#I fully went to sleep on yesterday but my laptop was never charged and I couldn't be bothered to find the cord before I crashed

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: June 15

“Hello My Old Heart" by The Oh Hellos

[joshslater]

Five Step Program

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I stared at the contents of the envelope, a blue jockstrap, and a folded piece of paper. I hadn’t put much hope into this “miracle solution” to becoming a jock without any of the work. Of course there was a catch. “First 20 customers get their first shipment free of charge” was enough for me to fill out the form with my information. It wasn’t anything too revealing. Name, address, height, weight, age. A box where you could write what you hoped to achieve with this revolutionary five step program. That’s what they really were after, I guessed. Having people enter their dreams so that they can tailor their next scam better. I was even surprised I got anything in the mail at all, and now having opened it, it made even more sense.

I could see how sending a jockstrap to someone perhaps fulfills some legal requirement that the recipient could now look like a jock. It could be a way to avoid getting a federal fraud charge. But I hadn’t spent a dime on this, so it didn’t make any sense. The jockstrap looked like any other jockstrap, I guessed. I’d never owned one, nor worn one. The pouch was dark blue and made with two layers of some synthetic mesh material. The big waistband was light blue with the letters JOCK repeated in dark blue around it. There was a faint smell of synthetic material and detergent. I did a mental sigh and opened the folded letter.

Congratulation on becoming one of our first customers on the revolutionizing five step Jock Express program. As a thank you for signing up, this first part is totally free of charge. Should you wish to continue the program, as we are confident you will after having successfully completed the first session, simply use the URL at the bottom of this page to enter your credit card information and we’ll send you the next item as soon as the payment is confirmed. I’m happy to inform you that we can offer a reduced price for the entire program, should you chose to start it within five days. The price is only $100 for the next installment, and progressively higher as you advance in the program. There is no commitment to purchase so you can stop the program at any point. We’re confident you will want to complete all the five steps in the Jock Express program.

Fuck that! What morons sign up to this kind of shit?

Instructions: The Jock Express is the easiest and most user friendly fitness program ever developed. Simply drink a lot of water, put on the items included in each program step, as you normally would, and go to sleep.

I was even more confused. Why would that sway anyone to put out $100 for at best another piece of gym clothing? I put it all in my in-tray on my desk and let it slip from my mind. I had dinner, watched TV, answered some late emails and the usual Tuesday stuff. By bedtime I walked past my home office and had the sudden recollection that I had something waiting in the in-tray. Then I remembered what it was, and almost reluctantly decided to go ahead with wearing the damn thing. I was still convinced it was a scam, but was immensely curious to exactly how it would work. If nothing else I would get to feel what wearing a jockstrap feels like. I drank a glass of water, put on the jockstrap, and went to bed. The jockstrap was as comfortable as anything and I quickly went to sleep.

Apparently I slept through the first alarm, and jolted awake on hearing the more incessant buzz from the phone. I jumped out of bed and it wasn’t until halfway to the bathroom I realized I was naked. I wouldn’t say massive, as in cartoonish in any way, but my dick and balls were noticeably bigger than before. It took a few seconds for my still startled brain to put the pieces together. The jockstrap had disappeared and somehow affected the body. It hadn’t replaced any body parts, I could still recognize my dick, but it was for sure altered. Suddenly $100 felt like way too little money. I didn’t even put any pants on as I typed in the URL from the letter. Jock Express step #2  for $100 and express delivery for another $25. Annoyingly no option to order all four remaining steps as a package. I just wanted to have them all in my house as soon as possible.

By the time I had entered all my details, checked all the boxes, and clicked the final webshop button I was rocking a massive hard-on. The biggest one in my life so far, by far. I didn’t care right then if I would come late or call in sick, I just knew that I had to take my pre-cum leaking enhancement for a test drive, and slowly started to move my hand up and down the shaft. It felt better than ever, and lasted longer than I have ever before. I’m not really sure how long, because I zoned out a bit while wanking, and then exploded with an epic load of cum. I managed to tilt the chair back and catch it all on my body, but then I felt really spent and dozed off, only to be brought back with a text message from my boss. Sick day it is, I decided.

A more apt description would be a lewd day. I just cycled between laptop porn, wanking and showers, and combinations thereof. I loved the difference it made when wearing underwear. Even when flaccid you could tell here was action waiting, not just only wearing underwear, but while wearing jeans too. I took photos so I had progress photos to compare with.

The next day was a strange one. I worked all day in the glow of someone with confidence, as if somehow I had done some achievement. I kind of surprised myself with how much of a difference it made when dealing with the pileup of emails from yesterday. Big dick energy. I could make decisions so much faster than I was used to. I don’t know if I really had more confidence, or just didn’t care as much. I was for sure giddy with anticipation of what was yet to come by overnight delivery. I forced myself to stay until official end of office hours and then bolted and drove straight home.

Thank God there was a DHL box in my mailbox, or I don’t know what I would have done. I opened it on my way in, and it’s contents were similar to the first one. A folded letter and some folded cloth. Without opening the letter I unfolded the cloth, which turned out to be a plain, sleeveless, white cotton T-shirt. Had there been someone to high five, I would have done so. I’m not fat, but there is a bit of flabbiness I would love to get rid of, so I couldn’t wait for this part. I felt anticipation in my stomach and something else in my pants. I hadn’t had a wank since this morning.

Evening couldn’t come soon enough. The letter said basically the same as the last one. A new URL for the $400 Jock Express #3, which I immediately ordered, again with overnight shipping. Not really sure what to kill time with, I figured a jock would watch sport, so I just randomly put some football on. I hadn’t really paid any attention to sports before, so I wasn’t sure about who was who, what the series looked like, or really what happened on the field besides the obvious. I ended up masturbating to the football, which in my opinion made it better. By 9:30 I decided to drink a few glasses of water, strip, put on the sleeveless T-shirt, and go to bed. I tossed and turned in anticipation for quite a while. The T-shirt had a very loose fit, and the big holes for the arms made it even more mobile, though it was anchored by the crew neck. Finally at some point I managed to fall asleep.

I woke up before the alarm. It was dark enough that I knew I hadn’t slept through them all. Instead of getting up or turning on the light, I just slowly moved my hand to my chest under the sheet. My chest was about the same size, but felt firmer, I imagined. But more importantly I was naked and the shirt was gone. I moved my hand down and couldn’t contain my joy when I started to feel the faint square of abs. I jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom to have a look in the mirror. The effect was better than I thought from just touch. My torso not only looked fit as a model, with abs and V and all, but younger and with better skin. Perhaps an illusion, but it almost looked like my dick was bigger as well.

Having woken up early, after a wank and a shower, I was one of the first in at the office and quickly got ahead on my tasks for the day. I still had the anticipation I felt yesterday, but today it was more like I knew what to expect. It wasn’t just a one-off or a fluke, this was legit and it was happening. As I started early I decided to flex out early and rush back home. I spent the drive home fantasizing about different types of clothing. I was kind of wishing for those sleeves they use in basket, to amp up my arms, but there might be some scientific reason why they changed the body parts in a specific order. Who was I kidding? This wasn’t science. This was magic.

I ripped open the familiar package as soon as I was inside the front door. This time it was white under armour legging of some sort, ending just below the knees. I was considering strip down fully naked and put on the leggings right then and there, and wear them until it was time to go to bed, but decided against it. Even though the descriptions were vague and didn’t really say you couldn’t do that, I didn’t want to risk fucking up the process. Instead I found some underwear in the same color as the jockstrap and took a pair of scissors to an old white T-shirt to make it look like the one I put on yesterday. Then I put on those, and nothing but, and sat myself in front of the TV, determined to actually try to follow the game this time, whichever game I happened to see.

It might be I imagined it, perhaps because I’ve never really seen myself in a sleeveless T-shirt before, but it looked to me like my arms were a bit more defined than yesterday. I realized that I had just assumed only the parts under the clothes are affected, but that’s just something I made up. It could be that it just primarily acts under the clothes, or perhaps it was just a coincidence and the clothes really could change anything. In the end I let it go. It didn’t matter, I couldn’t prove it either way, and I couldn’t watch a game, have deep thoughts and masturbate all at the same time anyway. I was so into it I almost forgot to order the next package. A steep $1000 for whatever the next item was, but so far it was fucking worth it.

I really liked how I looked in the 3/4 leggings or whatever the fuck they are called. Just imagining how much better I would look the morning after made me go to bed with a big boner, despite being thoroughly wanked. I tried to calm myself by thinking of the last game I watched, and not give Jock Express a thought, and it kind of worked. I know I fell asleep pretty quickly and dreamt of football until the alarm woke me up.

“Fuck yeah!” was the first I could think when I saw myself. The thighs were about as large as before, but the line going down them made it obvious they were muscles and not jiggle matter. It even felt different just standing. I’m almost positive my dick had grown even more. Who the hell wouldn’t dish out $400 or whatever for this shit?

While the day started great it quickly became frustrating with all the corporate bullshit. I knew how to do my job. There were just so many fucking rules in the way of doing it in the best way. Perhaps the anticipation of the second to last package made me be in a bad mood. Whatever. I bolted as soon as I could, cranked up the volume in the car, trying to not think of anything until I got home. I almost punched something when I opened the mailbox and didn’t find an envelope. Instead it was just a note about DHL attempted to deliver while I wasn’t home. I could either call them to deliver tomorrow or drive to a pickup point. Like fuck I would wait another full fucking day.

I was furious when I got back into the car, blasting music as loud as I could, but I quickly calmed down. Perhaps this was a good thing? It might be a box with shoulder pads from football or hockey or lacrosse or whatever the fuck else looks hot. You know what else is hot? Michael at the DHL pickup point. I mean, I’m not homo or anything, I’m just saying he was a good looking dude.

The packet he gave me was a bit disappointing though. No way it could contain anything as large as shoulder pads. I didn’t want to fuck with my mojo, so I kept the same routine as before and didn’t open it until back home. Fucking cleats and socks. Another fucking leg day. And they smelled bad too, like distilled vinegar or some shit. As I entered the URL from the letter on my phone I got two more shocks. The price of the last package was ten thousand fucking dollars! And even worse, the delivery wouldn’t arrive until Monday. Two fucking days away. “This is bullshit” I shouted at nobody and threw the empty cardboard box into the wall to no damage to either.

I was still furious and went straight to the fridge, pulled out a cold can of beer, opened it, and downed half of it. It felt better, but I was still upset on the world in general. I looked at the phone screen again. $10k is a fuckton of money. There wasn’t a rush to buy it right now either, if they didn’t do overnight delivery during weekends. I emptied the can and crushed it against the countertop. It hurt my hand, which just added to my anger for being such a weakling. I pulled the rest of the six-pack out of the fridge and threw it in the living room couch on my way to the bedroom. I needed to get out of these stuffy office clothes and cool down with a cold one, or four.

I ripped off the tie and started to unbutton the shirt on my way into the bedroom, and once there opened the door to my wardrobe. I felt like a girl, not knowing what to wear. I hated everything my eyes fell on, and I hated feeling like that. I bunched the shirt into a ball and threw it into a corner, together with the tie. I climbed out of the pants as quickly as I could and threw them there as well. Then I stopped myself.

Everything I saw I really liked, I realized. The pecs, the abs, the thighs, and the generous bulge in the boxer briefs.I yanked off my socks and more deliberately lowered my boxers to let the dick and balls loose. I knew what I wanted from this junk selection of clothes, and opened a drawer with my athletic clothes and pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants. It was Friday and my dick and balls deserved some freedom, I thought, as I put on the sweats without any underwear. I picked up the sleeveless T-shirt from the floor by the bed and put that on as well. I felt so much better. A few beers, whatever game was on, and some more wanking, and perhaps this could turn into a good evening after all.

After two more beers, cum stains on sweatpants, T-shirt and the couch, and fuck knows how many games I zapped through I couldn’t wait any longer. Whatever bullshit the cleats and sock did, the sooner it was over with, the sooner I could move on with the final package. $10k was still a lot, but if I sold all shares I could buy it, keeping both house and car.

The socks went almost up to the knees, but weren’t any real soccer socks or anything like that. The looked more like something someone might have to the gym, or something a skater would wear. Skater was perhaps right, because they smelled like that vinegary acidic smell of really sweaty skater shoes. The socks were white with a wide black band around it near the top, and were a bit off-white on contact surfaces around the foot, as if they had been used in black shoes by someone. As if I would fucking care. I pulled up both legs of the sweats over the knees and put on both socks, pulling them as high as possible. The cleats were black and a bit banged up, but fit perfectly on my feet. I didn’t even remember having given out my shoe size. I was unsure how tight to tie them, so I went with comfortable without being loose.

It felt weird walking with them, like the shoes were pushing your forward. Not at all like my much flatter leather shoes. Somehow my test walking ended up by the fridge, so I grabbed another six-pack and returned to the couch for some more ESPN or whatever.

I had no idea what sport it was on the screen, but glancing out the window I could see that it wasn’t evening anymore. I must have fallen asleep, I realized, but I felt way better than I ought to, given the pile of crushed beer cans around me. I walked to the toilet to have a piss, and it wasn’t until I lowered the front of my sweatpants to grab my morning semi-stiff snake I realized I was barefoot. I was pissing for probably a good minute, aiming down with one hand. Holy fuck so much I’ve kept in while sleeping. I was pretty sure I had cleats and socks on when I fell asleep. I did a few bounces on the balls of the feet. It felt fucking great, and shook loose the last drops of piss from my dick. I dropped it back into the sweatpants, and broke into a smile from how fucking huge of a tent it made, despite being just a semi. I did a few more jumps, looking at how the flagpole in my front swung up and down. I really didn’t deserve to feel this great after yesterday, but I’d fucking take it. I felt so full of energy I felt I could do anything. I wanted to run just to see how it would feel.

I dashed into my bedroom and emptied the rest of the athletic clothes drawer on the floor. Some T-shirts, a pair of basket shorts, white socks and wiped down indoor and outdoor shoes. All of it was underwhelming, outright disappointing. And why the fuck did I keep the shoes here and not by the door? I grabbed the outdoor shoes and without bothering with socks started to mash my foot into it. It was clearly at least one size too small, perhaps several. Who the fucks know how shoe sizes work. I threw both shoes into the wall above my pile of office clothes. Fucking hell. Why do all days start out great and then go downhill so fast, I wondered.

I grabbed a pair of flip flops, the car keys, and pulled the credit card out of the wallet and walked out to the car. The car stereo startled me when I turned the ignition key, as it blared out some hip hop at max volume. I reached to turn it down, but changed my mind. It felt like my mood, as I was driving to my closest mall almost below speed limit. There wasn’t much traffic out anyway on a Saturday morning. As I turned into the almost empty parking lot in front of the mall I realized the fucking God damn shit mall would open for another 40-something fucking minutes. I wished I could turn up the music louder.

As I looked down on the cum stains on my shirt and tenting sweats I decided why the fuck not, and started to beat off in sync with the music.

40-something fucking minutes later I entered the sporting goods store in the mall. Johnson’s or Dick’s or Willy’s or whatever, I don’t care. I picked up some proper compression clothes, like the leggings I had earlier with a matching top. I got myself some outdoor Nike’s, a few proper tanks, some jocks, boxer shorts and socks, new flip flops, and a snapback cap. On the way to the cashier I decided to pick up a wooden baseball bat and a regulation size football as well. Back in the car I ripped off all the stickers and shit and put on something I could run in. The sneakers, jockstrap and shorts, a tank top, and the snapback. I left the car and just ran.

It was a revelation. The first time I tasted ice cream or coca cola, or the first time I discovered I could do something else with my dick besides peeing and hitting it too hard. I felt like a good damn terminator. Like as long as I kept the pace below sprinting I could run for hours. Trickles of sweat running down my face, my arms, my back, wetting the fabric of my clothes where it could, cooling the skin with the breeze my motion generated where it couldn’t. I have no fucking idea how long I actually run. When I finally ended up back in the car I was steaming and real fucking hungry.

I felt like a shower was in order, but I was too hungry to do that first. I went by Five Guys and had a bacon cheeseburger with fries and a peanut butter milkshake. As I started eating I realized I wasn’t anywhere near tired. It was probably enough running for today, but I wanted to do more. Halfway through the meal I decided I would visit the gym we had a company membership at. I had only been there a few times since the introduction walkthrough. I wasn’t even sure I had the card in my wallet anymore, or if it was in the bowl of stuff in the kitchen.

I made a quick stop at home, unloaded my car, found the card, and set off to the Pacific Wellness Center. The dude in the lobby had a pissy attitude and asked me if I was wearing indoor shoes. I asked him what they looked like, and he let me in. Such a shame, because he was kind of good looking.

Inside the gym the results were mixed. Squats, lunges, planking, and abductor machine all went excellent. It was fun, even. But everything involving arms went miserably. I could only lift a pathetic load, and after a few reps I would be tired. I even embarrassed myself in front of two massive gym buddies. One of them had amazing arms. You could see how strong they were even when he wasn’t lifting, but fuck me what beautiful ‘ceps when loaded. And tanned too. It was lucky I had the jockstrap on, because that body was smoking hot.

I could only stand a few more failures after that and then sped back home, still with hip hop at max, in a mix of emotions. I got naked on the way to the bathroom, and there I spent perhaps an hour in the shower, getting the grime and sweat off me, and wanking twice, thinking of the arms of the hot dude. As I dried myself on a towel I knew I had to buy the last package. Ten fucking thousand fucking dollars. I had to use the laptop to access my bank, and once I had put in the sell order for my stock portfolio I saw the pornhub tabs I hadn’t looked at since Wednesday.

The big-busted bimbos I had wanked my way through the Wednesday suddenly didn’t seem as interesting. I clicked around a bit until I found a muscle stud fucking a Latino girl. How quickly the taste can change, but except for pathetic arms, I’m was now the muscle stud. I quickly entered the URL from the Jock Express #4 box and ordered the last package. The delivery date was still Monday, so come Tuesday the muscle stud would be me. Only one fucking week.

Since I was out of beer I threw on my old shorts and a T-shirt, and had a walk to my nearest convenience store and bought one six-pack for each hand. I was feeling a bit stiff from the training, but it was much better than it ought to be.

As I opened the door back at home the warm smell of gym clothes, sweat, and feet hit me. I did the responsible thing and threw everything in the washing machine, opened a beer, and started to watch whatever was on.

Sunday was just a boring-ass filler day. I woke up at a decent time, had a long run. I passed through the park, but didn’t engage with any of the groups playing football or beach volley there. I could wait two more days to get my arms sorted. I did some cleaning up and domestic shit back home. Then I went to the gym again, but this time I pretended it was leg day, so I didn’t have to embarrass myself. After dinner I had an evening jog as well, and only had a few beers before bedtime.

Same thing on Monday. Woke up pretty early and went for a long run. When I was almost back home I got a text message from my boss, saying we needed to talk about my performance over the last few days. My answer “Suck my balls” probably summed up the conversation much better than any in-person meeting. I found that the best way to find porn with muscle studs in them was to search in the gay section. Just because you like to watch big arms and strong backs doesn’t make you homo. I jacked off to the videos until it was time to eat lunch. By 2 pm I was climbing on the fucking walls in anticipation, and every minute felt like too long. Perhaps it wouldn’t arrive today at all? I heard the mailman at 2:18 and rushed out wearing only shorts and snapback.

The mailbox was stuffed full with a big, soft envelope. I tore it open on my way back inside, kicked the door shut, and emptied the contents on my kitchen table. A big black something fell out, as well as something small that rattled across the table. Ignoring the letters, as usual, I unfolded the cloth. It was a big, black hoodie in sweatshirt material, with the print “STRONG” on the front. Finally arms! I picked up the small plastic box that almost fell off the table and opened it. It contained some sort of advanced mouthguard mad in blue, white, and transparent plastic of different hardness and flex. The kind that football players use.

Not knowing what to do next, I went to the gym and spent a few hours just randomly doing low weight, high rep stuff. I was trying to catch a glimpse of everyone else who worked out to see what their arms and legs looked like. Once I felt it was too obvious I wasn’t doing anything serious I drove home, but instead of going inside I started to walk and walked for hours just looking. It felt good just to be in motion. I didn’t return back until the sun started to set, and it was almost fully dark when I walked through the door.

I decided to just go ahead with the last piece of transformation. I stepped out of my sneakers and pulled off my damp socks. It didn’t smell of strawberries. I pulled off the T-shirt and stepped out of the basket shorts, but kept the compression shorts on. I grabbed the hoodie from the table and put it over my head. Perhaps it was me, but it smelled of musky sweat inside while I put it on. I poured myself a big glass of water and downed it.

I walked with the small plastic box to the bathroom and had a look in the mirror. I didn’t really look that different. The big hoodie hid my newly athletic front. The legs and feet looked strong, but who ever notices that? My big bulge in the compression pants was however a change from the past week that couldn’t easily be hidden. I opened the box and put the mouthguard into my mouth. It fit snugly and didn’t change my appearance much either. Not knowing what to do with the hoodie I put it up over my head and pulled it tighter with the drawstrings so all but my face was gone. Then I turned off all the lights and went to bed.

It was still dark when I woke up. Instantly I knew it had worked, because I couldn’t feel the mouthguard in my mouth, though it felt different. As if the ghost of the mouthguard was still there, prying my mouth open. I felt some sort of pressure on my head, as if I was wearing a hat or a beanie or something. I was about to feel my head when I realized moving my arm felt different. Not wanting to fuck around any longer I went straight to the bathroom again to have a look in the mirror. I stared at my reflection with open mouth. The difference was breathtaking.

First of all I wasn’t wearing any top, so my abs and pecs were on full display, but they were also bigger than before. Everything was bigger. My shoulders were much bigger, my entire upper body looked wider than before, and everything about the arms were huge. My face was still my face, but there were lots of small changes. “Fucking dope” I said with a much deeper voice than what I had before. I smiled a smirk and flexed the arms in different poses. I couldn't wait to show up at the gym doing an arm day. I just needed to have another shower. My dick needed service, and I felt sluggish, as if I hadn't really wakened up yet.

[nancywrote]

do you believe in ghosts?

Steve’s a bit paranoid at times for no reason at all, it leads him to pulling all-nighters pretty often. Billy, on the other hand, stays up in fear of something completely different. They meet in the middle.

(4k words, originally posted on AO3 but I moved it here! hope you enjoy!)

Let’s be clear.

Steve doesn’t believe in ghosts.

Or aliens.

He’s very much a stick-to-the-science type of guy, especially with Dustin’s insistence on facts and just generally he’s been left alone for long enough in his life to know his house isn’t haunted, and there’s not really any factual evidence that ghosts or aliens exist.

But his parents leave him alone a lot, and his house is big and dark and Steve’s never gotten any sort of comfort or reassurance growing up for the dark corners or the rooms he’s never allowed in.

He’s been scared, because he’s been alone.

That’s all.

The dark shadows cave in on him when he’s asleep, they creep into his room from the halls and his window scares him because yeah, ghosts don’t come from windows but aliens do and intruders as well.

But, again, he doesn’t believe in aliens.

Intruders are very likely, that’s all.

Somehow, that thought still scares him. He’s defenseless, he’s weak, he’s young.

And nobody would be there to hear him or find him.

But every night, the shadows come in and Steve refuses to use his nightlight or turn the hall lights on because that’s childish and he’s not a child. The nightlight’s not even supposed to be there, his mom took it away when he was eight because she deemed him ‘brave enough’ when he managed to start pretending he was fine and no longer paranoid after their longest trip yet.

He just didn’t want to disappoint her, he didn’t want to embarrass her and he wanted to grow up and get over it.

But the house is just so big, and dark, and empty.

And Steve’s always alone.

The only people that know of his paranoia are Dustin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Billy.

Dustin found out purely by coincidence, stumbled in at night to creep up on Steve to plan a surprise party for El. Steve was aware he’d come, but he forgot in his tired haze that he gave him spare keys and then Dustin walked in on him curled up on the couch with the TV blasting and blankets surrounding him.

He was fully decked out, bat nearby as well as his phone and laptop right by his head, and an array of water bottles on the table as well as a good selection of snacks to keep him company.

Nancy, when she and him made up, found him crying in his closet because he felt anxiety creep up his spine when he thought he heard a whisper and his window was a little bit open and he was too afraid to make noise so he jumped in his closet and hid in the clothes and squeezed his eyes and sobbed silently trying to calm his nerves.

He didn’t want to admit how scared he was, he tried to pretend he was just remembering bad things or he fell into the closet, but Nancy saw through it. She was so patient and accepting, she was so caring and even offered to stay some nights.

Some nights, when it gets bad, she does.

Jonathan found out through Nancy, but Steve trusts him now. Jonathan sometimes joins and they’d have nice little sleepovers where they challenge themselves to cook or do arts and crafts or follow DIY tutorials on youtube or something. It’s always fun.

Billy…

That was a hard one.

Steve’s not quite sure how or when it started.

They were enemies at first, anytime they were in a room together it was almost impossible for either of the two to emerge from it unscathed or calm. Billy picks, Steve ignores, Billy pushes, Steve gets angry. Fight ensues.

But that’s not what they really came to be, because now Billy’s the one he goes to a lot more than Nancy on the days he knows the nights are gonna be particularly rough.

Because Billy’s always up at night, always ready for a text or a call and always listening or talking when necessary, never hurting. And they don’t fight, they compromise.

They hated each other, then Steve snapped and ripped Billy apart with words and then Billy didn’t show up for a week and everyone spread rumors that he’d moved back to Cali or that he was too much of a pussy, but Max knew better and by the second half of the next week, Billy was back and biting his tongue whenever Steve was around and even offering him his notes in English.

And then they saw each other at the arcade and Billy gave him a small smile at Max’s side, and Steve went wild with how genuine it was.

It was a slow and subtle development, but Billy got better and Steve kept pushing all the while trying to be as patient as possible. It’s worth it, because now they talk a lot and Billy listens a lot and…

Steve’s feeling scared tonight.

He left a window open and unlocked again earlier, and like an idiot, he left his door unlocked when he left for school and when he came back he damn near had a heart attack.

He searched the whole house (save for the rooms he wasn’t allowed in, they were locked), and spent hours looking through cabinets and drawers and then Nancy texted him and came over to help make sure it was okay. He felt bad, but he was relieved and she had been wanting to come over anyways, it had been awhile.

She made him feel better with jokes and little distractions of hey, what’s this? followed by weird stuff he made as a child that she found littered around in drawers. For the most part, they were alien-related, sporty, or renditions of his parents.

They were very dorky.

And also, he didn’t believe in aliens by the way.

He doesn’t believe in aliens. Obviously.

But tonight he’s alone again, because Nancy had to leave early, and when Steve found that one window unlocked later on all the blood rushed to his head and he nearly passed out because he couldn’t remember if he opened it or not.

He closed it, and it was loud.

So he’s hiding, bedroom door locked, bottom of his bed stuffed with spare pillows and boxes covered with blankets, and snacks and three water bottles by his side. He’s considering buying a mini fridge to keep in every room he uses as his hiding spot.

But his laptop’s there, but it’s charging across the room and even though his closet’s slits have been duct taped and the window’s right next to his laptop shining a sweet moonlight onto it, it’s raining and he’s terrified.

Because he’s also heard of the Boogeyman.

But he doesn’t believe in it, because that’s stupid.

He’s not a child.

And, he doesn’t misbehave. The Boogeyman would never target him.

But, he cussed out some guy in gym yesterday, and maybe karma’s harsher than it is. Maybe he was lucky all the nights before, and he’s just signed his contract now.

But that’s stupid, because he doesn’t believe in the Boogeyman.

But what if the guy sneaks into the house, steals his stuff, and decides he wants more?

But that’s also stupid, because Steve knows that the man’s a sweetheart and probably didn’t even hear his stupid stress-fueled insult.

But also, anybody can come in.

The house is big, it has many windows and doors and…

A shiver runs down Steve’s spine, and he quickly grabs his phone, checking for any texts.

When it lights up all he can see is his background, a picture of him and Robin hogging her neighbor’s cat. No messages.

So he quickly tries to tap on Youtube, but his hands are too sweaty and shaky and they open up his contacts instead.

And Billy’s right there.

And Billy’s always up.

Steve gulps, takes a quick glance around his well-lit room, shudders when he looks at the window and quickly clicks on Billy’s contact.

His fingers work quicker than his brain.

Hey hargrove

It’s simple, it’s quick, he’s taken away all the extra sentences leading into rambles about if he’s sinned recently or not because that’s unnecessary and Steve doesn’t want to drive Billy away.

A few seconds pass of just rain and no response, Steve thinks maybe the other is asleep now. He’s both happy and sad, because he’s happy Billy’s getting the sleep he needs but sad because he really needs Billy and he’s feeling lonely now.

He’s still scared, but he gets pretty lonely and downtrodden when Billy’s not there.

Within, like, total reason.

Because, he’s just good friends with him now, he’d like to think.

Billy comes online, and Steve’s heart stops. He sees the three dots and with every second, he’s taking constant scans of his room trying to make sure nothing’s changed and no shadows are coming.

He wants to block his closet, the duct tape sticks out too much and makes his legs bounce with fear and uncertainty.

tonight must be my lucky night

hey princess

Steve’s heart momentarily picks up, but he ignores it. He’s too scared, and the rain’s getting louder and his windows feel so vulnerable and he feels so naked even though he’s fully dressed and maybe he’s wearing pajamas but he’s grown, he’s fine, just because his parents weren’t there doesn’t mean he didn’t learn to grow independently, he’s okay.

He wipes his palms on the blankets, takes a swig out of his water bottle to soothe his dry mouth and quickly gets to responding because he’s scared that if he doesn’t respond quick enough Billy will leave and he doesn’t want that.

Wyd?? :)

It’s a stupid, half-assed response. He knows Billy knows what’s going on, because there’s never a night when he’s not about to break down crying.

Usually though, he goes to Nancy or Jonathan or Dustin. Billy’s only every other week.

Billy’s still online. He draws his knees to his chest and practically claws at his bedside table through the snacks to get his earphones. Just to muffle the rain.

doin my hair, bored

He smiles imagining Billy curling those locks around his fingers, remembers how he winked at Steve during practice when Steve caught him ruffling his own hair and messing it up.

Can you call??

Billy’s offline for a moment, and Steve nearly breaks down sobbing thinking that that was it, he was done for and all alone and he’s stupid for even trying but then when he places his phone on his lap, it vibrates and lights up with a picture of Billy kissing a dog, smiling at someone behind the camera.

Steve’s heart warms, he himself lights up with this simple picture already and swipes to accept.

“Billy,” Steve whispers, too afraid to speak in the dark of night.

Even though his room is lit up, he knows the rest of the house isn’t. He briefly considers turning the lights off, because what if it stands out? What if they see the lights?

He’s scared of what he means by they.

He feels his shirt sticking to his skin, the dark pattern of gaming controllers don’t make him look any better.

Billy’s voice comes up after a few seconds of shuffling, which Steve can only assume is him reaching for something on his vanity. “Sorry, I’m here now.”

Those words meant a lot. His heart shook with every syllable.

“What’s up?” Billy asks. So, he didn’t really know.

That’s fine, because Steve knows he shouldn’t expect him to, because they don’t talk all the time, only usually with school.

In fact, they’re only school friends, that’s it. This is stupid, and it’s a stupid idea and the rain hits some part of the window particularly hard and Steve jumps and gasps in his bed.

“Woah there. You good, King Steve?” Billy’s voice is in his ears, drowns out the noises, keeps him comfort. Company.

“Yeah-- fuck, I’m sorry. Window was left open today, door was unlocked, scared myself,” he breathes.

He wonders if maybe he should hang up, the silence makes him feel like he interrupted something but he trusts Billy and he’s on the verge of tears.

“I-- I’m really, like--” he can’t quite breathe anymore, he keeps his phone in his lap and his chin on his knees. His thoughts are broken, and he almost feels sad.

He remembers when his mom would hold him, and sing him a lullaby.

But then he grew, and then he became nothing more than a memory to her. And then he was left to fend for himself, hum the words to a lullaby he couldn’t remember at this point and hope she’ll come back one day to stay a few nights and maybe tell him he’s okay again.

Maybe just let him know they’re not real, aliens, ghosts, the Boogeyman.

“Steve.”

Billy’s voice is sharp, cuts through his thoughts and sends him in a mild panic. Billy was speaking, Steve wasn’t registering.

“Wanna see a picture of Max? Susan sent it to me the other day,” Billy asks to change the topic.

It makes Steve’s shoulders relax, not just Billy’s voice but the ability to immerse himself in something that isn’t his room or house or window.

“Sure, show me,” he answers, grabs a chocolate bar quickly and unwraps it. Takes a small bite, even though it’s getting a little soft from how long it’s been there.

His phone dings in his lap and he picks it up, holds it in front of his face and taps out of the call screen.

It’s just a simple photo of Max at her first cat cafe, drinking tea with a cat wearing her sunglasses near her. Trying to look posh.

“That’s adorable,” he mutters, a smile tugging at his lips. The chocolate’s melting already, so he hurriedly pushes it into his mouth and tries to finish it.

“If you think that’s adorable, you should try lookin’ in the mirror, Harrington,” Billy smoothly says.

It’s so casual, so simple and clearly just something Billy just says sometimes. To anyone. He’s probably really used to slipping in lines like that.

But it still makes Steve laugh all the same, and it still warms his cheeks all the same and cools his body all the while. He swallows, tosses the wrapper into the small bin by his side. “You’re looking in one right now, aren’t you?”

The image of Billy just fiddling with his curls at his vanity, talking to Steve so sweetly while still maintaining some focus on his hair just makes the world around Steve calm a little.

But he still feels so alone, so isolated and still a little paranoid.

Because the duct tape is still on his closet, and it stands out against the brown. And the rain is still pattering his window, and even though it’s softer now it’s still showing the far too dark sky and conveniently there tree. He’s effectively locked himself in his room, and his bat is leaning on the bedside table but completely accessible to the bottom of his bed.

But he’s filled the bottom of the bed. It still scares him.

“Yeah, don’t see you though,” Billy remarks, and Steve can hear him hit his knuckle on something (presumably the edge of a table) and the faint noise of pain in the background. He giggles gently, doesn’t dare to close his eyes though.

“Ow, don’t laugh. There was a stupid fuckin’... thing in the way,” Billy says.

“Thing?” The smile shines through Steve’s voice.

“‘s just nailpolish…” he hears Billy grumble, and finds himself giggling again.

There’s the faint noise of crickets, it sends a chill down Steve’s spine. The rain’s stopped by now, just droplets running down his window and it should be reassuring but the silence makes him fear being heard in his own house.

A house is a person’s most vulnerable and personal point.

The best place to attack.

“Well,” Billy starts, and Steve hears him get into bed and possibly kick himself under the sheets, “going anywhere tomorrow?”

It’s the weekends, and Steve usually hangs out with the kids or Nancy and Jonathan.

But no, he has no plans because they’re all occupied with homework, studying, or dating.

“Nope, ditched in the name of love,” he says simply, lies back against his pillow and feels so relaxed. Probably should have done that earlier.

But like, he was just… he wasn’t scared or anything, he just didn’t feel like it.

Obviously.

Billy laughs softly, and Steve knows it’s restrained because it’s late at night and his walls aren’t the thickest, but the laugh is precious to Steve’s ears and he’s suddenly so glad he has earphones in.

“Want me to come over?”

Steve smiles wider, rolls his eyes. “Tomorrow? Yeah, sure, long as you don’t wreck the place.”

He doesn’t really care either way, because if Billy threw something, Steve would throw something too. If he chose suddenly to completely vandalize Steve’s room, Steve would join in without a wasting a second.

He just follows, because he has fun, and he’s very much blind and stupid when it comes to Billy.

Which, he’s fine with.

And it’s just because they’re good friends.

That hung out on Valentine’s Day watching a movie and ditching their plans with whoever their dates were supposed to be that week.

Because, like, those girls were just creepy. And Steve wasn’t about that, nor was Billy.

But then Billy chuckles so richly, and Steve’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt all giddy and letting himself close his eyes. He still feels tense, rigid in his bed but considerably safer with Billy right there.

“I don’t mean tomorrow, smartass, I’ll be there regardless. I mean tonight,” Billy says.

Oh.

He breathes through his nose, opens his eyes reluctantly and looks around his room. “You can do that?”

Billy’s done it before, he’s not always able to and sometimes Steve prefers he doesn’t just so he can sleep earlier, but any time he does he’s always there exactly when he says he’ll be and he’s always so good at opening Steve up and picking him apart in the nicest and loveliest ways possible.

It’s never really contact, it’s just talking and stupid things like old movies or studying but Steve finds he doesn’t really care if it’s Billy.

And he’ll take what he can get, obviously.

It’s not just Billy. Obviously.

He’s just scared.

But he swears, it’s not of aliens or ghosts or the Boogeyman.

Just intruders.

Only intruders.

“Yeah,” and Steve can hear Billy take a sip of something, could be water, alcohol, anything when it’s Billy but he knows the likely answer is apple juice.

Because Billy thinks he’s badass, but when he’s with Steve all he drinks is apple juice.

“Okay,” Steve says.

That’s all Billy needed apparently, because in the span of a minute he’s already hearing the sound of a car starting up from the other end.

He realizes Billy was probably being quieter than usual because he wasn’t in his room. He was probably in the living room, someplace close to the front door.

He was anticipating going somewhere.

Possibly to Steve’s.

But, that doesn’t matter. Probably.

Steve just keeps the smile on his face, keeps his legs crossed under the blankets now and makes sure his earphones are pushed in. Anything to distract him from his room.

The call’s still going as he hears Billy pull out the driveway, he can tell he’s on speaker now because when he coughs to block a sudden sob of fear, he hears the echo. “You good, Stevie?”

The nickname makes him feel warmer, keeps him safe. The call’s probably still going on because it’s distracting Steve and Billy knows it. It’s only a matter of time before it has to end, though.

“Yeah,” he assures, stretches and yawns.

Freezes when he hears his bed creak a little beneath him.

His body is feeling stiffer by the second.

A few minutes of silence follow. All of it makes Steve think that maybe Billy’s not there anymore, maybe Billy’s not coming, and…

And then the call ends and his throat suddenly closes up at being left alone again and he breaks into a sob.

The earphones make him all too aware of things, and he plucks them out and shoves his phone in the bundle of snacks. Doesn’t bother, he shakes with every second and his sobs are muffled by his hand in fear of being seen or heard. He keeps his eyes trained on both the window, the closet, and his bed. The idea that everything that should hold safety are things that could hold the most danger to him made him quiver.

Billy abandoned him, and he’s so sad and heartbroken by that but he’s even more frightened by the sounds of wind brushing his window and the tree right there and he wonders which version of the Boogeyman would come for him.

His blood runs cold at the sound of a doorbell, echoing through his house.

His skin is pale, eyes fixated ahead distantly until it sounds again and he jumps.

Immediately, Steve rolls off the bed and unlocks his door. He doesn’t know what’s gonna happen, it feels like it’s a long way to the front door, but he walks anyways.

Quick, long and silent steps. Careful to avoid the parts of the floor he knows will make too much sound. He’s timed how fast it would take for him to get from his door to the front door or any other exit, he’s carefully made out each step in the ground that could lead his fears to him, he’s mapped out safe spots that are really just empty or random enough rooms for whatever to not look in first.

But that doesn’t matter, because his front door’s right there and he’s hoping it’s Nancy, Jonathan, or fuck, even his parents.

And he opens it, crying, and it’s Billy.

Billy’s dressed in his usual cool kid get up, but the moment his eyes land on Steve’s face, he shrugs his jacket off and wraps it around Steve’s shaking body, runs in and closes the door behind him. “Hey, hey, baby,” he coos.

Steve practically locks his arms around Billy, starts full on sobbing with relief and his heart just kicks in in the right way again. “Billy,” he hiccups, muffled in the shirt of the dirty blonde’s.

The other wraps his arms around him, squeezes him reassuringly then starts leading them to the living room.

It’s gentle, the way he drags them both down to the couch and turns the TV on. It’s caring, the way he rubs his thumb on Steve’s temple while he fiddles with the remote. It’s real, it’s raw, and it’s nothing supernatural or scary or mean.

Billy was never really any of that, and Steve understands.

But right now, as he crumbles in Billy’s arms, he doesn’t want to understand anything, because he just wants to be safe and okay and now that Billy’s here his house has never felt safer.

It’s like once Billy stepped in, his house exploded with color and meaning and safety.

He can’t deny that.

Billy pulls Steve up so that he’s effectively trapped against Billy’s chest, wrapped in the safety of his arms and jacket acting as a blanket against the cold living room. Billy smells like roses, it brings Steve some feeling of okayness.

He just sobs, head buried in the crook of Billy’s neck while Billy tenderly rubs his temple and back. The TV is quiet, but it’s there. He can hear the opening to Spongebob. It’s stupid, but it keeps Steve awake.

“It’s okay, I’m right here, princess,” Billy whispers, tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair and rubs at his scalp so reassuringly. He believes him. He trusts him.

“I thought you were-- I thought--” Steve practically wheezes, nuzzling Billy’s collarbone with his chin trying to regulate his breathing, “I thought you left--” his voice trails off into an almost-whine, drags out in the worst and most broken way possible and he feels weak and vulnerable and childish.

And Billy,

Billy nods, tries his best to keep them both on the couch and then hums, and fucking…

Kisses Steve’s temple.

His breath catches in his throat, his heart thrums in a different kind of way now and he grips Billy’s shirt tighter. His sobbing is effectively slowed, silenced, interrupted.

“I know. I’m sorry, Steve. I won’t leave you ever. Promise,” Billy says, keeps his cool despite his action and rubs circles into Steve’s back with one finger so caringly.

Steve closes his eyes, fully lets himself get encased by Billy’s arms and nods. He feels a little childish, until Billy tenderly pushes him back a little and he lets out a confused noise.

His face is red, lips plumped and cheeks wet. Billy wouldn’t like to see that.

But Billy smiles at him, and Steve sees his eyes are glassy, and he wants to kiss his eyes or him and then Billy holds out one hand.

One pinky.

“Pinky promise.”

Steve’s mouth drops a little, surprise and warmth filling him. Happiness.

He raises his pinky and entwines it with Billy’s. Lets it sit for a bit then just envelops Billy in an immediate pounce of a hug.

Billy gasps a happy ‘oh’ at that and hugs back, smiles against Steve’s shoulder.

They’re not childish.

They’re not kids.

They’re them, so fuck whoever thinks that pinky promises are lame. It’s their pinky promise.

The hug definitely drags out, it’s definitely not a hug by the time Steve’s dozing off in Billy’s neck and it’s definitely not a hug anymore when their legs are intertwined and Billy’s arm is right beneath Steve’s head, providing a much better pillow than the armrests of the couch.

And Billy hums, and Steve damn near starts sobbing again. Almost.

The tune of a lullaby.

“Sleep pretty darling, do not cry…”

His voice is shaky, unused, but it’s beautiful and it hits the notes just the way Steve’s mother used to but so much more genuine and loving.

“... and I will sing a lullaby…”

Billy’s voice isn’t the most gorgeous singing voice, but it’s raw and it reminds Steve of playing in bands as a child and rocking the guitar. It’s not tea-flavored, but it’s rose-colored.

“Golden slumbers fill your eyes…”

The lyrics, spot on and everything Steve never remembered. But he doubts he’ll forget ever again, because Billy’s never sung before and maybe he’s singing it right now because…

Because Steve would hum it in practice, because Steve would talk about his mom singing him songs whenever it came to poetry in class, because Steve loved to listen to songs with a similar enough tune in a desperate search for it and Steve would mutter the words incoherently trying to remember it.

Because Billy knows Steve, and they’re good friends.

Because Billy notices these things about him.

And he cares about him.

“Smiles await you when you rise…”

Steve raises his head, finds Billy with his eyes closed drifting off as well, but can feel his thumb still rubbing circles in his back.

“Sleep pretty darling, do not cry… and I will sing a lullaby.”

And when Billy’s fully off into dreamland, Steve places a long, tender peck on the ridge of his jaw.

Because he cares too.

[buoyantsaturn]

Riding Bikes Across the Street Without Looking Either Way (1/1)

summary: “Ah, Nico, pour me a drink would you?” Hades said. “I’d do it myself, but the bottles keep moving out from under my hand.”

Nico stopped about ten feet away from him, scratching uncomfortably at his forearm as he muttered, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

word count: 5,083

WARNINGS: physical and emotional abuse, self-harm, alcoholism, violence

read on ao3

It was a few days after Christmas, but Nico and Hades still felt the effects of the anniversary of Bianca’s death, clinging to them at every moment and wrapping around their hearts and squeezing like a rubber band. This time of year was always harder on them than usual - Nico more than Hades, though Hades liked to play the victim rather than the victimizer when he started drinking.

Usually it was just the occasional off-handed comment - “If only Bianca were here,” with a pointed look Nico’s way, just in case he hadn’t been feeling guilty enough already - but sometimes his words were much more pointed - “She would still be here if it weren’t for you,” more often than not said with a drunken slur to his words. He never started throwing punches when Hazel or Persephone were in the room, as though even the alcohol wouldn’t let him forget that he couldn’t leave witnesses to his abuse. It was just his words against Nico’s then - and the bruises that Nico struggled to hide from his sister. 

The passing of the holiday usually brought them both out of their bad moods. Nico finally regained the energy to leave the house, at least for long enough that he could attend Christmas Mass with his family, and Hades’s drinking tended to slow down on Christmas Day. 

When Hades came stumbling into the house late on the twenty-seventh, though, Nico’s heart stopped. If Hades was still drinking so heavily, then things would only get worse for Nico. 

“Nico!” Hades called, and Nico flinched, but didn’t move. “I know you’re awake, Niccolo! You come when I call you!”

He would rather run and hide, actually, but he knew that if he didn’t listen to his father, then Hades would just keep shouting until he woke Hazel and Persephone, and Nico didn’t want them to interact with him in this state. Nico rose from the couch and followed the sound of Hades’s voice until he found his father leaning against one wall, staring down the table of expensive liquors across from him. 

“Ah, Nico, pour me a drink would you?” Hades said. “I’d do it myself, but the bottles keep moving out from under my hand.”

Nico stopped about ten feet away from him, scratching uncomfortably at his forearm as he muttered, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

Hades lifted his head slowly, his eyes locking on Nico and narrowing. “What did you say to me?”

Nico’s hand tightened around his arm, the sharp pain of his nails digging into the skin reminding him of the pain that would come if he didn’t keep his mouth shut, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. “You’ve had enough.”

With one hand on the wall to brace himself, Hades started toward Nico, tripping over his own feet on the first few steps. “Is that any way to treat your father?” he snarled. 

Nico’s head snapped up, and he glared, gaze unbreaking, into his father’s eyes. “Is this any way to treat her memory?”

The sting from the open-palmed slap on Nico’s cheek should’ve been expected, but he was surprised nonetheless. He tried not to show it on his face, or in any part of him, and kept his face turned away even as Hades grabbed the front of his shirt to yank him forward. Nico could smell the alcohol on his breath as he hissed, “You don’t get to tell me how to treat her memory, you little shit. Not when it’s your fault she’s dead!”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Nico whispered, unaware that he’d said the words out loud until Hades slapped him across the face once more - the other cheek, to even things out. 

“You look just like her,” Hades said, his voice softening, though his grip didn’t. “You, Bianca, Maria. You all look the same. But I’d rather have either of them than you. It should’ve been you.” He hefted Nico up by the front of his shirt and tossed him aside, toward the display of liquor. “Pour me a drink and get out of my face.”

Nico did. And then he ran. 

Nico hid in his room for a few hours, unable to sleep, but unable to make himself get out of bed, either. Not when there was a possibility that Hades was still stumbling around on the main floor of the house, waiting for his favorite target to reappear. It wasn’t until sometime after three in the morning that Nico finally crept out of his room, just with the intention of heading to the bathroom, but on his way back to his bedroom, he heard the rumbling snores that signified Hades had finally passed out. 

Nico tiptoed down the stairs, unsure of where Hades had fallen asleep but wanting to be cautious in case he wasn’t out cold. He found Hades sprawled out on the couch, still fully dressed all the way down to the loafers he’d worn to work. Carefully and quietly, Nico sneaked closer to his father in order to retrieve his laptop from the coffee table. When he knew he was in the clear, Nico hurried back toward the stairs, though he hesitated in the hall as he passed the liquor display.

He glanced back over his shoulder. Hades was sound asleep, so there was no way he would notice if something happened to one of the bottles. And there was a full wine cellar underneath his feet that very moment. What could be the harm in taking a couple of bottles? 

Nico tucked his laptop under his arm and grabbed the two glass bottles - decanters, he thought Hades had called them once before - and carried them away. He took them to the kitchen and set them on the counter, putting his laptop aside before he opened the first decanter and poured its contents down the drain. A moment later, he did the same with the second decanter, then replaced the bottles exactly where he’d found them before he retrieved his laptop from the kitchen and ran up the stairs, his nervous pulse pounding in his ears. 

One Week Ago

FROM: Percy; You need to get out of there, dude. And now that Hazel’s at school, you don’t need to stay behind just for her. I don’t want you getting hurt anymore.

A Few Days Ago

FROM: Percy; Merry Christmas, Nico! Any updates?

Yesterday

FROM: Percy; Can you at least text me back so I know you’re not dead?

Today

TO: Percy; i think i messed up. big time.

Nico would have slept the day away if Hazel hadn’t come to wake him. She burst into his room sometime after noon and jumped on his bed, startling him awake and causing his heart to stop until Nico realized who it was. 

Not Hades. It’s Hazel. It’s okay, I’m safe.

His heart rate spiked for a moment as he realized that he had no idea what his face looked like after taking a few hits the night before, so rather than sitting up, Nico tucked his face into his pillow and dragged his blanket up to his ears. “What do you want?” he groaned.

“I’m only here for another few days,” Hazel reminded him, poking him in the sides in an attempt to get him to move. “What’s the point in hanging around here if you’re just going to sleep all the time?” Hazel flopped on top of her brother. “Spend time with me!”

“Okay, okay!” Nico shouted as he attempted to roll Hazel off of him. “Give me a minute to wake up, would you? I’ll meet you downstairs in a few minutes.”

“Ugh, fine,” Hazel replied. She hopped off the bed and started toward the door, but Nico stopped her before she could reach it.

“Hey, uh… Dad isn’t here, is he?”

“No, he left for work a few hours ago.”

“Did he seem...mad?”

“No.” Hazel leaned back against the closed door and rolled her eyes. “Hungover, but not mad.”

“Okay.” Nico took a breath. “Get out, let me get dressed. I wanna go out for breakfast.”

“I think you mean lunch,” Hazel pointed out. “But as long as you’re buying, I won’t complain!”

Finally, Hazel left the room, closing the door again behind herself, and Nico dragged himself out of bed. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand where he’d left it to charge while he slept, and opened up the camera. His cheeks were slightly pink, though that was probably just from sleep, and he didn’t notice any visible bruises even if he could feel them. His mouth stretched out in a yawn, and his jaw clicked as though realigning from the slaps he’d taken.

He got dressed quickly and went downstairs to find Hazel. “Ready to go?” he asked, and Hazel followed him to the door. “How do you feel about stopping by the store while we’re out? We could get some snacks or something for you to keep in your dorm this semester.”

“I can buy my own snacks,” Hazel told him.

“Fine,” Nico said. He stepped into his shoes and grabbed his keys. “Anything else you need? Shoes, a new coat? Do you have enough money in your bank account? Because I can transfer--”

“I’m good, Neeks,” Hazel told him, shoving at his shoulder as she started out the door. “Besides, if I need anything, I’m barely an hour from home. I can just swing by here when I have time, or you could bring me anything I forgot. Part of the reason I chose this school was because it’s so close to home, you know.”

Nico swallowed around a lump in his throat. “Right. I knew that.”

They stayed out for a while, spending about an hour at the restaurant where Hazel had lunch and Nico had breakfast, then Nico allowed Hazel to drag him around from store to store at the nearest mall. They didn’t end up buying anything, despite how often Nico offered, and returned home just in time to stop Persephone from cooking dinner. Nico took her place in the kitchen and made a meal for three after Persephone told him that Hades was “working late” again that night, which Nico took to mean swung by the bar after work and won’t be home for a few more hours.

Hazel went off to her room to finish up some packing to prepare herself to head back to her dorm, and Persephone insisted that she wash the dishes since Nico cooked. That freed Nico up to bring his laptop down to the living room and work on his writing. He hadn’t started his online college classes until Hazel had, and like her he was between semesters at the moment, but that just gave him more time to do some free writing. It was one of the only things he’d ever felt like he was good at - whether it be academic papers, fictional stories, or articles for his high school’s newspaper - but he still couldn’t decide what exactly he wanted to do. In the meantime, he typically spent his free time writing whatever came to mind - fiction, this time.

He’d gotten himself so caught up in the story he’d written that he hardly even noticed the passing of time. Hazel had come by at some point to spend more time with him, but when he’d been mostly unresponsive, she’d said her goodnight and headed off to bed. He could only guess that Persephone had gone to sleep as well, though he knew for certain that Hades had not yet returned home. Regardless of how zoned out Nico was, it was hard to miss the slamming of the front door and stomping footsteps that signaled his drunken father’s arrival. 

When the front door finally did slam shut, Nico’s blood went cold. He wanted to run for the stairs, but then he would have been in a direct line of sight from the foyer. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide from Hades forever, anyway. 

“Nico!” Hades shouted, and oh God, he sounded angry. “Niccolo Vincenzo, what happened to my scotch? Nico!”

Nico considered the chances he would be able to run upstairs unheard and barricade his bedroom door. He even thought about calling the cops to finally get Hades caught in the act, but then Hades shouted for him again.

Nico stood, and went to his father. He kept a safe distance between them again, larger than before, but he knew it wouldn’t do much to help. He kept his gaze down and locked the fingers of his right hand around his left wrist, prepared to keep his mouth shut. 

Hades lifted one of the decanters and held it out for Nico to see. “Look at this! Do you see something missing?”

“The scotch,” Nico murmured. 

“Speak up!” 

“The scotch is gone,” Nico tried again, louder this time but maintaining a monotone voice. He squeezed his own wrist. “Are you sure you didn’t drink it all?”

“This bottle was half full last night!” Hades screamed. “I know my limits, and I know I didn’t drink all of it, so tell me what happened!”

Nico dug his fingernails into his skin, but that didn’t stop his next words from spilling out. “I poured it out!” he shouted back, squeezing his eyes shut. “I dumped it all down the drain! It’s gone, and you’re never getting it back!”

He should have kept his eyes open, so he would have seen Hades approaching. He could have watched as Hades adjusted his grip around the neck of the bottle in his hand, and would have had plenty of time to run, but instead his eyes stayed firmly shut until the last moment. After a few moments of no response, Nico looked at his father just as Hades swung the glass bottle, connecting to the side of Nico’s head with a sickening crack!

Nico’s body crumbled to the floor, and Hades stepped over his motionless body on his way to the wine cellar.

Nico’s head was pounding. He didn’t want to open his eyes, because he was almost certain the room was spinning around him. He started to move, pushing his palms against the carpet, but as soon as he lifted his head off the floor, he felt nauseated. He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and forced himself to stand, immediately feeling woozy and leaning against the wall for support. 

He took a few minutes to breathe through the pain, and reached up to assess the injury to his head. At the slightest brush of his fingers, Nico flinched as the throbbing pain was accompanied by a sudden sting. He took another deep breath against the pain and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t look at his hand - wouldn’t have been able to see it in the darkness anyway - but he knew that the warm stickiness he felt could only be one thing. He wiped the blood off on the thigh of his jeans.

Nico started moving, though he couldn’t quite see straight. Or maybe he just wasn’t walking straight. “Can’t do anything straight,” he joked to himself, but the vibration of his own voice in his head just exacerbated the pain.

It took much longer than it normally would have to make it up the stairs and down the hall to Hazel’s room. He didn’t bother knocking before he went inside - she wouldn’t be awake to welcome him in anyway - and he’d finally started seeing clearly by the time he was standing over Hazel’s bed, shaking her awake. 

“What?” she mumbled, still mostly asleep. “What’s happening?”

“Hazel, wake up,” Nico demanded. “There’s no time to explain, but you need to finish packing. I’m taking you back to your dorm right now.”

“But...why?” 

“Please, just trust me on this.”

Hazel sat up in her bed and rubbed at her eyes. “Okay, fine. Can you turn the light on?”

“No,” he said without a reason why. After a second, he said, “Dad and Seph can’t know.”

Hazel hesitated.

“Please,” Nico begged. 

Hazel got up. They packed up her things by the light of their phone’s flashlights, and moved her suitcases and other belongings quickly and silently out to Nico’s car - it had been a gift when he graduated high school, whereas Hazel had asked for a trip to Rome, which left her without her own means of transportation. Once they’d loaded the car as full as it could be, they started to drive.

When they pulled onto the highway, Hazel finally said, “Okay, we have time now. Tell me what’s going on.”

Nico tapped his fingers against the steering wheel anxiously. “It’s...hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

He huffed, and tried to give himself time to craft an answer. How could he explain without letting out the truth of his abuse? If Hazel found out he’d been hiding those beatings from her for so long, she might never forgive him. “It’s...Dad’s drinking problem. He normally starts to get better after Christmas, but that didn’t happen this year. I don’t trust him.”

“You just have a bad feeling?” Hazel questioned. “We had to move me out of the house in the middle of the night because you have a bad feeling? Tell me what happened, Nico!” She reached over and flicked him in the ear, causing Nico to flinch and swerve across the center line. Luckily for them, no one else was dumb enough to drive at that time of night, and Nico was able to correct himself immediately, though he still chose to pull the car over onto the shoulder. He took his hands off the steering wheel, watching them shake for a moment before they dropped to his lap and curled into fists as though they would stop the adrenaline from pumping through him. 

He didn’t look up at Hazel, because he knew he wouldn’t like what he would see if he looked in her eyes - concern, anger, fear, probably, or maybe she just thought he was going insane. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he whispered, staring down at his lap.

Something brushed against his hair, and Nico flinched away from the sting that accompanied it once more. “You’re bleeding,” Hazel said softly, as though she hadn’t intended for the words to be spoken aloud, then panic seeped into her words as she continued, “Nico, why is your head bleeding?”

Nico looked up at his sister finally and saw everything he expected to see in her eyes, except...there was something else there, too. Sadness, maybe, almost like grief. There was enough grief in this family as it was, and Nico didn’t need to add to it. He glanced out the window and realized he’d stopped under the orange glow of a streetlight. If he’d just kept driving, he could have kept this hidden just a little while longer.

“I don’t want to talk--”

“No!” Hazel shouted, and Nico felt himself curling inward. “You’re bleeding from your head! You could have a concussion or something! You shouldn’t even be driving right now! If this is why we had to leave, then you will tell me! Who did this to you?”

“Hades!” Nico screamed back at her. “Hades did it! He came home drunk, again, and he yelled, and he… He hit me.”

“He couldn’t have possibly drawn blood with his bare hand--”

“No.” His voice had quieted down once more, and he could no longer find it within himself to look at Hazel, so he stared at the glowing lights of his dashboard. He would need to get gas, soon. “With a bottle. A glass bottle.”

A moment of silence passed as Hazel processed the words. As she struggled to pull her phone out of her pocket, she announced, “I’m calling the police.”

“No!” Nico lunged for the phone and ripped it out of her hands. “You can’t do that, because if he finds out-- I can’t let him hurt you, Hazel, I have to protect you, like I should have protected Bianca--” Nico buried his face in his hands, wishing he could claw through his skin, into his brain, just to stop his thoughts from swimming. “Oh God, he was right, it should’ve been me. Bianca would have protected you better than I ever could. He wouldn’t even miss me, so he wouldn’t be like this in the first place. God, this is all my fault.”

Suddenly, the door to his left was ripped open, and he was pulled from the car. When had Hazel gotten out? Had he even buckled his seatbelt in the first place? Why was Hazel wrapping her arms around him, pulling him close and squeezing? Didn’t she know he killed their sister?

“It’s not your fault,” Hazel sobbed into his chest. “None of this is your fault!” She snaked her arms up to grab Nico’s face, careful not to move her fingers too close to his injury, and she forced him to look at her. “Say it. Say the words, it’s not my fault.”

“But… if I hadn’t--”

“No! Say it’s not your fault.”

“It’s… It’s not my fault.”

“What isn’t your fault?”

Nico tensed. How was he supposed to answer that if Hazel didn’t tell him what to say? How was he supposed to know what would appease her? What if he answered wrong? “I… I didn’t kill Bianca.”

Something akin to horror shone in Hazel’s eyes, and Nico feared for a moment that he’d answered wrong, but rather than running, Hazel just hugged him once more. “Why didn’t you ever talk to me about this? I love you, Nico, I would have tried to help.”

“I had to protect you.”

“We could have protected each other.”

It took a bit of arguing to get Nico back in the car. Hazel insisted on driving, considering both Nico’s physical and emotional state, but Nico refused to get in the passenger’s seat. “I’m fine,” he lied, over and over again, until Hazel got in the car and threatened to drive off without him.

They arrived at Hazel’s dorm building just as the sun started to peek over the horizon, and got to work moving her belongings into the dorm. Her roommate was still gone for the holidays, so they didn’t have to worry about bothering anybody as they came in and out. It hardly took more than half an hour to get everything settled, but Hazel was reluctant to let her brother leave.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” she asked, hugging Nico tight.

“I’ll be fine.” Gently, he removed her arms from around him and put a bit of distance between them before he said, “Listen, Hazel. I need you to promise me something. Don’t go back there, ever again.”

“But what about the rest of my stuff? Everything that didn’t fit in your car?” 

“I can move it into a storage unit, if you want, or I can bring it all here in a few hours.”

“And what about you? You’re not staying there, are you?”

Nico shook his head. “I’ve been talking to Percy. He said I can crash on his couch for a while before I figure things out.”

“You’re going to New York?”

“Yeah. And as soon as you graduate, I want you to move out there with me. I want you to be as far away from here as possible, and I don’t want to worry about what you’ll do if you have no other option than to go back ho-- Back to Hades.”

“What about Seph?”

Nico hung his head. “I can’t think of everything, Hazel.”

“But if Dad’s drinking is just going to keep getting worse, we can’t just leave her with him, can we?”

“She’s an adult, just like us. She can leave him, too, if that’s what she decides, but I don’t have any say in what she does.”

Hazel frowned. “But you have a say in what I do.”

Nico scrubbed his hands over his face. “No, that’s not what I meant, and you know that. I’m just trying to--”

“Protect me, I know, I know.”

“Look, until we know who’s side she’s on, I don’t want you talking to Seph, okay?” Nico instructed. “If there’s an emergency, call me first, and if it’s… I don’t know, urgent, call Seph only as a last resort. I don’t want anything getting back to Hades. We need to cut him out completely.” Hazel looked like she was about to argue, but Nico jumped back in again. “I know this is a lot for you right now, so out of the blue, but I need you to trust me on this. I know that… That I don’t seem all that stable right now, but I think we both know why that is, so I just need you to be on my side here. Please.”

“But...for the rest of our lives? They’re the only parents we have! I mean, what if something horrible happens that we need to know about? Or like… I’m going to get married someday. I always thought I’d have at least one parent at my wedding, and now with my mom gone… He’s the only family you and I have left, Neeks.”

“We have each other.”

“You know what I mean. People can change. Make a deal with me, okay? In a year, we call him, and if nothing’s changed, then… I’ll reconsider cutting him out for good.”

“Hazel--”

“When I get engaged, then.”

“He’s not going to--”

“Don’t you want Seph to know when you get married?”

“When I said ‘cut them out,’ I meant cut them out! I’m trying to--”

“Frank can protect me!” Hazel interrupted, not wanting to hear Nico repeating himself again. “And Frank and I can protect you, too! I’m not just going to give this up, Nico, so level with me here. When Frank and I get engaged, I’m telling Seph. I want you to be there with me.”

Nico grit his teeth, and one hand circled his other wrist. “When we’re both engaged,” Nico tried.

“What are the chances that we’ll both end up engaged at the same time? You’re not even seeing anybody, Nico, that’s practically impossible.”

“That’s my offer. We come back when we’re both engaged - or married, whatever - and we come together. Not any other time. Do we have a deal?”

Hazel didn’t look happy, but she sighed and nodded. “Yeah, deal.”

Nico sneaked back into the house. He had no way of knowing if Hades or Persephone were home, and he wanted to get in and out as soon as possible, preferably without being seen. He glanced toward Hades’s office as he crept past it, ensuring that his father wasn’t inside, though with his focus drawn away, Nico didn’t notice Persephone standing in the hall directly in front of him, and he walked straight into her.

“Nico?” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up and about so early. Were you… sneaking back inside after doing something you shouldn’t?”

“I didn’t-- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico tried to deflect, and looked away from her. He could see the stairs, and wondered if Persephone would be able to stop him if he made a run for it.

She gasped, and took Nico’s head in her hands, tilting it to better look at the wound just above his ear. “Nico, you’re bleeding! If you took after your father more I’d guess you’re just coming home from a bar brawl, but you’re not old enough to get into the bars… Honey, what happened?”

He considered the possibility of taking a shower before he left - it would probably stop others from noticing his injury - but he didn’t have the time. “I don’t-- I can’t tell you...here.”

Nico allowed Persephone to follow him up to his bedroom, the only place in that house where he could truly feel safe, and Nico told her everything. More than he’d told Hazel; he told her that Hades had been abusing him for years, physically and verbally, and finally that he’d knocked him unconscious the night before. He let slip that he’d moved Hazel back to her dorm and gave her strict instructions not to contact Hades or Persephone, or to come back to the house ever again. 

“I’m leaving, too,” Nico told her, maintaining the monotonous voice he’d used throughout his speech. 

Persephone, on the other hand, had been in tears from the beginning. “When?”

“As soon as I’m packed. Don’t try to stop me, either, because it’s too late. There’s nothing you can do.”

Persephone pulled Nico to her and kissed the top of his head. “I’m so sorry, Nico. If I had known… But I understand. Wherever you end up, please, somehow, let me know you’re safe. I promise, I won’t bother you after that.” She squeezed him tight for just a moment, then released him. “If you ever change your mind, I’ll be here for you.”

He was packed and ready to leave by noon, but he had one last thing to do before he left. He stepped into Bianca’s bedroom, which hadn’t been touched since the day she died - aside from the occasional dusting, or when Nico or Hazel had sneaked in to borrow from Bianca’s closet. He took a lap around the room, as if to say goodbye.

There was a small box sitting on her desk, tucked into the corner and covered in a layer of dust - clearly the room wasn’t being cleaned as well as they thought. Nico picked up the box. It would hardly be missed, and it could easily be slipped into Nico’s backpack. He opened the lid and looked inside - there were a few pairs of earrings, a necklace with a tangled chain, and a single silver ring. 

He remembered the day Bianca had given it to him, and the day he’d given it back - the day of her funeral, when he’d set it on her pillow after they’d returned home from the cemetery. Someone must have moved it, and Nico was for once grateful that someone had disturbed this room. 

He slid the ring on his finger, and took the box. 

Nico went out to his car, and didn’t see Persephone before he left.

As soon as he was on the road, he called Percy.

“Nico?” he answered right away. “What’s up, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” he replied. “I’m on my way over.”

thanks for reading!!

buy me a coffee | read more about this fic

[piilokarsastus]

Question time!

1: Let’s start with a tricky one; what is the real reason you are confused right now? because life is hard and i just don’t understand what i’m doing wrong but everyone else seems to know

2: Do you ever get “good morning” texts from anyone? nope. and to be fair, i would be sleeping anyway

3: If your significant other smoked pot, would you care? if it’s like an actual thing for them that they do regularly, i’d probably be a bit concerned, but i don’t see anything wrong with trying things out for fun. if you’re just a straight up pothead, we wouldn’t be dating in the first place

4: Do you find it easy to trust others? i guess

5: What were you doing at 11PM last night? filling in another pointless question post on tumblr, funny that you should ask

6: You’re drunk and lost walking down the road; who is with you? unlikely scenario, but i’m gonna say my friends from uni

7: What would you do if you found out you had been cheated on? probably spend the next few years thinking about it, unable to trust anyone again

8: Are you close with your dad? not as close as with my mum but still reasonably close

9: I bet you kissed someone last night, right? i’m curious as to what kind of life you think i’m living because this is not it

10: What are you listening to? the soothing hum of my laptop fan

11: You can only drink ONE liquid for the rest of your life - what is it? woter:)

12: Do you like hickeys? i don’t exactly understand the point

13: What time do you go to bed? going to bed and falling asleep are two very different things but usually around 2-4

14: Is there someone who continuously lets you down? me. it’s me.

15: Can you text as quickly with one hand as you do both? definitely not

16: Do you always answer your texts? sooner or later, yes

17: Do you hate the person you fell the hardest for? no

18: When was the last time you talked to one of your best friends? not that long ago

19: Is there someone that makes you happy every time you see them? all of my friends

20: What was your last thought before you went to bed last night? aight imma head out

21: Is anyone else in the room with you? no

22: Do you believe what goes around comes around? in a sense i do

23: Were you happier four months ago than you are now? i feel like i was, yeah

24: Is there someone you wish you could fix things with? well there’s nothing to “fix” per se, i just wish things went differently

25: In the past week, have you cried? yes

26: What colour is the shirt you are wearing? red

27: Do people ever call you by your last name? my aunt often does, weirdly enough

28: Is anyone ignoring you right now? only every single one of the 4 people i’ve messaged on tinder recently. which makes me feel really great

29: Do you have a best friend? there’s someone i could perhaps call my best friend but i don’t think i have a “true” best friend at the moment like those i’ve had before

30: Would it be hard seeing someone else kiss the last person you kissed? no i’m completely neutral towards her

31: Who was your last call from? my friend tried to call me yesterday but i couldn’t answer

32: Are you mad at anyone? no

33: Have you ever kissed someone older than you? marginally, yes

34: How old will the last person you kissed be on his/her next birthday? honestly i don’t know?? i don’t remember when she was born exactly but i feel like we were born in the same year at least, so i’m guessing either 21 or 22

35: How many more days until your birthday? 329

36: Do you have any summer plans yet? summer literally just ended so no

37: Do you have any good friends of the opposite sex? not exactly a fan of the word opposite in this context but i get what you mean. so yeah, most of my friends are of the “opposite” sex

38: Are you keeping anything from your best friend(s) now? nothing that would be their business to know

39: Do you have a secret that you’ve never told anyone? i guess i do.

40: Have you ever regretted kissing someone? i haven’t kissed nearly enough people for there to be any regrets. soo... would you like to be my first regret? haha just kidding... unless...

41: Do you think age matters in relationships? not going to write the essay that the wording of this question warrants but basically yes but only to some extent; what’s more important is that you’re in a similar phase in life and have similar expectations about the relationship. age can be a large factor in those things as well as your “maturity” but it isn’t the only factor.

42: Are you available? yeah bitch hmu

43: How many people have you had real, strong feelings for since high school ended? two

44: If you had to get a piercing (not ears), what would you get? well i guess it’d have to be a septum, then

45: Do you believe exes can be friends? yes, in fact that’s my life philosophy

46: Do you regret anything? :)) i don’t think about it as much as i used to but i’ve never fully forgiven myself for confessing my feelings to someone who wasn’t interested in me. this is known as the february 2019 incident

47: Honestly, what’s on your mind right now? tiddies

48: Did you ever lose a best friend? yeah, not to death but to life

49: Was your last kiss a mistake? no

50: Why aren’t you pursuing the person you like? i don’t quite like anyone at the moment and it’s gonna take a long time until i’m ever going to have the courage to make a move on anyone i’m interested in because of the aforementioned incident

51: Has the last person you kissed ever seen you cry? no

52: Do you still talk with the person you LAST kissed? no, like there’s nothing negative between us and we’d say hello if we met on the street but we just don’t talk 

53: What was the last thing you ate? pancake:)

54: Did you get any compliments today? haven’t really interacted with anyone today so no

55: Where are you going on your next vacation? bich this is my vacation, i’m going nowhere except to bed

56: Do you own anything from other countries? yes. like i’m a bit amused by this question like where on this planet can you even live where at least some of your stuff hasn’t been made in China etc. (well, i guess that would be China). but even if you’re referring to souvenirs from trips etc, still yes

57: Are most of your friend guys or girls? girls

58: Where have you lived most of your life? in Oulu, Finland

59: When was the last time you took a long drive? a few months ago, but i wasn’t the one driving

60: Have you ever played Spin the Bottle? yes, also known as the game where my friends try to find out who i have a crush on

61: Have you ever TPd someone’s house? i had to google what TPing means and i’m more and more scared of americans every day

62: Who do you text the most? honestly my social life is at a point where my most common recurring interaction is exchanging cat videos with my mum (apart from group chats)

63: What was the last movie you saw? the matrix

64: What’s preventing your current boyfriend/girlfriend from going back to their ex? yeah as if i have one

65: How many boyfriends/girlfriends did you have in 2010? 2010?? damn i was literally 10

66: Is the last person you kissed younger than you? we were around the same age

67: Do you curse around your parents? for comedic effect

68: Are you happy with where you live? not my dream apartment but it’s okay

69: Do you collect anything? my tiktok seems to have become a collection of about 250 cute lgbt folks, but other than that, no

70: What’s your favourite colour? a kind of deep, ultramarine blue

71: Does the last song you listened to remind you of anyone? not in particular

72: Has anyone ever cheated on you? no

73: What are your plans for tomorrow? make some music

74: Do you have siblings over the age of twenty-one? i don’t have any

75: Does your last ex have a job? not that i know of

76: What would you do if you found out your most recent ex was in a relationship? she is and i’m happy for her, or as happy as i can be while being painfully aware of the fact that my love life hasn’t gone anywhere in the past two years

77: Where is your cellphone? on the floor, charging

78: What colour is your cellphone? black and bronze

79: What did you dream of last night? it was something fairly nsfw and extremely hot and i lterally had to pause for a second when i woke up because damn it’s been so fucking long since i’ve experienced that irl and it left me with a bad case of yearning

80: Are you atheist? yes

81: Will you change your name when you get married? no

82: Are you ready for autumn weather? would be a bit too late if i wasn’t

83: Have you had any big storms recently? there was one that was rumoured to be really big but tbh i barely noticed it 

84: What kind of bottoms are you wearing? just my comfy pajamas

[taehyungiestummy]

Stuck -- Chapter Fourteen

Masterlist     Previous     Next

Word Count: 3091

           I groan as I stretch my back out by reaching up to the sky. The book I’ve been reading on my lap, and my glasses sliding down my nose. It’s been hours since I sat down while the boys rushed around getting ready for the concert. The day started with waking up kind of early and being ripped out of Taehyung’s warm embrace. Then we all got ready to go out and eat breakfast. All of us full of energy after a good night’s sleep, and it was hard to stay at a decent noise level. After that, we were driven to the arena, so the boys could do a run through of their concert. During this time I was sent to a room to chill and do whatever I wanted. It has been Japanese snacks and drinks that I’ve had my fair share of while writing for my stories or practicing my Hangul.

           Then it was time for lunch, and the boys were back with me. Taehyung made me sit in his lap as he fed me and himself. His large hands rested on my thigh, and I kisses his jaw when given the chance. The conversation all of us had was all over the place, and I just remember a lot of laughing. At one point, I was asked my plans for the rest of the day as they were off doing their job. I answered by saying I was going to draw before reading.

           Lunch ended too quickly, and I was alone again. I drew for a little bit, but my hands started to cramp, so I switched to reading my book. Now, by eyes are tired, and I feel the effects of being alone all day. Even though I am introverted, spending all day alone can be torture. It’s kind of boring after a while, and I can get lonely.

           “Hm, I wonder how much longer,” I yaw, sitting up on the couch that I’ve been lounging on.

           I look at the TV that is streaming the concert, seeing the boys deep in a song. They look happy beyond words. It makes me smile to see them dong what they love.

           “My boys,” I giggle, placing my book into my backpack.

           Now that my brain is off my book, I decide to get  up and do a few things. I eat a few snacks, use the restroom, and check my phone. With all that done, I finally feel the weight of tiredness falling onto my shoulders.

           “No, I can’t sleep,” I plop down on the couch. “The boys aren’t done. I need to be awake when they get back.”

           No matter what I do, I can’t fight off the sleep. My eyes flutter shut, and I’m drifting off in minutes. All worries floating away.

********

           “Nice job tonight guys,” Namjoon pats his bandmates on the shoulders as they walk the halls back to their dressing rooms.

           “It’s always a thrill going in front of crowds,” Jungkook messes with his earbud.

           “I have so much energy!” Taehyung is bouncing around, a giant box smile on his face.

           “As you always do,” Yoongi sighs. His body just wanting to lie down and sleep after a concert. Maybe snuggle up to his little sister.

           “I bet cutie is waiting patiently to greet us,” Jimin smiles, running a hand through his hair. “She’s too nice and sweet.”

           “I’m going to give her so many kisses,” Taehyung is running around the boys like a hyper puppy.

           “You already do, Tae,” Hoseok chuckles. “Nothing’s changed there. You’ll be all cute and lovey.”

           “And we all tease you,” Seokjin laughs. “Because it’s just too lovey for us.”

           “I don’t care,” Taehyung uses a sing-song voice. “I love my jagiya so much, and I will never stop.”

           The seven boys continue to chat up a storm as they make their way to see the girl they don’t know is fast asleep. Their laughter fills the hallway, and they can’t seem to quiet down.

           “Jagi, we are back!” Taehyung bursts into the room.

           Amber shifts around on the couch, but somehow stays asleep.

           “Cutie!” Jimin whines.

           “Adorable girl, I deserve a hug,” Jungkook states, a pout on his lips.

           The boys pile into the room, still not realizing their sleeping friend. Their loud antics still going. Yoongi is the first to notice the state of the girl on the couch.

           “Shut up,” he hisses. “She’s asleep.”

           All the boys shut up in an instant, looking over at the girl that changed their lives.

           “Aw, princess,” Taehyung whispers, carefully taking a seat next to his love. “She’s so cute,” he runs a finger over her cheek, making her wiggle around.

           “I’m glad she feel asleep,” Seokjin tenderly smiles. “Every time she forces herself to stay awake, she ends up having a breakdown. No matter what, it always seems to happen.”

           “Kid thinks she’s so tough that sleep isn’t needed,” Hoseok shakes his head. “It’s cute, but I hate that she does that to herself.”

           “Yeah, her breakdowns break my heart,” Jungkook places a hand over his heart.

           Taehyung has checked out of the conversation, fully focused on his sleeping girlfriend. Amber’s mouth is slightly open as soft snores escape. Her glasses are still on, but seem in no real danger of being broken. Her hair is a bit messier than usual, but frames her face perfectly. “Wifey,” Taehyung sighs. “I love you.”

           Amber smiles, as if she heard what Taehyung just said, yet keeps on sleeping.

           “Tae, I’ll grab her backpack,” Yoongi walks over to the couple. “Gently pick her up, and we will go back to our dressing room.”

           “I’m going to marry her, hyung.” Taehyung wraps his arms around his small girlfriend, picking her up bridal style and holding her close.

           “We know, Tae,” Yoongi picks up Amber’s Hello Kitty backpack, patting the younger boy on the shoulder as he does so.

           “No, like sooner than later,” Taehyung places a soft kiss on his girlfriend’s forehead.

           “What do you mean?” Jimin steps into the conversation.

           “She’s the love of my life, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. No doubt about it, so, maybe I’ll propose sooner than I planned.”

           “Have you thought about this for a bit, Taehyung?” Namjoon seriously asks.

           “Yes, I have,” Taehyung looks around at his friends and bandmates. “Many months now.”

           “Well, it’s good you haven’t changed your mind since telling Jungkook a few weeks ago,” Namjoon smiles. “Now, come on, let’s go get changed so we can get back to our hotel and rest.”

           The boys all agree with nods, and then exit the room as quickly as possible.

           “Tae,” Amber mumbles, stirring awake from all the movements happening to her body. Her eyes opening just a tiny bit. “What?”

           “Sshh,” Taehyung smiles down at the sleepy girl in his arms. “Go back to sleep, my princess. Don’t worry, we will be back to our hotel soon, and I’ll sleep with you.”

           “Okay,” she yawns, closing her eyes and nuzzling her head into her boyfriend’s chest.

           “You are so sweet, Tae,” Seokjin pats the boy on the head. “You really are deeply in love with her.”

           “Yeah,” Taehyung giggles. “I know. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

********

           “It’s been a while since we’ve been able to Skype,” I smile as Emily fills my computer screen.

           “You left like a week ago,” Emily chuckles. “We just saw each other.”

           “I know, but that feels like forever ago,” I whine. “Plus, I’ve been so busy, and we haven’t been texting as much.”

           “You come back tomorrow, right?”

           “That’s right,” I nod. “How are my babies?”

           “Haipeo and Keyowo are doing fine. You can tell that they miss you and Taehyung though. Every time the door opens, they get really excited, but then you don’t appear, and they get a bit sad.”

           “No,” I pout. “The only hard part about having puppies. How’s Holly?”

           “Good,” Emily smiles, trying to cheer me up. “He likes spending time with other dogs. There’s the longing for Yoongi, of course. Dogs are man’s best friend.”

           “Thank you again for taking care of them when we travel.”

           “It’s no problem, Amber. I’ve told you so many times. You’re my best friend, and putting them in some boarding house for animals when I can take care of them would be dumb. It’s our pleasure anyways. Right Nari!?”

           “Right!” Nari shouts back. “Wait, who are you talking to?”

           “It’s me, Nari,” I raise my voice. “Your favorite cousin. Come here so I can see you.”

           A few moments later, my cousin comes into view, drying her hands on a dish towel. “Hi Amber. How’s Japan?”

           “Amazing,” I gush. “We went shopping a few days ago, and I got you guys some gifts. And, there’s so many stories I have to tell you guys. These boys are crazy.”

           “I can’t wait to hear what the eight of you have done,” Nari chuckles. “Didn’t you have a break yesterday?”

           “Kind of,” I mess with my glasses. “We had dance practice, and then the boys did some song writing. I’ve been alone a lot. Mainly reading.”

           “Sounds like your ideal way to spend time,” Emily says. “That and writing.”

           “Yeah,” I sigh. “It can be a bit lonely, though. Taehyung cuddles have been scarce, and Yoongi talks have stopped. I know it’s just been a few days, but I really don’t like it.” I hear my voice crack and tears prick the corners of my eyes. “No, I’ve been doing so good. I can’t have a meltdown.”

           “Aw, sweetheart,” Nari coos.

           “It’s okay, Amber,” Emily reassures. “Let it out if you must. Crying will make you feel better.”

           That’s all I have to hear to lose it. The tears stream down my cheeks, and I blubber out nonsense. Emily and Nari do their best to calm me down, but I just can’t seem to stop. Letting all my troubles flow out through my crying.

           “Aw, Amber, your eyes are so red and puffy,” Nari lets out a breath. “You poor thing. Have you been getting enough sleep?”

           “Yes,” I sniffle, drying my cheeks with the bottom of my hands. “I sleep right through the night and wake up energized.”

           “I think, even introverted, Amber needs human interaction to feel charged,” Emily speaks up. “Just too much drains her. And certain amounts of people can be too much.”

           “Yeah,” I sputter out. “The boys and I have barely had time to talk for a few days, and my usual ways to recharge haven’t been working.” I sniffle, hiccupping right after.

           “Well, then it’s a good thing you’ll be coming home soon, and will be able to chill with everyone, Nari smiles. “Try to hang with the boys before bed tonight.”

           “I will,” I firmly nod.

           “Hey, how much longer until the concert is over?” Emily asks.

           I look up to see the TV showing an empty stage, and I realize that the boys should be coming back any minute now. “It’s over,” I look back down at my laptop. “Oh god, I cried for so long.”

           “That’s okay. You needed to. You shouldn’t hold it in.”

           “And now you feel better, don’t you?” Nari tenderly smiles.

           “Much better,” I giggle. “I’m going to let you guys go so I can greet the boys.”

           “Sure thing. I still have dishes to do,” Nari chuckles.

           “I love you guys so much,” I place my glasses back on my face.

           “We love you,” Emily and Nari burst into giggles. “See you soon.”

           I nod, waving to the two as I end the video call. Then I’m up and rushing out of the room to see if the boys are close. I hear them before I ever see them, following their laugher through the halls.

           “Taehyung!” I shout to get the boy’s attention.

           “Princess?” Taehyung turns to see me rushing down the hall at him. “Princess!” He exclaims, opening his arms for me. That big boxy smile on his face.

           I’m not really sure how it happened, but somehow I end up clinging to Taehyung like a koala. My legs wrapped around his waist, and my arms around his neck.

           “Oh wifey,” he whispers, an arm under my butt and another around my back.

           I nuzzle my head into his neck, “I’ve missed you.”

           “But I’ve been with you all the time since we reunited,” he chuckles. “How could you miss me?” He starts walking, the boy’s voice now in front of us.

           “You’ve been busy these past few days. All of you. I’ve just missed you.” I lift my head up, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

           Taehyung turns his head to meet my gaze. “Jagi, have you been crying?”

           “Yes,” I mumble.

           “Because you missed me?”

           “Yes.”

           “I’ll fix that,” he presses a kiss to my lips. “Don’t you worry. Starting right now, so no reason to be sad.”

           I giggle, resting my head on his shoulder. “Good. I don’t like being sad.”

********

           “You are so cute, jagiya,” Taehyung leans in so our temples are touching.

           “Tae,” I whine, moving my head so I can still see my 3DS screen. “I’m trying to play.”

           “And I’m watching.”

           “Sure, but why do you have to rest your head on mine all of a sudden?”

           “To be closer so you don’t miss me.”

           I grin, “Well, can you move away just a tad. This is uncomfortable.”

           Last night when we got back to the hotel, Taehyung was all over me asking for me to spill all that I was feeling. All the while holding me close and kissing random parts of my face every now and again. Just like the day he found me crying in the bathroom, he comforted me.

           “You are just too cute, jagi,” Taehyung places a kiss on my cheek.

           “I play video games in front of you all the time,” I let out a breath as the Pokémon is successfully caught. “Why am I too cute now?”

           “You have black sweats on, and my blue button-up, that’s why,” he smirks.

           “It’s a good thing you brought it, since I’m such a messy eater.”

           “You’re a cute eater, but chopsticks are still not a perfected craft for you.”

           “I know, but I have to practice.”

           “Or Tae and I can just feed you, little one,” Yoongi speaks up form my right. “One of us is almost always with you, and we don’t mind doing it.”

           I pout, “I’m not a child, guys. I enjoy being fed on certain occasions, but not every time I eat. That’s just embarrassing.”

           “Every time can be made into a special occasion,” Taehyung pokes my side.

           “No, that’s not how it works,” I nibble the inside of my bottom lip as I switch around my Pokémon team. “Then it stops being special.”

           “You are so stubborn,” Yoongi shakes his head. “Which can be a good and bad thing.”

           “How about you two teach me how to use them properly? So I can get better,” I make a disgusted face as my opponent uses a max potion.

           “We could. That would be interesting.”

           “It’s be so hard since our hands are so much bigger than yours,” Taehyung teases, placing his hand right above my knee. “Your cute little hands.”

           “Shut up,” I pout, partly for my Pokémon fainting. “I can tease both of you.”

           “I love you little hands though,” Taehyung pokes my cheek. “You are little, jagi. A small princess.”

           “I don’t call you little one for no reason,” Yoongi chuckles. “There’s real meaning behind it.”

           “I know,” I sigh, the battle finally ending on my console. “Being little has advantages though.”

           “It makes you, you,” Taehyung is quick to place a kiss on my lips.

           “Well, yes,” I giggle, placing my 3DS down on my lap. “I also get the best cuddles. Tae, you always hold me so close. A leg over mine, and arms wrapped around me to hold me close. Yoongi, an arm over my shoulders as I snuggle into your side. All the other boys give good cuddles too. Being small is perfect for cuddles.

           “That’s so cute,” Taehyung tucks some hair behind my ear. “I just want you to feel safe so you can sleep soundly.”

           “I just treat you like I see brothers in shows,” Yoongi shrugs. “I’m glad you like it.”

           “No way,” I gently shove Yoongi. “That’s how you learned to be the best brother ever?”

           “What can I say? I’m awesome,” he smirks. “And a genius.”

           I giggle, “Yes, of course. How could I forget?”

           “I’ll forgive you this time,” he gently pinches me cheek.

           “Good, because I need you.”

           “The rumors from this crazy site is annoying,” Taehyung groans.

           I look over at my boyfriend, lifting my 3DS off my lap. “So don’t read it. Just exit out of it.”

           “Can I just read some of the titles out loud?”

           “Whatever you want, babe,” I look down at my console, diving back into the Pokémon world.

           “Well, BTS Suga and American girl caught on date. That’s when you two went out to pizza.”

           “Yep, I took my sister on a date,” Yoongi says.

           “Um, V’s girlfriend cheating on him with J-hope. That’s a good one.”

           “I saw one about Jungkook and I because he grabbed my hand in the airport,” I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t paying attention, he saved me.”

           “The three girls are groupies for us all, and we share you between all of us,” Yoongi adds. “That one was kind of funny.”

           “They’re funny until they get hateful,” I sigh, stretching my legs out.

           “Have you been seeing hate, princess?” Taehyung lowers his phone. “I can tweet something out.”

           “No, no,” I shake my head. “The hate has been as it always has been. Not really something to go crazy about.”

           “Tell me if it ever does. I will do whatever in my power to get it to stop. You deserve happiness, and I will make sure that you are as happy as possible.”

           I smile, “I love you, Tae.”

           “I love you,” Taehyung puts his arm around my shoulders.

           “And I love you, Yoongi.”            “I love you, little one,” Yoongi obviously is holding back a smile.

           “I guess we are now in some kind of poly relationship,” I smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll write the article. The facts coming straight from the source.”

           “Everyone will go crazy,” Taehyung chuckles.

           “Well, when aren’t they? Now shush. Pokémon needs to be played.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hope you enjoyed reading! A bit shorter, but I still think a lot happened. I just love writing cute scenes. :D

[notbang]

funny when you wager how you feel

nathaniel & heather, during 4x17. inspired by heather’s affiliations in the 4x16 betting pool. also on ao3.

“Dude, I was rooting for you. You owe me five hundred dollars.”

“Excuse me?”

He wants to ask how she even know where he lives, but Heather pushes right on past him into the apartment, not bothering to acknowledge the question or wait for a formal invitation.  She makes it over to his bookcase before she spins on her heel to look at him.

“The betting pool? The dates? I emptied both of my piggy banks for you. That was my hot tub savings. You basically owe me a hot tub.”

As she stops to properly survey her surroundings for the first time, Nathaniel feels an embarrassed flush prickle up the back of his neck at the state of his living room. Since Rebecca left he hasn’t exactly been expecting company, but things aren’t anywhere near up to his usually impeccable personal standards, either.

“Wo-ow. So, I can’t believe this is your apartment. Aren’t you supposed to be, like, a fancy senior partner at a law firm, or something? And this is how you live? Is this what you think of yourself?”

He rolls his eyes, swinging the door shut when it becomes apparent she isn’t planning on leaving any time soon. “Ha ha. I suppose I deserve that.”

“It’s just that, I don’t know—people that respect themselves usually don’t usually throw their fast food wrappers on the ground when they’re done with them. Or, like, when they’ve had a single mouthful and remembered they don’t eat bread or cheese,” she amends, nudging the abandoned burger gingerly with her toe. When she glances back up at him her face softens unexpectedly into a sympathetic grimace. “You’re like, really bummed, huh? I’ve seen you throw fries on the floor once before.”

He hand waves the disaster zone. “I started to deal with my very messy, human, Rebecca-related emotions the only way I usually know how. And then I decided I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“Okay,” Heather says, humming, eyes narrowed in playful suspicion. “Then what are you gonna do? Because not to be insensitive, but there may or may not still be stakes riding on the fallout of this whole giant mess, and I’d really rather not wait around until you’re sixty five to find out.”

“Huh?”

“Ugh, don’t worry about it,” she’s quick to dismiss with a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t want to get forced into a forfeit for interference. But for what it’s worth, I lived with Rebecca for two years. I’m not sure I understand the hype, personally. She never empties the dishwasher and she flushes her tampons. I think you dodged a bullet.”

She throws herself down on the couch so forcefully she bounces with the momentum of it, leaning deep into the cushions as if to test them and stretching her long, muscular arms out across the backrest.

“By all means,” Nathaniel says. “Make yourself at home.”

“Oh, I will.” She swings her feet up onto the coffee table, glancing pointedly at the pizza box they’re resting on when he opens his mouth to protest. “Seriously though. Are you okay? I feel like maybe I should ask if you’re okay, since you’re like this brand new person with all these emotions and stuff.”

“Honestly?” he asks, and she gestures in the affirmative. “I don’t know. I’m not really sleeping well. I can’t focus on my work. I thought it was all the indecision, and that it would go away once I got an answer, but…” He massages his forehead. “I don’t think it’s because of Rebecca. At least, not entirely. I don’t know how else to describe it other than I feel… restless.”

“Maybe you should get out of town while this whole thing blows over and people go back to minding their own business. Book a vacation, or something. It kind of seemed like you were always trying to run off to Rome or Hawaii or wherever else it is they have hotels I can’t afford to, like, breathe the lobby air of.”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t actually want to go to Rome, or Hawaii. I’ve seen all those places before. I just wanted to be with Rebecca—I wanted to spend time with her.”

“Okay, well, that admittedly very sweet option is sort of off the table now, but there must be someplace you would like to go, or that you haven’t been.” Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an ‘o’ shape that he thinks must be her version of excited. “Do you want to throw darts at a map of the world? I totally have darts.”

Almost as quickly as her interest flared, her attention is back on his bookcase again, and Nathaniel sighs as she pushes up onto her knees, the eyelets of her boots scraping the leather as she leans across the arm rest to reach for a spine that’s caught her eye. She flips disinterestedly through one of his law books before discarding it beside her and replacing it with an expensive pictorial on Cuban architecture.

“When White Josh broke up with Darryl he went to Mexico to, like, hammer out all his feelings,” she says, smoothing out the dust jacket. “And then he came back with a dog. Maybe you should do the same.”

“Well, I do hablo español,” he concedes.

Heather raises her eyebrows. “Enhorabeuna. I also attended high school. Most of the time.”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m… reasonably fluent, actually. A little rusty, probably, but more than enough to get by.”

“Well, that’s a start. And since you clearly don’t have much experience with flights of fancy, I’m going to let you in on a little secret: Google.”

“Google?” he echoes, dubious. “I’m not convinced that’s a secret.”

“I’m serious. You gotta start Googling.”

“Googling what, exactly?”

“Whatever pops into your head. Like, after I watched The Hunger Games, I thought about J-Law looking all fine in her post-apocalyptic outfit, or whatever, and I said to myself—I could work a bow. So I opened my laptop and Googled ‘how do I become a champion level bowman in the short period of time before the Ren Faire arrives?’ which led me to discovering the archery unit at my community college, and here we are. It’s kind of like rapid-fire association, but you have to fully commit to going down the rabbit hole. And then you just keep clicking, and searching, and researching things obsessively until suddenly it’s three days later and you have seventy two tabs open and a new Pinterest account because you forgot the password to the last one. It’s Wilbur,” she adds. “The password is always Wilbur.”

“Sounds chaotic,” Nathaniel quips.

“It is, but it’s also very therapeutic.” Heather stretches, catlike, and pushes back up onto her feet. “I want to give you some secondhand advice here, but I don’t want to mention the name of the person it originally came from, because your face is going to start doing the drippy thing again, so I’m just gonna call them… Hebecca.”

Nathaniel raises his eyebrows. “Darryl’s daughter gave you advice?” he asks dryly. “Wow. I wasn’t aware she was forming sentences yet.”

“Uh-huh—she’s super advanced for a baby, and I’m giving my womb all the credit for her infinite wisdom.” She pats her stomach, and he can’t help it—he huffs out a laugh as she carries on. “When Paula was feeling dissatisfied with how things were going down at her fancy new job, Hebecca told her she should ask for more. That she should bet on herself.” Heather’s mouth twists. “You should bet on yourself.”

“I did bet on myself,” he points out. “Both of us did, remember? And we both lost. Hundreds of dollars. Thousands, even.”

She tilts her head at him. “Okay, so I’ll admit that probably wasn’t the best phrasing to use, in retrospect. But I don’t mean, like, literally bet on yourself. I mean, you have to decide you deserve the things you want. But not in a gross, rich, white privilege way—in a way that means you have look inside yourself and make some tough decisions about what you want your life to look like, whether certain people are in it or not. You can’t control what choices other people make. But you’re the one that has to live with yours.”

He glances over at the couch she just vacated, where Rebecca had sat across from him only yesterday, quietly apologetic but simultaneously so self-assured. He remembers the way he’d felt at peace with it before she’d even started speaking. How strangely calming it had been, seeing her settled and suddenly sure of herself, in the midst of all this pervasive indecision.

“That is… a solid assessment, actually. You only get one life, right?”

“For the record, I charge by the half hour and accept payment in the form of hot tubs.” Heather considers him for a moment longer, then crosses her arms over her chest. “Do you want to get out of here? I could take you for a spin in my new Honda Civic. You’re basically its honorary godparent, or something.”

“Like a date?” he asks wearily.

“Ugh, dude—gross, no. I’m married,” she says, flashing her ring finger at him. “You were there.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was being facetious. But no thanks—I’m good. I need to clean up in here. Open some windows.”

“That,” Heather says, eyes sweeping the room, “is probably a wise decision, because it smells like the Home Base back room in here and not in a good way.”

“Is there a good way?”

“Well, yeah. I’m surprisingly still partial to when they’re cooking chilli fries.” She leans over, extending her arms in their entirety and keeping her body as far away from his as possible while allowing her palms to rest on his shoulders. “You are valid, kiddo,” she says, squeezing him awkwardly and thumbing his nose in a way that makes him scrunch up his whole face and flinch. “For things other than your bank account and strong jawline. Just in case nobody’s ever told you that. But also, I will be expecting reimbursement for your romantic shortcomings, so the bank account is a definite plus.”

Once Heather is gone he thinks about the person that never told him that in so many words but certainly made him feel it, and after flicking it open and closed a few times he shuts the ring box, rubs his thumb along the velvety seam one last time and pushes it away.

He pauses with his fingers over the keys, then hesitantly types in animals AND law AND spanish into the text box; just because he’s being self-indulgent doesn’t mean he has to completely abandon Boolean operators.

The returns are fairly broad so after a moment's consideration he amends the search to zoo AND law AND spanish speaking countries.

He hovers the cursor over the link to the San Diego Zoo’s donation page before his gaze catches a couple of results down on a site for zoology and wildlife internships, and suddenly, for the first time in awhile, finally something clicks.

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Fragile Hearts Ch. 9- Trying to Put it Into Words

Click the OP if the READ MORE link does not show!

THANK YOU TO @bluejayb1rd FOR COMMISSIONING!!! I’ve missed this story and I really hope you all enjoy this one <3 

Click Here for Chapter 1

Click Here for Chapter 8

Fragile Hearts Playlist here

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11928798/chapters/33483498

The motel room was nicer than Pidge expected. The ones she’d seen on TV were usually ones with peeling wall paint, water stains, and roaches scurrying around rusted bathroom sinks and tubs. This one smelled like cotton air freshener and had little lamps and comfortable beds. It wasn’t as nice as the hotel room she’d gotten with Hunk back in New York, but that was to be expected.

As she finished brushing her teeth, she could feel Lance’s eyes on her. She ignored it, hoping to simply fall asleep for the night and keep the journey going in the morning.

Then he cleared his throat, and her stomach flipped. “So… are we gonna talk about Ohio?”

“No,” she said firmly.

“Pidge-”

“I really, really don’t want to, Lance. Please drop it.”

Lance sighed and raised his hands in defeat, going to the bathroom to take a shower with Leon at his heels. Pidge crawled into bed and let out a long breath.

After a few hours of driving from Pidge’s apartment, it had somehow come about that Pidge had never learned to drive. Lance had taken it as a personal offense and couldn’t understand how Pidge, the girl who flew a gigantic robot lion, didn’t know how to drive down the highway in a Honda Civic.

And despite Pidge insisting that she was fine without driving, Lance assured her that learning to drive would come in handy. And he added some spiel about being independent and whatnot and Pidge finally switched seats to shut him up.

Everything was fine at first. Lance taught her the basics and tried to keep her calm because she was stiff and anxious. It was so different piloting a war machine versus driving a mundane box of metal. There were no rules in space. She was supposed to wreck things. The lion was sentient! Sitting in the driver’s seat with her hands on the wheel meant she felt the rumble of the engine more prominently than when she sat in the passenger seat.

The rush of cars around her, their engines revving and their drivers honking, and even Leon’s barking all began to slowly morph like a tuning radio station. They warped in her mind until they weren’t just cars and annoyed drivers, but Galran spaceships shooting at her, sirens waking her in the middle of the night to get to her lion.

When she began to speed, caught up in her head, Lance started asking her to slow down, but she couldn’t fully register his voice. It was a warble among everything else and soon, it was just part of her memories too.

She had no idea how they ended up safely pulled over on the side of the road. But she knew there was a cop car behind her and she couldn’t stop hyperventilating even with Lance talking to her gently, bringing her back. Her hands had the steering wheel in a vice grip and it took a lot of concentration to pry them off.

Lance had given the officer some long-winded story about relatives and weddings and driving lessons, passing Pidge off for a 16-year-old. The officer had asked her if she was okay, and Pidge figured she looked a mess with the trauma making her shake and the tears she hadn’t realized were streaming down her face until she blinked to look at the woman in uniform. Pidge’s brain kicked back up to function enough for her to pass off her emotions as a broken-hearted teenage girl whose boyfriend had broken up with her.

They were let off with a warning, and Lance took the driver’s seat back. He’d stopped at a gas station to get her a water, and hugged her tightly, apologizing for making her drive and assuring her she was okay, that it was okay that she freaked out.

He hadn’t asked what happened or why until they got to the motel room. But she did not want to talk about it. She didn’t want to keep thinking about how the weakness caught up to her again. She just wanted to move on and forget; enjoy her time before the next break.

Before she could fall asleep, her phone buzzed.

No vid chat today honeysuckle?

Pidge smiled at the text and, for a moment, felt lighter and forgot about the incident in Ohio. She shut her eyes and feigned sleep, snapping a picture before typing: Long day. Very drained. Can I call in the morning? I miss you.

The response came quickly. Of course rest up and feel better honeybee. I miss you more. Goodnight.

She smiled and put her phone to charge before pulling the covers up over her. She felt calm enough to maybe actually fall asleep.

This time, her dreams were merciful and blank.

When she woke up the next morning, she woke up to Lance snoring in his bed, tightly hugging one of the pillows on the bed while Leon curled up beside him. Pidge chuckled and got up figuring she could walk to the McDonald’s down the street to get some breakfast before they hit the road again.

She sent Hunk a good morning text before pulling on her shoes and leaving a note in case Lance woke up, and she left the motel, greeted by crisp morning air. After spending so long in a car, she was happy to get a chance to actually use her legs for more than standing in a shower and walking to a bed.

When she was at McDonald’s, she ordered the food then called Hunk. He answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey honeybun. Feeling better?”

“Much,” she said with a smile. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to hear his voice. It was warm and she was anxious to hear it in person again. “How’d you sleep?”

“I slept okay. With the break, there’s a lot of orders coming in and it’s been keeping everyone busy. Where are you, it sounds kind of crowded?”

Pidge looked around at the varying people around her, all people going to work or parents who woke up early enough to bring their kids to breakfast to reign in Spring break. “I’m at McDonald’s, getting breakfast.”

He hummed and said, “Sounds good. I might go there on my lunch break. It’s like across the street anyway.” Pidge laughed and scanned the counter for her order. “Hey, so what happened yesterday? You said you were drained; are you okay?”

Pidge bit her lip and frowned. “Yeah. I’m okay, it’s just I was really tired. I think I just needed a little personal day, you know?”

“Ah, okay. Well, I have to start getting ready for work. I’ll call you on my lunch break, yeah?”

“Okay, talk to you later. Have fun at work!”

They counted to three and hung up.

A few minutes later, Pidge got her food and started walking back to the motel. Surprisingly, Lance still wasn’t awake, but with a few nudges and the smell of pancakes in the air, Lance opened his eyes and sat up, stretching.

“How’d you go to McDonald’s?”

“It’s down the street. I walked.” He hummed, squinting at her, but Pidge ignored it. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” he said with a smile as he gave Leon some food. He washed his hands and sat down to prepare his pancakes, casting Pidge a quick glance. Then after a beat, he asked, “What about you?”

“I can’t remember my dreams, so it was great.” Lance frowned, but he didn’t prod.

They spent their breakfast in comfortable silence, watching a crude cartoon comedy on Netflix using Pidge’s laptop. Once they’d eaten and freshened up for the day, they piled back into the car and the road trip began again.

Leon kept his head perched on Pidge’s shoulder and nuzzled her cheek with his nose every now and then.

“He’s an emotional support dog,” Lance said suddenly. “That’s why he’s all over you. He’s been trained to sense when I get anxious or stressed. And he comforts me through it.” He glanced over at her then looked back at the road. “He’s trying to help you too because he senses it with you.”

“Oh,” Pidge said awkwardly. “I’m okay, boy.” She pet his head, but Leon whined and licked her face, lifting his paw to rest on the shoulder of the seat, but it kept slipping.

Lance chuckled and shook his head. “You can lie to me, Pidge, but you can’t lie to a dog.” Pidge rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Did you do therapy when we got back?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Yes, I went to therapy, I took the meds, I was fine. I learned to live my life and I was fine. I don’t need it anymore. School keeps me busy and focused, and I’m fine. Please, Lance can you drop it?”

Lance didn’t answer. Instead he started flipping through radio stations. “Well, I wasn’t expecting this drive to take so long,” Lance said nonchalantly. “It was an impulse decision, and I didn’t think to even look at how long we’d have to drive.”

Pidge laughed as she looked at the GPS. “Yeah… I feel like half of break is going to be us driving there and back. I guess Keith must’ve rubbed off on you if you’re making impulsive choices now.” She flinched when she heard herself and looked over at Lance who was frowning at the road. “I’m so sorry. I- I shouldn’t have brought him up, that was stupid-”

“No, it’s cool,” Lance said with a shrug. “I write about the guy, for Christ’s sake. I’m not angry with him. Or with how we ended things.”

Pidge hummed and bit her lip. “Do… do you miss him?” Lance raised an eyebrow and looked at her blankly. She scrunched her nose. “Don’t wanna talk about it. Makes sense.”

Lance laughed and shook his head, humming along to the music for a while. “After I ran into you and Hunk, I keep expecting I’ll see him somewhere. I haven’t heard from him in years, and for all I know….” He sighed. “I just hope he’s safe. And living the life he wanted.” He smiled and looked at the GPS. “But we are not driving back. I’d rather pay to transport my car while we get a flight back.”

There was still another two days of driving left, considering bathroom breaks, traffic, and rest stops so Lance wasn’t exhausting himself. Maybe a little more. Pidge tapped her finger on the arm rest and said, “Lance? Why don’t you just pay to transport your car back to New York, and we get the next flight to Vegas at the next airport? It’ll take like three or four hours if we stop at Chicago.”

Lance pulled over at a gas station and grabbed his phone, looking something up rapidly. “Shit, these are expensive,” he muttered. “Last minute Spring Break trip to Vegas? Just us, Pidge. Just. Us.” He dialed someone and Pidge frowned. “I’m trying to see if I can pull some strings. One sec.” He got out of the car and Pidge scrolled through her phone leisurely.

She could hear a muffled conversation and after a couple songs, Lance got back into the car. “Sweet. It worked. I got us two tickets to Vegas. Leon is good to stay with us since he’s registered as an ESA. My car will be transferred back to New York, and we have our standby tickets for the end of the week. I just have to do two book signings while I’m there.”

Pidge raised her eyebrows, evidently impressed. “Wow. You have connections.”

“World-wide YA series author pays off,” he said. “It’s not Brad Pitt fame, but things are pretty easy. Plus the Garrison is paying for the return tickets….”

“Garrison provided a pretty big scholarship for me to go to school, so yeah, I see that,” Pidge said with a laugh.

“Alright, Chicago, here we come,” Lance said, rerouting the GPS.

---

It was nice weather for spring. A lot of people were evidently tourists on their break. Meanwhile, Pidge and Lance were waiting on an Uber to get them to Hunk’s bakery.

“So how come you can handle being on a plane?” Lance asked. “And you can handle being in a car, but not driving?”

Pidge rolled her eyes and groaned, tired of the same topic. “I freak out a bit during take off and landing. All the shuddering and the engine sounds…. But I can handle it. The driving… it was the fact I was in charge of something. Now can we not talk about it for the rest of break?” Lance raised his hands in surrender. “Anyway, won’t they say something about Leon being in the bakery? It’s a food place.”

“Maybe, but it’ll get Hunk attention,” Lance said. “And I’ll leave if they ask me to. I just want to see Hunk and surprise him.” He stood up from the bench they were on. “Ride’s almost here.”

Sure enough, an SUV pulled up and the window came down. A driver asked to be sure they were the one’s looking for the ride and let them on. Leon quickly hopped onto the car, curling up at Lance’s feet. Pidge sat in the back, feeling butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Lance easily began conversing with the driver, laughing and asking questions with the ease he always had when it came to talking to people. Pidge watched the city blurring past and the longer they drove the more anxious she got.

This would be the first time she would see Hunk since they started dating. It was kind of surreal to think of, even if she had spent so many nights chatting with him.

The car came to a stop and Pidge gulped as she saw the bakery. Lance thanked the driver and got off with Leon’s leash in one hand and his duffel bag in the other. Pidge hefted her backpack and gripped her own luggage a little tighter.

“Whoa,” Lance breathed. “This is Hunk’s bakery?” Lance went up to the window, staring at the cakes in awe. “Look at these colors. The scenes- the details. Oh my God.” Pidge looked over at Lance who seemed to be choking up. She noticed the way his eyes glistened and the way Leon perked up, sniffing at him. “These are amazing,” he whispered.

“That’s how I felt when I first saw them. I didn’t even know he lived here. I just saw the cakes and… they felt so familiar.”

“Yeah,” Lance agreed. “They have… Hunk written all over them.” Lance laughed and wiped at his eyes. “Well, what are we waiting for?” He went into the bakery with Leon trotting beside him and Pidge behind him.

Almost immediately, the girl at the register said, “Um, sir! You can’t have dogs in here if they’re not a service dog.”

“He’s an ESA.”

She shook her head. “Only service dogs, sir, I’m sorry.”

Lance nodded. “Okay, okay, but can we talk to the head chef please?” The girl looked a little uncomfortable, maybe a little annoyed. “We’ll leave right away, we just want to see the chef.”

“The chef doesn’t take personal-”

“Can you please just ask?” Lance asked kindly, smiling. Pidge looked at him and swore he was purposefully putting on the charm. Big blue eyes, side smirk, the whole shebang. She had to keep herself from rolling her eyes and scoffing.

A few other customers were staring, so Pidge walked around to see some of the new cake designs.

After a moment she heard a familiar voice say, “If that’s not a service d- oh my God! Lance! What the- what are you- oh my God!”

She turned and saw Hunk engulfing Lance in a hug. Leon wagged his tail excitedly, sniffing and jumping at Hunk. “Hunk! Dude! I’m so fucking proud of you, look at all this!” Lance exclaimed, ruffling his hair.

Hunk laughed, and Pidge felt like she was floating from the sound alone. “Thank you! God, I’d love to show you more, but I could get in huge trouble letting Leon stay. Hey buddy!” Hunk pet Leon affectionately. “Did you just come in? This is a great surprise!”

“Oh, that’s not all of it,” Lance said with a smile. “I’m gonna take Leon out, but uh….” Lance gestured over to where Pidge was.

Hunk turned and Pidge laughed as she watched his expression go from confusion to shock to joy. “Pidge!” He rushed over to her and wrapped his arms around her, engulfing her completely. Pidge laughed and buried her face in his chest. “Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

He pulled back and Pidge touched his cheek. Her face hurt from smiling, but she didn’t care. She’d been yearning for this moment for so long. “Surprise!” she said, trying to sound excited, but she didn’t trust her voice to go above a whisper. “Hi,” she giggled.

Hunk encased her face in his hands which smelled like sugar. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to see you, Pidge,” he said. She blushed and bit her lip, loving the feeling of hearing him in person, of his touch against her face. “I missed you.” He chuckled as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

Pidge felt like all of the stress of school and road trips and homework had melted away. The nervous energy she’d been holding dissipated with the taste of his lips. All those doubts and worries she’d had half a world away were nonsensical and unnecessary. Because he was here with her, holding her, kissing her. His touch was so gentle, and the feeling of his lips was familiar even if they’d only had one day of dating together.

Hunk pulled back and kissed her nose, making Pidge laugh softly. He wiped away a tear she hadn’t realized had even run down her cheek. “Here, tell Lance to come around the back, I’ll let you guys into my office.”

She nodded and pulled away, suddenly very aware of the many strangers in the bakery staring and whispering and giggling. Many of them seemed to be swooning, like they’d witnessed a proposal. Others were trying to be polite and look away. Either way, Pidge felt her cheeks heat up and she nearly ran out of the bakery.

“I was watching through the window and that was so cheesy, but so perfect. I could write a romance book and make that a perfect scene,” Lance said as she went out to greet him.

She punched his arm and hefted her duffel bag. “Hunk said to go around the back. He’ll let us in.”

Together, they went around the bakery and found the door propped open. Pidge peeked in and the saw the bakers working on different sets of cake. Hunk noticed her and went to open the door for them, clearing a path for them to get to the office. It didn’t seem like anyone noticed Leon, much less Pidge and Lance making their way to Hunk’s office.

When they got in, Pidge dropped her bag and looked around. She noticed a few Polaroids taped to the wall, all taken in the winter. The first one Hunk took of her where she hadn’t even been looking at the camera, the one they took on a bench with Pidge laughing and Hunk looking at her so adoringly it made her blush, and the last one he took of her at the airport. She tugged at the ends of her hair and tried to hide her giddiness.

“Why didn’t you guys tell me you were coming in? I would’ve taken the day off!” Hunk exclaimed, sitting down. He noticed Pidge looking at the pictures and blushed as well.

“Well, I wanted to surprise you. Pidge didn’t know I was going to bring her, so it was a surprise for both of you,” Lance said proudly. “God, Hunk, I mean I- I heard about the cakes, and I saw pictures online, but…. Seeing them in person… it’s like I can’t believe you created all of this, but I know no one else but you could have.”

Hunk blushed more profusely and rubbed his neck as he thanked Lance. Pidge walked behind him and wrapped her around him, resting her chin on top of his head. Because she could do that now. She was his girlfriend. “Also, don’t worry about taking the day off. We need to stop at Matt’s anyway. Oh, and uh… Lance was definitely on the verge of tears when we got here.”

Hunk chuckled and one hand began to caress her hands. “Really?”

Lance scoffed. “Well- yeah! I’m really proud of you!  I’m not ashamed to admit I got emotional. Do you have a lot of work this week?”

“Mostly just simple cakes. All the big orders are done,” he said. “So it wouldn’t hurt if I closed a little earlier this week.” Pidge hummed above him and Hunk chuckled. “It really won’t! Besides you guys flew all the way out here. I want to spend time with you guys.”

“We’re gonna make Vegas our bitch this week,” Lance said, making Hunk and Pidge burst into laughter. “Alright, I wanna go leave this at Matt’s until you get off work. I’m assuming I can crash with you? Unless you two lovebirds wanna stay together, then I can ask Matt if I can stay with him-”

“Uh, I think it’s cool,” Hunk said, glancing up at Pidge. “Were you planning on staying with me?”

“Um… I mean, I thought I was staying with Matt but-”

“Oh, this is awkward,” Lance said through a pained chuckle. “I’m kind of loving it. Okay, so you guys figure it out. I’ll be on my phone finding an Uber.”

Pidge glared at him, then felt a tug on her arms. Hunk pulled her around to face him. “Did you want to stay with me?”

“I mean, we used to do it all the time,” she said with a shrug. Hunk hummed and looked at her expectantly, knowing her well enough that he knew she was holding something else back. “It’s different now, isn’t it? Spending the night together as a couple versus as friends?”

“If it’s not something you want to do, that’s okay,” Hunk assured. “I’m not offended.” Pidge grimaced, and he cupped her face to pull her down to a gentle kiss. “My little honeycomb, always overthinking.” Pidge felt herself melt a little at the way he said that. “Stay with your brother. And you’re more than welcome to stay with me whenever you want.”

“Okay,” she whispered. She looked over at Lance who was pointedly staring at his phone. “Did you get a ride for us?”

“Yep! You have the keys, right?” She nodded. “Alright, well, they’re on the way, so….”

“Let me walk you guys out,” Hunk said, standing up. He took Pidge by the hand which made Pidge feel a whole new wave of giddiness and butterflies and jitters. Hunk walked with them to the sidewalk and waited until the car came. “I’ll go over to Matt’s as soon as I’m off work, okay? And we can go out to a bar or a movie or something.”

“Sounds like a perfect plan,” Lance said. “Okay, I think this is our car.” He waved the driver over after checking the license plate and then loaded their luggage.

“I’ll see you guys soon, okay?” Hunk promised, pushing her hair back. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Pidge bit her lip and smiled before she leaned up on her toes to kiss him. “Me too. I’ll see you at Matt’s.” She went to join Lance in the car and they waved as Hunk went back into the bakery.

Lance waited until they were at Matt’s apartment to say anything to Pidge. “So… you’re gonna stay here?” She looked at him as she came back to sit on the couch after leaving her stuff in her room. “You’re not staying with your boyfriend? What was with the ‘it’s different now’ thing?”

“Eavesdropper,” she accused. Lance just shrugged. “Well, I mean it is. Before, it didn’t mean anything, it was just a thing we did. Now we’re dating, and it… it means something, I think. I just don’t want to rush into anything.”

Lance smirked and shook his head.

“What?” Pidge demanded. “Lance, what? What is it?”

“Nothing! Just… it’s very you.” Pidge crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “I just mean that… you’re still being super cautious. Which is kind of weird to me because I never am when I’m in a relationship. But I don’t know if you’re being cautious because it’s what you do or because you think this is going to end in disaster.”

Pidge hesitated and mindlessly flipped through the channels. “I mean… what am I supposed to do if it does?” she whispered. “He’s my best friend. If there’s a disaster, I’m not just losing a boyfriend, I’m losing a best friend. Maybe two if you stay more his friend than mine.”

“Pidge-”

“I know, I know,” she said. “I’m not supposed to be so pessimistic, I have to live in the moment, blah, blah, blah,” she groaned. “They’re just worries I can’t help but have. And then with people always giving their two cents, it just… sucks.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then Lance asked, “Who’s giving what two cents?”

“It’s stupid,” Pidge muttered. “One of my roommates always… used to ask about how this was working. What I would do if Hunk found someone else because we’re on opposite sides of the country. It’s like she was just always judging, always… picking at it. Even though my other roommates were on my side, it still sucked because… it’s like her words were the loudest anyway.

“Actually being with Hunk, it feels different. I feel invincible, I feel like nothing can come between us, I feel like… we’re meant to be. But then I’m away from him, and reality just….” She pantomimed slapping someone, and Lance chuckled. “I don’t know how to live in the moment because I’ve always calculated everything, and now I’m just supposed to… roll with it.”

Lance nodded in understanding and nudged her gently. “Well, hey. It doesn’t matter what other people say about the relationship you two have. And I think you should talk to Hunk about those insecurities. I think it would help if you both just took tonight to talk and be together.” Pidge began to protest, but Lance waved the rebuttals away. “I’m tired from driving and the jetlag. Plus one of those signings is actually tomorrow… so, yeah. It’s cool. Besides, I’ll get to have all week to have sleepovers with Hunk.”

Pidge snorted and shook her head. Before she could respond, she heard the sound of keys jiggling in a lock and the door opened. Matt jumped and grabbed a hold of the coat hanger he had near the door before he realized who had intruded his home.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” he yelped, once the shock wore away.

“Surprise?” Pidge said uncertainly. “We didn’t mean to scare you!”

Matt burst into laughter and rushed forward to hug her tightly. Then he turned to Lance and greeted him just as joyously. “Dude, I heard about the books! Congrats! And you look great, it’s so good to see you again.”

Lance smiled and Pidge finally saw that spark of friendship she’d always expected her brother and Lance to have. “Thanks, man. It’s been pretty great. Busy, but that’s a good thing, I think. But yeah, I abducted Pidge and then we ambushed Hunk and then apparently the next step was scaring the shit out of you. Sorry.”

Matt laughed that off and shrugged. “It’s fine. I wasn’t expecting to see this terror until May, so it’s a great surprise. Are you guys both staying here or at Hunk’s?”

“I’m staying here, Lance is staying at Hunk’s,” Pidge said before any snide comments could be made. But Matt just nodded and Lance was half-watching TV.

“Tonight’s date night for Hunk and Pidge though,” Lance said. “They have catching up to do.”

“Perfect,” Matt said, squaring his shoulders. “I get to perfect my Protective Big Brother act.” Pidge rolled her eyes and plopped down on the couch with Lance. “So catch me up! How’s life been for both of you? How was the trip here? What are the Spring Break plans?”

The three of them took turns talking about what they wanted to do over break and even plans for later- particularly when Pidge graduated. Lance was a little miffed about ending up as the only one on the east coast while his friends stayed on the west side of the country. Somewhere between a conversation about Lance next book signing, there was a knock on the door.

“Unless Matt was expecting company, that must be your guy,” Lance said. Pidge bit her lip and walked over to the door.

The guys kept talking while Pidge opened the door. Sure enough, there was Hunk having changed into his usual attire with a happy smile and bright eyes that brightened further when they met Pidge’s. “Hey, there,” he said softly.

Pidge smiled and wrapped her arms around him, looking up at him with a blushing face. He leaned down and kissed her lightly before she let him in.

“Hunk, buddy, how was work?” Matt asked, shouting from the living room.

“It was great. I got a great surprise today from these two. Oh, hey boy.” Hunk laughed as Leon jumped on him for attention. “So, what’s the plan? We going to eat or what?”

“I was thinking you guys could have a date night,” Lance said. “I have a book signing early tomorrow, and I’m not that hungry.”

Hunk furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you sure? We could order in and stay here. You’re staying with me right?”

“Yeah, for sure! I just figured you’d want a date night….”

Hunk looked over at Pidge, tugging on a strand of her hair. “Yeah, but I’d like to have a chance to plan that out. So, are we eating in?”

“I could go for pizza,” Matt chimed in.

“I’ll order,” Pidge offered. She went to get her laptop from her room to submit an online order. She plopped down on the couch between Hunk and Lance. “Alright, what are we getting?”

The guys took a while to figure out their order, but it was eventually placed and Pidge finally felt herself relax. She had Hunk’s reassuring warmth beside her, his arm draped behind her and playing idly with her hair. She had Lance telling funny stories and making them laugh. She had her brother across from her looking happier than he had in a long time, joking along with Lance. The TV played for no one and Leon hopped from the couch to under the arm chair Matt was in.

Eventually, they had pizza and soda in the mix which made it even better especially with Leon doing tricks in hopes of getting a treat for it.

It felt natural. It felt whole. Pidge had expected her break to consist of sitting at home and watching reruns of Friends by herself on her couch. Instead, she was here, with the people she trusted most and making new memories that made her feel light and… safe.

When it got late, Lance insisted he had to turn in, and Pidge insisted Hunk needed to get rest before his shift the next day. Matt had work too, so he had already been laughing at nothing and everything from tiredness.

Matt soon headed off to bed, too tired for proper goodbyes. While Lance grabbed his things to leave with Hunk, Pidge curled further into the arms of her boyfriend.

“So when I video chatted you while you were at McDonald’s, you were already on your way here, huh?” he murmured into her hair, stroking it gently. He used his other hand to pull her legs onto his lap. She nodded and smiled smugly. “I can’t believe I finally have you in person again,” he said. “I feel like I might never get used to these moments.”

Pidge sighed and hesitated slightly before sliding her hand into his. “I know. But hopefully soon, we can be around each other a lot more often and it can stop feeling like a delusion or something.” Hunk chuckled and pressed his lips to her temple, making Pidge shiver slightly.

She was so unused to this. These affections that screamed girlfriend. Cuddling with Hunk was something she was used to. Hugs, of course. But the handholding and the kissing were still so new. Their relationship so far had been solely through a screen, and now they had a chance to change that.

It made Pidge realize she had no idea whatsoever how to even be a girlfriend.

“Hey. You okay?” She looked at Hunk who was eyeing her worriedly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she assured. “Want me to stop by the bakery when you’re on your lunch break tomorrow?”

Hunk smiled and bumped his nose with hers. “I’d love that.” Pidge smiled and kissed him, letting herself relax into the feeling of being with Hunk this way.

“Yo, lovebirds,” Lance called from the door. “I hate to interrupt, but I’m super tired and need a nap.”

“I’m going,” Hunk said. Pidge stood up with him and went to the front door. “I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?” Pidge nodded and Hunk stepped out into the hallway.

“Pidge, you’re taking me on a tour tomorrow after my signing,” Lance said with a playful wink. “Alrighty, come on, Leon!”

Pidge laughed as she stared after them walking out and then shut the door, still able to hear the two talking in the halls. She locked the door and went to her room to change into PJs.

The next day, Lance and Pidge went up and down the Strip until Hunk’s lunch hour came around. Then they all went to eat at a fast food joint. Lance told them about his book signing. At one point someone actually went up to him with their kid, having recognized him from his book picture and having heard he was in town with a book signing.

The more Pidge walked around with them, the more she felt like this place could be home. Whether she stayed with Matt or maybe one day moved in with Hunk or just got her own place… Vegas felt like it could be home.

She was glad that she wasn’t completely horrible at this girlfriend thing. She loved the feeling of her hand in Hunk’s. It felt like the most natural thing in the world the way their hands found each other’s. Lance was more than happy to play photographer for them, insisting that they needed couple photos. At those moments, Hunk would kiss her cheek or hold her close or smile at her in a way that made Pidge feel like the most important person in the world.

She found herself getting a little more used to the idea of her and Hunk as a unit as the day went on. It had always been the two of them, but each as their own. Now, as a couple, it was a little different. She knew she was still her own person, still able to stand on her own, but now she was also part of a relationship.

Originally, Pidge had been a little terrified about that. She was worried she’d be stripped of who she was until she was just Hunk’s girlfriend. She’d been worried people would expect her to constantly point out that she wasn’t just Pidge now, but Pidge-and-Hunk, and in turn afraid that would make her feel a little less her own person. But that wasn’t the case at all.

Lance teased, but not too much to get frustrating. Matt only smiled seeing her with Hunk. And actually being with Hunk…. She wasn’t afraid when she was with him. She liked being part of this Hunk-and-Pidge thing. It felt like a new layer of her rather than a reset.

Maybe it was a stupid thing to worry about, a stupid thing to think on so much, but Pidge was a person who overthought. Especially when it came to relationships with other people. That had been proven many a times before. And after so long having this relationship solely through phone and computer screens, it still felt new in some ways now that it got a chance to develop in person.

For example, the moments when she wasn’t expecting a touch and received one kept taking her by surprise. Moments when they’d be sitting on a bench or in a restaurant or, later that night, a bar, and she would feel Hunk’s arm around her suddenly. Or he’d tuck her hair back. Or he’d cup her face. Or he’d lean in just to kiss her shoulder.

Those moments kept making her freeze up and have reboot her system to start functioning again.

It was also kind of wonderful to think that Hunk had such natural tendencies towards her. That he felt the urge to just have some sort of contact with her at random moments. She was worried, though, that her lack of reciprocity would come off wrong. But otherwise it would seem forced.

Shit, relationships were hard.

By the time the night was over, they were hanging out at Hunk’s place. They’d all had a few drinks, but Lance was especially tired from waking up so early for the signing. He ended up falling asleep on the couch, and Pidge had to wake him up to tell him he could go to bed. He muttered and shuffled off to Hunk’s room with Leon trotting behind him.

Meanwhile Hunk grabbed some blankets from the linen closet and draped them on the couch where he was sleeping until he got a chance to get an air mattress. He sat down, draping the blankets around him and opening his arms in a silent invitation for Pidge.

She smiled and walked over, sitting between his legs as he browsed through Netflix. He started rocking side to side slowly. Pidge nuzzled closer and sighed happily.

He put on their favorite comedy, and then wrapped his arms around Pidge. They only talked for Pidge’s occasional question on the show or when they commented on something happening. It felt like the way they always interacted, just with more contact, less reserved. No more holding back.

After a couple episodes, Pidge felt Hunk’s thumb rubbing circles into her arm. “Hey.” She hummed, tilting her head to look at him. He looked a little serious. She shifted and looked at him more directly, furrowing her eyebrows. Before she could ask, Hunk said, “Lance told me about the thing that happened in Ohio.”

A muscle in Pidge’s jaw jumped as she clenched her teeth. A weight fell in her stomach, and suddenly she just wanted to go back to Matt’s.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Hunk said softly, his hand coming up to her cheek.

She scoffed and turned her face away. “I’m fine,” she insisted.

“If you were, you wouldn’t react like this, honey badger.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Honey badger?”

“You’re angry. It fits.” He smiled at her, but Pidge kept staring, unamused. He sighed and put a finger under her chin to tilt her head back to him. “Katie, you could’ve gotten hurt. You both could have. Talk to me, what happened? I know you have nightmares, but-”

“What else could it possibly be?” she snapped. “I spend all these years piloting a fucking lion and in the middle of a war and I’m supposed to just… be able to handle cars and planes and….” She sighed, knowing it sounded ridiculous. Cars and planes were nothing like the Green Lion. But they made her anxious. She couldn’t help the way her brain worked. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Maybe you need to.”

“What, another therapist? I was with one for a year when we got back. Bi-weekly meetings. I get nightmares and flashbacks, they can’t help with that. I just have to live with it.” Hunk looked at her with sad brown eyes that made her feel small. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Pidge, I….” Hunk sighed and put a hand on her cheek. “You’re one of the most important people in my life. It hurts me that you’re still in so much pain. I get it, there’s some stuff that just won’t go away, but…. You can’t just not acknowledge or face this. You had to be pried from the pedals. Lance had to use the emergency brake. You were on an access road, someone could’ve hit you, you could’ve hit someone else.”

“I know!” she yelled.

“Hey,” he said, trying to placate her. He got a hold of her waist before she could get up and storm off. He pulled her back gently, and she let him. “Easy. I’m just trying to explain why I’m worried.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’m strong, I can handle it.” She put her legs on either side of him, facing him fully, trying to meet his gaze in a way that would prove she was fine.

Hunk sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. His thumb ran across her cheekbone. “If it were me, would you worry?” Pidge shut her eyes and sighed. Then she nodded slowly. “Then don’t tell me not to.”

“I’ll be okay,” she insisted.

“So stubborn.” She chuckled lightly and opened her eyes. He stared at her for a moment before leaning in to kiss her softly. “Oute alofa ia te oe.”

Pidge smiled and tilted her head. “What’s that mean?”

“It means you’re the most magnificent person I know,” he answered. Pidge smiled smugly at that. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I know,” she said, her smile dropping. “I just… don’t want to hold on to those weak moments more than I need to.”

“Pidge, you’re not weak. That is the last word anyone would ever think to use to describe you. And I don’t want you to think that I worry or ask because it seems weak. I’m asking because I don’t want you to have to fight so much to be okay when you have me and Lance and your brother to help. You’re not alone anymore. You’re my best friend and my girlfriend. I want to know that you’ll let me help you when you need it.”

She sighed and looked at him. The vulnerability in his eyes made her heart break and come back together all at once. She reached a hand out, running her fingers through his hair. His eyes shut as she pushed it back. Then she put her hands on either side of his face.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she whispered. His eyes opened. “But I’m glad I did it.”

“Pidge-”

She leaned forward to kiss him. To really kiss him. To kiss him with all of her heart, with all of the affection she’d stored up since the day she’d kissed him goodbye at the airport. To hopefully tell him that just because she didn’t want to tell him about her weaker moments, it didn’t mean she didn’t trust him, she just wanted him to know and have the best of her. To tell him she was willing to work through all of her fears if it meant having moments like this with him for the rest of her life.

His lips were gentle with hers. He held her tightly, one hand at her waist, the other at the back of her neck. Pidge let her hands drop to his shoulders. One arm draped around him as her other hand threaded through his hair.

Hunk let out a soft grunt that made a fire sear through Pidge’s body. The hand at her waist moved to wrap around her torso and pull her closer. Their breaths increased in speed, but their lips remained connected. Pidge shivered as she realized how new this was. Being with Hunk this way…. Feeling all these new things with Hunk, because of Hunk.

She’d never had a kiss like this. She’d never felt so wrapped up by the sensation. The heat was almost uncomfortable, but she reveled in it because it felt so wonderful to be there, with Hunk’s hands on her with his lips against hers, with the sound of his breaths.

They only stopped because Hunk tilted his head down after a while, catching his breath, humming softly. Pidge trembled slightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead which made Hunk chuckle softly.

“Are you staying tonight?” he asked. His voice sounded broken, but in a good way. In that way it must always be when you kiss someone for so long.

“Yeah,” Pidge said, deciding at that very moment. Hunk looked back up at her and smiled. “Now kiss me again.”

Hunk laughed and kissed her nose. “Your lips and chin are red,” he noted.

“Because of your beard,” she said. “But I don’t mind it.” She leaned against him, shifting to sit beside him with one of his arms around her. “You should sleep. You have work in the morning.”

Hunk groaned, but he shifted to lay down, wrapping Pidge in his arms. His breath tickled her a bit, but she kind of enjoyed it. It meant they were close. It meant they were together.

After a while, his breaths evened out. He’d fallen asleep. Pidge let the TV keep playing as she traced his tattoos with a finger. She wondered how long a person was supposed to wait before falling in love. Something told her it wasn’t a logistical thing either. That she’d have to welcome it as it came, and although that also terrified her… she was excited about it too.

They woke up to someone flicking water at their faces. Pidge grumbled and opened her eyes to see Lance behind the couch, a smirk on his face. “If you were staying over, I could’ve taken the couch.” He walked away to pick up a cup of coffee he’d left on the counter. “Hunk, I’m hungry,” he whined.

“I didn’t know I was gonna stay,” Pidge mumbled, shuffling onto her other side to hide her face in Hunk’s chest.

“I’m hungry too. Why don’t you make me breakfast for once,” Hunk yawned, cuddling Pidge closer. “Wake me when it’s ready.”

“The hospitality in Vegas sucks,” Lance said. Pidge laughed into Hunk’s chest.

After a few clatters of pots and pans- which Pidge was certain were on purpose- Hunk groaned and sat up. “Alright, I’m coming, stop touching stuff, you heathen.”

Pidge sat up so he could get off the couch and wrapped herself in the blanket as he went to the kitchen, shooing Lance away. The smell of food soon filled the apartment and if Pidge closed her eyes, she could imagine a morning waking up in Hunk’s bed to this same thing. She could imagine it being a routine. She could imagine joining him in the kitchen, learning his recipes and sitting to eat with him every day. She could imagine them dancing playfully along to the music he liked to hum as he cooked.

She was starting to get swept up in fantasies. It was a little reckless…. But she didn’t mind it all.

Click here for Ch. 10

[anecdoche-98]

What a Simple Pleasure to Feel Normal

11.2.18

I definitely meant to post this week but I like literally went to bed instead. Like I would lay in bed each night this week and be like oh I should post but my phone and laptop are both across my room charging and I wasn't about to go get them. Thinking about it now, I'm pretty bummed that I didn't post because I had a couple of good days that could have made some fun posts.

On Monday, I went back to my high school to talk to some of my old teachers and let me tell you that was surreal. Walking back into high school after not being there for so long is so weird. It really was like walking into an alternate universe. I've been back so that I could go see some shows but walking in at 3:10 was very odd. I had good conversations with my old teachers though. I had to talk to one teacher because I'm asking him for a letter of recommendation and I wanted to talk to another teacher because I love her and wanted to chat with her since I was there. She wrote me letter of recommendation before too and I wanted to thank her for it. I talked with her for a little over an hour and a half. It was so nice to talk with her. We talked about so many different things and it really brought back so many memories about why I loved her while I was in high school and why I still love her.

I donated blood on yesterday and that always makes me feel good. I'm pretty good about donating blood and I never have any issues with it. I like donating blood because it's such an easy way for me to be helpful to society. It's something that my body can do well, so I figure why not do it whenever I can. I think it's something like 1 pint of blood can help save up to 3 lives, or something like that. Being able to help others really does make me feel so much more fortunate in my own life. There's also an organization called Feed My Starving Children that I really like too.

Last night I went out with a couple of friends after a church young adults meeting. The YA meeting was really good. We hung out for a bit and then split up into pairs to have deeper discussion. We've been going through a series on discipleship. It's something that I've been kind of struggling through, but that's okay. We all struggle sometimes. I was talking through a little Bible study that we were all doing for the night and it was really nice. Like we both really understand each other and it's always really nice to be fully understood by someone when you're struggling. But afterwards I went out with some other friends to go see a movie. We went to go see Bohemian Rhapsody and it was really a beautiful film. It was really nice to go out with my friends though. I was with my friends Ricky and Jon. Ricky and I have gotten pretty close as of late so it wasn't anything out of the blue for him to ask if I wanted to hang out after YA. But Jon is a different story. We used to date a hot minute ago and he's been super weird and not always super nice to me since. But he was okay last night. So it was nice everything felt normal with him. It was like we were just friends and he didn't break my heart and everything was fine. What a simple pleasure to feel normal for a night.

I woke up this morning feeling okay. I slept in until 10ish, which was absolutely glorious. I feel like I haven't been able to sleep in for such a long time and it is such a joy to me. But I feel like I simultaneously got a ton done today and also absolutely nothing done all at the same time. I watched Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and while I did that I did my accounting homework, washed bird poop off of my car, copied my notes into my notebook, got all of my things collected to bring to work, and I made dinner all between 12-3 pm. When I got to work I did an extra credit assignment, did part of my com assignment, organized/purged my binder, worked on the scarf that I'm crocheting, and ate dinner. When I got home I updated my grades spreadsheet, took 2 online quizzes for my accounting class, I made edits to an essay that my professor is letting us revise for extra points, and worked on a study guide for my management class. I guess that was a lot of stuff, but I feel like I could have done so much more, but I guess it's fine. I still have time tomorrow and Sunday to get some more work done. And a lot of the work that I have to do isn't due for a little while.

It is now late and this post like literally every single other post takes so long to write. I never thing that it will take so long to write these and I guess I never realize how much I write but this has taken an incredible amount if time.

[thehungryhybrid]

I had a nightmare last night into this morning. And I feel I want to write it down somewhere cuz it was just strange.

Some context. I went to bed at around 11 pm yesterday. It was, and still is, very windy outside due to a storm coming in from the west. I hear it especially well because right outside my window on the ground (I’m on the second floor) is one of those campers (is that the word?) and we’ve covered it in this makeshift tent to protect it from the weather. This cover was somewhat loose and was flapping really loudly.

I also always go to sleep listening to music. Not that that has anything to with this.

I don’t really remember how the dream began. I just know I was in a school building together with my mom. Her workplace to be precise.

That’s another thing. Whenever I have nightmares I’m almost always in a familiar setting or with people I know. But instead of the school being in nice suburban area, surrounded by houses and villas, we were on the edge of a swamp. Kinda like how I imagine Florida. Not that I’ve ever been there.

Anyways. We were in the school. At night. Why we were there at all I have no idea. At first there were nothing to creepy about the place. We were just aimlessly walking around. The rooms got progressively darker and unkept. Was my mom really working here? I remember seeing the tapestry coming undone. Grey and dirty. The shelves looked more and more rotten and some had already collapsed on itself.

We didn’t actually think too much of it.

We then arrived into a room that just felt... wrong.

I could phyiscally feel, or as physically feel I could in a dream, pressure. The air was bad. So bad it was hard to breathe. It was hot and stuffed. But not only that I felt as if we shouldn’t really be there. I don’t really want to say I felt ‘evil’ but something sinister at the very least.

In the middle of the room was a circle made of animal bones. I think there may have been blood as well. It was not in the shape of a pentagram though.

The bones were probably from different animals and lying next to each other, vertically, forming a crude circle around the skull of what might be a goat.

“People have probably tried to summon a demon or something”, I remember telling my mom. It definitely felt like they had.

On the floor a bit to the side was a laptop. We picked it up. It had a lot of cables connected to it. For some reason we didn’t think of actually removing them.

We were now outside on the school, next to a playground, when we opened the laptop. Like dream does it moves you and you don’t question it. It was day. Or maybe dusk? On the laptop there was a video open. And we played it.

The video seemed to just be a scene from some kind of school drama. Two girls, around 12 years of age maybe, were talking to each other at the same place we stood.

What they were talking about I don’t remember, I do remember that the feeling I got was that they weren’t exactly friends and one of the girls were saying mean stuff or something to make the other feel bad. The school and the school grounds looked normal in the video and nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first. The two girls ended their conversation and walked towards an entrance to the school building located on the other end.

Behind them a huge crocodile began to follow them. I didn’t think too much of it when I saw the video. Maybe because the kids and adults weren’t that concerned that a huge, several meter long crocodile was actively hunting the two girls. The girls of course shouted for help, but they did not seem as scared as you’d think they’d be.

The crocodile itself had quite long legs. Long enough to not have to drag it’s belly on the ground. It walked quickly swaying a little as it did.

As the crocodile disappeared from view a man stood in front of the camera holding a chainsaw. I thought he was the groundskeeper. This man did not reappear in my dream.

We stopped watching the video and we realized, without any evidence or signs that this crocodile was real. Was here. We didn’t see it but we just knew. We went inside the house again.

It was around here that I woke up. I looked at the clock on my nightstand and I think it was 4:40 am. I was thirsty. There were 2 water bottles on the nightstand. One about half full. For some reason I decided not to drink anything even though I was almost parched.

What really unsettles me, now in hindsight, is that my half-full water bottle wasn’t standing by the wall but rather in front of my (digital) clock. And my phone was leaning against it. Standing.

I never leave my phone like that. It’s always laying down, and as far from the edges of the nightstand it can get.

I don’t remember putting it up like that. I guess it’s possible I did something while I was asleep. That would be a first if that’s the case. My knee-jerk reaction is that something put it like that. Like a warning or an announcement.

While the thought is scary now, I actually didn’t fully comprehend it to be so at that time. I just put the phone down from the unsafe position and pushed the bottle to the wall. And I went back to sleep.

The school was very much different now. It was dark inside the house. Impossibly dark for it to be somewhat light outside. We were in the room with the animal bones. Fear was slowly rising within me.

The door further into the house was closed. Suddenly locked. We had quickly entered the room from the outside (there was a door leading to the school yard in it) because something was coming. And it wasn’t just the crocodile.

Ever seen a picture of a lizard running on its hind legs? Their head upwards, the arms flailing. Looking quite goofy. Now imagine that but their body is swaying. Swaying to the sides, but the swaying wasn’t just the body moving back and forths but also the torso and belly jolting from side to side like a super agressive belly dancing.

These lizards were dangerous. And they were coming en masse from the swamp. The crocodile seemed like an ever present looming danger behind them.

We were inside the room. As dark as my room was. I was looking out through the windows. Seeing 3 lizards walking outside, then 3 more, then 2 more, then another 3. Their eyes dead and staring like a fish. Mouths open.

My mom turned around trying to discern something next to the door further into the building.

“I think i see something swaying there by the door”, my mom whispered to me. “There in the corner.” She points to a corner right next to the door. It was too dark for me to see but I still saw it, if that makes sense.

We were by the wall standing opposite it. I was thinking of maybe getting out but the other lizards were still marching outside and then there’s the crocodile. I didn’t have time to decide on a course of action because the lizard in the room charged.

I have no idea if I actually found it scary or not. But my brain decided to pull me out of the dream anyway. Probably because the dream was going to end with me and my mom killed. And I have this ingrained conviction that I must not die in a dream. It was 5:40 am now. Still 30 minutes for me to sleep.

But I was too unsettled to sleep. I didn’t want to go back to the dream. In my half sleeping brain I conjured up an automatic gun for me to use but I was unsure whether to use it. The noise would bring the others. But since I was awake in a sense I decided to make it so that we’d win. I would shoot the lizard, I wouldn’t be bothered with the kick back and I’d hit it even though I’ve never fired an automatic before. We would then hide in the lockers as the crocodile entered the building. On the other side of the door that had been locked.

My alarm clock rang at this point.

While the dream doesn’t exactly feel scary in my writing, horror isn’t exactly my specialty, I did have a constant feeling of dread. even when I woke up the two times. I still wonder how my phone was put in that position. Did it do it in my sleep? Or, if we go into the supernatural, was the evil presence from my dream an actual demon of some kind who wanted to get to me?

You know how kids justify them being safe by saying that the bed is the safezone or that if they’re covered completed while on it nothing can get to them? I still have that same belief at times. Especially when I get scared during the nights. I remedy that by hugging one of my pokemon plushies.

Another thing I did was to paint my wall.

This is on the wall above my bed. It’s a language I created, a magical language. And every word is magical. These 3 circles form a protection spell. And nothing that wants to harm me can enter the circle.

I like to imagine that if it was indeed a demon or the like in the room it was unable to get to me because of this spell. Belief is a powerful tool. And so if I believe in something hard enough, like I will be protected against anything and everything while within this circle. Then I don’t have to worry if I have nightmares. And I wake up feeling afraid.

[chris-carson]

From the Mockingbird's Throat

January 3, 2014

Reading Whitman’s “Out of The Cradle Endlessly Rocking” as the dishwasher gurgles into the quiet morning filling the room. For Whitman, longing for another is a quality communicated to man by nature. A boy stands on a beach, hears the mockingbird’s song, long blues of loneliness for his mate. In singing we inflame the source of life, the reason we’re here, to fuck, to love, to find a mate and transform one’s self into “the here and hereafter.”

“The here and hereafter”; the term brings to mind the image of an open door at the end of a hallway no longer than one connecting two rooms in a small apartment. At the end is another door. Both are open. The image blurs into something like early computer graphics, the walls, the rooms, the doors fade as the seen twists through a mine shaft of sky blue. All that remains: two uninhibited door ways that alight on what looks like a man’s torso.

January 22, 2014

It is just after 5am spooning quickly escalates. Feeling my already hard cock push into her soft ass as we sleep wakes me up. Suddenly I am wide awake inside her. She yawns. The light is on. Her dark hair is wavy, sleepy, soft, but her tone is cynical. Not directed at me, but at Russia. Russia calls Ukraine a friend. She calls the destruction of her homeland a tragedy on par with the death of her sister.

Late. Vitaly Klitschko announced today he is giving Yanukovych and his regime twenty four hours to hold elections that will surely lead to his removal from the presidency, or Klitschko himself will lead a full scale attack on the riot police in Maiden. “Bleak” is how she has described life in Ukraine, and the protestors in Maidan have made it clear they are willing to die for a sense of promise. I read this on my phone while sitting in the barbers chair. It served the purpose of keeping me distracted so the barber didn't get the idea I wanted to chat. It was a warm, golden afternoon. I took the bus to Market Street. After my haircut I met Aaron at a nearby cafe. He told me he’s got no girl, no job, and no reason anymore to stay in San Francisco. Meanwhile, far off, my lover’s homeland is, what? Unraveling? Awakening? In revolutions all bets are off and in civil wars anything will happen.

January 25, 2014

Tonight Aaron came over and we played poker. I lost everything. Eventually betting it all on a pair of 9’s, hoping to steal the pot. No one fell for it. Chris won the hand with two pair. Inside, I started burning with rage. Not because I lost the money. Besides, he and Aaron kept trading me their paper money for quarters. I ended the night with six dollars in paper. A loss compared to the change I had, but it feels like more. No, I was in a rage because the bare surface on the reflective table stared back at me, gloating, a sign that I was no longer welcome there. So I left and had a cigarette. It didn't help. I was as angry when I came back to watch as when I left. Tanya offered to let me play on her team. Instead I sat alone and read the news on my phone. The situation in Ukraine is decided as far as I can see. Since the government texted the protestors (“Dear subscriber you are registered as a participant in mass disturbance”) the protestors have no choice but to succeed. Text messages mean names. Names mean addresses. Those who make it home alive if the protests fail will only live to be perhaps jailed or executed another day. They must feel that deeply.

February 19, 2014

This evening we had friends over to watch the olympics and eat pizza. Human’s have a drive to make things always and always better. We started watching the figure skating on a laptop, then I carried a larger desk top screen up from the bedroom so we could all watch together. Jake and I joked that skating would be better if the women were also contortionists and were required to end their routine by skating into a small box, that is itself on skates, and off the ice unassisted. We watched only hoping to see if the next competitor did better than the one before. Tanya is still watching upstairs while I’m in bed writing, even though she looked up the results before streaming a previously taped feed. What is the word for believing the future will be better than the past? There has to be one. Progress? People are dying in Ukraine for it. For believing the future could be better if it is given the chance to be. It is like gambling in a way. Stay at the table and play one more hand. Stop at the gas station to buy a scratcher. Bet on the next moment being better then the moment at hand, or the moment that passed.

February 24, 2014

Memory is experience tied to emotion injected with value, meaning, and understood as important for some reason. If I look back at my memories, describe them, then answer the question, “Why do I remember these moments over others?” I could answer based on what has happened since and before. In some ways memories are signifiers in themselves, and the sharing of a memory without explanation should spark connotations, signifiers, and more memories for the reader or listener. But I was reading Auden’s introduction to Goethe’s Italian Journey yesterday in Larkspur’s Piper Park, under a tree. What kind of tree, I don't know. Auden explains the importance Goethe placed in just that particular knowledge. A man can not write about the beauty of a tree without knowing dendrology, or know the beauty of clouds without understanding meteorology. One too can never know the beauty of a place and its people, or a lover, without knowing their history.

February 28, 2014

February is finished. Tomorrow will be the first day of the third month of the new year. But I guess every year only gets a few days to be called a new year. It is hard for something novel to stay special for long, when you know it will be replaced in a matter of time, only to be replaced again and again. Very early this morning I couldn't sleep. In the dark room I could see the glow of Tanya’s porcelain back and outside the sky was readying for sunrise with lavender paint. Now I’m recalling how that sliver of sky just above the roof of John O'Connell High School seen from the bedroom window this morning, and realizing I didn't fully appreciate how pretty it was. I read, sleepless in bed, about the appearance of armed, unmarked, unbadged, speechless and faceless soldiers at an airport in Crimea. I woke up Tanya at 6:30 with this news. She said the Russians are just waiting for orders to make their first move. I thought of an old Chinese man I saw walk out of a market on West Portal with a bundle of bananas. I said, the Russians are trying to take Crimea the same way, like a bundle of bananas, and wait and see if anybody notices. “I hope Ukraine doesn't become a bundle of bananas,” she said, and went back to sleep. It rained a bit in the morning. I slept through most of it. By late afternoon it became one of those special days like spring (the smell of which has been invading the city) when rain falls sideways in perfect sunshine and the air feels moist and tropical. Tonight Tanya said she would move anywhere with me if I invited her. But I plan on doing more than that.

April 7, 2014

I learned a couple good words tonight. The first one. Russian. Used in Ukraine. “Blat.” A noun for institutional and cultural favor payments. Honors, services, attributes, experiences need not be earned, they can be purchased. Sometimes to get a passport, In the old days a doctor could give “blat” to the bureaucrat in charge of pant rations for his or her patients. The second word is cogitable, a rare adjective meaning conceivable, or able to grasped by the mind. I told Chris that we should speak in more rare, or hardly used words. Like purposeful. Chris said I sound, “pretentious and fuck.”

May 19, 2014

Dream: I cut up from the street, running through fenceless backyards where light from a large unseen moon, or my own eyes, made everything visible. The aroma of pine and dirt, and the night air, muggy and breezeless on my skin. The ground black but littered with red pine needles that guided me home, but I felt no comfort. The pine canopies were collapsing on me as I ran as hard as I could down the straight line of backyards to my home’s fence. I could hear someone shouting at me from the street on the other side of the houses. The voice seemed to come from everywhere. It permeated through the splintered fence lining our back yard, through the grass beneath the rusted trampoline, through the door knob I turned to let myself into my dark home, where the voice came through the walls.

I could feel the sharpened words dig into my skin like the presence of God, somehow like teeth biting my wrists and forearms, and a nasty churning began inside of me. I’m a man, I thought, living in a world where God gives nothing but anger and hatred for me and me alone.

Then it stopped. I walked slowly through the kitchen. The house creaked under my heels. In my bedroom, I pulled open the blinds and saw a man on his back on the roof outside the window. He looked at me. The moonlight bounced off a bottle of rum in his hand. There was a girl beside him in a spaghetti strapped tank top and bathing suit bottoms. She had a toads head. Her legs were long, dangling from the drain like hanging vines. She said, zilch. All she did was smoke a cigarette, peering off the roof, out over the roofs of the houses in front of her looking just like my own, up to the cloudless starless sky washed in gray from the moon’s white light mixing with the black of night. She pulled her knees to her chest and blew smoke from her toad lips, and it floated away.

July 18, 2014

I closed the book lightly. Tanya held her phone with both hands. I was going to miss her. Her subtle nightgown was the color of lavender. About a year ago to the day, she placed restful lavender stalks in the breast pocket of my denim jacket and told me that now I could always smell lavender. It was growing in a pot of soil just outside the door leading onto the balcony. We stood there in the wind. Soon after I’d see the same restful hue alight on her bedroom walls. We watched it manifest around us in bed as the sun seeped through the shadeless windows. The sun carried the lavender on it’s white capped edge and left it on the walls before receding back out into the world as daylight. When she placed that honey dyed scent in my pocket I fell a little in love. Now I stand in front of her, bashful for giving more time to hillbillies and books then to making her feel how much I’ll miss her, in our last moments together. So I did. We made love. I left for work happy. She for Ukraine.

July 20, 2014

In pictures of the wreckage the Ukrainian sky spills like tea and milk over the edges of a table, falling behind men with their faces covered with black masks, holding large machine guns. The land looks lush and deep green, almost purple at one layer, faded green at another, and at the next layer golden brown, and going on like that over the earth. Is this right? I only see it in pictures on news sites, while you are there, though far from this pictured landscape where all of those people became corpses in a mess of fire, smoke, and metal made into wreckage.

An article by the Kyiv Post says the rebels are moving the corpses to refrigerated train cars, to transport them someplace where international representatives can identify them and decide where they should be buried. The writer said, “but the mutilated and decaying bodies were most definitely inside, as evidenced by the pungent odor leaking from the unsealed wagon doors.”

July 21, 2014

In the main branch of the public library, drifting through the main fourier on the ground level, I had this brief moment where I felt like I was an alien species dropped from the moon. Like I was experiencing earth for the very first time. I can't say what brought it on, but it was a very clear thought, one that cut through all other potential thoughts, and bumped up hard against the front of my mind. The echoes of foot steps and clicking computer keys, the muffled voices. All these things filled the space up to the glass dome sky light, from which a heavy gray light dropped in as I looked up to see the somnolent movements of fog swirling overhead. It was blueless. Utterly without blue. A thick woolen layer of fog that didn't seem to be moving at all, until I looked again, and saw a few fibrous strands of fluffed moisture swirl too. There is no indication, or demarcation of worlds at the library. The outside comes in, and you sense it in your nostrils, a sour burning smell. Outside people walk around inside half dead on drugs and booze. Inside people saunter outside and avoid the wheelchairs and beggars. Smells from the street penetrate the library. Madness penetrates the library. It mingles so naturally with the children on summer vacation, with their nannies or tired mothers. All of these things mingle so well with the endless variety of world knowledge surrounding everyone at the library. The library maybe the most charitable place in the city, the most democratic place as well. Neighborhoods on the other side if this sliding glass door that whooshes open for me now, are being broken up by the street into subsets based on race, yes, but mostly money. And this fragmentation lives in aesthetics and taste. You know how you can tell if a restaurant is for you by the way the light glitters off the window into your eyes that look in from the street? By the style of light bulb? Well, the library is gray, without aesthetic. Meaning the library is for everyone. It is in its insistence to remain dull and gray that it is its most charitable.

July 22, 2014

Since Tanya left I've had to watch my money closely. The food in the refrigerator is rotting. I haven't gone to the grocery store. Only a few dollars remain in my bank account that I will have to stretch for the next week. Am I collapsing without her? With her, I know I’m me, and I’m alright. Without her I am incorporeal. I’m removed from myself and instead of living as I am, I watch me live, stare at my own shadow walking down the street. Without her all I have are books, which have been nice company, cigarettes, which have been an unwanted guest, and an incessant need to masturbate. But I’ve been picking my skin less.

I don't understand how the day moves without her, or if it moves at all, as night seems to fall without warning. I sat with Jake in the Pan Handle, chain smoking. The air was cool, and a light, yet cutting wind wound its way through the trees. But the hours leading to that moment felt like a dream I may have even forgotten.

Tanya, the effort I make to remedy the nights without you stand in stark contrast to the things I do during the day to pass things by. A man can go through hours of light dead if he wants, and be able to get away with it. There is no meaning to my job, no meaning to the mail I avoid opening, to the calls I avoid answering. No meaning to these cigarettes. But at night, my loneliness is full of meaning. Every motion I make deliberate and timed to get me back to the death day hours safely. My hands are soaked in coconut oil. I asked you once if you wanted to know what it would be like to be a man. You sat on me the same way this faceless woman is sitting in the video I watch. When I cum my hips lift off the bed, and semen splashes on my face, chest, all over my belly. It smells like wet grass and sweat. My tongue lurches from my mouth and licks my lips and I taste it, sour, warm. If I can’t have you now, I’ll be you tonight. You and in one body. I slowly massage the semen on my belly as you would if it were gleaming off of your smooth porcelain body. But my body is coarse ape hair, and the sound of semen moving through my body hair reminds me of walking through dead leaves in autumn.

In the bathroom I see myself in the mirror. Streaks of yellowish gray fluid shimmer on my jaw in harsh light. Have I heard your voice since you left? I would gladly die to hear you even swallow water.

July 23, 2014

Cinnamon layered the inside of the bowl like sand clinging to a white rock face. What was left of the granola and milk I’d eaten reminded me of moist rocks and the smell of mud. Brown milk rested in a little pool at the bottom. On a cobalt blue tea plate were the cold and gnawed strawberry tops, their leafy crowns dry and brittle. On the radio, Dutch voices mourned the arrival of the dead, raged at the way the corpses were treated, and argued over the importance of having the rest of the bodies returned home.

During breakfast I was able to download Viber. It took fumbling with the password, which I again forgot and had to reset after three missed tries, and then a world of aggravation trying to update my billing information. I entered everything exactly as I believe it to be and the machine said I was wrong.

But it turned out that I didn't even need to enter that, and happily skipped the screen by checking the word none, and tapping the word done. Viber downloaded. I finished my breakfast brimming with excitement to finally hear your voice and tell you so much of what I’ve been up to without you.

July 24, 2014

I finished a new book this morning, Victoria by Knut Hamsun, and Hamsun is only too cruel for what he did to those young lovers. And either from Hamsun’s cruelty or the hangover I feel from last night’s edibles, today the world feels dull and flat. I’m closed off. Drained of everything. Every thought I’ve had about writing you has been countered by a strong desire to lie on the couch all day and watch The Simpsons. What could I say? I just miss you, that’s all. I’ve filled pages in notebooks talking about it and each page could be rewritten to simply say, “I’d rather spend the next days with my hand in the garbage disposal then without you.”

Then my phone buzzes, and it is you. It is your body outlined by an oval shaped mirror. Your dark hair draped down your smooth back that flows like a waterfall into your perfectly round ass, all curves and softness. And are you cupping your breasts a little, keeping them hidden from me?

I’m coming alive.

It is not that you are a figment from a dream, something I imagined, but you are an entity from another realm, another life, something I never could have imagined, even if I were a great writer. No imaginative capability could have created you. Even in my deepest heart I couldn't have fathomed you for myself, and somehow, you’ve found me.

The message with your picture reads, “Something for lazy days.”

Then another that reads, “You’ll have to read Victoria to me when I come back.”

But I missed these messages when you sent them, and in the long wait you wrote, anxiously, “Hello?”

But I didnt mean to miss them, believe me. I write, “Oh my God, Hello!”

And about the book I say, “Yes, yes I will read it to you. I will sing it to you if that’s what you want me to do.”

This piece was written specifically for a writing contest I saw advertised in a magazine. A London based publisher called Fish wanted creative memoir for an anthology they were putting together. They were even giving out a little money. I used it as an opportunity to confront two challenges, the first being the utilization of raw material from journals, the second being writing about a lover. This piece did not win the writing contest, but was shortlisted, whatever that means.

-Chris Carson