The very next day, Dan remembered waking up early and going over to Phil’s house despite his mum’s protests, only for Phil’s mum to answer the door and tell Dan uncertainly that Phil wasn’t feeling well enough for visitors right now. He’d tried again, and again, and again for a week straight, before learning that Phil had asked to visit his grandparents for the summer, and wouldn’t be home until after school started once again.

Dan had written letters that Phil’s mum promised to send, but there was something about the look on her face that told Dan she knew something that Dan did not, and that she hurt for him. The first time she told Dan that she hoped he could one day help Phil like he always had in the past, Dan finally realized that it was the end.

He waited with baited breath for Phil to show up on the first day of class, only to realize by the end of the day that Phil had gone out of his way to avoid him. The last thing he remembered clearly was the sight of Phil’s broken, sad face, as he ran straight home after school without so much as a glance backwards at Dan, who’d shouted after him to wait.

Dan never could figure out what happened that day, or why Phil had decided to stop being Dan’s friend. He didn’t understand why Phil no longer thanked him when Dan tried to save him from the bullies, or why, once, he turned on Dan and told him to get the fuck away from him, and never get in the way again. He didn’t understand how he and Phil could go from being so close they were practically one person, to becoming so different some people even forgot they’d ever been friends.

It hurt. It hurt a lot, and it was hard, but eventually, Dan got the message. For whatever strange reason, Phil didn’t want Dan protecting him anymore, didn’t even want to know him, and while Dan knew it was the fault of the bullies, he’d never forgive himself for having done something to turn Phil against him. Was it because Dan hadn’t been there to save him in the first place, that afternoon when the bullies managed to get Phil alone? Had the bullies said something to Phil about Dan that had made Phil turn on him?

Dan didn’t know, and he probably wouldn’t ever know, but that didn’t prevent him from hoping.

So Dan Howell passed every year from the age of eleven to sixteen praying that, one day, Phil would come back into his life, and he’d be able to protect the boy he’d always considered the best person in the whole entire world.

In the meantime, Dan finally started branching out and making new friends, all while he watched Phil disappear further and further into the shadows until it was almost impossible to make sure he even still existed, except for the few times Dan saw him peeking out through the curtains of his bedroom window and out over at Dan’s, like there was still a part of him that missed Dan too.

They’d been next door neighbors for so long that Dan was actually almost surprised that, by the time they were finally forced together again, it hadn’t happened any sooner.

In the Fall of year twelve, Phil Lester unexpectedly joined the theater club, and the only reason Dan even noticed him was the fact that literally every single person but Phil had grouped up on one side of the large auditorium the first day of their meeting, and were whispering about the weird, dark boy they’d never seen before. Dan wandered in with his brow furrowed, heading straight for the strange group, when he felt his shoulder bump into the body of someone he hadn’t even noticed was there.

“Sorry,” he said rather quickly, turning to offer an awkward smile to the person he’d run into, and frowning as the entire auditorium seemed to go quiet. “I didn’t see you there, uhm,” Dan started, trailing off as he waited for the other person to give him their name, only they never answered.

Instead, they dropped their face further away from Dan, as if they were ashamed to be seen by him, and only then did Dan realize it was Phil.

He was dressed in the same black hoodie Dan swore Phil had owned since he was eleven, except it couldn’t be because Phil had grown almost as tall and lanky as Dan and the thing still fit, and he had his hood up, hiding the mousy brown of his ridiculously long hair. His glasses were thick rimmed and roundish, mostly hidden by his fringe, and his face was even more pale than Dan remembered.

His hands were stuck in his pockets, and his backpack pressed tight against his back, flat, like he’d taken to carrying very little in case he was jumped.

Dan’s jaw dropped open.

“Phil?” he asked tentatively. He could feel his heart in his throat, constricting his airways, because what was Phil doing here? Did he know this was the theater club? Had he come to see Dan? Unsure, Dan reached out to take Phil’s arm in his, wanting to pull the boy close and drag him into a long needed hug - it had been so long since Phil had been close enough for Dan to touch, after all - only, before Dan could touch him, Phil jerked back and stumbled so hard, he fell flat on his ass, his hood falling back and his hair splaying everywhere, exposing the red of his heated cheeks.

His eyes were just as blue as Dan had remembered them, but they were gazing up at Dan in horror.

“Okay, break it up you two, that’s enough! Really, Daniel, I expected more from you!” Mrs. Gio suddenly shouted, sweeping into the auditorium at exactly the wrong time. Dan’s gaze snapped up from where Phil sat, practically trembling on the floor, as if he were afraid of Dan, back to his teacher with his mouth half open with the intent to explain.

Before he could, however, or even turn back to help Phil up off of the floor, the rest of the theater group behind him burst into explanations, screaming that Dan had just been trying to be nice when Phil had shoved at him and fallen to the ground himself. Dan felt his cheeks beginning to go red as he worked to get in a word edgewise, begging the others to stop, that that wasn’t what had happened, but the others were too loud for him. Mrs. Gio looked thunderstruck and a little overwhelmed, blinking wildly at the loud shouting around her, before finally she burst out with a loud “Enough!” that shut the entire room up.

“I don’t care whose fault it was,” she admonished the group, “I expect better from all of you than to harass any of the other students here, let alone a new member this year. You’re all going to be working together for the next twelve months, so you better be ready to get along!” she said.

Mortified, Dan turned back to Phil with the full intent of helping him back up off the ground, only to find that Phil had already gotten up and had retreated further away from the group, hiding his face, and clearly trying once more to fade into the shadows.

Dan bit his lip, unsure what he was meant to do. The drama teacher answered this for him, however, and before he knew it, she was clapping her hands and ordering everyone to sit in the chairs in front of her in a large group, and listen up. Dan and the others shuffled about, with Dan’s friends coming and insisting he sit with them, laughing and making jokes about summer that Dan couldn’t help responding to, all while Phil managed to find a seat still near enough to Mrs. Gio not to get in trouble, but far enough away from the rest of the group that it almost looked like he didn’t even belong.

As Mrs. Gio started talking about the two performances they were going to be putting on that year, Dan couldn’t help wondering what Phil was even doing there. He’d always been creative, sure, but Dan had never known him to be confident enough to actually perform in a play. In fact, Phil looked so out of place that Dan couldn’t imagine Phil’s confidence had grown any stronger.

Dan had always seeked to fix that when they were kids, but it had been hard work. He’d never once given up, but he’d always refused to push Phil, and now, here they were, so close and yet so far, and Dan wanted nothing more than to drag Phil into the group and make him loved. He had the most amazing mind that Dan had ever known, and despite how they’d grown apart, Dan knew that that much, at least, could not have changed.

He found his eyes following every one of Phil’s movements for the rest of the afternoon, but never once did Phil meet his gaze. Slowly but surely, Dan felt his heart sink ever more, and sighed as Mrs. Gio dismissed them and Phil took off like a ghost.

The others laughed and snickered at the new weird guy, asking what his name was again, and making fun of the way his hair hung in his face and the ugly pair of spectacles he chose to wear. Dan, all the while, did his best to tune the others out, and shuffled out of the school building to head home. He could only hope that, as time wore on, he’d finally get the chance to be friends with Phil again.

(Next)

[erintheamericanlondoner]

The Summer of “80″

Hello Readers, 

So this is a story I worked on this year. It is called The Summer of "80". It is about a group of friends who just graduated high school. At the end of the summer, they are going their separate ways, so they try to make the best of it. The only problem is that they keep letting their drama from senior year and the fact they are separating at the end of the summer get to them. Critisim is welcome, but please no hate.

Chapter 1

The Summer of 1980 was one of the best and worst summers. My friends: Sam, Eva, Harry, and Hannah had just graduated high school. Oh! Before I forget, my name is Max. Now, where were we? Oh right, My friends and I had just graduated high school with the class of 1980. We all had plans made for the fall. Sam is going Pro for hockey. Eva is staying In Denver, COL for community college. Harry is joining the army. Hannah is running away with her girlfriend, Tara. I am going to college on the other side of the state. On the first day of summer vacation, I had my friends over. We liked to hang out in my basement. “So, first day of summer vacation; how are we going to celebrate no longer being highschoolers?” said Sam. Sam was sitting at my dad’s computer looking at the scores of the baseball game. “I need to start working out, don’t need to embarrass myself at basics.” said Harry, standing next to the pool table. “I still can’t believe you, out of all people, are joining the army.” said Hannah. She was sitting on the couch looking at her fingernails. “Is it that unbelievable?” asked Harry, playing with a pool stick. “Lets see, you hate waking up early.” I said. I sat next to Eva with Hannah on the other side. “You rather play video games than work out.” said Sam, turning his chair around and looking at Harry. “And all you eat is junk food.” said Hannah. “Okay, okay, but I am taking this seriously.” said Harry, putting the pool stick down. He sat on the arm of the couch next to me. Eva looked at Hannah. She looked down at her legs, and her lips formed a frown. “Han, you okay?” Eva asked her. “Yeah, but you guys seem so happy, but this is our last summer together.” said Hannah. She looked at everyone. We all looked at each other. We hadn’t really thought about it until Hannah said it. “At the end of the summer, we will all be going our separate ways.” She said. We all went silent. “She’s right.” I said, glumly. “So that's why we should try to make this best, most memorable summer ever.” I said. Then everyone started smiling. “Why don’t we make a summer bucket list?” said Sam. Eva sat up. “We make a list of stuff for us to do this summer.” said Eva. “Exactly.” replied Sam, looking at Eva. “Let’s start coming up with ideas.” I said. I got up and went to the desk where the computer was and grabbed a pen and paper and set them on the coffee table in front of the couch. Harry, Sam, Hannah, and Eva gathered around the coffee table with me. “Ok, who wants to start?” I asked. We looked at each other for a while. Then Eva chimed in. “If my uncle will let us use his R.V. we could go camping up in the mountains.” said Eva. “Good idea.” I said, writing it down on the list. I looked at Eva. Her blonde hair was tucked into a loose braid with loose hairs dangling in front of her pale face and blue eyes. She wore a white t-shirt with some blue jean shorts. Harry was next to chime in. “Why don’t we go clubbing?” said Harry. “Alright.” I said. Then everyone started to throw out ideas. “Lets go to the beach.” said Hannah. Harry's smile faded away. “I’d love to go back to the beach.” said Harry. I looked at Harry. Harry is the good-looking one in the group and also the flirt. He had brown hair and dark eyes and tan skin. Harry and I had been next door neighbors our entire lives. His father had been diagnosed with ALS not long after Harry was born. Every summer up until he turned 14 he spent at his grandparents house in Florida. His father’s ALS got worse and it became harder for them to get to his grandparents house each summer. So, Harry’s grandparents moved to Denver, and he hasn’t gone to the beach since. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you about him.” said Hannah to Harry. “It’s fine, I’ll be glad to go to the beach again.” said Harry. “There's a new Ice cream shop in town, why don’t we try it?” said Sam. Harry’s face lit up. “I’m definitely in.” said Harry. I wrote it down on the list. “I just got a new camera, I can take a bunch of photos of us this summer.” I said. Everyone looked at me. “When we go our separate ways, we can each take a photo as a memory of us.” I said. “Great idea.” said Eva. I smiled at her. “Hey Harry, you said you wanted to work out, right?”   asked Sam. “Yeah, why?” asked Harry. “I work out pretty much everyday, why don’t you be my workout partner.” said Sam. “Alright I’m in.” replied Harry. “Meet me at 8 am tomorrow morning.” said Sam. “Ok, Harry working out, I have to see that.” said Hannah. All of us except Harry laughed. “Why so early?” whined Harry. “Because the morning is the best time to work out.” replied Sam. “And I thought you wanted to prepare for basics, they make you get up early in the army anyway.” said Sam. “Exactly, which is why I’m trying to get as much sleep as I can this summer.” said Harry.  “Why don’t we get ice cream afterward at the new place Sam was talking about.” I said. Sam, who has dark hair, dark eyes, and brown skin was wearing a letterman jacket with a t-shirt and jeans. “Yeah, that can be an after workout treat.” said Sam. Hannah, who had short brown hair tucked into a ponytail, hazel eyes, and pale skin wore an olive green tartan shirt with dark blue jeans. “That will be like dangling a carrot over Harry’s head.” said Hannah. “I don’t even like carrots.” said Harry. He is not the smartest in the group. We all laughed except Harry. Tara, Hannah’s girlfriend came down the stairs. She had short dark hair, dark eyes and light skin. She wore a black t-shirt and jeans. “Hey babe.” she said to Hannah. Hannah got up and kissed her girlfriend on the cheek. “See you guys tomorrow.” said Hannah as she and Tara walked up the stairs. “I better go too, Dad will freak out if I don’t get home soon.” said Sam. He got up and left. “I should leave too, I can’t leave mom alone for too long.” said Eva. She got up and left. I looked at Harry, who was the last one left. “If it’s okay with you I’m going to stay a little longer.” said Harry. “Want to go play video games on my Atari?” I asked. “Is a bear catholic?” said Harry. I rolled my eyes. “Harry, the saying is: Is the Pope catholic, not is a bear catholic.” I said. Harry raised his eyebrow as if to say “I don’t care”. We got up and went up stairs.  

Chapter 2

That night, after Harry had left, I was in my room looking at my yearbook. I was looking at my friend’s pictures. I sat up and, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my typewriter. I got up and looked in the mirror. I have dark brown hair, brown eyes, and pale skin. I wore a black t-shirt and pajama pants. Then I walked to my typewriter. I sat down at my desk and started typing away what I did with my friends that day. I was typing all night or so I thought. “Max!” I heard my older sister Molly shout. I jumped up and looked at what I typed. I had a nice paragraph and then a bunch of  L’s. “Great, I must have fallen asleep against the L button.” I said. Molly laughed and said “ you might want to fix your face before you go out”. I felt where the typewriter button pressed against my cheek. ‘By the way, your friend, Eva, is here.” Molly said. “ Can you tell her to wait a sec while I get ready?” I asked. “Sure, be careful while you are out.” said Molly. Molly had light skin, brown hair and dark eyes like mine. She closed the door and left. Eva and I met Hannah and Tara downtown where Harry and Sam were going to start running. “Hey Hannah, hi Tara.” Eva and I said. “Hey” they said. “Okay, Harry you ready?” asked Sam. Harry looked like he was ready to fall asleep. “Yeah.” said Harry as he yawned. “I can’t believe he’s actually going to work out.” said Hannah. “I know, right.” I said. “Go!” shouted Sam. “let's get to the Ice cream shop, Sam said they’d meet us there.” I said. Me, Eva, Hannah, and Tara walked to the ice cream shop. We sat outside waiting for Sam and Harry. We finally saw them coming. Harry looked like he was about to pass out. I couldn’t help but laugh. The girls laughed too. “Woo, that was a great workout.” said Sam panting and sweating. “Speak for yourself.” said Harry panting and sweating even harder than Sam. “And this is the guy who’s joining the army.” I said. We all laughed except for Harry. “How about that ice cream now?” asked Harry. “First how about some water.” said Sam as he grabbed some water bottles. He handed one to Harry. “I feel like we just ran a marathon.” said Harry. “Nah, dude we just ran the length of about a 10K.” said Sam. Harry just looked at Sam. “Harry, you smell like a dead animal.” said Hannah, covering her nose. “You bring it?” Harry asked me. “Yep.” I said, tossing him a bottle of cologne. We walked into the ice cream shop. “Hello Evangeline, funny seeing you here.” said Mr. Banks, the ice cream shop owner. Mr. Banks was a middle aged man. He was bald with light skin and grey eyes. He wore a kind smile. “Hi Mr. Banks.” said Eva. We all looked at Eva perplexed. “How do you know Mr. Banks?” I asked. ‘He’s my neighbor, he’s helped my mom since what happened between my parents.” said Eva. We each ordered our ice cream and we sat down at a table. I sat between Eva and Harry. Harry bumped my shoulder and motioned toward Eva. “You should tell her how you feel.” He whispered to me. “Not yet.” I replied. “Don’t wait til it’s too late.” said Harry seriously. I looked at him. I had liked Eva since we first met, when we were 13. Harry keeps telling me to tell her how I feel, but I’m just too nervous. I pulled out my camera out of my bag. “Mr. Banks, could you take a photo of us?” I asked. Mr. Banks nodded. I handed him my camera and my friends and I posed. “There.” said Mr. Banks as he snapped the photo. “Thanks.” I said as he gave me my camera back. He smiled and nodded. 

Chapter 3

 We had decided to go clubbing that night. I went to Harry’s to get ready. “Dude, we are going clubbing as in dancing, not golfing.” said Harry who was lying on his bed all ready to go. He was wearing a black button up shirt with a big loose collar. over an old black t-shirt and jeans with black boots.“Well, I don’t go clubbing as much as you do.” I said to Harry. “That’s because I don’t have an overprotective sister like you do.” Harry mumbled as he looked at his fingernails. “I heard that.” I said as I turned around to look at the clothes I brought over. “I’ve shown you everything I brought.” I said. Harry sat up and looked at me. “Fine, I’ll lend you something from my closet.” he said. He looked at his closet and picked out some clothes. “Try these on.” said Harry. I put on the clothes Harry picked out for me and looked in the mirror. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.” said Harry. “I look like a posh pirate.” I said. I wore a black shirt with a loose black overcoat with faded ripped black jeans, black combat boots, a black silky bandana, and black fingerless gloves. Harry rolled his eyes at me. “Let's go.” he said. I grabbed my car keys which I had laid on Harry’s dresser. We left his room. “There’s my handsome boy, let me fix your collar.” said Harry’s mom as if she was talking to a 5 year old. I stood there trying not to laugh. “I might have an overprotective sister, but at least my mom doesn’t baby me.” I said mimicking Harry’s mom’s tone. Harry rolled his eyes.“Ha ha, very funny.” Harry said, sarcastically. “Portia!” shouted Harry’s dad from the other room. “Coming!” Harry’s mom shouted back. Her tone was different when she talked to his father. For a second, I thought I saw a spark of sadness in Harry’s eyes. “Harry?” I said. “Lets go.” He said. By the time we got to the club, Harry was back to his usual goofy self. “Who’s ready to party?” asked Harry as he turned and started flirting with a girl. I looked at Eva. She was wearing a light green off the shoulder top with a frilly black skirt with short black leggings. Her blonde hair was up in a bun and she wore a long pearl necklace. “You look great.” I said to her. She looked at what I was wearing. “And you look like a posh pirate.” she said laughing. “That's what I told Harry.” I said. “Take off the coat, bandanna, and gloves.” she said. “There, now that's more like you.” said Eva. We looked at each other for a while. “C’mon let's go dance.” said Hannah. She was wearing a similar outfit to Eva’s except her shirt was red and her hair was down. Sam was wearing a dark blue button down shirt with dark jeans. Tara wore a short white strapless dress with a black belt. We all started dancing. If you could call it dancing. After a while I went to the bar and sat next to Harry, who was obviously drunk. “You sltalk ta Eeva y-yet?” ask Harry. “No I…” I said as I looked at Harry, he rested his head on his arm. “Ok, time to go home.” I said I put Harry’s arm around my neck and my arm around his. I turned to the rest of the group.  “N-no.” said Harry. “Yes.” I said. “I gotta get Harry home, see you guys tomorrow.” I said to the rest of the group. “Ok, do you need any help?” asked Eva. “No, I can handle him.” I said. “Ok, well bye.” she said. “Oh, before I forget, my uncle said we can use his R.V this weekend.” she said. “Then I guess we’re going camping then.” I said. I got Harry back to my car. I put him in the back seat. I drove us back to my house. I snuck the both of us back to my room. I stopped and looked at what used to be my younger brother, Marvin’s room. When we got to my room, I put Harry down on my bed. I looked at my typewriter. I looked at the paper where the white out was. I sat down at my typewriter and began typing. After a while, I stretched out my arms and yawned. I looked over at Harry on my bed, he was asleep. I grabbed an extra pillow and blanket and slept on the floor. I woke up the next morning to Harry’s groaning. I grabbed my pillow and threw it at him. “Shut up.” I said sleepily. “I’m so hung over.” said Harry also sleepily. I looked at my clock, it was 8 am. “This is the first time you’ve woken up early voluntarily.” I said. Harry sat up a little and rubbed his eyes. “It’s Sam’s fault.” said Harry. “Do you have anything to help cure this hangover?” He asked. I got up and put away my pillow and blanket. “Molly might have something, she used to go clubbing and get drunk.” I said. Harry got up too. “You said she quit, after what happened to Marvin.” said Harry. I nodded. “Can I use your shower?” asked Harry. He took his shirt off. “Please do, you smell like alcohol.” I said. I left my room to go to Molly’s room. As I walked there, I passed Marvin’s room. Even after half a year, the images of his hanging body still scar me. Me, mom, dad, and Molly went out that day. Marvin stayed behind. He had been badly bullied. When we got home, we went to his room to check on him. When we walked in we saw he had hung himself. I was frozen while mom and Molly fell to their knees. Dad walked to Marvin and untied the noose around his neck. I continued walking to Molly’s room. “Morning Max.” said Molly from the kitchen. I jumped. “I didn’t realize you were up.” I said. She looked at me. “I heard you and Harry, you need a hangover cure?” she asked. “Harry does.” I said. She went over to the medicine cabinet. She grabbed a pill bottle and poured out two pills. Then she went and got some water. “Give him this, then after a while I make him some coffee, and that should do it.” Molly said. She handed me the water and pills. “Ok, thanks Molly.” I said. She smiled at me. I passed mom in the hallway on the way back to my room. She was looking at Marvin’s room. “Morning mom.” I said. “Morning Max.” she said. Dad was working that day so he wasn’t home. When I got back to my room, Harry was already out of the shower and dressed. “Molly said to take these pills and drink this water, she’ll make you some coffee in a little bit.” I told him. He took the pills and water. Then the phone rang. I picked up and it was Eva. “Hey Eva.” I said. “Can we meet up at your house, we need to talk about the details for the camping trip this weekend.” said Eva. “Yeah, I’ll call Sam, you call Hannah and Tara. I’ll also remind Harry since he probably doesn’t remember you mentioning it because he was drunk.” I said. “Great, see you later.” she said. “Bye.” I said. I looked at Harry, who was looking at himself in the mirror. “Hung-over is not a good look for me.” said Harry. “Is that enough motivation for you to stop getting drunk?” I asked. Harry continued looking at himself. “Not enough yet.” said Harry. “By the way, Eva and the gang are coming over today to talk about the camping trip this weekend.” I said taking my shirt off. “We’re going camping this weekend?” Harry asked. “Yep, we planned that while you were drunk last night.” I said. “Well I’m going to take a shower.” I said. “You have to look good for Eva.” said Harry in a mocking voice. “Shut up.” I said as I threw a pillow at him again. This time the pillow knocked him back onto the bed. 

Chapter 4 

When everyone got to my house, we started talking about this upcoming weekend. “Nice look, Harry.” said Hannah. Harry was wearing a black hoodie with jeans and sunglasses. “Stop talking, everytime you speak is like a hammer hitting my brain.” said Harry. “YOU MEAN LIKE THIS” I shouted. “GAH” said Harry rubbing his head. Everyone else laughed. “Okay, Okay, let's get started.” said Eva. We all sat on the couch in my basement. “My uncle said I could pick up the R.V. at 4:00 on Friday.” said Eva. “Okay, so we meet at my house at 4:30?” I said. “That works for me.” said Sam. “We’re in.” said Hannah, pointing to herself and Tara. “I’m in.” said Harry. “Great, so Friday, my house at 4:30.” I said. “Ok, I guess we’ll see eachother then.” said Eva. Then everyone went home. I went upstairs to my room. I sat down at my typewriter and started typing again. Before I knew it it was Friday. Of course, Harry was the first one at my house. Sam was the second one to come, then it was Hannah and Tara. Then we heard a honk from outside. We ran outside to Eva in the R.V. “Hey losers, who’s ready to go camping?” shouted Eva from the R.V. She hoped out of the R.V. “Let’s hit the road.” she said. We put our luggage in the back of the R.V.  and got into it. Then Eva grabbed my arm. “Could you sit up front with me?” she said. “Yeah, sure.” I said. I could feel my heart beating like crazy. It took us hours to get to the mountains, when we got there, it was getting dark. Sam, Harry, and I got firewood while the girls set up camp. When we got back, Harry went to his backpack. “Look what I’ve brought.” said Harry, who was holding a bag of marshmallows, chocolate, and a box of graham crackers. “Of course Harry would bring the junk food.” said Sam. I walked toward Harry, who was eyeing the food he brought. “Yeah, and I better take them before he decides to eat them all, like the last camping trip.” I said. “Awww.” said Harry as he handed me the S’mores ingredients. “Yeah, he ate all the marshmallows, half of the chocolate, and almost all the graham crackers.” said Hannah. Harry just rolled his eyes. Hannah sat down on the log next Eva. “Hey, I was going to sit there.” I said. Hannah looked at me. “Too bad, I sat here first.” said Hannah. “But I always sit next to Eva.” I said. Apparently Harry was listening to our conversation. “Oooh oh.” He said with a high pitched voice. “Shut up.” I said, looking at him. Harry just laughed. “Oh come on Hannah, let him sit here.” said Eva. Hannah got up. “Fine, I want to sit next to Tara anyway.” said Hannah. She walked over to Tara. “You love me, right?” said Hannah. “I have for a long time, babe.” said Tara. Eva and I laughed. Once it was dark we lit the campfire, and roasted the marshmallows Harry brought. We all told stories and laughed. When it was silent Hannah spoke. “I’m sorry to be a downer, I know this supposed to be a fun, happy summer, but I can’t stop thinking about senior year and how hard it was for all of us.”  said Hannah. Eva looked at her. “Han, you went through something huge.” said Eva. Sam, Harry, and I agreed in unison with what Eva said. “I know, but I felt so alone. I was afraid that not even you guys would accept me.” said Hannah. “Hannah, we love you for who you are, no matter what your sexual preferences are; if we didn’t accept you, we would be pretty lousy friends.” I said. She smiled. Then Harry chimed in. “My father has been slowly dying my entire life, but this past year, things have gotten really bad for him.” Harry said. A tear fell from his eye. “I don’t think I’ll ever see him again after I leave for basics.” Harry said. Hannah put her hand on Harry’s back. Sam was next to speak up. “I thought I’d have to watch my mom slowly die too.” he said. “I never thought I’d lose her so quickly, she didn’t even get to watch me graduate.” said Sam. Eva spoke up next. “Watching my father hit my mom over and over again, and not doing anything about it was the hardest part about senior year.” she said. She looked down. “I wished I had plucked up the courage to call the authorities sooner then maybe my mom’s mind wouldn’t be so messed up.” she said. I put my arm around her shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself.” I said. I sat up and looked at everyone. It was my turn to speak up. “ I still can’t walk past Marvin’s room without seeing scarring images of his hanging lifeless body.” I said. I started to cry as the memories came flooding back. “ I tried to get him to open up, but he just wouldn’t.” I said. “I feel like I should have tried harder.” I said. “You did the best you could.” said Eva, patting my back gently. “Yeah, you said he wasn’t the easiest to get to open up.” said Harry. “Yeah, even I’m not the easiest to get to open up.” I said. “But I thought out of all people, he would open up to me, but he didn’t.” I said. Then everyone went silent for a while. “Why don’t we call it a night.” said Eva. We all agreed. We turned out the fire and went back into the R.V. to sleep. The next day we packed up everything in silence. We had never opened up to each other like we did last night. As I was cleaning up the fire pit, Hannah grabbed my arm. “Max, we need to talk.” she said. “Ok.” I said. We went to an area of the campsite where the others couldn’t hear us. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help with Marvin.” she said. “I knew what he was going through, kind of.” she said. “I think I could have gotten him to open up.” she said. I looked at her. “Hannah, you were going through something too, you were busy dealing with your own problems.” I told her. “I just wish, I knew what he was going through, I mean looking back on it, it seems so obvious.” I said. “ He had make-up, he had posters of boys on his wall.” I said. “You would be amazed at how oblivious people can be.” said Hannah. “Thanks, Hannah.” I said. She smiled. “I guess we better get back.” she said. We walked back to the campsite. We got in the R.V. and went home. 

Chapter 5 

Late Sunday night, I was typing on my typewriter, when I heard knocking on my window. I looked out the window, it was Harry. I went and opened the window. “Come in.” I said to Harry. He climbed in. “What happened at the campfire was crazy.” said Harry. We sat on my bed. “I know, I’ve only ever opened up about Marvin to you.” I said. Harry looked at me. “Same about my dad.” he said. We sat in silence for a while. “What’s next on the summer bucket list?” said Harry trying to sound enthusiastic, but I could tell he was still thinking about what happened at the campfire. “ I’m looking at plane tickets to Destin, Florida.” I said. His fake smile went away. “I know you miss going to the beach with your family.” I said. Harry didn’t reply, he just looked away. “It’s getting late, I better get home.” said Harry. I walked with him back to the window. He hopped out the window. “Hey, don’t think about what happened at the campfire too hard, we’re all still trying to process what happened.” I said. He smiled at me, and this time it wasn’t a fake smile. I closed the window as he left and went back to typing on my typewriter. The next day, I had everyone over again. Whatever tension was among us, after what happened at the campfire, was gone. We were back to our normal selves. “My dad said he could get us 6 business class seats.” I said. My dad works for the airport. “Sounds good.” said Eva. “When will we leave?” asked Sam. “Wednesday at 10:00 am.” I said. I looked at Harry, who tried to remain happy, but obviously he wished he could bring his parents. “Sorry Harry, this means you’ll have to get up early.” I said. He rolled his eyes as the rest of us laughed. Before we knew it, it was Wednesday. I got up at 8:00 am and picked up Harry. Everyone else was already at the airport by the time we got there. “It’s about time.” said Hannah. “Yeah, Yeah.” I said. Harry was practically drooling on my shoulder. He really doesn’t do mornings. I don’t know how he’s going to survive the army. My dad walked over to us with plane tickets in his hand. “Here you go, 6 business class tickets.” he said. “Thanks, dad.” I said. “You be careful, you hear?” dad said. We all nodded. Dad and I said our goodbyes and he went back to work. My friends and I went to our gate to get on the plane. On the plane I sat between Eva and Harry. Sam sat next to Hannah and Tara. “Great, I have to sit next to the love birds.” said Sam. “Do you want to switch seats with me?” asked Eva. I became terrified when she asked that. Sam must have seen the terror in my face because he told her no. When we landed we got our luggage and went to the beach house we rented. “Me, Tara, and Eva need to go swimsuit shopping.” said Hannah. Me, Sam, and Harry looked at the girls.“You didn’t before we came?” I asked. “It’s not like you gave us a lot of time.” said Eva. Hannah and Tara nodded. “You have a point.” I replied. The girls left. Me, Sam, and Harry changed into our swimsuits and went swimming in the pool. “CANNONBALL!” shouted Harry as he jumped into the pool. Sam and I were already in the pool. “What do you think, boys.” said Hannah as she, Tara, and Eva were modeling their bikinis. Harry wolf-whistled, while Sam and I oohed. Hannah jumped in the pool, splashing me, Sam, and Harry. Tara and Eva followed suit. Eva got out of the pool first and I followed her. “Hey, you okay?” I asked as we both got our towels. “Yeah, I just don’t want to turn into a prune.” she said. I looked over at Harry. He mouthed “Tell her, you coward”. I mouthed back “No”. Then Hannah splashed Harry. I heard Harry say “I’m going to get you for that”. Eva and I laughed at them. Then we watched them chase each other for a while. “Ew, Harry” Hannah said. “What?” said Sam. “He farted.” said Hannah. Sam and Tara swam far from Harry. “I didn’t just fart.” said Harry. “Gross Harry.” we all said. “I feel bad for whoever has to clean the pool.” I told Eva. “I’m just glad I don’t have to clean Harry’s pee out of the pool.” she replied. Then we both laughed as Sam, Hannah, and Tara got out of the pool. The next day we went to the beach. I saw Harry standing and looking out at the water. I stood next to him. “You okay?” I asked. He continued to look out at the water. “Yeah, I just wish I could have brought them.” he said. I knew he was talking about his parents. “This was a magical place for them.” He said. He looked at me. “This is where my dad proposed to my mom.” He said. He looked back out over the water. “Just because they can’t come here doesn’t mean the magic is gone.” I said. Then a girl with brown hair and green eyes came up to us. “Harry.” she said. “Gina.” he said. Gina hugged him. “It’s good to see you again.” she said. “Are your parents here too?” she asked. “No, I’m here with my friends. My dad’s not doing too well.” said Harry. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Gina replied. Harry looked at me. “Oh Gina, this is my best friend, Max.” said Harry. I shook hands with Gina. “Nice to meet you.” I said. “Harry never stops talking about you.” she said. “Harry, you’ve been talking behind my back?” I said jokingly offended. “It’s all good things, I promise.” said Harry. We all laughed. Later that evening we sat on our beach blankets. We were quiet until, as usual, Hannah broke the silence. “We need to talk about the elephant in the room.” said Hannah. “I don’t see any elephants.” Harry said looking around. We laughed. “It’s just a metaphor Harry.” I said. Metaphors fly right over his head. “I mean that night at the campfire.” said Hannah. We nodded. “It was weird.” said Hannah. “And yet, it was satisfying.” I said. Everyone looked at me. “I mean, I don’t know about you guys, but it felt really good getting that stuff about my brother off my chest.” I said. “I know I’m not the easiest to get to open up.” I said. “I only opened up to Harry about my brother before I told you guys.” I said. Harry was next to speak. “I’m not the easiest to get to open up either, I tend to hide my emotions.” he said. “Like Max, I only opened up to him about my dad before I told you guys.” he said. “Well, you two have known each other longer than any of us.” Eva said. “I’m glad that we feel comfortable enough to open up to each other about these things.” said Hannah. “That may have been the first time we opened up to each other, but it most definitely won’t be the last.” She said. “I know I’ll need your support again.” she said. We all agreed with her. “I turned to Harry. “So, who was that Gina girl we saw earlier?” I asked. “She lived next to my grandparents when they lived here.” Harry said. “She was the only kid my age in their neighborhood.” he said. By the time we finished talking, it was dark. We went back inside the beach house. In my room, I unpacked my typewriter and started typing. We spent the next day at the beach again. Sam made Harry do a run on the beach, which Harry hated. We also had Harry’s friend Gina take a photo of us. We took one photo of us with our arms around each other. We took another with girls on Harry, Sam, and my shoulders. We left Destin on Saturday. When we got back it was already mid-July. Everyone came to my house on Monday. “So, what’s next on our summer bucket list?” asked Harry. “Wanna go to a concert? I heard ABBA is coming to town.” said Hannah. “I’m in.” Harry said. “Me too.” said Eva. “When is it?” I asked. “Two weeks from Friday.” said Hannah. “Sure why not.” said Sam. “Great, I’ll get us tickets.” said Hannah. 

Chapter 6 

It was the day of the concert and I was getting ready, when Harry knocked on my window. I opened the window. “Are you ready for the best night ever?” asked Harry. I laughed. “Come in.” I said. He came in and looked at my outfit. “You are not going in that.” He said. I rolled my eyes. “What’s wrong with it.”  I said. “You look like a 58 year old taking their child to a concert.” said Harry. “Fine, you pick something out for me to wear. He went through my closet and threw everything out all over my room. “Dude, I just cleaned my room.” I said. Harry ignored me. “Why do you have the wardrobe of a senior citizen?” said Harry. When he finally picked me out an outfit to wear we left my house and met up with the rest of the gang. We got to the show and they played a bunch of great songs. Including: Dancing Queen, Mamma Mia, and Super Trouper. We were having a great time until they started playing Our Last Summer. Our excitement turned into sadness. We looked at each other as we were reminded that this was our last summer together. I realized I brought my camera. I quickly got it out and everyone posed and smiled even though on the inside, we were crying. After the concert, we went to the cafe. We were silent for a while. “I’m sorry guys, I didn’t know they would play Our Last Summer.” Hannah said. At that moment The Winner Takes It All started playing on the radio. “It’s okay, you didn’t know, Hannah.” I said. We still sat in silence. “What’s next on our summer bucket list.” said Harry unenthusiastically. His head was buried in his arms. None of us said anything. “I better go, it’s late.” I said. Harry stood up. “He’s my ride.” said Harry motioning towards me. We left the cafe. I turned around and saw Eva looking at me. I lingered on her for a second, then turned back around and went to my car. Harry and I rode in silence back to our houses. When we got out of  the car, we didn’t say a word to each other. We just looked at each other and left. I went straight to my room. I didn’t even look at Marvin’s room. I just went to my room and got into bed. I barely slept that night. At 8 am I heard Harry knocking at my window. He also looked like he barely slept. I let him in. “Couldn’t sleep either?” he said. I nodded. “It feels the closer we get to separating, the more it feels like our endless summer is coming to an end.” I said. “I know what you mean.” said Harry. “You need to tell Eva how you feel before it’s too late.” said Harry. This time he was dead serious. “I know, and I’m running out of time.” I said. “You should talk to your family.” said Harry. I looked at him confused. “About Marvin, I know you haven’t since he died.” He said. “You should talk to your parents.” I said. It was his turn to look confused. “About how you feel about your dad’s disease.” I said. “If I talk to my parents, will you talk to your family?” asked Harry. “It’s a deal.” I said as me and Harry shook hands. “I better go if I'm going to talk to them.” said Harry. “Yeah, see ya.” I said. He hopped out the window. I stood there for a second. Then I went into the bathroom and got ready for the day. I went to the kitchen, where my mom, dad, and sister Molly were sitting at the table. “We need to talk.” I said to them. “About what, honey?” mom said. I sighed and looked at them. “About Marvin.” I said. Mom looked taken aback. “N-not now honey.” mom said. Dad took her hand.“No Marlene, he’s right we need to talk.” he said. Molly nodded. “Ok then.” said mom, reluctantly. I sat down at the table. “I haven’t been honest about my emotions.” I said. Mom, dad, and Molly looked at me. “I’m not as over Marvin’s death as I seem.” I said. I started to cry. “I feel like I should have tried harder to get him to open up.” I said through my tears. “I can’t walk past his room without seeing his body hanging there.” I said. I wiped my tears on my arm. Mom and Molly started to cry. I saw dad let out a few tears too. “I was supposed to watch out for him too,” I said. I looked at Molly. “Not just you.” I said. Molly spoke up. “I know I’ve been  overprotective, but I feel like I failed Marvin, as his sister I was supposed to watch out for him.” she said. She looked at me. “I don’t want to lose you too.” she said. I put my hand over hers. “I failed him too, as his brother I was supposed to watch out for him too.” I said to Molly.  We all hugged and cried. Mom and dad also took turns talking about Marvin. We all felt better after letting out our emotions. I went over to Harry’s. I knocked on his bedroom window. He opened the window. “Come in.” he said. “I talked to my family about Marvin.” I said. “How did it go?” asked Harry. ‘Really well, Things are good now.” I said. “Did you talk to your parents?” I asked. Harry shook his head. “Strike out?” I said. “Chickened out.” he replied. I bumped him with my arm. “Coward.” I said. Harry smiled a little. “Ah, how the tables have turned.” he said. I smiled too. “It feels so good finally being on the other end of that.” I said. Harry laughed. “I guess I better talk to them.” Harry said. “I leave you to it then.” I said. I walked with him. He went into the front room where his parents were. I stood by the wall and watched. “We need to talk.” said Harry. He looked at his dad. “Since your condition started escalating, I got so scared.” Harry paused. “I know when I leave for basics, it will probably be the last time I see you.” Harry said. He started to cry. He looked at his mom. “I’ve let you baby me, because I know you’re used to caring for someone and I don’t want to make this hard on you by arguing with you.” he said. Before his mother could speak, his father spoke. “Harry, I know it has been hard.” his dad said. He looked at Harry’s mom. “Especially for you Portia.” He said. “Franklin…” she said. “I’m just glad I’ve gotten to watch you grow up into this wonderful man.” He said. Harry smiled at him. “I have some advice for you, don’t miss what you have until it’s gone.” He said. Then his mother spoke up. “ I know growing up this house hasn’t been easy, but you’re the light in my life and seeing you happy, makes all of this a breeze.” she said to Harry. They all hugged. I smiled. I saw Harry look at me and we smiled at each other. Then I left. I thought of what Harry’s father said. “Don’t miss what you have until it’s gone”. When I got home I called the gang. I told them to come to my house as soon as they could. 

Chapter 7 

Once everyone got to my house, I talked to them. “Listen I know we have been fretting over our inevitable separation at the end of the summer, but I heard Harry’s dad tell him some good advice.” I said. “Advice we really should listen to.” I said. I looked at all of them: Harry, Sam, Hannah, Tara, and Eva. “He said “don’t miss what you have until it’s gone.”” I said. We all looked at each other. Harry spoke up. “He means don’t worry about the future.” he said. He looked at all of us. “We may be separating at the end of summer, but for now, we still have each other, so let’s enjoy what we have before it’s gone.” He said. Eva looked up. “I like that. Live in the moment, don’t worry about the future.” she said. She started to smile. Then slowly we all started to smile. “I have an idea.” I said. I stood up. “Why don’t we have a party?” I said. Everyone was enthusiastic about that idea. “Whose house should it be at?” I asked. Everyone pointed at me. “Me?” I said. “Harry’s the one who’s better at party planning and his house is the same build as mine.” I said.”Yeah throw at my house where my crabby dad will complain all night.” Harry said. “Point taken.” I said. “Just help throw the party.” I said. Harry nodded. “I’ll have to ask my parents, but I should be able to throw the party.” I said. “Now who wants to be in charge of music?” I said grabbing a pen and paper. “Tara’s brother is in a band.” said Hannah. “He owes me a bunch of favors anyway.” said Tara. I wrote down Hannah and Tara's name next to music on the party list. “I don’t want to know, but OK,” I said. “Who wants to bring foo-” I said “Me!” said Harry interrupting me before I could say “and drinks”. “Just don’t eat it all before you get here.” I said, writing his name next to food and drinks. Harry rolled his eyes as everyone laughed. “Who wants to get the word out?” I asked. “I’ll do it.” said Eva. “I’ll help, I still have everyone on the football team’s numbers.” said Sam. “Great.” I said as I put their names on the list next to invites. “I’ll decorate the place.” I said. “I better help or you’ll make it look like an 80 year old’s birthday party.” Harry said. “Hey!” I said. Everyone else laughed. That Friday, my family decided it was finally time to clean out Marvin’s room. “Mom, dad, can I have a party here tomorrow.” I asked. They looked at me. “ My friends and I want to have one last big party before we leave.” I said. Mom and dad looked at each other. “Oh let him do it.” said Molly. “Fine, you can have your party, just don’t make a big mess.” said mom. “I won’t.” I said. Molly moved closer to me. “Can I supervise?” she asked. “If that’s your way of asking if you’re invited, then yes, you can come.” I said. She smiled. The next day, Molly helped me decorate. Then we heard knocking on the door. ‘That’s Harry.” I said. I opened the door. “Well it’s not as much of a disaster as I thought.” said Harry looking at the decorations. Molly and I laughed. “This is the first time I’ve seen you use the front door.” said Molly. Harry laughed. “Well when you put our rooms facing each other, it’s just easier to go through the window.” I said. I turned towards Harry. “Give me the food and drinks.” I said. He handed them over. “We’ll get these out when the party starts, so you don’t eat it all beforehand.” I said. I went into the kitchen to hide the food from Harry. He followed. “Ok, you're going to have to close your eyes, I don’t want you seeing where I put these.” I said. He rolled his eyes and closed them. “Molly seems better.” He said. “Yeah, we all have been better since we talked about Marvin.” I said putting the food and drinks into a high cupboard. “You can open your eyes now.” I said. “I also brought some clothes.” said Harry, smirking. It was my turn to do an eye roll. “Fine, let’s go to my room.” I said. “And no dressing me like a posh pirate.” I said. We went to my room. I looked in the mirror. I was wearing a faded blackish-blue button up shirt that had a design on the sleeves. I also wore black pants. ‘I actually don’t look bad.” I said. “My style isn’t just posh pirate.” said Harry. The doorbell rang. We went out of my room. Molly got the door. It was Eva and Sam. “Hey guys.” I said. “Looking good Max.” said Eva. “Believe it or not, this is what Harry dressed me in.” I said. Eva looked surprised. “Really, I thought his style was posh pirate.” She said. “Really.” said Harry, fakely annoyed. We all laughed. Molly started to close the door. “Wait, don’t close the door.” said Hannah. We looked outside and saw a van. Tara was carrying a guitar, while a guy with long dark hair carried another guitar. “Where can the band set up?” asked Tara. she looked towards the guy with long dark hair who stood beside her. ‘Oh, this is my brother, Tom.” she said. Tom waved. “Just set up over here.” I said leading them towards the main room. The rest of the band walked in with instruments. There were two girls and two more guys. 

Chapter 8 

The music was loud and everyone was having a great time at the party. My friends and I were dancing. Of course, Harry was eating all the food. I walked over towards Harry. “Sam and Eva did a great job getting the word out.” I said. “Yeah.” Harry said with his mouth full of food. He grabbed my shoulder. “Tell Eva how you feel.” he said. She was dancing. I walked towards her. She grabbed my hand and we started dancing. Then the band started playing a slow song. Eva put her hands around my neck. I put my hands around her waist. She rested her head against my chest. We turned and I looked at Harry. He was so shocked that food fell from his mouth (trust me, he would never let that happen). I smiled. I wanted that moment to last forever, but alas it couldn’t. When the slow song ended, Eva let go and thanked me for the dance. Then I was alone on the dance floor. I walked back to where Harry was. “Did you tell her?” Harry asked excitedly. “No, we didn’t talk, just danced.” I said. The night went on. We all had a great time. The next morning we awoke on the couches. Sam on one couch, Harry and I on another, and the girls on the other couch. “That was some party.” said Sam. “What time is it?” I asked. “8 am” said Eva. Harry pulled his pillow closer towards him, but it was obvious he was awake. “Get up lazy bones, we’ve got to clean the house before mom and dad get back.” said Molly. I looked around. “They’re going to kill me if they see this.” I said. “We’ll help clean up.” said Eva. She looked at Harry, who was hugging his pillow. “Right Harry?” she said as she threw her pillow at him. He didn’t even try to block it. He groaned as the pillow hit him. We got up and started cleaning the house. I walked over to the stereo with a rag in my hand. “I think this would be more fun with some music.” I said as I bumped the stereo with my hip and music started playing. We all started dancing as we cleaned. Molly looked out the window at the driveway. “They’re here!” she said. We ran around like maniacs to put the cleaning supplies up. I bumped the stereo to turn it off. We all stood in the main room as Molly opened the door for mom and dad. Mom looked around the house. “Well the house doesn’t look like a disaster.” she said. She looked at me. “You escaped a punishment this time.” she said jokingly. I laughed. “You all should consider taking a shower.” dad said. Mom nodded. We smelled ourselves. They were right, we stunk. “I guess we better go.” said Eva. Everyone agreed. “See ya.” I said.  After they left, I went to my room to shower. After my shower, I looked at my typewriter. I sat down at it and typed. 

Chapter 9 

It was just a week before we were all going our separate ways. I looked at my camera on my bed. I put my shoes on and picked it up. I was going to the drug store to get the photos developed. I got back home after getting the photos developed. I sat on my bed and looked at the photos. The first one was taken at Mr. Bank’s ice cream shop. The next one was taken at the club where Harry dressed me like a posh pirate. He was obviously drunk in the photo. The next one was taken when we went camping in the mountains. The next two were taken at the beach in Destin. The one after that was taken at the ABBA concert. The last one was taken at the party last night. I found one of me and Eva dancing. Harry must have taken that one when I wasn’t looking. I went back to the drugstore to copy the photos, so I could give my friends the photos too. Except for the one that Harry took of me and Eva. I kept that one for myself. I kept on looking at it. Harry was right, I needed to tell her how I felt, but I was running out of time. I put the photo in my pocket and took the photos I copied and went home. My friends came over to look at the photos. I went over to Harry and took the photo of me and Eva out of my pocket. “You took this one didn’t you.” I said. Harry didn’t say anything, he just winked. “We only have a week left.” I said. ‘Well at least we accomplished our mission of spending as much of the summer as we could together.” said Sam. “Yeah, we even finished our summer bucket list.” said Hannah. “Hey, live in the moment, remember.” said Eva. “Yeah, don’t miss what you have until it’s gone.” said Harry. That night after everyone had left, Harry knocked on the window. I let him in. “I can’t believe there's only a week before we all leave.” said Harry. “I know.” I said. We sat on my bed. “I’m going to miss climbing in and out of that window.” said Harry. “I’m not, I’ve gotten so many bruises from climbing in and out of these windows.” I said. We laughed. “But I’ll miss you knocking on my window.” I said. Harry looked at my typewriter. “You finish what you were typing?” asked Harry. I didn’t tell anyone, not even him about it. “How did you know about that? I asked. “I’m not stupid.” he said. I raised my eyebrow. “Ok, I’m not smart, but I’m not dumb.” he said. “I know you’re working on something on that typewriter.” he said. “I looked at it when you asked Molly about that hangover cure.” He said. I looked at the typewriter. “No, I’m not done yet.” I said. “It’s really good.” Harry said. I looked at him. “Thanks.” I said. “You should publish that one day.” he said. “You really think I should.” I said. “Yeah, then this summer would truly be endless.” He said. That was one of the smartest things I ever heard Harry say. I looked at the partially packed boxes in my room. “I’m really going to miss you, Harry.” I said. He looked at me. “I’m going to miss you too, Max.” he said. 

Chapter 10

 It was the last day we had together before we went our separate ways. We were in my basement, sitting quietly. “I can’t believe this is it.” Hannah said. Even Harry looked blue, and he’s always happy. “I’m really going to miss you guys.” I said. Eva wiped tears away from her eyes. “It’s going to be so weird not meeting up in Max’s basement.” she said. “I know what you mean.” said Sam. “Me and Tara have to go, our flight leaves at midnight.” said Hannah. “Yeah, I have an early flight tomorrow.” said Sam. We all went upstairs. I walked with them outside. We hugged and they walked away, leaving me standing on my driveway. They all turned around and ran back for one final group hug. We all cried and hugged each other tight. Then they all left. That night I was finishing packing my stuff. I looked at the photo of us in Destin. Then I heard a knock at my window. I set the photo down and I let Harry in. I packed the last of my stuff in a box. “There that's the last of my stuff.” I said. Harry looked at me. “This is our last secret late night talk.” said Harry. His eyes were watering. My eyes started watering too. “It feels like just yesterday summer started, and now it’s ending.” I said. “I know, summer went by so fast.” he said. “I’m glad I get to call you my best friend.” I said. “Me too.” said Harry. “The army’s getting one hell of a guy.” I said. Harry laughed. “So is the college.” said Harry. We hugged. “I better get some sleep, I got to leave early tomorrow.” said Harry. I walked with him back to the window. “Me too, see ya.” I said. After he climbed out of the window, I locked it. I cried as I let go of the latch. I turned around and looked at my empty room. The next day My parents helped pack my stuff into my car. I hugged Molly. “I’m going to miss you.” I said to her. “I’m going to miss you too.” she said. She leaves tomorrow to get to her apartment in the city. I saw Harry walk out of his house with his bags. He went down to the end of his driveway to wait for the bus to get to the train station. I walk down to him. It was strange to see him wearing his army uniform. His eyes were red and puffy as if he had been crying. “Hey.” I said, standing next to him. “I’m never going to see my dad again.” He said. He looked at me. “He’s gotten worse, he can hardly speak.” said Harry. “I’m so sorry.” I said. We both looked at the road. “This is it, once that bus comes, I may never see you again.” I said. “I’ll try to write.” Harry said. The bus came after an hour, it felt like seconds. I turned to Harry. “See ya.” I said. We hugged and cried. He got on the bus. I watched it until it was gone. I went inside to say my goodbyes to my family. Then I got into my car. I looked at our houses one last time. Then I drove away. I got to my dorm room and unpacked. I sat on my bed. I looked at the photos of me and my friends. I took the photo of me and Eva out of my pocket. I looked at it. Then I realized, now was my last chance to tell Eva how I felt. I got up and grabbed my car keys. I got into my car and drove to where Eva was going to school. When I got there I got out of my car and scanned the entrance for Eva. When I found her, I ran to her. “EVA” I shouted. She turned around and looked at me in shock. “Max, what are you doing here?” she asked. “I- I need to tell you something.” I said, panting. “Eva, I um, I-I-I... I love you.” I said, nervously. She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed me. “I know, Harry told me when he was drunk that night we went clubbing.” Eva said. “I love you too Max.” she said. “Harry would be so shocked right now.” I said. She laughed. “I’ve got to get to class.” she said. I watched her leave. I went back to my car and drove back to my dorm. The next day after classes, I checked my mailbox. There was a letter from Eva there. I went back to my dorm room and read it. It read: “Dear Max, I’m glad you feel the same as I do about us. I’m planning on staying at the community college until my mom gets better. When she does, I’ll transfer to your school. Then hopefully we will be able to be together. Love Eva”. I had the biggest grin on my face. I looked at the rest of my mail. There was a letter from Harry, Sam, and Hannah. I read all of them. Then I unpacked my typewriter and began typing replies to all of them. Then I looked at what I had been typing all summer and finished it. The summer of  1980 was one of the best and worst summers. My friends and I had a great time that summer, but leaving was one of the hardest and most emotional things we did together. But somehow I knew we would see each other again someday, hopefully soon. 

The End.

[color-of-magic]

Becoming LGBT?

I started preschool when I was three years old, and I went to the same all-boys catholic preschool that my brother had gone to two years before me. I only went there for a year, and I don’t remember any of it, but there’s this really cute picture of me on picture day standing in a crowd of eight boys fixated on the doggy chew toy that I had in my mouth. 

The next year I went to a co-ed presbyterian preschool, and I cant really tell from the picture, but I think there were only two boys in my class. My best friend was named Theresa and she had a hyphenated last name that I thought was the longest name I had ever seen, and she was allergic to tree nuts and peanuts and milk and eggs, and every Friday I would go over to her house and we would watch that movie Spirit and we would do a 100 piece puzzle and plan the rest of our lives together. We were going to adopt a puppy and a pony and live on a farm together and I know this because I saved all the letters we wrote to each other for years after I moved again. 

In kindergarten I kissed my best friend while playing and the teacher saw and suddenly they weren’t fine with us playing house with two mommies and I was sent to the principals office. I got a talking to about how you aren't allowed to touch other people while at school and I was so scared by my visit that the next time I would allow myself to touch a friend would be in 10th grade. 

In first grade I was sent to my grandparents house without my parents for the first time. and I got to play with my grandparent’s old transformers. My parents were starting to get worried about my tomboyishness and were making me wear more and more pink and skirts and dresses and I would cry every time they did but I would still wear them to make my parents happy.

At this time my grandfather began to pester me about the boys in my class that I might have a crush on. He heard the name Evan once and to this day he still asks “How’s Evan doing?” and “Has Evan asked you out yet?” Jokes on you, Grandpa, he’s gay too now.

I really liked playing with those transformers and I would sit on the rug in my grandparent’s living room while my grandmother read a book on the couch, and once she caught me completely by surprise by looking over at me out of the blue and asking if I felt like a boy trapped in a girls body. I was so surprised by this that I said yes, because I knew that I wasn’t a girl and if I wasn’t a girl then I must have been a boy. Somehow this got back to my parents and my father hit me until I cried and I promised that I would never call myself a boy again. 

Sometimes a girl would look at me and I would forget how to breathe and I told myself that it was just because I was shy but it never seemed to happen with boys. 

In the beginning of fourth grade I heard the word gay used as an insult for the first time and it was directed at my older brother and I was confused because the only time that I had ever seen gay used was in the book Pippy Longstocking. In the book it meant happy and I was wondering why happy would be an insult. 

At the end of fourth grade I was so tired of being asked who my crush was and not having an answer that I opened my yearbook and closed my eyes and pointed to a person at random and did this three or four times until the person my finger landed on was a boy. From that moment on he was who I said my crush was whenever I was asked. His name was John in case you were wondering. 

In fifth grade I got my first crush on a fictional character. It was Ginny Weasly but in my head I justified it by saying that I was just so happy with Ginny and Harry’s relationship. At this point I began thinking the reason I didn’t feel like a girl because I read so many books with a boy as the main character. And maybe I didn’t like boys because that main character always kissed the girl. I stopped reading at that point. 

My mother made me start wearing bras in the fifth grade and I can remember hiding under the comforter on my bead in just my underwear and new bra, crying that first morning she made me put it on because it felt so wrong and I didn’t want anyone to be able to tell that I was a girl. Later that day we went to Costco and I remember that I hid in the bathroom stall and I took my shirt off and stared at my chest and cried instead of peed because I knew that even if I took the bra off people would still be able to tell that I was a girl because I had boobs now. 

In sixth grade the first couple of the school got together and they held hands on the playground and kissed once and I was confused because I kissed a friend once and got in so much trouble but they could kiss and hold hands and face no consequences. 

In seventh grade I started thinking girls were so pretty and sometimes I couldn’t take my eyes off them and there was this one girl in particular, she played softball and the clarinet and was in all but two of my classes and she wore skirts with t-shirts and had dark brown hair and eyes and then she moved away and we never spoke again. 

In 8th grade I was told by a friend that this friend of another friend of her’s liked me and my heart stopped and I turned bright red and stammered out a very not convincing no-homo that I’m sure she didn’t at all believe. 

In ninth grade I became an Ally but I would do that obnoxious straight person thing where I would say 100 times in a sentence that I am straight but support the gays no-homo. 

In tenth grade I identified what I was feeling as what can be described at “homosexual tendencies”, but I was so scared of being gay that I justified it in my head by saying that I wasn’t feeling any sexual or romantic attraction to these girls, just aesthetic, so I’m probably asexual and not in any way a lesbian. And after all, I had a crush on Evan and John, remember?

In 11th grade I realized that yes, I am defiantly attracted to girls. Not at all asexual like I once thought. 11th grade was the year of very intense gay feelings for people that never quite went away, but I always managed to convince myself that it would never work because they were straight. As it turns out, only one of them are actually straight. 

11th grade was also the start of all the self-hatred. Because I was disgusting for liking these girls and if any of them knew what I was feeling they would all hate me and I would never be able to make friends again. Gay marriage hadn’t yet been legalized and I was so worried for my future and whether I would be able to get a job or adopt kids or live a happy life. 

In 12th grade I went to prom with a beautiful girl. Just as friends of course, but I still remember her red dress and the way her hair curled down her back and the shade of her lipstick. And I might have had a mild, no, correct that, major crush on her too. And I danced with a different girl at the end of the night, just before it closed at midnight as the lights were starting to come back on and people were starting to exit. When we were done she kissed the back of my hand like I had done to my friend all those years ago and her lipstick stained my skin and shoulder and in that moment I wasn’t afraid of who would see me or how I would be perceived. In that moment I thought maybe gay can be okay. 

Sense I’ve left high school I’ve done a lot. I’ve gone from being completely closeted to coming out to a friend, and then another friend (all over text mind you, because I’m too scared to do that sort of thing in person) to saying the words “I’m a lesbian” out loud for the first time. I’ve gotten my first binder and I’ve changed my pronouns and name (more times than I can count before I finally found one I liked and told others). I’ve made so many gay friends and I’ve become comfortable with myself as a result of their support. I’ve gone to my first and second pride and I’ve become the vice-president of the gay club. All that’s left now is for me to kiss my first cute girl and live happily ever after