#I have always thought this but with what happened with oliver today I figured I could finally say it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gumballavocadoharry · 1 month ago

Text

Habitat:

*Mentions of self harm, mental illness, bipolar disorder, abusive family, emotional and mental abuse, violence, angst, depression, abandonment, PTSD....etc.*

"It's been three days now."

"We'll it's not a surprise. They always do this." Beckett, the middle son of the Styles family, looked towards the door. Maybe he wanted his parents to enter through the front door, even though he knew they wouldn't. Like he had said, it wasn't something new. In fact, it was habitual. Beckett looked to his sister, Kinsley, then to his younger brother, Chase. He sat flank over the lazy boy, swaying his feet back and forth in a muzzling beat. Shaking her head, Kinsley just stared blankly out the picture window of the living room. She never stared out at anything really, but it was a habit she grew into whenever her mind led her into deep thought.

But Beckett already knew what she was thinking. Three days ago, they're parents had escaped to a vacation by the ocean for some romantic time alone. No one thought much of it, except that Mom and Dad- Harry and Luna- were actually going to spend some time together alone- something they rarely did these days. The siblings tried to see this as a much needed getaway for their parents, but a nagging shady compulsion kept creeping up in them, like the sudden pangs of morning sickness. Like its same nature, it held this gut wrenching vile inside of it- an expectant slither of uncertainty to swim through them. By then, Beckett's high hopes had faded along with the sibling's honorable expectations of their parents. Chase didn’t like that it did, but he- like the others- remained hopeless to change that. Kinsley called it. "Alright guys, it's been over three hours now, I'm just going to order us a pizza or something- we have to eat."

"Should we call the police?" Beckett and Kinsley looked to Chase. "No…. let's ride it out and see what happens for today. If they don’t' show up by tomorrow afternoon, then we'll call."

Kinsley grabbed the phone and started dialing the number for the pizza place. Her fingers hit the buttons harder than she wanted. Looking around, she hoped that her brothers wouldn't see this little outburst, but instead feel more focused on the blunt situation. "Toppings?" Beckett looked up and blinked a few times. "What?"

"Toppings? What toppings do you guys want?"

"Whose paying?" Kinsley sighed. "I am, Chase,"

"Then I'll take mushroom and green pepper."

"Pepperoni and olives for me."

Kinsley called in the order. When asked for toppings, she stopped mid order for a moment and thought. "I'll take three pizzas- one with pepperoni, green peppers and mushrooms, the second with pepperoni and olives and the last with pepperoni, green olives, mushroom and sausage." Chase and Beckett looked at each other. "Thank you, bye." She turned and looked to the boys. "I figured, who knows how long they'll be gone, we need food for more than just today. So, we all get our own pizzas, make sure you save them."

Grabbing her car keys, Kinsley turned to the door. "I'm going to get us some drinks- they're cheaper when you buy them in store than with the pizza. If he comes before I get back, here's the twenty. It'll be thirty minutes, so I think I'll be home before then." Handing Beckett a twenty dollar bill, Kinsley left the house, got into her mother's car and drove down the street- Chase watching the car speed down to the right.

Beckett watched Chase stare for a moment, before rounding him up from off the couch. "Come on, let's clean up before dinner." Beckett assigned Chase to vacuuming, while loaded the dishes into the dishwasher. Beckett set the table carefully, arranging the plates neatly in the center of the fork, spoon and knife and then set the cups adjacent over the plate a bit. A knock on the door sounded and soon the delivery man was there with their dinner. Beckett paid the man, snagging an extra three dollar tip from his own wallet. "Smells good," Chase called, tying the cord of the vacuum up over the vacuum's cord holder. "Let’s eat-"

"Not before Kinsley gets back. She bought us this meal, we should thank her and wait till she comes home." Chase furrowed his eyebrows a bit. The sound of his stomach growing only seemed to acerbate his irritation of having to wait. A bit uptight at the sight of Beckett not even opening any of the boxes until Kinsley would come through the door. Not even five minutes later, Kinsley shows up. Stuffing her keys into the pocket of her overalls, two plastic bags that sag, brush against her legs.

"Two liters were on sale. Pepsi and Sprite for anyone one who wants it, and orange juice for the other option." Chase ran and wrapped his arms around Kinsley. Beckett stood and watched with a mawkish smile, before joining his arms around Kinsley. The siblings stayed embracing each other; Chase letting a small tear drip onto the fabric of Kinsley's shirt. Faint like the drop of dust bunnies hitting the surface of the ground.

Symbolic without intention- the siblings needed each other more than ever. All they had was each other; leaning more and more on their distinctive abilities to guide themselves to the safety of freedom that they all were looking for- even if it was in different directions.

*******************************************

It was that April. The Styles children were at the table eating their breakfast, when their father entered into the kitchen after sleeping in all day the day before. "Hello Kiddos!" Harry swooped down to press kisses to each of their scalps. "Good morning," pressing a kiss to Luna's cheek while she stood at the stove, frying the last strip of bacon in the pan.

"What's for breakfast?"

"Bacon and eggs. There's also toast on the table too." Luna held her tongue until it became obvious that Harry wouldn't mention it. "How's the job hunt going?" He looked down and fiddled with his finger nail. "I'm still looking." Luna kept her focus rigid on the pan, even though she knew Harry didn't even look at her once to answer. "I hear they're hiring at the brewery. The one on the west end of town,"

Harry swallowed his orange juice. "I'll check it out." Luna let a small sigh escape from her nose. Harry always said that. And he would always follow through. And then he would either get the job and muck it up or be an inappropriate fit because his 'lack of focus,' as they would say sometimes.

Luna didn't so much resent being the sole breadwinner of the household, as much as she resented Harry being home too often. Luna, a cooperate planner for her company, used to work in the comfort of her meek little home office on her laptop. But with Harry home more than the kids, Luna packed up her laptop and stored it away in the long front drawer of her snowy white desk and switched into a narrow little cubby in her office. It wasn't her cup of tea perhaps, but she accustomed herself to it with the other option of babysitting someone who was old enough to fend for themselves.

"Have a good day at school, kids! Love you!" Harry yelled from the car. Beckett was the only child to wave back to Harry, before watching him pull off into the road- the main street in front of the school.

"Maybe he'll get this one and keep it." Beckett caught up with Kinsley and Chase. The three trailed down the same sidewalk that branched into a pathway that led to the front steps of the school. The sky still held a pinkish crimson and the sun was singing down through the branches of trees around the schoolyard. Marking a glow around Beckett's face, Kinsley turned around to make the hazel greenish of his eyes.

"I don't think so. You know Dad- never able to keep a job for more than two or three months. He's been through two jobs already this year." Beckett swallowed and then bit the side of his lip for a bit.

"I know… but Mom said that they're hiring at the brewery, and Dad said he'd check it out." Kinsley looked over to yard of the school. "Dad quit his last job just randomly… he was doing so well and then… well," Kinsley sniffed. "Well, I don't know about Dad, but I do know that once summer break starts, I'm going to look for a job. Maybe it'll help- at least with me, you and Chase. Mom seems set though. It's Dad whose penniless right now."

"Yeah…. I guess." Kinsley swallowed. "With my own job, I can even save for college next year."

This shook Beckett more than he wanted. Kinsley, like most kids her age, were thinking of college. The fresh years of new opportunities, hopes and dreams. But Beckett wouldn't tell Kinsley that he didn't want her to leave him and Chase. But, he wouldn't stop her either. If she decided to leave, then he would let her.

Beckett wrapped an arm around Chase, escorting him to his class only upstairs from most of his own classes. Chase- like on the schoolyard- kept quiet. Silent as a mouse, without so much as a peep from his lips. No one really knew how Chase felt about everything. Keeping his thoughts to himself, Chase seemed to blend in with the crowd. Never standing out, yet never going unnoticed either. Beckett noticed him, even when he wanted to be unseen. Chase- like Beckett- didn't want Kinsley leaving either. But, he didn't hear it the same way Beckett heard it. Chase didn't even hear his father being jobless the same way his siblings heard it.

Not because of bleak innocence or naivety, but because his mind trailed elsewhere. He felt this attachment towards his siblings. They filled or attempted to fill a piece inside of him that had been broken by the bounds and gags of time. The betrayal and the hurt that had seared his heart open, was now stapled together by the hands of his elder siblings presence. Even when Chase wanted to shake Beckett's arm off from his shoulder, he didn't. Even when he didn't want it, he still did. He needed it.

******************************************

Beckett trailed on to his classes, the conversation still fresh in his mind. Maybe Dad would get a good solid job and keep it this time. He hoped. He felt he had to. Beckett knew that he was the only one who shared his stanch optimism. None of his siblings did and neither did his mother. He couldn't blame them. Like Kinsley said: He hadn't been able to keep a job for more than three months at a time and when he would get it, he either would quit them or get fired. It was humiliating. Beckett hated being the son of a man who could barely provide from his family, due to his own lackluster thoughtlessness. While all the other kids could be proud of their fathers, how could Beckett appreciate such a one of his?

The very thought gnawed at him like maggots on rotten flesh. Sweat begin to bead Beckett's head. Then came the stomach knots. Determined to keep his breakfast down, Beckett refused to think of it any longer. He begin to question why he even waved to Harry anyway. He would fail… that was obvious. But, Beckett still couldn't grasp why. Why couldn't his father just hold down even a simple job just for the remainder of the year? It wasn't like that though. Beckett knew it- no matter how he portrayed it to everyone else, he knew Harry would sabotage his chances again. So, Beckett with what he could, strived to keep the cargo carts of the train in their proper tracks. Broken rails or tracks wouldn't halt even just one wheel from the train. As long as it kept chugging along, it would be okay. And that's what Beckett reminded himself of. A plan B was the same as a steady pace. Except, he didn't know what he would do. But, he was satisfied with the hopeful promise he made to himself of reassurance in some way. He didn't what, but he hoped it would be clear soon.

*********************************************

Chase let the door slam a bit behind him. The living room and kitchen lights were off, but the dining room was the light that rang through the downstairs. He didn't see it coming up from around the corner; the living room held a picture window with the window seat that let you catch a quick glimpse of the right corner of the living room if the blinds were somewhat open that evening and the lights were on. As Chase stepped into the dining room, his feet jolted themselves from taking anymore steps forward.

"Hey Champ!" Chase gave a faltering smile to Harry. "Is Mom home yet?" Harry shook his head.

"Nope. But you got me- why don't we do something together? Wanna play a board game or something?" His father's demeanor so cheery and fond, but to Chase, tasting- even just a lick of it- would be a poison. Desirable like a candy apple, but with sinister aftertaste. Chase could only gawk at it and only helplessly imagine that it could be so delicious.

"Oh, that's okay...I have some homework." Giving a slight smile- an arch more like in his lips- Chase took himself from the doorway of the kitchen and up the stairs into his bedroom.

Harry sat against the chair, a small furrow crinkling in between his eyebrows. He sat for a moment fiddling with his fingers, before uprooting himself into the kitchen for a drink.

The front door opened again- Beckett appearing through the doorway. Wiping the grass specks from his shoes on the welcome mat, Beckett gave a quick 'hello' to Harry before darting to his bedroom. Harry begin to wonder if a secret was brewing between the two brothers; mannering in the same fashion of bypassing him and hiding in their bedrooms.

Chase felt this thick sense of calm wash over him from Beckett's presense. Tiptoeing from his room, down the hallway to the left, he gave a small knock on Beckett's door. "What?" Chase slowly creeked the door open and made his way to Beckett's bed. "I just wanted to see you," Beckett raised an eyebrow. "Well, here I am."

"Where were you?"

"After school detention. Kin's there too. I forgot my english assingnment and Kinsley was caught with her friends in the girl's bathroom chatting, which made them late for class." Chase raised his eyebrows quickly. "What's up with you, though?" Chase looked down at floor. He wanted to focus more on tracing each line in between the oak wood panels of Beckett's floor than answer what really sat in his mind. He gave a quick glance up to Beckett, making his brother understand what he didn't want to pull out of his brain. Beckett, raising his eyebrows quickly, turned around to his closet, hooking his jacket onto the hanger.

"Dad...." he whispered. Beckett turned to his bed and sat next to Chase. Wrapping his arm around him, he snuggled him into his side. "It's okay Chase.... it'll be alright, I promise." To Chase, it seemed so sure. Beckett had a way of making everything sound so rosy. But, when it came to his father, it could be anything but that. It wasn't always this way; Harry had his days when fun was just all he thought about.

A fond memory Chase liked to keep was a four year old him with his siblings and Harry as they ran up and down nearly every aisle of the toy store, putting anything they could get their hands on into the basket. Harry bought every last toy from that cart and then ice cream on the way home. Chase never remembered the faint intense conversation his parents had that night, they way Kinsley and Beckett remembered it. Luna never made their toys go back to the store. Instead, she opened a second family account at the bank the following weekend and the event was never spoken of again.

********************************************

Beckett walked down the stairs, meeting Harry's gaze with a fast glance. "Hey Dad," coming closer, Beckett hugged Harry, "sorry, I had something on my mind when I came into the house." Harry gave a smile. "That's okay.... what was on your mind?" Beckett tilted his head from right to left, fastly. "I forgot my English assingment, and so I had detention today."

"Aw, well... that happens sometimes." The jiggle of keys and then the squeak of the front door opened. Kinsley walked in, hugging her books to her side and her backpack slinging nearly off her shoulder. "Hey Honey!" Kinsley glanced to Harry and smiled. "Hey Dad," Taking in a deep breath, Kinsley shuffled her position- readjusting herself to where the weight of gravity wasn't sinking so much into her spine.

It was like this for a bit: Harry, Kinsely and Beckett sat in the living room, silently watching TV, while Chase was upstairs practicing guitar. Harry slunk in the lazy boy, still trying to figure out the ususal but unversed interaction with his youngest child. Chase and him were two peas in a pod for a time. Chase- the first to run into his father's arms after a long day at school. They'd dance, sing, make cookies together even if Harry burnt them a bit. It everything he ever wanted in a typical father- son relationship. It was perfect, till it wasn't. And no matter how hard Harry tried to reason with himself: puberty, misunderstanding, bad day, bad mood, grew into a more quiet than what Chase already was- it never seemed to fit. It never made sense- as if it ever would. Harry let the sting of cool air burn his eyes- not blinking back the small tears forming in them. Harry learned to mourn a child that he didn't actually lose, but still lost in someway. He didn't know why... but he promised himself, one day, he would understand. And they'll fix it and build it back up again.

************************************

If it wasn't the ten o'clock slam of the front door, then it was the impeding guant look that was spread all across Luna's face. Hanging her keys on the rack by the door, Luna squeezed her neck, stretched it back to where her eyes shot up to the celling, then bent it down, where her eyes were at the floor. Kinsley sat in the lazy boy, flipping through channels- turning it off once her mother entered the room. "Hey,"

"Hey, Mom." Kinsley rubbed her heavy eyes and was on her way upstairs. "How was school?" Kinsley turned to see her mother. Haggered and bleached like she had been sundried in a burning boiling pot. Kinsley bit the corner of her lip. "It was good."

"Anything unusal happen?" Was this her mother's chance of trying to make conversation? At this hour? Kinsley sucked down the urge to roll her eyes; snatching any remaints of her exsasperation to snap at Luna. "I got detention- stayed too long in the girl's room, talking to my friends." Luna nodded slightly. Kinsley didn't even bother to give even a curve of a smile. She just trailed up the stairs leaving Luna to hear the faint slam of her bedroom door.

**************************************

It couldn't have been more than two weeks in. Harry was actually at work, caculating the sales of the latest beer shipments, when it happened. Harry caught this thought in his head; a chug test with all the other factory guys- sitting around slurping down beers themselves- to cheer him on, as he downed four, then five then seven, then ten. A caffine type of adrenaline. A high that didn't seem to come down from Harry, even if he was unaware of how it still lingered through him for several days. Waking up with a hangover type sleepiness; needing an eight hour nap, just for the energy to wake in the morning. By afternoon, feeling like exspresso was injected into he veins, Harry strolls out of the house to wherever he choses to go.

The sheer pink in Luna's face when she recived the call. Making a deal with the boss, Harry wasn't suspended- but forced to telecommute from the moment on. The flushy pink soon turned to blazing red. If it wasn't the slam of the front door after she brought Harry home, it was the folders being slammed over the counter. She didn't speak a word to Harry on the way home, but did expect some type of gratitude notion for saving him from himself. Luna barely breathed a sigh by Harry. It was credible of how much anger she was filled with, yet kept it so contained- the slightest suggestion of it- besides the obvious- didn't even exist. Storming silently into her office, Luna looked- scurtinzed the bulletin board for the little sticky note reminder she had hung only the week before. The little nudging note of hope, that Luna might be able to return to the homey little office she once engaged in. Reading the note over and over again: Tell Pete about telecommuting....

Luna violently snatched the note so hard from the little thumbtack it hung on, that a piece of the yellow sticky note still lingered around the little needle. Shoving the paper into the trash, Luna slammed herself down into her chair and buried her head into her palms. She wanted to cry but couldn't. She felt like it.... but no tears squeezed out. Luna believed this was the occassion she could treat herself to a good little cry. She even envisioned how the tears would fall neatly down her cheeks and drip off her chin and onto her black pencil skirt. But..... nothing. No tears, no crying. So, she tried anger. Luna was full of it from head to toe, but couldn't even find the strength to scream or holler even a little bit. Sure, she slammed the door, threw her folders over the kitchen counter and snatched the note from the board and threw it into the trash before throwing herself harshly into her chair. Rare reactions- sparse from the unusual. Luna barely ever made a sound. She knew that what she felt entitled to and what she deserved, where very different from how she actually felt.

In fact, she felt shame. Shamed at the reaction of slamming this and that around, sliently taking her rage out on such useless objects. So, that's why she wanted to cry. But, Luna still felt shame from that too. Even soppy tears would wash away the shame of rage she allowed to be exposed. Heck, Luna didn't even feel that much shame either. In fact, she didn't feel much of anything now. Just nothing- hollow and empty like an open nut. No flavor or sentimental taste. Luna didn't know what to feel, so, she felt nothing. Deep down, she felt something, but it wouldn't matter anyway. Nothing would change. Luna could get angry, she could cry, scream, yell, rip her hair out.... but it would all stay the same. A tear finally threatned to spill- just like Luna wanted.

But, it stopped. Not enough lubricant in her eyes to let that little tear fall all the way down. If that tear fell, no one would hear it. So..... Luna quickly wiped it away, like it never even existed.

*****************************************

Luna knew where this came from. All too well did she understand the luggage she carried around with her for all her life. It underlined something in Luna after she had received the call from the hospital a few years back on a fall night in October. Her mother, Diane, had finally passed away. This wasn't a shock to Luna- she had gotten a call before that very month, that her mother wanted to see her- she was dying already then.

But, Luna chose not to. It wasn't because of a painful image of her guant and frail mother lying helplessy in her hospice bed. But rather because she felt no attachment to this woman. Confused with why her mother even wanted see Luna after all these years was a mystery in itself. Luna couldn't even feel sorry for the reality that her father wasn't even with Diane during her final days like she would've wanted. Luna felt indifferent to this- possibly even a bit smug- that her mother didn't get what she wanted. She had nothing and no one there by her side except the tubes of her IV and monitors.

After everything she put Luna through- her and Luna's father- it was the least she could expect.

****************************************

Luna was a surprise baby. On her father's end she was. For years, her and Luna's father, Simon, tried over and over for a baby. A year went by, then two and three years, then five. January rang in with a somber despair for the couple. The baby they hoped for, now seemed like a faded dream. Diane decided she would visit the clinc one day. Tired of wondering why and never knowing the reasons, finally bubbled to the surface in a determination.

Never able to visit one before- her husband insisting that they could take this on themselves and that there was no need for medicine to interfere in their quest for a family. Finally fed up, Diane waited for Simon to leave for work, before taking the next bus to the clinic.

All tests were negative. Everything was done: pap smears, pelvic exam, mammogram, heart exam, all the way down to scalp and toes. Diane was perfectly healthy. A near perfect uterus and reproductive system. A jolting thought ran through her like lightning. Diane couldn't let her mind wander in the direction it was striving to go in. She was fertile. The problem.....Simon was not. Explaing the situation to the doctor, he suggested Simon take testosterone. "Maybe it'll boost his little fellas." Diane nervously chuckled along with Doctor, who seemed proud of his little 'lighten the mood' context words. Diane figured a good laugh would be worth more than what Simon was going to offer. He would never go for the idea, no matter how medical accurate it was. He'd probably be mad that Diane even went to specialist in the first place.

On the bus ride home, a small tear escaped Diane's eye, then another- slowly dripping to the rubber floor like a sheltered type of springtime rain. Diane thought of home- she didn't want to be there. To walk into the home where her desire for one of the most exspensive dreams she had, would not be fulfilled. At the grips of her husband's hands, Simon would never share the same judgement for the opportunity the way she did. Letting the bus pass her neighborhood; strolled over the small hill that led a straight shot into the city, Diane found that maybe a drink would ease her. A bloody mary sat neatly in front of her as she took in the chatter of the bar. Not one to drink so openly, Diane didn't think to care anymore. Two bloody marys later and soon, a tall brawny man about her age, sat down next to her.

Even to this day, Diane didn't understand exactly what it was about that man that enticed her so much. But she went for it anyway. Shoving her diamond ring into the pocket of her dress, Diane and this man came to a hotel and spent the rest of that day together. Diane still liked to reimagine the way his thick fingers ran through her brunette locks. The way he sweetly kissed her body, tracing his lips up and down her belly. His burly body pressed against hers; heaving against each other like clapping hands. Out of breath with her lipstick now smeared, Diane rolled over and sat up. Grabbing her little pink and yellow dress that had been thrown over the floor, and shuffling her little wedge flip flops back on, Diane straightened her hair- combing her fingers through it to neaten it, before kissing the man goodbye and catching a taxi to home.

It was a month in when the pangs of cramps hit Diane. Spotting, but no period. No problem she thought. Maybe just a stomach bug. Next month introduced the morning sickness. Even the smell of eggs seemed to make Diane want to vomit. Simon watched as his wife's face would turn green with everything. Running back and forth to the bathroom- sometimes to throw up, other times to pee. Diane gained her appetite a week later when she craved a hotdog with chocolate syrup drizzled over it. Simon's face begin to turn green this time as he watched Diane eat the whole thing in nearly one bite. Combing her hair that evening while Simon was nuzzled under the covers, it struck Diane like a hot searing slap across the face.

She was pregnant. She knew she was- Diane couldn't possibly mistake the symptoms. But it wasn't so much the pregnancy that shocked her. It was who had gotten her pregnant. Simon still remained infertile, but Diane was now forced to think long and hard to what happened. The man- the burly man from the bar a two months ago. He was the father- she was of it. He was the only other person she slept with. The nine months went by quickly as it seemed to Simon. But to Diane, it was long and drawn out. The guilt and fear eating her alive. Simon would find out; a paternity test would make the truth become squeaky clean and she couldn't avoid it. Diane's baby girl was placed over her chest. She took in the deep aqua eyes she had and the ginger pink lips. Like a beatiful china doll, she was perfect in every way. And Diane couldn't deny the affection she had for her. Luna. The Latin word for a rich night sky with a beaming bright moon. "Hi, Luna, Come here, Luna." Testing it out like how an owner would for their new pet.

As Diane cuddled the baby in the nook of her arms, Simon entered the room. A flat exspression unlike the cooing estatic one he carried from seeing a baby; covered in blood, mucus and whatever else, being pulled from her mommy and placed over Diane's bare chest.

Diane couldn't meet his eyes. "I named her Luna.... I know how much you loved the name when I brought it to you....."

"Seems fitting 'you' named her..... she's not my child." Diane swallowed. "Um..."

"DIANE!" She cramped up. Holding the baby girl tightly in her arms, Diane felt the tears stinging the corners of her eyes. Shaky breaths soon filled her lungs. Finally meeting her husband's angry face, Diane broke. "I-I-I'm so sorry....."

"You're sorry?" "Yes. I-I-I don't know what happened...."

"Really? You don't know what happened?! For God's sake- you ran out with some other guy and Luna is his kid!" Diane couldn't speak. "Is he here?! Where is he?! Do you know him?!" Diane shook her head. "Diane.... you better say he attacked you or I'm leaving!"

"No Simon! Yes, we went together.... It was after my appointment with the gynocologist- I went to one shortly after you went to work- and I was perfectly fine! I could have children- you're the one who can't! He suggested you take testosterone, but I knew you wouldn't. Simon, you didn't want it- you didn't want to do anything! You can't expect kids to just fall from the sky and into your lap! I wanted this!"

"So now it's my fault?!" "I never said that..."

"You didn't have to..." Simon sighed. "Diane?" She looked into his eyes again. "His. Name."

"I don't know... we met at a bar and after a few drinks... we went to a hotel and...." Diane could feel Simon's blazing stare. "we spent the day together. I forgot his name."

Simon snorted. "You don't just forget your lover's name.... dumb slut." "Simon!"

"You are one! God damnit, Diane! What the hell?!" Diane's lips quivered. Listening to Simon take in a deep sigh, she felt like water was filling her lungs. The shame- her face red as a tomato. She did want this.... no matter what price.... Diane wanted it to happen.

"I'm sorry......."

************************************

Nothing was the same from that day on. Luna's birth- a day supposed to be celebrated with such cheer and glee- was one of a painful hars memory that overshadowed her coming into the world. Simon chose to stay. He didn't want word going around of his daughter- the baby he took home from the hospital- not even being one of his flesh and blood. So, he didn't say a word and only stayed for the latter reason. But Luna still wasn't loved by him. She wasn't about to be loved by anyone.... not even her own mother either.

Simon hated Diane because of her unfaithfulness and Diane hated Luna because in her eyes, her birth ruined her perfect picket fence marriage. The baby she had known to love in the delivery room, was now the vain of her existance. Although, Luna was never smacked around or called out of her name.... she was just ignored. As if she didn't even exist. And somehow, that hurt worse.

If Luna gained a scraped knee that needed bandaging or a tummy ache that needed soothing, she would get none of that. Her cries- even as a small infant- were ignored. Diane changed Luna when she felt like it or she would feed her when it was easiest for her. Eventually a three week year old Luna got the message. No one was coming for her.

At five, her teeth were perfect. Pearly white, straight, zero cavities... she had to- who would take her to the dentist? Granted, there were appointments made for her; social services was the last thing her parents wanted to deal with. But, it wasn't too often. Luna craved for Simon's attention. But he brushed her off and did what he wanted. So, Luna would run to Diane. "Luna, I'm busy- go away." So, she went away. Luna would jump off furniture and 'hurt' herself. A wail would crawl from her, but one answered. Luna would get straight A's. But no one noticed- they didn't care. Luna- sixteen, and not one of her proudest moments- pretened that she was pregnant.

"Luna. If you're pregnant, then you have to get a job and figure this out- I'm not in the mood right now." And Diane just walked away. Simon said nothing and just continued watching 'The Price Is Right.' Heartbroken, Luna ran to her bedroom and decided that she would give up. No more tricks or gimmicks.... nothing else. No one would help, no one would care, no would love her. Luna learned to accept that.

Day after day, Luna would see Diane though attempt to fetch Simon's attention and love. "Diane, stop blocking the TV!" or "What do want?" Harsh and unforgiving; symbolic in how rotted their love was by now. Luna wondered why Diane stayed- why couldn't she be the one to leave? Diane- slaving and worshipping the ground her husband walked on- not from love but desperation. She made a mistake and was willing to pay whatever the cost just to be loved again. Diane missed the warmth of her husband's arms and linger of his gentle words. She devoted herself hopelessly to gain them again. A silent promise she made to herself. Luna would be shoved away while Diane would be making Simon's favorite dinner or massaging his feet, but without any cognizance from him. It was the same old patteren in their house: Diane would feed for Simon's affection. He would ignore or berate her. Diane would be reminded of why: the mistake that cost her everything. She would then blame Luna and leave her without her love. Simon hated Luna, because she wasn't his child.

Eighteen year old Luna left her home and ran to the next city over for a fresh start. College became her routine. Luna loved the little dorm room she had just three levels over the library and the science lecture hall. A sunkist peach color, matching the white window panes and door jams. A mellow yellow bedset with sprinkles of pastel pink and blue was something Luna was particularly proud of. The very first thing she had bought with the money she made from working in the college library. It was soft, cottony and kept the same serotonin vibe from the very day she laid eyes on it.

It was her second year; freshman days when Luna's hair had reddish streaks through it, dark cherry red was her favorite lipstick shade for a night out and matching maroon nails for an extra good day after hours when everyone was sat in their dorms or they pulled an all nighter in study hall. But it was second period when she met Harry. A shy young man, chocolate curls that hued in the sunlight or from the blaring beams of the sun through the arched half fan windows in the library or the lunchroom. His dimples reminded her of Hugh Grant- a sugary hospitable gentleness that rang through them with every smile he flashed. Luna- barely even knowing him at the time- felt a safety with Harry.

Harry- charming, gathering every form of attention around him. Some good, some bad. Professors would either give a nice and polite 'hello' to him or they would stick up their noses and shuttle past without even making eye contact. It never bothered Harry... at least not in the way it bothered Luna. Never a people pleaser, she never made trouble either. She would get herself up and drag down the halls to even the most boring classes she had because, they still mattered to her. Harry had Luna's English course and would sometimes tickle her toes with his foot whenever they sat across from each other. Luna- enthralled and flatered by this affection- she didn't understand why he was gnawing for hers so much.

Their lunch period sycned together and then eventually, Harry would at the library everyday. Reading up on his finacial studies, Harry would be there from late afternoon to late evening some days. Luna would blush everytime she made contact with his green eyes and he would dart back with this playful smirk. Luna would give a small polite smile- one she thought to be just plain polite and conducted- but lat on to be more playful than she wanted. But... it was no accident. Luna knew it to be unhealthy to retain the way her breath became shaky and jiddery like she had just ran across the entire room five times. Or the way her heartbeat bounced up and down like a rubber ball. Her face would sting like she had spilt her pants or fell down a flight of stairs in front of a crowd, and her palms would sweat and make the grip she had on the books she was stocking, slippery and sticky. And then a book slipped from her hand as she was standing on her tippy toes to place it on a shelf a few spaces higher than her head.

Squinting her eyes and ducking her head down a bit to make the pound of the book hitting more bearable, it never happened. "Whoops!" A husky voice said. Opening her eyes, Luna locked hers into Harry's. "You alright?" Luna blinked. "Oh yeah, yeah.... thanks. I'm so clumsy." Luna internally slapped her forehead for being so dumb.

Harry chukled. "Happens to me all the time.... stocks and bond books are super thick, so when they hit my head- I'm shocked I don't get knocked out." Luna let herself chuckle. Her eyes sparkled to Harry. Like glint diamonds that gave her these baby doll like stares. The tension had been building for awhile, and Harry just couldn't resist. Neither could Luna, no matter how hard she tried. Harry leaned in like a whisper and then softly put his lips to hers with a passionate lock that lasted for nearly two minutes. Luna let her heart flutter and sync with Harry's in that moment. It felt like kindered spirits took form and shadowed into a musk of themeselves.

It stroked on their inner passions that they locked inside for each other and collided into a whirlwind of lust and enamored affection for each other. Luna craved and lived for the way Harry would gently stroke her hair as she would drift to sleep in the crooks of his crossed legs. Harry's cheek kisses on rainy cold winter days when all Luna could think about was how empty she thought herself to be. Harry accepted Luna even more than she accepted herself. She would give dove kisses and gentle strokes over his face, but sometimes words became fumbled. They never came out the way Luna wanted them to.... they never came out at all. Luna would try hard to form the words- the emotions behind them to mix into this bubble of admiration for the man she loved, but nothing came out.

Luna understood why. Spending so long, hiding her feelings- her deepest heartaches and sorrows of life. She couldn't remember how it felt to smile out loud or to whimper even behind the barracade of her dorm door. Trapped with seemingly no escape from the chains of her hollow soul, Luna could never grow to love this side of her. But Harry could. Still, Luna felt he deserved better. Harry didn't. Harry kissed the floors she walked on and licked the air she tasted. Luna loved Harry's little quirks; focusing on the little crumbs of the desk- rearranging them into little piles before sweeping them into his palm and shaking it into the trash bin. Days where midnights were Harry's afternoons and he'd stroll Luna into the park for a moonlight picnic or a trip to the store for ice cream because he caught a craving. Harry would be super affectionate- showering Luna in suffocating kisses all over her face and big teddy bear type hugs over her body. It was like an adrenaline rush of love whenever his warmth would wrap around like a fuzzy sweater in the break of cold.

She needed it. She needed Harry.

It was shortly after college when Luna and Harry tied the knot. Becoming steady in their careers, Luna soon found Harry lagging behind. It was two years and then Harry lost his job. Quit because he decided he wanted to study marine biology instead. Luna- stuffing her bleak hope inside- encouraged her husband to do what made him happy. His studies didn't last and it became apparent- neither did his other jobs. Then Luna fell pregnant. Stifiling down the anger and bitterness, Luna continued working until she no longer could- her belly being too heavy to sit at her desk anymore. It was during her seventh month when Harry came home with a new job. Harry held onto it all the way up until their next child was born.

Two kids, full time. Luna couldn't hold any more loads than what she was already carrying. While Harry got to graze from job to job without a care in the world, Luna was stifled with holding down both the fort from home and her work. She chose to telecoummute after Kinsley was born, not bearing the thought of being seperated from her child for even a second.

Luna could recall that one Thursday evening when Harry stumbled in the house- drunk and now jobless. As high as the steam was pouring from Luna's head, she bit her tongue and chose the silent treatment. So enraged- silently and carefully perhaps- Luna stormed upstairs and into her and Harry's bedroom where she stuffed all the clothes and items she wanted to carry with her into two suitcases. Shoving them under the bed, Luna was shaken from her thoughts when a small cry was heard from Kinsley's bedroom. Scooping her up into her arms, Luna sat her three year old daughter in her lap and pulled out a 'Clifford The Big Red Dog' book.

It was during that particular story time when Luna was reading Kinsley to sleep. Beckett was sound asleep in his crib and Harry was downstairs drinking while reading some papers from his ex job. The quietness just floated into Luna. It set the mode from frenzy houswife mood to chill bedtime mommy. As Luna closed the book, Kinsley was fast asleep. Her monotone voice was soothing to her little one's eardrums, enough to make her snooze into the soft touch of her mommy's arms. Luna set the book down and just held Kinsley. She held onto her tightly like she was slipping from her grip. Pressing Kinsley's little head to the hollow of her breasts, Luna let the world just swish like waves under their feet. Pulling Kinsley back into her sight- gawking at her with such pride; sweet cherishing hopes of what Luna had pictured with her first child started forming in this very moment. She felt brave- brave enough to lean foward with her lips puckered aiming for Kinsley's forehead......

But she couldn't. Luna didn't know what it was: the rattling memory of not being kissed herself or the uncharted territory of doing this for her own child herself without the natural incline to do so without blinking an eye. It brought shame to Luna- like she was doing something wrong. No one was there to tell her it was right; natural as the feel of fresh blooming spring air aginst the forearm of your arms. A guilt rose through Luna- angered at not being able to plant a simple kiss to her own child's forehead and feeling ashamed to want to do so. Like it wasn't something she earned... or deserved. Pulling Kinsley slowly away from her, Luna set her back into her bed, tucking the covers around her. A tear wanted to spill from her eye, but she shoved it back up into herself, not daring to let even just one tear hit the floor.

Tiptoeing from Kinsley's room, Luna kicked herself for her weakness. Steading herself against the railing of the stairs, she met eyes with Harry. She would never know- even to this day- how he understood how she felt. Stretching an arm out for her, Luna fell into it and let a few tears drop. Everything he had done before then didn't matter anymore. Only the gentle wisps of his breath were all Luna let herself feel. In his arms, nothing could break in between them. Like a safety net of some sort, held Luna tightly even when she couldn't hold herself. She let herself fall into her husband's arms and never wanted to break out of them.

It was early the next morning, Luna unpacked the suitcases. Looking over to the nightstand with her and Harry's wedding picture, Luna thought about last night. And for this reason, the desire to tear that apart didn't exist anymore.

************************************

Luna gathered herself from the chair and wiped her face- her hands searching for any residue tears that might've escaped. Dry. Just the way she wanted it. Luna cleared her throat and sheltered herself in the bedroom. Glancing over at the nightstand picture of her and Harry, Luna sighed and rolled over, not leaving the room again until dinner time.

******************************************

"I think it's time to call the police," Beckett appeared through from the kitchen door, shortcutting into the living room. "it's been too long now."

Chase scratched his head. "You really think so? Shouldn't we give it another day?" Beckett shook his head. "No. Not this time... something could've actually happened to them this time." This worried Chase. A panic shook through his gut. What if something did actually happen to his parents? The guilt of accusing them of being irresposible if the worst were to have happened would be too much for Chase. His view of them- twisted and curved in different places. Already fragile like a fine string of fabric, the break in it would be their obtuse and obscure indifference to worrying their children to brink of insanity.

"I think we should wait some more." Kinsley interrupted the inspiring tension in the room. "Why? It's-" Beckett checked his watch, "been nearly a week. This is ridiculous!" Kinsley raised her eyebrows in agreement. "I know.... this happens all the time. I hate to say it but-" She sighed. "let's wait just a few more days and then if by next Monday they don't show, we'll call the police. They've been gone longer than this before..... it's not unusual."

Beckett licked his lips and slowly nodded. "Yeah..."

"I hate this! Why can't they just come home!?" Beckett sympathized with his little brother. "I know Chase.... I wish they'd come home too."

"I'm going to see if that one Chinese place delivers..." Kinsley excused herself upstairs, leaving the boys on the living room couch. Beckett wasn't aware of the frown sprawled across his face. "Beck..." Beckett looked up. "What's going to happen to us?" Chase leaned against his brother's arm. Beckett wrapped his arm around his younger brother and just stared off into space. "We'll be okay..." He finally spoke. The words echoed into Chase's head. He wanted to believe that. And for awhile.... he did. But it wasn't.... it would never be okay as long as he still kept the memory of the day his life turned around inside his brain- replaying over and over like a recording of his nightmare.

Beckett was like Harry. More mature, wiser, understanding, smart.... collected. Never prone to these outbursts, but rather a steady head in the tornado winds of danger. Beckett had nerves of steel.....something he never knew he would appreciate at his age now. Chase quietly went upstairs, Beckett's eyes on him- he could feel them. They bored into the back of his head like beaming headlights. Maybe Beckett felt responsible for watching Chase wander up those stairs by himself.... or maybe he was just as scared as he was.

Chase found himself on his bed, dazed and wondering if he was asleep and that this was all some lucid dream from staying up a little too late. But as the clock ticked by; the only sound in his noise free bedroom, Chase felt something inside him drop. Anger. Throwing and thrashing his pillows all over his room, internally screaming at Luna and Harry for abandoning him the way they did. Then his screams became loud, but muffled into the pillow he slept on every night. He hated his parents for this. Hated how distant his mother could get... hated how crazy his father went. The person he loved more than anyone else in the world, let him down- brutally betrayed him.

It was Harry's fault that he slept with his teddy bear every night; shoving the bear closely to his face to feel safe again. All because he didn't have it. Chase wasn't safe. And Harry took it all away from him. The cozy warm feeling of Harry's arms, now made him dizzy and sick like he'd been on a carousal a thousand times. How his father never changed, but worsened. Sitting back while watching everyone pick up his pieces off the ground. And Chase saw that now. The man he loved; everything about him being made of magic, was now a curse that he learned to live around. He had to learn to adapt if he chose his life. And it was during that one Christmas.... he learned it the hard way. How life can be fun and exciting, could turn into a hellish dizzy daydream that you can't exit from.

*********************************

It was during winter break. The children were all too excited for school to be done for two weeks and for Christmas to be right around the corner. Harry had been given a week off from work, while Luna still had to put in her ovetime to gather up the wish list budget from each of the children. Bored from being stuck in the house; too cold for sledding, to humid for ice skating, Harry took notice. A ride around downtown and then a quick stop for some hot chocolate he thought. Rounding up the kids, hustling their coats and boots on, Harry and the kids gathered into the car- slowly pulling out of the driveway before peering onto the snowflaked covered street, no other car in sight.

The city seemed whimsical. As the car made its way around the city, the snowflakes began to pour down harder. A chilly rain- melting on the windshield as they hit. Harry glanced through the rearview mirror to see three little heads enjoying their day of fun in the snow. And then Harry turned back. Spotting this snowflake, nothing too particular about it, but it gnawed at Harry. Keeping track with it, they passed the Starbucks and zoomed father and father away from their home and deeper into the city.

The adreniline picked up. Harry pressed the gas harder. The car picked up speed from every angle. "Daddy...." Kinsley warned, squeezing her seatbelt tighter. Harry jolted from one corner to the next, keeping steady with this one snowflake that he couldn't lose sight of for a moment. His foot pressed the gas harder and turned another corner, nearly sliding into a stuck out truck. "Daddy!" Beckett yelled. "Daddy! Stop!"

"DADDY! STOP! YOU'RE GOING TOO FAST!" Kinsley screamed. Harry- focused on the snowflake didn't slow the car down... picked up in fact.

Chase, screaming crying in the backseat. Unable to force his father to slow the car down, the fear begin to become all too real for him. "WE'RE GONNA DIE!" He screamed.

"Dad! Pull the car over! Stop the car! Stop Dad! STOP!" Beckett, gripping his seatbelt and telling Chase to tighten his. Laughter soon became tears and screams. But Harry still kept chasing that snowflake.....right into a lamp post.

As the smoke cleared, so did everyone's voices. The front car totaled, but everyone else was fine. Harry and the kids were rushed to the hospital. Under the pretense of just 'an accident' no charges were filed against Harry and that was that. Luna was called; rushed to the hospital and took everyone home while fishing out money to repair the car as a trade for half the Christmas budget. But presents were the least of the children's concern. Kinsley and Beckett refused to talk to Harry, but it was Chase- still in shock- didn't even acknowledge his father. "He could've killed us..." He said, one night while he was still awake. His father, the man who meant everything to him.......his protecter, nearly killed him. Killed them all, even himself. Reckless, callous, horrid.... were all the words that swirled around Chase's head.

Even when Kinsley and Beckett listened in on the screeching argument their parents had over the event; Luna verbally threatning to leave him, but instead, made him pay her back the money she had to spend on the damage. Chase sat in his room, holding himself crying soft tears. Reaching for his teddy bear- he last used it at five- Chase now held it close to him, trying hard to remember the fond memories with it, instead of the suffocatingly horrific nightmare he was living in.

Beckett and Kinsley- already protective of their little brother- became even more sharp eyed over him. Chase didn't mind it. He stayed close to them more so anyway. A silent agreement they all made at Christmas dinner when they exchanged smiles with each other- scorning any sights from their parents. Luna bit her lip, cheeks flushed as she glared angrily at Harry while trying to finish the ham she had on her plate.

Chase would walk past Harry; say 'hello' and then focus on himself. He wouldn't crawl into Harry's arms anymore for storytime, or ask him to kiss his scrapped knee. Chase, didn't even want to be alone with Harry. No more single shopping trips, unless one of his siblings or Luna was there. No cookie baking parties alone, no trips to the park, or to the cafe around the block.... no car rides. Nothing.

Chase would only try to forgive.... but he knew he never will. He could never forget what happened that December. No one could.

***************************************

Although Harry was responsible for his recklessness, he wasn't all to blame. There was something inside him that couldn't help itself. He held no control over his own mind and body most of the time. Becoming a part of normalcy for Harry, but keenly unaware of how abnormal it became for everyone around him. Blissfully ignorant, but well meaning, Harry made more problems than solutions. Harry, before meeting Luna, would never tell her about the many girls he slept with. Giving himself to ones he did or didn't know. Once sober of this, Harry let the weight of guilt and disgust pound onto his shoulders like barbells. And he carried it with every step he took; walking around the city, no matter what he did, the guilt lingered like a bad odar. Until the next high, when all Harry could think about was how everything he touched shimmered or became sparkly and echoed like halos circled around it, invitingly.

Harry, at nineteen, snuck into the backyard of a stranger's home and used their hose to shower himself off, getting him arrested. Or when the police finally caught up to him: shirtless, giddy and swinging on the playground's swingset, oblivious smile spread over his face like he was a kid in an amusment park.

Harry escaped with parole and community service. And from there, his arrest record was clear. But it was one thing that stayed the same no matter what. His evaluation. "I suspect Bipolar One Disorder." The psychiatrist said. And Harry did indeed have the disease. "No I don't! I feel fine!"

"Mr. Styles.... you're very sick. You are Bipolar- you'll need medication and some therapy-"

"NO WAY!" His lawyer tried calm him down. "I'm fine!"

"You wanna end up in prison?!" The detective snapped. "They'll lock you up if you do something like this again- you're lucky the judge took pity on you because he realized you were ill!"

"Harry, that's a good point, you might not get a deal like this again-"

Harry scoffed. "That doesn't mean I'm ill! I'm fine...." He whispered. The lawyer and the detective exchanged looks. "Harry....."

"Just leave me alone! I'm fine... why won't anyone believe me?" The detective sighed. "You broke into someone's backyard and used their hose to shower.... why should anyone believe that's normal? Do you realize they would've had the right to shoot you? Do you realize it might not go the way it's going now, the next time?"

Harry nodded. He talked with the laywer, who- under Harry's direction- decided to take the medication. Once his court time was up, Harry went off the meds and continued doing whatever. He rejected it until he no longer had to.

It was always this way; Harry going through his everyday with the same little bug trapped in his head- impusling him to want to dive off the highest bridge or soar through the pervaded streets at nightime in a stolen Jaguar. Harry had these impulses and highs and lows for most of his life.

As a child, Harry learned that imaginary friends were the best kind. The smell of gin and rum sometimes snaking into the furnace and spraying his bedroom with the stench. So, in the winters, when the furnace was on full blast, Harry would let them open all morning and then by evening, cover them up.

Despite the stench of rum or whiskey on his father's breath, on sober days, he was fun to play with. Mostly Sundays; the game was on and Harry's father, Irving, was calm and quiet. He let Harry on his lap and would tell funny stories of how he came up with the name 'Harry' based off a funny comic he saw in a newspaper once as a little boy. Irving was kind- kissing his son's face randomly and giving big bear hugs just because. Harry liked to feel himself in his father's presence. Warm, fuzzy and cozy with sensual relief from the other side of his home.

Jane. His mother. Always angry, always drunk. Ranting about something Irving did or something he himself did. "You little fuck up!" She would scream. "I should've had that abortion!"

It was when Harry, ten years old, that Jane ran out of her typical 'happy drinks' and tried to force Harry to get some more. He wouldn't. Tired of dealing with her unstable mood, the thought of Jane's anger might've stemmed from the alcohol she consumed on a regular basis- a school project Harry's class had been studying on. 'Just say no!' campaign for alcohol and drug abuse. Angrily, Jane grabbed one of Harry's favorite toy trucks and destroyed it right in front of him. "There... you won't listen to me, you don't have a truck anymore." Tears fell from Harry's eyes, ignoring his mother screaming at him to stop crying and get her beer.

Irving came home and argued with Jane over the incident. As Harry hid around the staircase, Irving and Jane seemed to be in a challange as to who could scream the loudest. "I hate that kid! And I hate you!" Jane's face, scrunched in this tight scowl, giving her son the stink eye from the living room corner. "You!" She screamed. Charging up the stairs, she grabbed Harry's leg and dragged him down the stairs only halfway until Irving grabbed Jane's arm and smacked her cheek so hard that blood dripped from his hand as well. Stunned, Harry layed paralyazed over the stairs. Jane, shaking and unable to speak, Irving forced her to meet his burning eyes. "It's not his fault.... it's yours." he sneered. Letting her go, Jane fell to the ground. Irving poured his rum over her head. "There's your beer, bitch," throwing the can over her head, "tell me how you like it now."

Irving took Harry from the steps and the two left for dinner at the diner. Harry could only look back at his mother, flank and huddled over the floor, trembling. "Don't look at her," his father instructed. "she got exactly what she deserved." Harry bit his lip. Deep down... maybe Irving was somewhat right. After all the times she made Hary cry and shake himself to sleep from fear, this was a thristy comuppance coming.

The diner rang of newcomers and goers all through the night. Like Harry and Irving were avoiding going home. Harry was full: Two big cheeseburgers, fries, a Coke and a chocolate milkshake and a side of pickles. "You need your veggies, bud." Harry was still shocked, unable to grasp this side of his father. Irving, for as long as Harry knew him, would walk away from a fight. Irving never stood up for Harry so blantenly; buying replacements of everything Jane destroyed from anger was his way of loyality. It frightened Harry. He never seen his mother so frail and delicate in the way he saw her down those steps.

The way her cheek was bloody, like someone gashed it in. It dripped from her face, perfectly onto her peach dress and then onto the wooden floors. Seeing Jane like that, Harry squinched himself into her image. What of that was him? What if he was the one that was slapped from upsetting Irving? It didn't take long for Harry to see that his father's breath had that rum smell it always did. It sent a sick feeling through his body; a wave of unsurety spiked through his stomach. What if Jane would take revenge on Harry for causing Irving to do this to her. Would she leave? Would she mellow out and become puny in the eyes of her husband? Looking into Irving's eyes, Harry became small in them. No longer the man that could lift the sky, but now someone who could crush it with just the tips of his fingers.

Going home, things were quiet. The house clean, and the blooded spot where Jane layed, was cleaned like it never happened. Jane was sleeping or at least half asleep on the couch when they returned. Harry ran upstairs- not wanting to see anymore interactions between his parents. "Babe...." Irving shook Jane. "Babe...." he shook her again.

Harry listened as Irving sighed. He called the police and the ambulance, thinking Jane drunk herself unconscience. But it was that Wednesday afternoon, during Harry's math class, when Jane was pronouced dead. Alcohol poisoning.

It was just Harry and Irving from that moment on. On good days, they were the best of buddies, on bad days, he was just in the way. A hate love they became, making the eggshells Harry was already walking on, become broken glass. Maybe it was his grandfather who he had to thank for all this. Irving would tell him of how his father, would explode sometimes over minor little things and that it made Irving become very quiet and denfensive- ready to pounce whenever his father did.

When the day came to leave Irving, Harry felt this thick wrap of sadness and freedom. Free from the eggshells, sad from the fondness they shared as father and son. Harry gave his father one last kiss on the cheek as a momento for all the times he did, before leaving for college. It was the following year when Irving's cancer finally took over him. A hole was left in Harry, but quickly healed itself with the thought of Harry's future.

Big home, bright sunnyside yard, a family of a loving wife and two or three beatiful children. Those eggshells would never exist in their home; neither the tension or the pain or the lingering fear of the what ifs. And it was just that, that made Harry feel complete again.

But, the bug- the little glitch in his brain. It had blossomed in ten year old Harry that day. He wasn't even aware but it did. His ubrupt talking in class, or the way he would run through the snow in his boxers or swimmer trunks sometimes, it was all just fun. Childlike behavior as everyone would see it. Cause, he was just a child.

At twelve, Harry took his sled and climbed to the tallest hill from the city dump, stood on top of the sled and flew through the junk, dodging it like he was a professional. Nothing too serious, thought Irving. "Harry, use your brain, son." he would say. Some days, Harry would sleep all through it. Apathetic and gloomy over nothing. Then the insomnia where the kitchen counters had to be cleaned before his head even nicked the pillow, or some nights, Harry would crave cookies. So, he'd sneak out, run to the convenience store and grab a bunch. When caught, Harry was just.....indifferent. Not cruel or grimly..... just discontent. Was this some form of puberty hormones his father supsected. But, it was never looked into that much, because Harry kept it tame until he reached his late teens, early adulthood. By then, no one was more responsible for Harry, than himself.

And slowly, but surely, that euphoric dream of his happy family, slowly burned out like the last flame of a washed away campfire.

*******************************************

Kinsley sat in her bedroom, twirling her razor in between her fingers. She stared into the blades- three straight sharp lines shiny against the light of her bedroom. Alone and tranquil, she slowly scoots herself from off the bed, turns off the light and locks her door. Taking a seat on the floor; feeling the carpet underneath her socks. Kinsley thinks of her parents, especially her mother.

Never having time for her, empty.... just empty, no emotion, monotone was her only tone and even the hint of seasoning in her personality was always used up on Harry. It stabbed through Kinsley- more than she wanted. Even the thought of leaving for college wouldn't be enough to steer her from the echoing pain she felt from being alone. Hopelessly needing to play mother to her two brothers. Kinsley, never having to worry about poverty or homelessness, still felt some sense of responsibilty for Beckett and Chase. Like she needed all the answers at all times, because, who else would answer? Stuck in this hamster wheel of putting on a brave face; saving face and faking happy, all while her mother worked herself to death, her father playing with one job and then the next, and then Beckett, who even through the cheap little calm facade, was trembling like a little girl in the face of an evil clown. And lastly, Chase.... shell shocked from that December. Kinsley couldn't even imagine the betrayal he felt most of all.

Suddenly the piercing swipe of the razor elated her. A sense of euphoria fanned her like a fresh whip of cool summer air. So, she made two more swipes. The blood trickled down her arm, almost like a tear. Kinsley liked to believe that she gave her body the permission to cry. The blood trickled and dripped onto the floor, faint without a sound. Kinsley didn't cry anymore. Her arm was a better canidate than her wrist. Boney and rigid, Kinsley found it more nerving wearing sweaters or jackets in warm weather. Beckett, always questioning it and scanning Kinsley up and down- curious to what she was hiding. But it wasn't so much the attention of others she was attracting, but the little slip up that became too much.

A few Augusts ago, Kinsley had been coming back from the mall. A plesant coversation with the clerk; telling her where the best outfits were and what lipsticks looked good with her skin. Kinsley flattered by these compliments, became more comfortable- relaxed with the clerk. "I'll tell you, when I was your age, my mama never took me seriously when I told her I wanted to be a dancer. Working here- I get money to afford the school- but she just blew me off... she always did. I guess she never took young people seriously."

"Really?"

"Yeah... she had this- I guess.... she never respected youngins that much- you know.... always believing they were exaggerating things nad overly dramatic, that type." Kinsley felt this sick light feeling in her gut. A lukewarm patch of unlovable started to splotch inside of her. She didn't know what it was that sparked that feeling. But a tightness begin to belt around her. Stumbling home, Kinsley let those words swim around her head. She pushed and pulled them far away, but they just wouldn't crawl out of her brain the way she wanted them to. Her heart pounded harder and harder and her vision became blurry. Stomach, light and then like a switch, a fluttery nothing to lose feeling cloaked over her. Going over the little hill to her home, Kinsley stopped for a moment to stare at the front door. A brown cheastnut with a golden door ringer right in the center.

A big white home, black shudders and a red brick pathway towards the front door, narrowing in between the lawn. Luna's car was gone; she always parked it outside of the garage. The neighborhood, quiet and serene. Like no one was watching. Beckett and Chase were with Harry at the grocery store, Luna was at work.... it was just Kinsley. Unlocking the front door, Kinsley came inside and locked the door behind her. The living room- untraced and clean, the way Kinsley needed it to be.

Going up the stairs, Kinsley undressed and started the tub. Pouring in all her lavender and amber scented bubble soap, the water filled up to only a few inches to the top. Enough to soak her, but not enough to spill over onto the floor. Stepping into the bathtub, Kinsley let the bubbles encase her. Taking in the sweet scent of the bath, she reached for her razor on the shelf just arm's length on the wall of the shower. Squinting her eyes shut, Kinsley made one jagged swipe through her wrist, and then another. The bath becam red. Blood, trickling from her arm and splotching the water and bubbled a dillouted red. The rush wasn't enough, though the gashes were big. Big enough to be noticed. But Kinsley didn't want to be noticed. She didn't want anyone to see the big slashes across her wrists. Blooded and dripping, it didn't give what Kinsley thought it would give. Drenching her hair in the bath water, Kinsley slid down lower and lower into the tub, until she was snorkeling the water into her nostrils.

Slowly, it started to fill her lungs. Kinsley closed her eyes and let the earth around her, slowly fade like mist in thick air.

Then..... her eyes sprung open.

Hacking and choking herself back to heed, scanning the bathroom around for any difference since she last had walked in. Kinslsy let her tears fall; her eyes soaking and then drying and then wet again; a dillusional pattern she made for herself of crying and wiping her eyes from either the tears falling down her cheeks or the bath water still dripping from her body. Kinsley, still gasping for shallow breaths, let the scent of lavender and amber fill her nose, while still fishing for air in her lungs.

The hue dimmed; the sunlight now glowering down a bit, leaving the bathroom with just shadows of what was beaming sun glaze. Kinsley, towled off and treated her wrist the best she could. The gashes were thick though. Smacking lotion over her body, Kinsley took herself to the hospital before anyone could notice. Four stiches later, Kinsley kept her bandaged wrists and antibiotic cure hidded from even the squint of moonlight.

Some nights- evem after that day- Kinsley would remind herself of what brought her to that bathroom and moved that razor to her wrists. The dark cave of a neverending ferris wheel. And maybe it was that. That's what brought her to swallowing the bath water. But.... it wasn't. It was what was on that ferris wheel that drowned Kinsley. The clerk and her disrespectful mother..... Kinsley ....... and her absent mother. Not being important enough for Luna... the only female in the home, besides herself, that she longed to relate to. But... was pushed away- not from cold harshness- but simple nonchalant distance. An empty in Luna that she couldn't fill no matter what she did. And that empty.... leaked onto her children. Leaked onto Kinsley. The herorin dream that leaving for college would fill the space that was there to stay. And no matter what Kinsley did.... it would never leave. Even as she sunk into the core of the bathtub.... Kinsley couldn't deny it.

Kinsley, sat with her family the next night at dinner, cautiously freeing her wrist from any rubbing or friction against them. Beckett would glance down occassionally at Kinsley and her odd body language, but still kept quiet. He never knew exactly what his sister did to injure her wrist the way she did, but he always suspected something so twisted, he just couldn't allow his brain to travel that far. So, he never did.

Instead, he would look Kinsley up and down with each conversation, wondering what laid deep in her eyes. Kinsley wasn't entirely sure what Beckett was looking for, but she understood what he was trying to find. So.... she just hoped he would never find it.

In the present, Kinsley suckled in the minutes, the hours, the seconds her parents were gone. Like crusted dirt from a car being washed away in the splashes of soaking soapy water, shining a pristine gimmer over the coat, Kinsley hated to admit she felt this way. Refreshed, concerned and content with this new sense of lonesome. Just her and her brothers alone in the quiet home- faded of fiascos upon them, solely on the weight of the two people who bring them. But... Kinsley would give it a few days or so. And then.... when she was ready..... she would call the police.

******************************************

Beckett tapped against the wooden panels of his bedroom floor harshly, but not enough to wake the sleeping household. Beckett kept it that way. Staring at the wall in front of his desk, Beckett couldn't seem to keep focus on anything else. Turning off his laptop, Beckett paced his floor. He turned off the lights- liking darkness as soothing comfort constrast to the dizzy bright glow of his bedroom overhead light. Only the small hue of his lamp shined quietly as Beckett couldn't even hold himself still for a second. Like a chicken without a head, a fog settled over in Beckett's brain. Like static to a disconnected television, Beckett couldn't even keep the one thought of Luna and Harry to stay in his mind.

Clentching his hands- knuckles turning white and palms becoming sweaty and greasy, Beckett found his lips opened slightly like a fish. Small breaths would come in and out from his mouth- open and suckling in the grists of air that he felt he couldn't catch. The world was black and spinning and the ground sunk lower and lower beneath him like quicksand. Beckett grabbed onto his computer chair to gain balance. Nothing. He still couldn't hold on. A black force must've captured him into its lure- sucking out the last breaths of life from his body. At least, to Beckett it was.

Screaming for help, but nothing came out. Flashes and echos of demons laughing at his pain, howling at his desperation to hang onto his life, even if it ended tonight. Sputtering and choking on his on flesh, Beckett fell to the floor, still wondering if the thud woke anyone up. Now adrenaline sped through him even more. "Chase shouldn't hear this, Kinsley shouldn't hear this...." All ran through his head like he was saying it out loud, but he couldn't. He wasn't. Heart speaking for him- pounding louder through the room than anything else. Like Beckett could reach in his chest and try to slow it down, his fingers tingly; on and off of numbness like pins and needles were inside them.

Beckett began to become afraid. Afraid of living. Falling completly onto the floor, shaking and trembling like he was violently ill; a blaring fever ringing through his body like he was on death's door. His chest had become weak- he felt- from the lack of breaths. A single full gust of air couldn't even penatrate into his lungs for even a minute. And then.... black.

*******************************************

A light shadow casted itself over Beckett's face. Blinking and adjusting himself to the morning light- eyes darting to the clock that read 8:45. Crawling from the floor and onto his bed, Beckett straightened himself up with a better posture, stretched and went downstairs for an early breakfast. Beckett could recall the dizzy nightmare he had from last night. Only it wasn't the nightmare he wished it was. Making himself a cup of coco, he sat down at the table and threw his head into his hands. "What the hell....." he whispered to himself.

Creaks of small footsteps sounded, before Chase's presence entered into the dining room. "Beck?" Beckett looked up and then slowly towards Chase. A vapor still was over him, like grainy vintage footage from an old camera. A weak smile eroded from his tired body. "Hey buddy..." Chase invited himself into a seat across from Beckett. "Want some coco?" Chase shook his head.

"What happened last night?" Beckett didn't have to ask. Clearing his throat with a small furrow, Beckett tried hard to formulate an answer. "I had a bad dream that's all..... fell out of bed." Taking another sip from his coco, Chase looked down a bit. "What was your dream about?"

Beckett smiled. "Well.... monsters, I guess. They like to come out at some of the scariest times and pounce on you....." Chase furrowed his eyebrows a little before readjusting them to straight laced and blank. "Yeah...." he said softly.

"I'll make you some cereal...." Beckett got up from the table and went into the kitchen, wanting to disappear from Chase's sight. But Beckett could still feel it. Like a forthwith flu, that springs on you at night, leaving you with the worst sniffles and coughs you could feel the next morning.

The bowl didn't sit right- according to Beckett- agitating him. Gripping the cereal box harder, he forcibly shook the bag harder and more violatle than he first wanted to. Almost punishing the bowl for not being how he wanted to be. Pouring the milk and slamming the spoon into the bowl, Beckett took a deep breath and served it to Chase with a sweet smile across his face. "There you go..." Soft and gentle, a similar tone to Harry's, making Chase flinch a bit. Beckett pressed a kiss to Chase's cheek before sitting back at his spot at the table, focusing on finishing the last sips of his coco.

A sudden spark of Harry and Luna slapped Beckett. Now remembering that chaotic thought that started the whole haze in the first place; two homewreaking adults, making their own offspring worry over themselves.

Distracted, Beckett nearly knocked the mug over. Snatching it back and slamming it a bit hard over the table; angered by the thought of his parents, he failed to realize how much is shocked Chase to see his brother respond out of context. Beckett's cheeks flushed. Looking up- barely able to meet Chase's eyes. A polite smile grew from him. "Sorry." He looked down at the mug for awhile before taking it to the sink. Chase focused the rest of breakfast on his cereal.

Kinsley's popping of her gum interuppted the tension, but shook Chase a bit. "Okay guys," she grabbed a banana, "I gotta to go work- if Mom and Dad call or come home before I do, then give me a call." Pulling out a two twenty's from her purse, Kinsley handed it to Beckett. "Why don't you order the pizzas while I'm gone- repeat of the last order."

Beckett nodded, only glancing into Kinsley's eyes for a second. She took notice, but a work thought flooded her mind. "Bye Chase, bye Beck." She said, darting out the door after grabbing her car keys. The house falls silent. Too silent for Beckett. Keeping his balance steady, Beckett makes his way to the key rack, snatching Luna's keys off the hook. Scanning the living room, Beckett takes a deep breath. The air had become to muggy for him inside the house, and the upstairs would only remind him of the demons he was trying to outrun. Going into the dining room, Beckett finally makes contact with Chase shamelessly. "Before we order lunch and dinner.... wanna go for a drive?"

Chase perked up. "A drive?" Beckett smiled small. "Yeah.... just put your bowl in the dishwasher and we can go..."

Chase threw himself up from the table and ran to the kitchen. Beckett didn't question Chase's excitement. He was more focused on his pounding thought of the unknown. "Let's go!" Beckett ushered Chase out the door and into the car. Putting the key into the ignition, Beckett let the sound of the car's purring take him. Slowly backing out of the driveway, Beckett then turned the corner and stepped on the gas. Turning on the radio, 'Lana Del Ray' blared through the stereo as the pair drove through the city. On a Thursday, the summer sun clamored through the car windows, roads were neat and empty from the everyday people either at home or at work. Beckett took in the green shiny trees from every tree lawn around the surburban neighborhoods. The sweet breeze seeped into the car windows, tickling Beckett's hair- fluttering it like a feather. Chase found himself staring into the rearview mirror, seeing how the sun lit into Beckett's eyes.

Beckett stayed locked on the road- not darting even for the occassional glances towards the backseat. A wave flew over him. A car could come from nowhere- slam into them. Slam into Chase's side. Beckett stepped on the gas harder. Focused on what stood in front of him, Beckett eventually snapped himself out of his strict view and began scanning around for the unknown. The echos made their way into the car. Scratching the surface of Beckett's head- threatning to drill inside. The same whispers of doubt from last night peered into him. Speeding his heart up faster than the car, pounding his lungs like he was drowing and swimming at the same time. Beckett swore he could already see the neon lights of the police cars wailing around the corner to park at their house, informing them of their parent's tragedy. His palms now stuck to the steering wheel from his mucky sweat.

The haze became thicker. Beckett needed to outrun this. Pressing the gas harder, he shot through the streets, trailing the car up to the bridge. Chase- gripping his seatbelt- began to feel the same pangs he felt that day. December lights that hung from house to house and building to building, all begin to spin in his mind like a wicked loopty loop. The words 'Stop' couldn't form from his mouth the way he needed them too. Unable to scream, stuck in this whirling motion of the uncontrolled. But Beckett felt he was in control.

He could blame this on his cabin fever, waiting paitently for the return of his parents. The bridge stood as the ground beneath them. One side held this view of nothing but water and the other as well. Only water, not even dusty ground or rock... just water. Like the waters Beckett was swimming in- running from the tidal wave full of sharks. The car whipping past like a roller coaster, speeding even higher with every thought that laced into Beckett's brain. Only when the dead end of the bridge was coming too close......

"STOP BECKETT STOP!"

The car jerked. Halting itself from anymore speed. Catching his breath, Beckett was too afraid to look into the rearview mirror- terrified of what he might see. Chase, pale, ghostly white like his soul escaped his body. Beckett slowly turned the car around and drove back through those same streets he passed. Every other minute looking back and checking the mirror to watch Chase closely; jumping from the car might be something he would do. Besides the staggering shame that painted Beckett's face bright pink, it was the silence of the car- the silence of Chase that sunk in more. Chase.... was he angry? Scared? Confused? Shocked? Traumatized yet again? Beckett knew this. He knew what Chase went through with Harry.... how could he do this to him as his brother? Why would he let this happen again?

Beckett didn't know. All he knew was Chase unbuckling his seat belt and darting from out of the car, up the steps of the garage and into the house without one word. But he didn't need to speak it. Beckett already knew how Chase felt. And for once, while alone in the car, Beckett pressed his forehead against the steering wheel.... and cried.

***************************************************

Beckett ordered the pizzas like Kinsley requested. Chase's pizza halfway full- he had come down, fixed his plate, and then ran back upstairs again to his room. Beckett ate his dinner in silence. Not even the TV could fill the holes the guilt inside of him left. He felt he deserved it. He punished himself. Beckett, even into evening pounded his brain with evil thoughts of how abhorrent he was. How much he let his brother down- the person who looked to him for all the answers, was now going to be one he ran away from.

The jingle of keys could be heard from the kitchen nook. Kinsley walked in, smelling the savory scent of her favorite pizza. "Oooh, you ordered it..." Washing her hands and grabbing a slice, savoring every bite. Picking the sauage from her box, she noticed how tense Beckett was. "What happened? You're acting like someone got murdered or something..." Beckett waved it off. "Oh nothing... it's... just Mom and Dad."

"Did they call?" He shook his head. "No. No surprise there I guess but....."

"But what?"

"What if this is our life now? Mom and Dad don't ever show up.... and it's me, you and Chase...." Kinsley shrugged. "I don't know.... maybe... but..... I hope not. I mean- it's been very nice like this- but they should come home."

"It has been very nice..." Kinsley stiffened. "Yeah...." She looked at Beckett. "It is very nice to not have arguments or annoucements of Dad's unemployment..... I mean... this... is not the ideal type of life I want. At all."

Beckett raised his eyebrows. "Me neither."

"Has Chase gotten his food yet?"

"Oh yeah, he ate his upst- he ate it awhile ago." Kinsley furrowed her eyebrows. "He wanted to be alone today.... I think he misses Mom and Dad a bit... he's worried." Kinsley nodded. "Yeah..."

*********************************************

It was ten o'clock. And Beckett tiptoed up the stairs, right hand carrying Chase's favorite dessert: a fudge cake with chocolate syrup and vanilla ice cream. A soft knock on the door, felt like splinters in his knuckles to Beckett. "Chase... it's me... I have your favorite dessert with me... if you want it."

A few minutes later, Chase opened the door. A relief fell through Beckett. "Can I come in?" Chase stepped aside, allowing Beckett into his room. Setting the bowl down, Chase nodded from Beckett to take a seat in his chair. "Chase...." Beckett looked deep into Chase's eyes. Tears begin to well up in his, glossing his eyes. Sucking in his lip, he swallowed. "I am so, so, so, so, so, sorry. I should never have done what I did-"

"What is wrong with you?! You acted at the breakfast table- and then you say 'Hey Chase, wanna go for a ride?' and nearly kill us..... just like Dad." Those words stung Beckett hard. He didn't ever want to repeat that mistake his own father made. "You know..... you know.... how bad that was. You were in that car when I was- yet... you go and take me out and do the same thing? That doesn't make any sense! How could you?! Why would you?!" Tears fell freely from Chase's eyes. "Why?......"

Beckett held it in.... then broke down. "I don't know..... I just didn't want to be here... I.... my nightmare yesterday, was real.... I brokedown- a breakdown- when your mind and body just can't handle anymore. And that's what happened.... but instead of being honest.... I pretended like I was fine and I wasn't.... that's why I wanted to take a drive... I wanted to clear my mind.... but I didn't wanna be alone.... I didn't wanna be alone...." Beckett let himself sob.

"I was afraid of what I might've done, Chase! I was losing my mind- I still don't have it.... but I am truly sorry for hurting you.... the last person I could ever want to hurt is you.... I love you... and Kins, so much...." Beckett couldn't speak. But he didn't need to. Chase slid off the bed and held Beckett in his arms, while he sobbed. "I'm so sorry...." he cried. Chase knew he was. He already knew he would forgive Beckett... it was just a matter of when.... not if he ever came to him.

As Beckett calmed, he wrapped his arms around Chase tighter. Thankful for his brother's forgiveness and thankful for the second chance. The two held each other- far longer than when the ice cream had melted into a puddle inside of the bowl.

***********************************************

It was midnight and as of on cue- the children all gathered in the living room- the jingle of keys rang from outside. The front door flew open and in came Luna and Harry with their bags. "We're home!" Harry cheered. The house- silent as it usually was when they're parents came into view. Harry still kept a smile over his face, waiting possibly for maybe a hug from Beckett or a 'Daddy's home' from Kinsley. But nothing. Chase stared, first at Harry, then to Luna, before brushing past them and locking himself up in bedroom.

Kinsley pretended as if they didn't even come home; her back turned while typing something into her phone. "Kids?" Luna piped. Beckett, finally fed up from the grandstand, decided to clear everything. "Where were you?"

"Excuse me?" Luna said. "Where were you?" Beckett repeated.

"Two weeks. Two weeks past the day you're supposed to return home, and now you're here, without so much as a call or a text, a letter, a memo- something to tell us that you're okay and that you're coming home on this day or this time! Nothing.... we waited for you..... and you never showed up."

Luna looked down then up. "Well... we're here now..."

"Of course you are.... because two weeks are null.... every bad thing you do is just invalid... like us. Me, Beckett and Chase, spent this entire time taking care of ourselves! And all you can say is: "We're here now." Well I don't care, because I don't want to see you!" Kinsley ran past her parents, upstairs to her room and slammed the door.

Beckett was left alone. Scanning his parents up and down with a staunch frown over his face. "We missed you..." Harry said, softly. Beckett only gave a nod before walking upstairs to his room, making his parents see his slow footsteps- taking each time on each step carefully, just to punish them. Closing the door, but still leaving it open a crack, Beckett laid back in his bed to hear what would happen downstairs.

"Well... that's that... thanks a lot, Harry." Harry frowned. "What did I do?"

"I said 'we should get back early so we could be back home on time', but you insisted we see that stupid marriage coach on board like she could do something about us."

"Well excuse me for trying to help 'us' out. She was a sex therapist, Luna. We needed it-"

"Shh! I don't want the kids to hear- do you know how embarrassing that would be?" Harry shrugged. "Well... we did need it."

Luna went to the dining room and put her head in her hands. "We screwed up.... big time." A gust of small wind fell over her back and then the touch of Harry's hand over it. But it didn't warm her the way it usually did. Luna knew there was no excuse for their actions. Not calling, not doing anything was beyond irresponsible.... it was cruel. The angry stares and shuns of her children would never be something that would leave her brain. Branded into the walls of her mind- something added to what she would pull out on a rainy day to think about when she needed to feel sad or broken over something.

"I think we just got carried away." Harry sat next to Luna. "Maybe we can take the kids out to dinner tomorrow to make up for it."

"This is not the first time we've done this..... that probably ran through their minds. Like.... like we didn't even care about them." Harry ran his hands through his hair. Despite his reassurance, he couldn't ignore the feeling that planted itself in him the moment he stepped into the house. Chase didn't even say a word- something he was used to- but neither did Beckett or Kinsley... at first. Like Luna, Harry felt even more so, the depths of his children's pain. The understanding of their anger and hurt was too much for him to rationalize with. So, he bit down any thoughts or imagines of what his children might say or do next to shield, maybe even just some of the pain. Getting up, Harry went into the kitchen to make him and Luna tea.

Luna sat nursing her now pounding headache in her hands, trying not to beat herself up. Even though... she would've not only deserved it.... but needed it as well. The temptation to cry was strong, but she swallowed that down like she did the several margaritas she had with Harry while they traveled from city to city- using their cruise as their transportation. Drunk and feeling frenzy, they kept their phones off- under the advice of their therapist, who didn't even know about their responsiblites that sat at home waiting. Harry wanted Brazil, then Mexico, all while Luna let herslef be dragged along as if it was another honeymoon for them. Like twenty year old bohemians without a care in the world, drinking, dancing, eating and partying their way like a romance movie. But, here they were, home at their doorstep, where it all came back to bit them in the butt.

Setting the tea down in front of Luna, she took a sip and continued keeping her cheek in her palm. "I'm gonna add some more sugar," getting up, Luna went into the kitchen with her tea. Setting the mug down, she grabbed a bottle of gin and poured some into the tea- stirring it with lemon and ginger inside it too. Taking another sip, Luna let a small smile trace her face a bit.

Harry finished his tea, set the cup into the sink and then started slowly trailing up the stairs. His feet took him to Chase's door. One soft knock, then another, then another. "Chase... it's Dad..." The door didn't even flinch. Neither did the floor creak. So Harry knocked again. "Not now Dad..." Chase's voice seemed like an echo. "Chase... Chasie- Daddy... can he come in.... we can talk?"

Chase opened the door and flew past Harry, running down the stairs and out the door. Too dark to know where he was going, but he didn't care. Anywhere but the home that was short of its name. Running right, Chase could make out the shadows of the trees and the small dots of light on every front porch. Balls of light from street lamps and the gentle clicks of birds or whatever made that sound from where ever, sent this rush through Chase. Like an olympian running to the finish line, Chase liked the feeling of the his own winds running through his hair and brushing into his skin.

It took around the corner the store, then to the park.... then into the city. Streams of lights and evening chuckles and chatters from nightgoers were now all around him. His legs slowed down and his mind stopped. Like a time machine speeding through every decade, stopping at its destination, Chase could only walk alone and take note of what the city looks like after midnight. Digging into his pocket for change, he found a two crumbled up five dollar bills that he couldn't remember what he was saving them for. Walking into the cafe, a sense of hope sprang through Chase like he had finally found somewhere to shelter himself from the unseen of the night. And.... he could've used a drink and a snack by now.

**************************************************

Beckett opened his door and found Harry sitting somberly on Chase's bed. Coming closer, Beckett found only Harry but no Chase. "Where's Chase?" Harry still looking down, didn't respond. "Dad!" Harry shot up. "Where's Chase?"

Harry sniffled. "He....he- he left."

"What?"

"I wanted to talk to him, and he opened his door for a brief second and ran out..... I heard the front door close so I thin-"

"He ran away?!" Beckett's outburst prompted Kinsley's door to open. "Chase ran away from home?" Beckett turned around, fear all through his face. Kinsely took off downstairs to grab her mother, but found no trace of her. A tight snap pinched her, alarming her to where her mother was suspsected to be. Grabbing her father's car keys, Kinsley dashed out the door. Whoever she came to first- Chase or Luna- they would be found first. Kinsley hoped it would be Chase, but a gut tight instinct promised her it would be Luna she would find before anything else.

"How could you let him leave? Where the hell's Mom?!"

"Okay, just calm down Beck-"

"No! He's gone Dad! He could be anywhere.... oh God, why wasn't I there? The second time in nearly one day where I failed him again-"

"What happened there?" Maybe it was the slight sterness or aloofness in Harry's tone that Beckett couldn't stand, making the last snag inside of him snap.

"WHY WOULD YOU CARE? YOU NEVER NOTICE THE OBVIOUS ANYWAY! WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'WHAT HAPPENED THERE?' AS IF YOU WEREN'T ALREADY GONE FOR HALF THE MONTH!"

"Beck-"

"Do you ever wonder why Chase hates you?! Do you even realize how much he's afraid of you- you drive us into the city as kids in the middle of winter and nearly kill us because of God knows whatever it was you were thinking, because sometimes it's like you don't think, Dad! You don't care, so Chase just became a shell of what he was since that day.... we all did. And you did nothing except.... oh yeah.... get a bicycle for yourself that Christmas!"

"Chase hates me?"

"He can't even stand to breathe the same air in THE ROOM AS YOU, DAD! Don't you get it? You failed us all.... you won't get help and now everyone else needs even more help because you can't admit you're sick! In more ways than one!" Beckett sneered. Gritted teeth and slashing words- maybe for the sake of hurting Harry... but more because they were words that needed to be spoken. Taking in a deep breath, Beckett finally turned to Harry with more swollen eyes.

Harry sat on the bed, paralyzed, unable to speak, move or think. Getting up, he walks out of Chase's room- ignoring Beckett's apologies- and shelters himself in his room. Laying on the bed, Harry stares up at the celling. For once in his life- brain cleared, unfoggy of some nonsense- it all flashes back into him like an overhead light in a hospital bed. The car screeching, the screams and cries of his children begging him to stop..... then the crash and shatter of the car slamming into the lamp post. Like an urge to vomit that he pushed down, Harry let tears fall from his eyes and spot his pillow. Chase's sweet little face. All he could see was how sweet Chase's face used to look and now how diminished of life it looked now. Eyes empty, face stricken in this derelict state. Something made the connection for Harry- Irving slapping Jane across the face, making her bleed onto the floor. Harry although never wanted to, he always believed that it was his father who pushed his mother to her untimely death.

That little promise Harry kept inside of him to keep the spirit of his father alive, meant nothing now. He knew his family was far from perfect..... and he was partly to blame. He caused the trouble his family suffered. He caused his own son to be afraid of him: like he was of his father. Those eggshells became Chase's to walk on and his father's shame became Harry's to carry. Sitting himself up, a wail came from his throat before a full lucid sob. Crying like a baby into his hands- mouth vibrating and lungs quivering- Harry didn't car who heard his cries.

Beckett could make out the muttered sounds of it.... but left him alone anyway.

**********************************************

Kinsley turned every corner and every side street. But still no Chase. Her worry boomed through the roof of the car. Kinsley then got this jabbing feeling in her stomach. Not knowing what it was, she took a chance and turned the car in the direction it wanted her to go. The Ivory Chalice. One of the bars that lived in the city. Kinsley squinted her eyes enough to see Luna's dark gray Honda parked right outside. Kinsley kept her ping of anger hidden until she was sure her mother was inside chugging down drinks at the counter. Parking, Kinsley walked slowly, stuffing the keys into the pocket of her jeans and taking quiet steps like she was creeping up on someone.

Inside, the intense smell of smoke and booze hit her like a gust of wind. Looking around, even Kinsley realized she couldn't make any excuses for the woman wearing the same black blazer and blue skinny jeans as her mother. Frozen, she didn't know whether or not to approach Luna or just let her get intoxicated to teach her a lesson for her immaturity. Kinsley decided on the latter and walked out without saying so much as one word.

*************************************************

As the bar was closing, Luna stumbled out to the parking lot. The bartender kept her keys and said she could come get them if she found a sober driver or by later that morning when she sobered up. So, Luna was forced to call a taxi to come fetch her. In the backseat, Luna nursed her tired and queasy stomach. Rolling down the window- once at a red light- she threw up out the window and was forced to look at her vomit on the side of the road after the taxi drove off. Sobering up, Luna was now aware of what she had gotten herself into. The driver didn't say a word, but didn't have to. The look on his face was pure disgust and the minute he reached her house, he practically threw Luna out of the backseat.

Luna couldn't even let herself in the house. Sitting on the front porch, she put her chin in her hands and her elbows on her knees. Staring off into the night, a tension tightened into Luna's stomach and shoulders. Face blushed and reddened and eyes dark and swollen. Luna kept playing with her lip- tucking it in and out- anything to distract her from tonight. Tears welled in her eyes, but she wiped them away. Luna looked back at the house, and just couldn't bring herself to go back into it. Deciding to tough the evening chill rather than the warm hubble of inside, Luna stayed put on the front porch until the sun rose a little.

5:34 in the morning. Luna dusted herself off and walked down to the bus stop. The bus came and Luna payed the fee and sat towards the back of the bus, despite it's emptiness. Getting closer to the bar, Luna pulled the string and got off. The parking lot held some cars there. Spotting her own, Luna looked inside and saw how it was exactly the same as when she was forced to leave it. Taking a deep breath, she walked inside the bar.

"Hello." The bartender looked up. "Hey Luna... sober?"

A flush of warmth fell over her, feeling two feet tall like she did the first time her keys were taken. "Yes..."

Luna's keys were fished from the jar full of other keys that were taken from patrons. "Honda right?"

"Yes..." Luna took her keys, muttered a 'thank you' and left without saying anything else. Unlocking her car door, Luna settled inside, started the car and sped out, without even putting her seatbelt on. Driving out of the city, Luna found Chase wandering around, looking lost. Both from his escape into the unknown surroundings and from the toll the place he escaped from left on him.

Honking her horn, Chase looked and saw her. Rolling her window down, "Chase! Come on, let's go!" Chase ran and stumbled into the backseat. They drove in silence, with Luna still racking her head as to how Chase even got downtown by himself. She didn't question it. Luna decided to take a pass this time to avoid any further explainations as to why she was even there as well.

Returning home, Chase ran inside- dodging his siblings cheers of his return- and locked himself up in his bedroom again.

Luna came into the house shortly after, leaving Kinsley to look down at her feet.... but still stay in the living room. Beckett followed Chase, leaving mother and daughter alone. Luna set her keys on the hook, avoiding eye contact with Kinsley. "I saw you..."

Luna looked to Kinsley. Her daughter's eyes staring through her. "What?" Kinsley let an eye roll escape. "I saw you.... at The Ivory Chalice. You were at the counter drinking. You were drunk- just wasted and I saw you there- shot glasses all around you."

Luna didn't speak. She knew she couldn't justify this. "Chase was missing. You and Dad were gone for two weeks. And you drink. You come home.... and drink." She squinted her eyes. "You know.... I could've left too. I held down the fort for those two weeks with my paycheck, my job, Beckett ran the home keeping Chase and himself safe, I kept myself safe- we survived Mom! And it felt so good! You and Dad weren't here and although, I am pissed about that, even I can't deny how peaceful it was. Chase said 'let's call the police' I said 'No'.... I wanted to enjoy the fun while it lasted. So, you and Dad partied it up in Mexico.... me and the boys had a big ol' ball down here...."

Almost dillousional, Kinsley snapped. "But then! I went out looking for Chase because I overheard Beckett say he ran away! So I drove around for almost two hours and I couldn't find him.... but I found you. I even went inside and I was disgusted! But unsurprised. I mean- this was my curveball- the longest you haven't been here and instead of apologizing, you get drunk! Are we that unimportant to you? You're so cold.... so turned off- you're not happy with anything- I mean, Dad's a mess, but at least he smiles and tries to be posititve- for whatever that's worth. You don't. And I needed you to be. When Dad crashed the car.... you did nothing, except, pay for the damages and cut our Christmas budget in half. You didn't protect us... you stay here in this house when Dad does nothing to help you or this family! You could've left him and taken us! I you loved us! But you don't. You turn yourself off to everything around you and the little energy you do have..... you give it to Dad. Everything's for him and you leave your children to the wolves? Do you know how selfish that was? What about Chase? What about Beckett? What about me? Where's my mother?"

Kinsley let tears fall and drip onto her shirt. And for the first time... in a long time.... so did Luna. Her face scrunched up and drenched in tears. "I'm...." she couldn't catch her breath. Falling to her knees, Luna sobbed loudly. "I'm so sorry!" And she was. For not kissing Kinsley that night, for not packing her bags and leaving Harry like she promised, for being away for so long and for being unavailable. Just detached from everything, Luna swore she would change.... but she never had the guts to.

Kinsley finally cried and hugged Luna. Luna hugged back. "I'm so sorry..." she whimpered. "I didn't know how.... I wanted to... but I couldn't let go of the pain.... I'm so sorry, baby." Kinsley sat there with her mother's arms around her. Taking in every breath and heart pound of her chest, Kinsley let herself become enticed in it like she used to. Although it would take some time- like Chase- she already knew, she would forgive Luna.

Luna masked herself in the scent of child. A freedom from the past of never having a moment like this, Luna promised to make these moments again. She knew it would take time and healing.... but the love for her children was something that held its own force to pull her into how she wanted to love them. Love them the way they deserved to be loved. And to do that.... Luna promised... to love herself as well.

"I love you, Kins."

"I love you too, Mom."

************************************************

Chase let his door be cracked open a bit. Sitting on his bed, letting the esence of the morning summer sun hit his back. Harry dove out from his room and made slow small steps to Chase's door. Gently opening it, Harry invited himself into the room, silently accepting that Chase wasn't going to look up at him. He sat in front of him. "Chase...." He didn't respond. Harry took time to formulate words into his brain of what he wanted to say. "Beck told me..... uh.... why you hated me... so much." Chase looked up.

"I.... understand... what happened." Chase just stared at Harry. "Really?" Harry nodded. "Yes,"

Taking in a deep breath, Harry looked into Chase's green eyes. "That car accident back in December.... I am so sorry." Harry bit his lip. "I know I've never said that before... but I mean it."

"Only when Beck tells you it happened, now you understand." Harry shook his head. "No I always remembered it.... you just can't shake something like that."

"No, you can't." Chase's voice was cold. "So, just because you're sorry now it's okay? Like I didn't relive that over and over in my mind all the up to now and-

"Chase,"

"And that it doens't affect me?! Like I should just let it go because it didn't matter to you at the time and nothing else matters except you having fun and doing what you want right?-"

"Chase!"

"And simply because Mom takes care of you and you walk around with this smile on your face like 'it's hunky-go-dory-' that I should.... I should...."

"CHASE!"

"THAT I SHOULD STILL LOVE YOU?" Harry's face dropped. Sitting up, he went to the dresser, turning his back to Chase. Not from anger. To recollect his tears that were spilling out over the floor.

"Oh Chase...." Harry turned around. Falling to the floor in front of Chase, he broke. "I'M SO SORRY! Oh please forgive me, Chasie.... I didn't mean to hurt you.... or anyone." He sniffled. "I...I know... I'm sick. Daddy needs some help..." he grabbed Chase's face. "and I promise, I'm going to get it." Chase let tears fall, staring back into Harry's eyes.

"I lived the life I wanted to live.... and.... it payed a terrible price. And I'm sorry you had to pay that price. That won't ever happen again... and I promise.... I'm gonna make it better."

Chase fell into Harry's arms. The shine of the sun glowing around them like a heaven's sent light. Beckett, pressed up against the door jam, listening to every word of his father and Chase. He usually found it rude to eavesdrop, but found it appropriate in this case. A bright smile came over Beckett's face. Happy to himself for holding such confidence in himself of his upholding optimisim. Even if it held some cracks in it....

it never wavered.... and Beckett found peace in knowing that.

34 notes · View notes

heartbreakgrill · 10 months ago

Text

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Pt. 5, "Is it cool that I said all that?"

A week passed, just like that. We had flown to Germany at the beginning of the next week, where we’d be for just fourteen days before we’d move onto France.

Oliver and I didn’t have many chances to see one another. We were always on different wavelengths. Him, with rehearsals, vocal rests, writing sessions. Me, with the delicacies of travel. The only times we really saw each other were during breakfast or dinner, two places he’d been making a point to show up to. No one really noticed his newfound presence- no one but me, considering it seemed to previously be a way for him to spite my very existence.

His first appearance happened the very next morning after our conversation on the bus. After he kissed me like he was going off to battle, we rode the elevator up our floor, departed at my door, and just an hour later, he ended up texting me goodnight. That message alone was enough to have my heart beating crazily.

The next morning, I was still feeling that aftershock while sitting at the breakfast table, talking to Ronnie about her brother’s baby. The elevator doors dinged, opening up like the literal gates of heaven. I barely paid any mind because everyone who normally came to breakfast was already seated at our table. But, I did spare a glance and caught sight of his dark figure, slinking towards us. I gave a second look, stumbling over whatever it was I had been saying to Ronnie. I covered up my stutter by clearing my throat, but she didn’t really notice, nor did she seem to care. Oliver sat at the end of the table, greeting everyone with his same simple nod. My heart was going again.

I tried not to stare, tried not to even look at him for fear of melting on the spot, even when I felt his eyes burning into my face. I was blushing, bright red. My knee shook, nervously, under the table as I brushed my hair from my cheeks, behind my ears. I caught his eye from the corner of my own and he smiled, ever so slightly.

I was done for, I knew it.

It became a delight to see him at these meals, even if we never got the chance to speak to each other; even if, afterwards, he’d shoot back upstairs to his room. That was always my favorite part, when he disappeared from the table because, shortly after, he’d text me.

Something like:

Oliver: your hair looked pretty today.

Daisy: you looked alright 🤷

Oliver: wooooooow

I compliment you and this is how you treat me

Daisy: oh im so super sorry

Oliver, you are so handsome and gorgeous and amazing and awesome

Better?

Oliver: sure, sure

That’s where most of our conversation took place, over text, especially that first week that whatever this was began to take place.

He’d text me good morning and good night, nearly every single day. He’d ask how my day was, ask me what sort of plans I had. I kept waiting for this question to evolve into another one, something like, “Wanna hang out later?” I’d settle for a damn booty call, if that’s what he wanted. I tried not to get frustrated when that first week drug on, knowing he was insanely busy. I couldn’t expect him to drop everything else and prioritize me. But, a small part of me hoped he would.

I just wanted a little bit more of his attention.

Luckily, I- eventually- got it.

We were in Germany for the next week. We flew out from Italy that Sunday, settled into our hotel in the early afternoon. I hadn’t planned anything for that Monday, hoping to just rest a bit, leisure across the city, maybe. I knew, too, that the band was off that day. Maybe a small part of me was making sure I was available in case he wanted to grace me with his presence. I wouldn’t admit it, though, because it just wasn’t healthy.

But, my hopes amounted to something.

At first, things seemed to regress. There were no messages from him on my phone.

I thought about texting him first, but I felt strange doing so, like he’d be annoyed if I reached out instead. I then tried to ignore the sinking feeling that this put in my chest. Maybe he was done with me. Maybe he realized that this wasn’t ever going anywhere, especially considering we hadn’t so much as had an in-person conversation in a week. Luckily, I hadn’t slept with him.

My mind began racing too much, so I pulled myself out of bed and started getting ready for the day. Sam was already gone. He told me yesterday that he, Cy, Adam, and Ronnie had made plans to go do something. He offered me to come with, but I really wanted to just laze about. There was an infinity pool and today was going to be one of the warmest days of the summer for this country. Soaking up the sun seemed like a good way to truly relax.

So, I put on a bathing suit, slipped a sundress overtop, and rubbed sunscreen all over myself. I wasn’t about to battle a sunburn on top of jet lag. Then, I packed my purse with my water bottle, my latest book, headphones, and my wallet. Just as I went to grab my phone, sling my towel over my shoulder, head out, a knock came from the door.

I turned to the sound with furrowed brows. Housekeeping wasn’t supposed to come until we told them to. And, as far as I knew, we hadn’t scheduled a cleaning.

“Who is it?” I called out, stepping towards the door.

“It’s me,” a low voice responded, hushed in volume.

A thrilling excitement suddenly rushed through my veins. I tried not to rush over to the door and instead, forced myself to take slow steps. I set a hand on the handle, already feeling a shake in my bones. Just being this close to him pulled some sort of chemical reaction out of me.

The door opened and Oliver turned his head straight, to really look at me. He had been checking over his shoulder, paranoid about any passerbyers. As soon as he saw me, he grinned, wide. Then, he didn’t hesitate to shove me back into the room, his hands on my hips, his lips grasping for mine. He threw the door shut behind him.

It took me a second to find my footing. But, when I did, I became desperate, hungry. I tugged at the front of his hoodie in an attempt to get him as close to me as physically possible. Oliver ran a hand up my hip, across the front of my body, between my breasts, up around my neck. His fingers were slotted just beneath either side of my jaw. He pressed down, ever so slightly, to ensure my mouth stayed on his.

As he kissed me, I could tell he was basically starved. This was even more evident when he nipped my bottom lip, drawing just the thinnest drop of blood. I moaned, involuntarily, at the feeling of his teeth pulling at my skin, though it was only for a millisecond.

Oliver reared his head back, looking down at me with furrowed brows. He processed what had just happened, assisted by the size of my pupils and the way my lips sat, open, waiting for him to come back. A smirk twisted onto his lips, “Oh, darling…”

He pulled me back in, running his tongue across my bottom lip to clear the blood. My knees were weak. Luckily, he moved, so that he was sitting on the bed and tugged me down into his lap again. He didn’t hesitate to grab my ass, grip on my throat tightening a bit. He moved his lips to my cheek as his movements became painfully slow.

“You’re so pretty, Daisy,” he whispered against the apple of my cheek. I felt his eyelids flutter across my skin as he moved away from my lips. I nearly shivered at the goosebumps, a stark contrast to the heat pooling all over my body.

He moved his other hand to my neck, too, brushing the hair down over the back of my shoulder. In doing so, he placed his hand back where it had been. Then, his lips made their way to my bare skin, right where my neck curved into my shoulder. His sweet, soft kisses suddenly turned into small nips, his teeth tugging at my skin.

I squeaked at the first one, but, then, as he carried on down my neck, I found pleasure in the nipping pain. I gripped at his shoulders, a hand moving to his hair, as my desperation took over my body. I couldn’t sit still anymore. I ground my hips down into his, eliciting a huffed breath from Oliver. I wanted to grin at the power I knew I had over him, but I really just wanted to stay as I was- putty in his hands. I didn’t want any control. I was his to use, his to manipulate. I would do whatever.

But, I did find a little bit of a rhythm in my hips, if only because I needed the friction. I was motivated when I knew it was making him feel good, too. As I did so, Oliver’s lips came to my skin again. They caressed the edge of my earlobe, where I could hear his sweet breathlessness.

“Daisy,” he whispered, nearly moaning my name into my ear.

I shuddered a sharp, audible breath at the sound of this. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed him- everywhere. The anticipation, all of these long weeks- even just this one- it was killing me.

I pressed my forehead against the side of his head, whispering my own words into his ear, “Oliver, please!”

He finally listened. His hand found the bottom hem of my sundress and he quickly tore it from my head. It landed somewhere across the room. Eyes still dropped shut, I went blindly for his hoodie. But, Oliver caught my hands in his, stretching my arms out on either side of us.

I opened my eyes curiously, brows furrowed. His gaze was dragging itself down my swimsuit-clad body, a sly grin on his lips. I blushed at the look on his face and wanted to pull my arms back around myself. But, he held me open. He kept admiring.

“Daisy, darling,” he rolled his eyes back up, over my chest, until he met my stare. A wider grin stretched across his face. “Daisy…you are gorgeous.”

I scrunched up my nose and looked down at our laps. He dropped our hands and took my face in his hold, pulling my eyes back to his. “Don’t do that. We’re not gonna do that, okay? Even if you have to pretend, I won’t let you be ashamed of yourself when we do this, okay? You are…so fucking beautiful.”

I took a deep breath as the sincerity of his words sunk into my skin. I nodded slightly.

Oliver eyed my lips and slowly leaned back into me. This kiss was different. The hunger, the ferocity, slowed. It was almost…loving, gentle. But, then, I moved my hands back to his hair, tugged slightly, and he went back to ravishing me.

I helped Oliver shed his hoodie. Then, I had my turn, admiring his toned chest, scarce of any dark makeup. I didn’t have to say anything to him. I knew that he could read all of my thoughts through my eyes.

What I wanted to say, but couldn’t quite find the words to, was that he was something out of a Greek myth, something untouchable. Something that would never be real.

I drug my fingers down his chest as he kissed me again. I undid his belt. When I tugged at his jeans, I found my footing on the floor, moving off of him, so he could stand to pull the pants down. His hands were back on my body in an instant. Though he began to tug me back on his lap, I had my own plans. Just as I began to crouch down to his knees, Oliver opened his mouth to protest, but-

A knock sounded from the door, followed by a taunting, “Daisy…”

Shit.

Max.

My spine straightened so fast, I thought it would snap in half. Mine and Oliver’s head whipped towards the door, my own gaze widened with utter shock. Oliver formed a fist with his hand, punching the palm of his other in slow defeat.

He looked back to me, fear in his pupils, “What the fuck?”

I shrugged defensively, bewildered. I went to whisper back when Max spoke again. “Daisyyyyyy, darling- I know you’re awake. Was wondering if you wanted to hang today, since we’re both free. Cmon, open up-“ he rapped his knuckles against the door again.

Everything occurred in a desperate haste: Oliver rounded up his clothes, arms stuffed full of them, within five seconds flat. I tracked down his shoes as he did so. Then, I nearly pushed him onto the floor of the bathroom. He stumbled on his feet, barely catching himself on the counter. As the door fell shut, he shot me a panicked, worrisome expression that I could only scrunch my face up at. I didn’t know what he wanted me to do, but he was acting like someone was here to murder him.

I went to the door, sweating a bit, and lay a shaky hand upon the knob. Then, I realized I was half-naked and rushed to pull my dress back on. Before he could knock again, I let Max in, hoping I looked anything but suspicious.

As soon as he came into view, Max was elbowing his way inside. He held a tray with two drinks and a small brown pouch that wafted a delicious smell past me.

He carried an energy that was far too excited for my current nervous stature. “Good morning, darling! Sleep well? I sure did. What are your plans for the day? I’m thinking we lounge out by the pool for a few hours, maybe catch a late lunch, then hit the town? Drop by a few bars? Maybe we can round up the rest of the group, force Oliver out of his self-inflicted prison, have some fun? Yeah?”

As he spoke, Max moved around the room, unloading one of the drinks into my hands, picking out a few napkins, presenting a pastry on the small desk in the corner, seating himself onto the bed all casually with a leg crossed over the other. When he finished, he took a slow sip of his coffee, brows raised expectantly

I toyed with the lid on my drink, eyes darting nervously towards the bathroom. I knew it wasn’t true, but I almost felt like I could hear Oliver’s breathing. Smell his cologne. I worried Max would, too.

Everything would be over.

“Um-“ I cleared my throat. Then, I tried to relax my shoulders and approach Max with a friendly smile. “Yeah! Yeah, that could be fun. I was planning on going down to the pool anyway.”

“Wonderful, darling,” Max approved, “Well, why don’t you go ahead and finish getting ready and we’ll get going.”

I looked around me, trying to remember where I had left off this morning, when Oliver had barged in and interrupted my routine.

“I just need to grab my stuff, actually. I was heading out the door before O-“ I cut myself off from my explanation, lips pinched together in a way that I could only assume looked quite guilty. I swallowed thickly, ashamedly glancing towards the bathroom again. I tried to save myself, “before you started knocking, ha! What a coincidence!”

“Coincidence…” Max followed my glancing gaze. I snapped my eyes back forward, and he met me there. The edges of his pupils seemed to squint, like he was reading between the lines, but he didn’t say anything else. “Well! To the pool we go!”

We were in the clear…for now.

Oliver: i am so fucking sorry

Hes a prick

So fucking daft

God

I love him

But what a bloody idiot

Daisy: LMFAO

I dont even know what to say

I feel bad for you!!

Theres gonna be a witch hunt for you if anyone ever figures it out

Oliver: god dont remind me

Youre so worth it though

We spent hours poolside, like two beached whales, glistening with sweet sweat on our shoulders and sunscreen in our skin. I dipped into the water infrequently, if only to cool myself down, but spent most of my time finishing up a book (texting Oliver between its pages). I cursed Max for his lightly tinted shades, praying to whatever God above that he wasn’t side-eyeing me, that he couldn't see my illicit grins, my quick thumbs.

I tried to get Oliver to come hang out with us. If I couldn't have him to myself, I’d take small doses of him with others. But, as vampiric as he was, laying by the pool was just not something he wanted to do. Besides, in his own words:

Oliver: I just wouldn't be able to be so close to you without doing something

Especially with you in that little bit of cloth you call a swimsuit

I should be a dick and make you squirm

Make you think about me while you’re all peaceful by the pool

Make you think about my hands

My teeth

Daisy: Oliver…

Asshole

Oliver: sorry, darling

But after that incident with the cake?

And that bathing suit

Yeah i think it's my turn

(1 attached photo)

The heat outside was nothing compared to what I felt in my chest. I ensured my jaw was shut tightly, unwilling to let the saliva pooled in my mouth dribble down my chin. Then, I scrounged through my photo albums, cursing myself for having deleted my most intimate photos. Instead, I had to just stare (drool) at the one he’d sent- his hand, his bare stomach, the very edges of his pitch black boxers.

I would never lose this game- I just couldn't. But, in this moment, I was! While I liked being submissive in the end, I enjoyed being the one doing the teasing. That slight upper hand I got from it gave me a headrush. I was, I guess…bratty.

So, I watched Max carefully from the corner of my vision, thankful for my tiny bathing suit. I could make do- if he’d just leave. He was reading his own novel, hunched over a little bit. It had been a while since he’d gone to the bathroom or really even moved. He had to eventually.

My wishing on invisible stars worked because Max excused himself to the bathroom. He first paused to ensure I was doing okay. I thanked him for his concern with an urgent smile, quick nod of my head. And then he was gone.

Daisy: I really don’t get what all this fuss is about. I think this suit covers me up just fine, don’t ya think?

(1 attached photo)

Oliver: behave, miss thing

You have no idea what’s waiting for you

Daisy: sure, sure

Needless to say, Oliver put me on the very edge of my seat all day. I only had the one photo that was taken in the heat of the moment. He had…an empty hotel room and an imagination like any other. He never let me see past those stupid boxers though, holding out on me to only intensify that anticipation.

As was Max’s plan, we grabbed a late lunch. I had hoped we’d change beforehand, but he was so hungry, we had to rush out of the hotel. And, as per usual with Max, he took his good old time eating, strolling leisurely, dropping by every single shop that caught his eye. Don’t get me wrong- it was a lot of fun. I was grateful to have some one-on-one time with him.

But, I knew what- who was waiting for me back at the hotel. So, I was a little distracted.

Eventually, the day was coming to a close. No one really wanted to go out drinking because the band had rehearsals early in the morning. Instead, we were all going to meet up for a light dinner in the hotel bar.

I tried to escape Max as soon as we entered the hotel, but he insisted on walking me to my room. Meanwhile, Oliver was shooting me a dozen messages- he was in his room, he didn’t have a shirt on, and he was waiting for even the shortest possible breath that he could take at my lips.

Max stood outside my door, yapping about some shop lady who had made a joke to us earlier. He kept laughing, kept going over the punchline. It was funny, sure, but I was literally trying to close the door between us, a forced smile aching on my cheeks. We had to be at dinner in just half an hour and I needed to shower. I would sacrifice all that time for Oliver, but I was sure I smelled of sunscreen and sweat. I needed to rush under the hot water, and then rush into his arms.

“Ha! Can you imagine? What kind of-” Max kept going.

I faked another laugh, positive that one of my eyelids was winking shut, visibly displaying the max level of insanity that I felt right now. I took another step back into my room, preparing to bid farewell.

Luckily, Max caught sight of the time. “Holy shit, Daz,” he looked up from his watch, “it’s so late! Sorry to cut our wonderful day short, but we better hit the showers before everyone wonders where we’re at.”

“Ah! Good idea!” I bumped the heel of my hand against my head, shock on my face. Then, I pushed up onto my tiptoes to give him a short kiss to the cheek, “Thank you for today. I really just had the best time ever! Love you, Max!”

Then, as he began to respond, “Aw, darling, me, too! I love you-” I shut the door on him, “Oh- yep! I’ll see you in a bit!”

The speed at which I moved through that hotel room was sure to rip the carpet up off of the floor. I kicked off my sandals, sending one right into the window. It made a loud clanking noise, which I flinched at, before landing on Sam’s bed. But then I was already moving onto my sundress, tearing it off, ripping my swimsuit down my legs, over my head. Once those were off, I jumped in the shower, grateful that I didn’t need to wash my hair so I could do a quick rinse.

I was back out of the shower as quickly as I’d gotten in, doing my hair up into a claw clip, pulling on an outfit that didn’t require much thought, but was still concise enough to be cute. I barely had my phone and purse in hand before I was shooting across the hall, like a chicken crossing the road.

Oliver opened the door before I could even take a breath, tugging me in by my hips.

He had my back pressed up against the door, one of his spare hands already holding the base of my throat like a goddamn rosary. His dark eyes stared down at me, hungry, like he was about to consume every inch of my flesh. I went to say something, brows already lifted on my face in their devious position. In the process, my hands fished for him, grabbing at his shirt.

In one easy moment, Oliver grabbed both of my wrists, stretching my arms up and above my head. He squeezed my throat, ensuring my eyes were on his. My back arched from the movement, my chest pushing through the air as a small whine escaped my lips subconsciously.

Oliver drug his eyes down my body, smirking pleasedly at the movement he drew from my body. “We have five minutes. Shut the fuck up and be a good girl for me, yeah?”

“Okay.”

We weren’t really being realistic about how much time we would get together.

Two minutes later, Oliver was on his knees below me, his large hands bruising either one of my thighs, my hands were entangled in his hair, my underwear were somewhere far across the room, and his breath was ghosting my core. Just as he inched painfully, teasingly closer, someone was knocking on his door.

It was my turn to hide as Adam and Cyrus ushered Oliver from his hotel room, excitedly telling him about some new song they’d just heard. After ensuring in the bathroom mirror that I didn’t look disheveled, I watched through the peephole as they neared the elevators. Oliver peered over his shoulder, the smallest of smiles on his lips. I rolled my eyes. Of course he’d find it funny- he was winning again.

Then, when the hallway seemed clear, I quickly left his room and tried to casually make my way down to the dining room.

Oliver was trying not to laugh, I just knew it- his lips were pressed together, a humored look in his eyes as he pretended to be occupied with the potatoes he mashed around with his dinner fork. I glared at him as I approached the table.

Then, Sam was talking to me, asking me and Max about our busy day and I had to pretend like their best friend hadn’t just been on his knees for me.

This was killing me.

Surely, I thought to myself as dinner came to a close and everyone began heading to bed, surely we would find the time. Surely our luck wasn’t that bad. We’d get some time alone- we just had to.

So, as the elevator that Sam, Ronnie, and I caught closed, and carried us to the fifth floor, I quickly texted Oliver. I crossed my fingers behind my back, hoping, praying, wishing this would work.

Daisy: soon as Sam goes to bed, i can be over

A heavy heat of anticipation sat right on top of my chest, shooting off butterflies in my stomach, making me breathless when I said goodnight to Ronnie.

I waited, patiently, for about an hour- no, exactly an hour and ten minutes. I waited an hour and ten minutes for Oliver to text me back. I stared at the numbers in the top middle of my phone screen as I pretended to read a book. Then, when Sam lay down and shut off all the lights, I rolled onto my side, the dim glow of my screen filling my corner of the room. My eyes glazed over numerous times while each little number morphed into the next. Slowly but painfully surely, the delightful anticipation began to dissipate.

I really wanted to be chill, to be normal and casual and just…go to bed. Accept that maybe he had fallen asleep, maybe his phone had died. Pretend like there wasn’t a small hole sinking in my stomach.

But, I saw him begin typing forty minutes in.

And then he stopped.

And I still waited another half an hour for him to respond.

He never did.

The next morning, I was able to forget about it.

I focused on the productive conversation we’d had in the bus, the one where he set a boundary with me, where he told me he couldn’t really offer me much in terms of connection or romance. The one where I practically begged him to just have me in whatever way he could.

And, I forced myself to stop worrying about the fact that he never responded. The world, after all, did not revolve around me. I needed to be reminded of that and have patience with him. Besides, I wasn’t going to allow myself to feel that- disappointment. Small bits of heartbreak. This meant basically nothing, right? We were just hooking up, hanging out. It wasn’t that big of a deal, like we discussed.

I’m chill with that.

I ate breakfast with the band, discussing with Ronnie some of the best tourist attractions that she suggested I seek out. Oliver was a little late this morning, feet dragging a bit. When I saw him round the corner to the dining room, I sat up just a bit. He seemed tired as he took a seat at the opposite end of the table, hoodie up, as per usual. He didn’t really touch any of his food, but instead nursed a cup of tea. So, I ignored the sinking feeling that came when he didn’t even look at me.

He showed up. That’s what really mattered.

I tried not to be distracted as Ronnie told me about some sort of monument, but it was a struggle when my concern for Oliver was as relevant as it was. There was just something off about him…and it almost felt like it had to do with us, with me. Or maybe I was just reading into things a little too much. Again.

Everyone else finished up their breakfast before me. So, the group broke off before long, a few headed out the door to the venue, some up to their rooms to grab last minute items. I watched as Oliver straggled behind Adam and Cyrus, towards the elevators. When he first stood to follow them, I tried to meet his eye, tried to shoot him a reassuring, encouraging smile. He evaded my gaze. My shoulders dropped a little.

When they were out of sight, I took my phone out and grappled with texting him. I felt like I should, just to see if he was okay. But, then, the part of me that knew there was nothing serious between us fought against that want. It wasn’t weird, right? If I texted him, just to see how he’s doing?

But, then, come to think of it…he never even said good morning to me. So he probably just wanted to be left alone. I should probably just read the signs he was clearly giving and just provide him with some space. He didn’t need me up his ass at every waking moment, constantly expressing my concern for his every move. Especially not after the conversation we’d just had.

I felt a little insecure, a little worried, going back over every interaction we’d had like I was responsible for a grown man’s feelings. I pushed aside the overthinking my brain was ruminating on and decided to just get up, to just get started with my day.

This thing between us was not going to work out if I overanalyzed his every breath, if I let it all get to me. I needed to chill out- just be chill. Cool.

I headed for the elevators, purse slung over my shoulder. The doors were already opened, so I stepped inside. When I faced forward, Oliver was there, following me in, my name barely a greeting off his lips.

“Daisy…”

“Oliver, hey-”

He interrupted me, lips on mine before I could even take a breath. I was taken aback, just briefly, before getting swept up in his soft touches, his hungry mouth. My purse slid off my shoulder. Oliver’s fingers caressed my cheek, my hip, pushing into me until my back was against the wall.

We kissed until the bell dinged, signaling that the doors were opening up to our floor. Oliver pulled back, quickly distancing himself from me. His chest heaved a little, out of breath from our encounter. His pupils were shot, wide, blown up. I furrowed my eyebrows as I carefully eyed him. I was trying to read between the lines here, but I couldn’t.

And he was gone before I could ask for any answers from him.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, rubbing moisturizer into my freshly clean face. Taylor Swift was playing softly on my phone, a subtle soundtrack to my evening routine. It had been another long day of perusing across Europe. My feet ached from the 10 miles I’d walked, my stomach was full from the delicious dinner I caught on the way home, and my brain was buzzing with all of the sights and sounds I’d taken in. I was going to cherish these evenings for the rest of my life.

I had even managed to stop worrying about Oliver, had let the pitiful racing thoughts that had been taking up space in my mind fall away. I was going to be cool about it. I was going to be the chill, casual girl.

What we had, what we were doing, was just hooking up. We hadn’t explicitly agreed on keeping any strings to ourselves, but Oliver had told me he couldn’t really offer any in the first place. And that was okay! It’s not like I needed to be in a relationship anyways. I was going back to school in the fall and I’d probably, honestly, never even see him again after this summer.

Casually hooking up with someone would probably be good for my development, anyways. It would teach me to become more comfortable with my body, to be more patient, to be more understanding. To just chill the fuck out, honestly. Yeah, I’d totally gotten rid of those racing thoughts…ha.

Anyways, even though I wanted to text him, to see what was going on, to see if he was okay, I just wasn’t going to. I was gonna tuck myself into bed, get a goodnight’s rest, and prepare myself for another long day. Focus on me, my happiness, my health.

My plan was going well, too. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Then, at around midnight, I woke to my phone buzzing on my nightstand.

I lazily brought the device to my ear, murmuring some sort of greeting through half-lidded eyes. “Hello?”

“Come over.”

“What- hello? Oliver?” I sat up in bed, a little jolted by the situation. I spoke in hushed whispers, eyes on Sam’s figure to ensure that he was passed out still.

Oliver’s voice replied in an exhausted tone, “I can’t sleep. Come over.”

I took my sweet time, not wanting to seem desperate, not wanting to be at his beck and call. I pulled a hoodie down over my torso before slipping out of the room. I guided the door shut, flinching when it clicked a little louder than expected. Once I was sure the hall was clear, I headed towards Oliver’s door.

He must have been watching from the peephole, waiting for me to arrive, because as soon as I made it, the door was open and he had his hands on me again. His touch was more desperate than ever before, fingers harsh, tongue rough.

I could barely gasp for air as he gorged on my lips, overfeeding himself. I was growing more concerned for his mental health, considering it seemed like he was displacing whatever he was feeling onto me. I probably already knew what was going on- the stress of the tour, of making the next album, it was all getting to him.

He barely had any time to himself anymore, barely had any chances to breathe, to execute self care. He was overworking himself. He was just exhausted.

I felt guilty kissing him, touching him. It felt exploitive and dirty.

So, when his hands traveled down my body, up under my hoodie, to my pants, I brushed them off of me. I took a big step away from him, reaching out my own touch to keep the distance between us.

“Oliver-” I took a deep breath, trying to ground my dizzy head.

His eyes were bloodshot. He hadn’t tasted like alcohol, so I assumed he must be high. Or he had been crying. I didn’t really know which one.

Whatever exhaustion pooled in his gaze dissipated as it was replaced with worry. He took a small step towards me, palms out in a wary manner. “I’m so sorry- what is it? Are you okay, darling? What did I do?”

My jaw was a little slack, concern drowning my features and tone. “No, no- nothing! Sorry- nothing! You’re good. We’re good. I promise.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as his shoulders slumped a bit forward. “Thank fuck. I thought I hurt you or something.”

“I mean you were being a little rough, but that’s okay,” I managed a breathy chuckle.

Oliver ran hand through his hair, glancing around the room, to his feet, back to me. “Why’d you stop, then? Everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” I emphasized, “I’m more worried about you.”

Oliver sighed, loudly, posture dropping a bit more. He wiped his face as he looked away from me again. “Why?” He sounded annoyed with me.

“I’m not gonna pry, cause I know it’s not my business, but…”

“It’s not,” he cut me off.

I reared my chin back. I thought carefully, choosing my words delicately, as I crossed my arms over my chest, “I know. I know it’s not my business. I just- just want-”

“What?” He spoke impatiently.

“Just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Oliver didn’t respond. He stared at the floor beside my slippers, as though he could bore a hole with his eyes, sink into it, and slip away from this moment. I looked past his head. I didn’t want to pressure him with pervasive eye contact.

Then, after a minute or two, I heard him sniffle. I still didn’t move too much, but ran my eyes over his face. He wiped away a few tears. Oliver bit into his bottom lip, which wobbled around a bit. He didn’t want to give into the emotions overwhelming his nervous system, but he was going to have to.

I couldn’t hold myself away from him any longer. He needed connection, touch, gentleness. So, I walked right up to him and hugged him, tugging his head down into the crook of my neck. I felt his arms squeeze my entire self into him, like an anchor at his shores, calming his seas.

For the next twenty minutes, we stood there, my heart sitting just underneath his own, beating into one another. He didn’t really cry too much, probably unwilling to. I didn’t like to cry in front of others either. It was vulnerable, too vulnerable.

We just hugged each other. I caressed my fingers through his hair, hoping to soothe him, to provide solace. He just squeezed me back, tight as ever. It felt really good. I wasn’t going to pull away first, but he eventually did.

He let out one of those embarrassed laughs, wiped the tears clean off his cheeks, and moved to sit on the bed. I offered a kind smile, but still didn’t say anything. He would come to me with whatever was on his mind whenever he felt ready to.

“Sorry…about- that. Probably, uh- probably weird.”

“Not at all,” I waved him off, moving slowly towards him.

He looked up to me, his palms resting on the edge of the bed, and motioned for me to sit. I did.

“I’m just…just tired,” he shrugged.

I knew it was more than that. I knew that he harbored a lot of negative feelings towards himself, something he had confirmed for me just last week. He held himself up to a crazy standard and, of course, never met those expectations. No human being ever could.

I wouldn’t convince him of this fact, not in just one moment together. But, I could tell him one thing that he probably needed to hear. Something he’d value and treasure for longer than just a moment.

“I’m proud of you,” I spoke softly, turning my head to meet his eyes.

He didn’t say anything. He just swallowed, rubbed his lips together, thought long and hard. Then, he glanced away, brought his eyes back to mine and nodded, just once. I saw the words slot themselves into his mind, stored away for just him to hold onto. I knew he valued my opinion, so even though it wouldn’t fix his issues, it would provide some support. Support was the only way to get to recovery, to healing.

Oliver set his hand on mine, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “When I first met you, you told me you were trying to discover life this summer. To find deeper meaning. The more I get to know you, the more I disagree with that.”

“Oh?” I furrowed my brows. “And why’s that?”

“It’s just not accurate,” he shrugged, “you have so much meaning. You’re…you’re so sweet. And kind. And intentional with everything you do. You put so much goodness out with even just your gaze. I just…”

I stared up at him with, I’m sure, these big dopey eyes. Words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I really like you, Oliver.”

He frowned slightly as he brought a hand to my face, thumb brushing the apple of my cheek. I searched his eyes and couldn’t find the answer needed for what I had said. So, the distant smile on my face twisted upside down, worry lacing my features. Had I gone too far?

“I know, darling,” was all he said.

Moments of silence passed between us.

I knew he couldn’t give me much, but maybe now that my feelings were out there, clear as day, written in the sand, maybe it would help him feel more secure about whatever this was. Maybe he’d jump in with me. After all, I was scared, too. Hell, as of this morning I wasn’t looking for a relationship. But- we could be good together. He could be good for me. I know I would be good for him.

Maybe we could l-

“I don’t know that I communicated this to you well enough,” Oliver went on.

“It’s okay…”

Oliver glanced away, seemingly ashamed of whatever he was gonna say. “I can’t be in a relationship with you, Daisy. I just…I’m not good. I’m not ready. I don’t want to hurt you. I think you deserve better. We’re on different paths- I have a million excuses.”

I don’t know how I managed to avoid the tears because I could feel them threatening me from behind my eyes. But, I did. I put on this facade, acted out the role. Stood, nodding slowly, painting a sweet smile on my face.

“It’s okay. I understand. I’ll just…I’m gonna leave,” I headed for the door.

But, Oliver was grabbing my hand. “I don’t want you to. I know it…it’s so selfish of me, but I want you anyways. We have two more months before you have to go home- so who says we can’t just be casual, have fun for the rest of summer? I’d…I know I can’t ask that of you, but…I’d like that.”

I would hate him for this. I would hate myself for it, too.

But, having pieces of him was better than nothing.

I could push aside my feelings- fuck, I was already getting good at it.

I would be the cool girl, even if it killed me.

Even if it killed us.

#sleep token fanfic #sleep token x reader #iii sleep token #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token smut #vessel sleep token #sleep token iii #sleep token vessel #sleep token iv #sleep token band #sleep token #vessel (sleep token) x reader #vessel x you #vessel x reader #vessel smut #vessel

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opossumloverr · 1 year ago

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✪ RAPHAEL HAMATO DATING HEADCANONS ✪

Summary:

Just some silly lil headcanons to start of the summa❗️🫶🏾

Warning(s):

None! all fluff up in here

A/N:

OKAY GUYS ITS SUMMER VAYCAY, IM BACK AND HAVE NOTHING TO DO FOR 75 DAYS, IM A FREE MAN, SO LET'S START IT OFF WITH MY FAVORITE BOY (Gender-neutral reader!)

I would like to start by saying this man loves you very much and would drop almost anything for you

You need help with a school project? Big red is on his way, you don't know what shoes will match the outfit you picked, oh what a coincidence! he just so happens to have a matching pair of shoes that fits you perfectly, you just want cuddles? lock and loaded baby, come at him

I think I can speak for everyone when I say we all need a Raph in our lives

He protects you from his brother's teasing, even if it's just playing or goofing, he is NOT taking any chances.

He loves to scoop you up randomly, you'll get used to it don't worry

Very cautious when picking you up though, doesn't want his spikes to hurt you, he will feel mad guilty if he was the one who caused you even a little bit of pain, even if it wasn't attentional (please comfort the man)

Appreciates the little moments he shares with you, oh my gosh I actually have the perfect scenario, just imagine...

After a long day full of fun cahoots and mysterious adventures, you two finally decided to go home, you usually go your separate ways after a day like this one, but it was rather late at night, and New York lets the creeps roam at this time, so he offered to ride the subway train with you, even though you were a bit hesitant but agreed cause there's no way your gonna allow yourself to get mugged in the middle of the night and like I said it was late at night so the subway cart that you guys were on was empty, he did wear a Hoodie and mask, just in case, the ride was silent, no noises but the constant screeching of the train tracks, but other than that it was just comfortable silence, Raph was lost in his thoughts, thinking about how the next day will be and how it will end, will it be a good or bad day? or something in the middle; what's the meaning of life? and what happens after death? Where does your soul go to, to heaven? or is it just pitch black forever, will today be his last day-- suddenly, he felt a lightweight on his shoulder, the thoughts that were coming in like a rapid wave started to smooth down to a calm stream of water, he glanced down at your sleeping figure, apparently you thought it was a perfect time to take a quick power nap, how cute! he coos softly at you, loving how you're so comfortable and calm around him. god, he loves you so much ♡,

"I promise I will always be here when you need me, you're my everything, sweetie"

Sorry guys I just felt a little kooky at the moment

If you like to play fight he's totally down, doesn't fight too hard obviously, and lets you win all the time, what a gentleman

He'll hold doors open for you, push your seat out, and then push it back in, hell, he would even do that thing where a guy puts his coat on a puddle so the lady could walk through it even though she's fully capable of walking around it

Takes so many pics of you and him at places, and has a particular folder on his phone with pictures of you guys

When it's family game night or movie night, he always invites you, you are practically a part of the family so why not? (The others don't mind)

It's so common to find you in the lair with how much you go down there on a daily basis

Yall have to do lovely dovey things in a private area cause of his brothers (mostly Leo, his bitchass) constantly changing the mood

Likes it when you watch him workout, it motivates him so much, sometimes he uses you as a weight

Loves to give you piggyback rides for some reason

He likes pickles, LISTEN LISTEN, if you don't like pickles in your burger you'll pick them out and give it to him cause you know he loves em (THE OLIVE THEORY ♡)

I GOT SOO MUCH MORE BECAUSE OF HOW MUCH I LOBE HIM BUT ILL KEEP IT INSIDE, FOR NOW, CAUSE ITS 5:08 AM RN 💀 sorry for being dead for 5 months, AGIAN, but imma be back on my grind now 🙏🏾 and I'll try to complete all of my 15 drafts 😓 and if you see any grammar mistakes, no you didn't.

#rottmnt #x reader #raphael rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt x reader

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shizucheese · 7 months ago

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I was doing so well on staying on top of things and then Life just kinda...happened to me. (I wouldn't normally include stuff like this on these posts but like....if you're a writer and you're in need of an editor check out the pinned post on my blog). Today is 4/5/24. Episode 10 came out on 3/14 and since then the podcast has been on hiatus (so at least I don't have multiple episodes to get caught up on...haha...). I'm finally getting my ass in gear on this because @kazooyay asked me what I thought about this episode and I'd like to give her an answer to this question. Also figured I'd directly expose her to the chaos she has unleashed. :)

As always you can find the full reblogged spiral into insanity here!

“Talkers”

Norris (Voice: Martin?/ Alex)

Episode 1: “Reanimation (Partial) -/- Regret [Email]”. The Stranger? The End? The Dark? The Lonely? The Flesh? Arthur (Nolan?).

Episode 3: "Infection (full body" -/- Arboreal [Journal entry]". The Spiral? (Paranoia? Auditory, visual and olfactory hallucinations) The Lonely? The Corruption. The Flesh? (Callbacks to the Flesh Garden from S5)

Episode 8: "Architecture (liminal) -/- hunger [coursework]". The Spiral. The Lonely. (Statement giver has an ex-wife. Witnesses strange mist. Fog?) The Stranger? The Vast. The Flesh. The description of the space reminds me a bit of Mag 150: Cul-De-Sac. The description of the diners and the way they were speaking reminds me of Mag 48: Lost in the Crowd.

Common Themes: Hearing the voice of a dead/ missing loved one? Loneliness

Chester (Voice: John?/ Jonny)

Episode 1: “Transformation (eyes) -/- Trespass [chat log]”. Magnus Institute, The Eye. (Involves a forum; the Web?).

Episode 5: "Disappearance (undetermined) -/- Invitation [Internet blog]". The Eye (Movies. Movie name: "Voyeur" "Must be seen to be believed"...). The Web? (Another website?). (Very reminiscent of Mag 110: Creature Feature.) The "poor old guy" at the theater is totally an Eye avatar, right? Kinda gives me "Simon Fairchild when he was first introduced" vibes.

Episode 7: "Agglomeration (miscellany) -/- congregation [email]". The Stranger. The Buried. The Desolation. Possibly all of them if my theory about the items the Volunteers brought in is correct...

Unsure if this is Eye related like the other statements were. This is also the first "Chester" statement where the source material wasn't from a website or blog, which don't have the same expectation of privacy that the sources of the other statements do. Email, though, so still internet related, and this seems to be an open letter rather than personal correspondence, so it still might align with the theme.

Episode 9: "Dice (bone) -/- fate [Magnus Statement]" Flesh (blood)? The Dark (blown lightbulbs)? Web. (The dice aren't random. Nobody ever says no to rolling them. The way the statement giver describes his experience almost sounds like addiction, which is also Web affiliated).

Are these the same dice that were in the bag of The Merchant from TMAGP 4? Common theme continues to be Eyes/ The Magnus Institute and The Web (either internet-related or an artifact of The Eye like in TMAGP 7)

Agustus: (rare?)

Episode 4: “Collection (blood) -/- musical [letter]” The End. The Lonely? The Slaughter.

Letter writer thinks passing on his violin might allow a part of himself to live on in his nephew. Very Jonah Magnus of him.

Music teacher hears “faraway music”, then goes crazy and throws himself out of the carriage and dies. Reminiscent of Mag7 and the Piper? The merchant’s wares include dice (Mag 29?). Got the violin from him (took his blood?). Effect of the violin reminiscent to Grifter’s Bone (Mag 42).

(Oliver Bardwell lol very funny guys)

Non-Talkers (?)

Episode 2: "Transformation (full) -/- dysmorphic [video call]". The Spiral? The Flesh. The Stranger. Ink 5oul (avatar/ entity?)

Episode 6: "Injury (needles) -/- intimidation [999 call] "Corruption? The Spiral? The Flesh? The End?

"Needles" reminds me of Michael!Distortion.

Episode 10: "Mascot (kids) -/- murder [TV interview]" The Buried? The Stranger. The Flesh or a light version of The Slaughter (injuries)? The Slaughter. (Would feeling trapped like Nigel does be The Buried or The Web?)

Notes and Thoughts:

Oh they're totally using Bonzo as a hitman aren't they....what the fuck.

Also I heard that tape recorder turn on and off. In TMA the tape recorder turned out to be a tool of The Web. Is that still the case here? What's that damn Spider up to? I swear to god if Annabelle shows up I'm going to scream. And now I can't tell if some of "crawling sounds" are just for the environment or if they really are spiders.... Pattern on the floor? Also Alice is saying a lot of things that she makes sound like she's joking but like....."Maybe Archie stands for Archive" "Worm tracks?"

I so cannot wait to learn more about Sam's past and what he was involved in. Chosen for what? Did he want to be chosen? Why?

Okay okay okay, so obviously Sam and Alice let something out of the Institute. Is it John or Martin? Annabelle? Jonah? Something else entirely? This might be nothing but whatever "[Error]" is was credited to Beth Eyre, who previously voiced the lady who witnessed the Flesh Ritual in MAG 130: Meat. Is this her in this world (she gave a direct statement in TMA...)? Or are they using her for this character right now to throw us all off?

#the magnus protocol #the magnus protocol spoilers #the magnus protocol speculation #tmp #tmp spoilers #tmp speculation #tmagp #tmagp spoilers #tmagp speculation #tma spoilers #shizu's red string board

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the-merry-thieves · 8 months ago

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Curzon Street Confrontation, rewritten from Anna's POV

An Anna Lightwood fanfiction/POV rewrite

After an eventful debrief at Curzon Street, Thomas, Christopher, and Anna walked out to the front steps together. Cordelia’s news of the night was still spinning in Anna's mind when she saw Ariadne standing beneath the steps.

“Ari.” Anna moved leisurely toward her on the pavement, making a point of stopping to take a puff of her cheroot. Ariadne had donned her gear from earlier that day and was now in an olive green dress that came in at the waist, accentuating her elegant figure. She looked as beautiful as she always had. “Taking a walk?”

“I wanted to see you,” Ariadne said. “I thought we could—”

Anna stopped the other girl in her tracks. She wouldn’t let Ariadne say anything that might faze her, wouldn’t let Ariadne see the reaction her words might evoke. “Go to the Whispering Room?” Anna blew a long, slow smoke ring and watched it dissipate into the cold night. “Not tonight, I’m afraid. Tomorrow afternoon, if you—”

Now it was Ariadne’s turn to interrupt Anna. Her voice was steady with resolve. “I was hoping we could go to your flat.”

To this, Anna said nothing, only willed her face not to betray her. Over the past two years, she had worked to make her flat a place of comfort, a place that was fully hers. She did not think she could bear being in such a vulnerable space with Ariadne. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I have an assignation tonight.”

This was true; it was no secret that Anna had a penchant for debauchery, and that she enjoyed the novelty of having a different girl in her bed with each fortnight. Besides, after the battle at the courtyard, Anna had been in the mood for a little fun with a pretty mundane girl. That is, until she saw Ariadne.

Ariadne faltered, and Anna could see a momentary flicker of hurt pass through her eyes. But she covered this up with a smooth, cordial nod of understanding that made Anna’s heart pang inexplicably.

“Today,” Ariadne pressed on, “when we were in the courtyard—when we were first attacked—you pushed me behind you.”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “Did I?” she asked in her best nonchalant voice, tapping the cheroot between her fingers.

But it was no use; they both knew it was true. Anna knew that she had been unguarded in that instant, letting her face reveal true fear as she thrust Ariadne out of harm’s way. She cursed herself—two years of forgetting, reinventing, and she was still letting Ariadne throw off her guard. She wouldn't let it happen again, starting with this encounter.

“You know you did,” Ariadne said. “You would protect me with your life, then, but you will not forgive me. I know I asked you earlier—”

Anna sighed. “I am not angry at you, nor trying to punish you. But I am happy with who I am. I do not desire a change.”

“Maybe you are not angry with me,” Ariadne said. Dampness had gathered on her long eyelashes; she quickly blinked it away. “But I am angry with myself. I cannot forgive myself. I had you—I had love—and I turned from it out of fear. And perhaps it was foolish of me to think I could pick it up again, that it would be waiting for me, but you—” Her voice trembled. “I fear it is because of me that you have become what you are. Hard and bright as a diamond. Untouchable.”

The cheroot burned, disregarded, in Anna’s hand. But she merely said, in a cool tone, “What an unkind characterization. I cannot say I agree.”

“I could have managed with you not loving me, but you do not even want me to love you. And that I cannot bear.” Ariadne laced her hands together. They were chapped red from the frigid night air, providing an idea of how long she must have waited for Anna outside the house; Anna hated that she noticed this. “Do not ask me to come to the Whispering Room again.”

Anna shrugged, feigning indifference. You are Anna Lightwood, conqueror of others' hearts and ruler of your own; you will not let anyone see you otherwise, she reminded herself. “As you wish,” she said. “I had better go—as you know, I do not like to keep a lady waiting.”

Anna swiftly strode down the steps without another glance at the girl who had broken her heart once and had just broken it again tenfold. She managed to walk only a short distance before sinking down into the unforgivingly hard cobblestone steps of a neighboring house. She laid her head down on the steps and shook silently; no tears would come. She had not cried in so long, it seemed her body had forgotten how to do so.

Anna knew that she had pushed Ariadne away this time, that she had hidden her heart away with intention. For this very reason. So you wouldn't get hurt when something of this sort happened. She thought, trying to convince herself of the assertions she had clung to for years. But if they were true, why did she feel as though her heart had just been run through with a thousand daggers?

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Alright, I hope you enjoyed!! The dialogue is verbatim from the book so credits to the wonderful Cassandra Clare (and of course the characters are also Cassie's), but Anna's thoughts/the things in between are mine!

I'd love to get more involved in the fandom and meet new Shadowhunters-loving friends, so please comment your thoughts and message me if you want!

#anna lightwood #ariadne bridgestock #shadowhunters fanfiction #chain of gold #chain of iron #fanfic #the shadowhunters chronicles #tlh #tsc #the last hours #cassandra clare #shadowhunters

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interstellarlyinlove · 6 months ago

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The worst thing about Remus and Sirius not really being friends anymore is that Sirius being his friend was one of Remus’ most precious things.

Sirius is a wonderful friend. He’s fun and thoughtful and he’s comfortable to just exist around. Losing that feels like something missing in Remus' very bones, an itch that he cannot reach, a scab that he picks over constantly and won’t let heal.

They haven’t really spoken in almost five months, after Remus told Sirius to stop apologizing and leave him be. And everytime Remus sees something he wants to tell Sirius about, or thinks of a joke he knows will make him laugh, or sits where they used to in the library late at night, his chest feels so heavy he cannot bear it.

Then he remembers why all of this is happening in the first place, and he wishes he'd never been friends with Sirius in the first place.

Except that’s not true. Not five months after the fact and not the horrible night of. Even when James told Remus what had happened and it basically boiled down to his worst fears coming true– Sirius himself willingly using the thing that Remus is most ashamed and horrified of in his life and throwing it as a bargaining chip in a pitiful argument– Remus hadn’t wished that.

Remus walks into the Gryffindor common room late at night with a scabbed-over heart and the reason for more than half of his current problems is sitting in front of the fireplace with messy hair, an ink stain on the left side of his face and thirty seven pieces of parchment all around him.

Sirius looks up and his eyes meet Remus’. He smiles quick and polite and strained and he starts collecting his wayward papers to leave.

Remus’ heart aches, and he’s horribly tired, and more than anything he misses his friend. “I don’t have a disease.”

Sirius freezes in the middle of collecting his things.

Remus laughs humorlessly. “Or actually, I do. But it’s not infectious. Actually, it is. But not at this exact moment. You don’t have to leave every time I appear.”

“Remus, I’m–”

Remus shakes his head and sits down. He’s breathing heavy because he really wasn’t planning on speaking with Sirius today. He saw Sirius and he couldn’t not speak to him. “This would be so much simpler if you were horrid and easier to hate.”

Sirius is looking at him like Remus has the key to the door that has the secrets of the universe behind it. And it isn’t fair because Sirius is the one that hurt him. Sirius is the one that ruined Remus’ favorite thing. “I don’t think I could hate you. I don’t have it in me, no matter how much I wish I did.”

“Remus, I don’t–”

“What you did was cruel, Sirius.”

Sirius nods, looking as heartbroken as Remus has been feeling for five months. “It is. It’s inexcusable, too. I never meant–”

“It is cruel, but you are not. And I miss my friend.” Remus really didn’t plan on crying, either. Nothing is making sense but Remus just keeps talking. “This is my olive branch. And, Sirius, I cannot emphasize this enough, if you ever use me like that again, I won’t–”

“I would never,” Sirius shakes his head. “Remus, I would never. I’m sorry. This is my biggest regret. I know that an apology means nothing but you must know–”

Remus nods. “I know, Sirius.” And he does.

“I kind of don’t know how to act around you now,” Sirius says, then he shakes his head. “As if that’s not a me problem. I’m sorry.”

Remus, despite everything, grins. “I figured. Stop saying sorry, maybe.”

Sirius nods. “James is helping me think before I act more. I’m counting to ten now and everything.”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Sirius nods again. He looks tired. Remus supposes he himself looks tired as well. His treacherous heart is having a field day, though.

They just sit together after that, not saying anything else. It is awkward and stiff and it is all Remus wants from this life, because he knows it won’t always be like this. And awkward and stiff is better than distant and bitter. He thinks, at least.

#sad hopeful boi hours #the prank tm #mainly wrote this bc I watched bridgerton and remembered that friendship break-ups suck like nothing else fun times #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders era #my writing

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ageless-aislynn · 3 months ago

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For 10 years, my fic with by far the most hits on AO3 was "Five Times Oliver Held Felicity (And The One Time She Held Him)."

And I'm proud of it, don't get me wrong. I think it actually contains some of my better writing. 🤷‍♀️ But it ended up being a one-off sort of thing: I thought I'd write more Olicity or Arrow in general and then just... didn't.

However, it was so far ahead of all of my other fics in hits, I figured nothing would ever challenge it for the top spot. I hadn't checked my stats in quite a while and so I was surprised to discover that the "Five Times" Olicity fic was now in second place.

I've written 114 fics in the Flash fandom and none of them have remained in my top 5, that was another surprise! But 3 of my 11 Halo fics now are: "15 Minutes," (John/female reader) "Side Effects" (John/Cortana, John/Kai, very NSFW) and "Recreation" (Kai/male reader, same world as "15 Minutes").

Now, why is any of that important? It's for the sheer fact that I don't write sci-fi military fiction well AT ALL. My interest has always been in the more domestic and romantic themes, for lack of a better thing to call it. "You write the moments between the adventures" was what somebody told me about my Doctor Who fics ("Balancing Act," which is third place on that list, is a multi-chaptered Ten/Donna NSFW romantic fix-it fic where every chapter clearly takes place after some sort of new adventure that I don't show you but instead reference 😉). I agree with that assessment, that IS basically what I write.

A little while ago, I read somebody criticizing a particular type of Halo fanfiction. They didn't name mine by name but basically said it wasn't written "properly" like it's "supposed" to be and was everything that's "wrong" with uninformed people writing things they shouldn't be.

Here's the kicker: I think they're wrong. If they would've pointed at somebody else's fic and said that same thing, I would've wanted to jump in and tell them to get over themselves. People are allowed to enjoy whatever they want to enjoy! If somebody wrote a story that's "wrong" in your opinion, then all you have to do is scroll on by.

Heck, if somebody wants to write about Master Chief riding into battle on a T-rex while waving a glowing, magic sword given to him personally by Gandalf the Grey... Well, dang it, I'd read it, lol! Yeah, that wouldn't take place in canon but what is fanfic even for if not to allow all sorts of exploration? What if Halo had dinosaurs and magic swords? What if Chief and Silver Team or Blue Team or a brand new team of OC Spartans desperately needed to go buy new curtains for their apartments after they'd hung out for a while at the most happening coffee shop on Reach where Thel 'Vadam was the barista who made amazing specialty drinks while also heading up the local garage band?

(Yeah, I made that manip for something else but might as well get more use out of it, right? 😂)

Anyway, you get my drift. If one of my fellow Halo writers would've gotten criticism like that, I would've challenged it. But it was too close to my own work and instead, I absorbed it. I feel like I shouldn't be writing for Halo, I'm too wrong, I'm too off. I mean, no wonder I'm struggling to finish my WIPs, right? That's the first thing that pops to mind when I try to write anything: Yeah, but you're doing this all wrong. You should be ashamed of what you're writing. You're insulting the real fans of Halo by trivializing the characters like this. You're disrespecting actual military people living today by getting too much of this wrong.

And so seeing those stats at AO3 really meant something to me. I know I don't write authentic action-orientated sci-fi military fiction. I know that. But I love the characters and I love seeing them in situations they wouldn't be in in canon and I can't even tell you why. But people have been reading my fics? At least, I hope the hits aren't coming from people passing the links around with a big ol' ZOMG, please don't ever write Halo like THIS IDIOT, okay??? attached to them. 🤞😣🤞😉

This sounds pretty silly seeing it written down like this. I know, it's like, Get over yourself, Ais, not everything is about you! But I've been really struggling to get to the root of my writer's block so I could figure out what's keeping me from finishing my WIPs. And seeing those stats tonight and realizing how many more times my Halo fics seem to have been read over my other fandoms...?

Well, that might only mean that Halo is just the more popular fandom right now and it's nothing more than that. But it's nice to think that, even though there are people out there who think somebody unqualified like me shouldn't be posting their ridiculous little stories, maybe there are other people who've enjoyed them, even as unauthentic as they are?

I dunno. Food for thought.

I'm hoping this will inspire me to at least finish up the next chapter for "15 Minutes." 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Thanks for reading. *hugs* to you if you've ever or are currently struggling with anything like this. Tell your stories, they're worth it. I believe in you. 🤗🤗🤗

I just need to try harder to believe in myself, hm? 🤔

PS - I've gotten SO MANY wonderful comments on my Halo fics, so why is it that the hate that might not even have been meant for me is so much louder in my head and crowds the nice comments out? I hate that, I truly do. 😖

#halo #writing #writer's block #ao3 #stats #if you ARE telling people how much my halo fics suck #please don't tell ME until i finish these last two WIPs okay?#i just want to get them done since they're already in progress #please don't take me out at the knees before then?#🤷‍♀️#ageless aislynn #ais is writing #or at least trying to #i should mention again that the criticism i'm talking about was actually quite a while back #but it clearly got under my skin and has been festering there for all this time #it's just now gotten to the point where it's actively interfering with me being able to write #i really just need to get over myself 🤷‍♀️#also sometimes i think the vitriol for the show gets twisted in my head as also meaning my fic #the *show is bad* turns into *ais' fic is also bad*#i dunno #it sucks to live in my head a lot of times what can i say?#i know the two things aren't linked but it just feels like they are sometimes

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gimmefiveyougetten · 8 months ago

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FPE FANFIC, FUNDAMENTAL PAPER EDUCATION MADE BY KAAATIE ON YOUTUBE

=====>"A normal day in paper school"<=====

(TW) Minor language

(Desc)

For some reason, it was as if the school had some curse lifted, or as if whatever was ailing it's setting was cured. The halls were clean, the classrooms were orderly, and the teachers were like machines.

The students would all have their attention fixated on their notebooks. Even Oliver, Zip and Edward were like honeybees, being as productive as possible. Ms. Grace taught as normal, but she was a little perplexed. It was so quiet, not that she was complaining. Well, except she was.

"Why is it so damn silent.."

...

Silence echoed around the room, leaving her with her own thoughts. They were not pleasant thoughts. Not ever since she became a teacher at this deadly place. She felt the need to say it again, just to fill her ears, if for not anything else.

"AHEM, why is it so damn silent in here?"

Ms. Grace was frustrated with the silence. She felt crazy, wanting her students to act up and be talkative? How unusual.

"Miss, may I use the restroom?"

Finally, something. Anything. The silence made her crazy. She happily answered Engel, with a stoic nod.

"You may."

...

And it was right back to silence. At this point she was begging for someone to throw a paper airplane or maybe laugh at a joke a little too loud. It was never supposed too be this peaceful. Although she'd prefer this over the usual chase scene, it was driving her insane. She was starting to think that the chasing isn't as bad as this. Finally, Lizzy turned her nose up. Finally, something.

*achoo*

"Bless you."

A sneeze?!? A SNEEZE??!?! That's the best they could do?! She got back too teaching instantly, and at this point she was exhausted. It was easier to get mad at students then teach them for her, for whatever reason. They were almost through the lecture, and it had only been half an hour. "How uncannily effective we are today," was likely the common thought among the classroom then.

The lecture was over.

...

Silence.

Ms. Grace aggressively presses the chalk against the chalkboard, making a squreking noise.

"What is with you kids today? Not a peep out of any of you."

Engel looks down at his lap in despair, yearning for Ms. Grace to figure it out on her own. He didn't want to seem vulnerable. No, he had to stay strong, it was the foundation of his character.

"I see. Shooken up from the incident, are you, students? Still doesn't explain why you two are grieving, you're the bastards that did it."

She turns too Zip and Oliver. They both look riddled with guilt, however it's not actually genuine.

"Ma'am, can't you excuse us for grieving?"

"But aren't you the ones responsible?!"

"Now let's not be rash-"

"I have had it with you brats and your games. Something bad always happens!"

"I don't see the big deal!"

"YOU DONT SEE HOW CLAIRE BEING CLAWED IN HALF IS A BIG DEAL?!"

...

Now this was better. Ms. Grace wanted this. The arguing fueled her enthusiasm. Zip and Oliver tried too fool her, but they both had smirks without even realizing.

"STUDENTS, class is OVER. You are dismissed."

The class left the room, the duo unsatisfied with their conversation and Ms. Grace is fuming.

The day ended and was forgotten. Far too normal for the Paper School's standards.

#fundamental paper education #fanfic #writing

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dislyteshack · 6 months ago

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Another day another slaying

Inch of Time chapter 3 came out today!!!

Gods, everything burned. He needed time to recover.

Rolling to his side it was an effort to even get out of bed.

When checking the clock, Chu Yao noticed he'd gotten up earlier than he should have. It was 2 am.

More time to figure out the loops, he supposed.

He skipped the tea this morning, it was too early either way and… The memory of his previous death was sorely fresh. He instead opted for an early shower.

He mused, where he bathed was an obvious way for his killer to end him. But one of the few patterns he noticed was they'd often wait until the end of the day to strike.

… Clearly this would be going nowhere without outside help and yet… Who could he turn to? He was a man of many friends and many followers, but few true allies.

Even someone like Chu Yao claiming to be trapped in a time loop would come off as lunacy… Unless…

He gritted his teeth at the thought.

Why would he need to demean himself by seeking her aid?

Perish the thought, it need not happen. He focused on the running of water instead rather than the idea before.

‘But it does, doesn't it?’

His subconscious told him as he attempted to cleanse himself of his impurities, parts of them clinging to his skin even as the intensity of his cleaning rose.

‘Doing the same set of actions over and over, it leads to insanity, does it not?’

… It does. Even now he felt the burn of his vices, no matter how hard he claimed none gripped his soul.

After all these years, would Raven even offer him aid? Of course she would; She was a good person. One of loyalty, even at opposing ends.

Chu Yao still scoffs at the idea of her offer to join the union. Her willingness to go through and overcome every obstacle, explore every possible outcome; and still offer an olive branch all so they could attempt to reforge whatever relationship they had left.

Yes… Her compassion had never changed over the years he had known her, and he had once feared that that stubbornness would one day be detrimental to her.

And now, he was the first one to offer up communication, much to his admitted dismay.

He pondered, slowly rising from the bath to eventually finish. Though the raid was costly it would undoubtedly provide an opportunity.

With that same intensity there was one last attempt to rinse the stench of defeat from himself. A decision was made.

He'd had to waste at most five today's to figure out where she was. Anytime he spotted Raven it always seemed like she was in a different location than when he last observed her.

Today was different, when first approaching Odin's chosen he was met with one of her mutts. He was positive the beast had gotten larger than when he had seen it prior- and it was as happy to see him as he was to see it once more. Which, given the bared fangs of the creature, wasn’t very much at all.

“Impressive, this was one of the outcomes I wasn't expecting.” Raven observed him, hand placed between the wolf’s ears and causing its snarling to cease. Its judgemental stare still bore into him.

So it would seem then, he stayed silent.

Maybe it was out of pride, a way for him to regain what he'd already lost from having to seek out help this way. Or perhaps he was unable to think of a response, when usually there were always words Chu Yao could say to sway any conversation in his favour. Not here, however. Only a burning level of indignation that he had to stoop to this level.

Here they were both equal knights on a chessboard rather than any one of them controlling the pieces.

“... If you're looking to talk, don't you think a raid isn't the best place?”

He gazed around, did she think he was foolish enough to remain speaking with her in this environment?

“I would agree, I'd be willing to talk at 7 if you would indulge me.”

“As long as it's partially on my terms, back here then?”

If it being on for your terms is what you believe will help then, he thought bitterly

“As you wish.”

When he'd agreed to meet in that same location, Chu Yao had to admit he was almost expecting a trap of sorts.

Raven may have been a suspect he was saving for last, but a suspect no less.

The only problem… Her powers held no sway over time. She could only view a series of events passively, not tear someone back from their death to the dawn of the same day.

“Now this is what I expected. What Is this situation of yours?”

He explained it to her as candidly as he could. No matter what details there were, he never left them out. He was blunt with them. Although Chu Yao left out the wonton torture of his subordinate, as that part was wholly unnecessary information in this predicament.

“It was only after their questioning, did they reveal I'd suspected the wrong person. All I ask is for my future, if this repeating day is all there will ever be to it.”

Raven's expression was cool, perhaps it was just because she predicted what he would say. Or just because she was always understanding, that compassion of hers.

She briefly closed her eye and not too long later she began to speak.

“It won't be all there ever is,

One day will eventually turn to the next.

But one constant in this future?

As long as you give up control, the next day will come.”

As long as he gave up control? He recalled a handful of her prior prophecies, although they were never as vague as this.

“Is that all?”

“Has something I’ve said upset you?”

She had reason to conceal information, yes, but-

“That can’t be all. What are you hiding?”

“Mm, you don’t think what I’ve given you is valuable information?” Raven asked, patient despite the man’s haughty assertion. “I need to keep my cards close to my chest just as you do yours.”

Chu Yao remained silent, his displeasure visible but fully aware pushing would only serve to impede his efforts.

“If you’re done pouting, may I continue?”

He responded with continued silence, an unspoken yes.

“Surrender is your only option; Only you can break this cycle.

Expect even the most unexpected betrayals,

Don't fall for easy traps as you did recently.”

"Recently you say? Are you suggesting this is a trap?”

"Is that your only conclusion? I’m working with what information you’ve provided me with. It’s your duty to use what I’ve given you to free yourself from this web- only you can.”

Oh, even if she doesn't have the divine power to do so the connections are there…

“Not my assassin, not whoever has put this into motion. Me, you say? I’m close to guessing you’re just poking fun at me now.”

When reopening her eye, Raven only sighed- almost scoffed, even.

“Believe me when I say I only wish to help you.”

He’ll do just this once then, Chu Yao would know how to find her eventually. For all her foresight, she won't remember the next today.

He was ready that night as he returned from that meeting. Chu Yao noticed a hint of movement through his office window, almost entirely concealed in the darkness.

This time he was the one to strike first.

He used a spell to transport himself instantaneously into his office before putting his fate in it’s hands the moment he swung with his dagger-

It pierced an intruder’s shoulder successfully-

A light gasp escaped and before the second swing-

Chu Yao noticed a hint of movement through his office window, almost entirely concealed in the darkness.

This time he was the one to strike-

… He hadn’t even died yet!? How-

It doesn't matter now as he burst through the door and swung at the hooded figure in the room-

Chu Yao noticed a hint of movement—-

…. This was the case of divine power. He could feel it the closer he was to his office.

Rather than swinging he went for the hood the figure had and underneath-

It was just what looked like a esper he couldn't recognize, brown hair and glowing golden orbs as some kind of imitation for eyes. Nothing else they wore would have suggested that they were the one killing him all these times. It was all stays and layers of petticoats.

"Sorry - I took personal offence to last today, so they're letting me get a kill in this time.” Even unmasked, they seemed entirely unperturbed by Chu Yao’s discovery of them. “I just wanted to know what it's like to act instead of directing from the sidelines.”

“Who?-”

They paused for a moment as if a polite introduction would change the tone of the interaction.

“Aion’s Protege, no need to know any info beyond that.”

From their skirt pockets a glint of light flickered as they produced an item.

A crossbow-

“Or well… Esper.”

He dodged this time, he wouldn't allow himself to be bested once again by them. More so now that he'd just unmasked his assassin.

The steel arrow lodged itself deeply into one of the back walls of the office, displaying just how much power this compact crossbow was actually packing. Barely a moment to register the lining up of another shot, narrowly avoiding another barrage as adrenaline kept his feet moving.

This dance of attempted shots and swings eventually ended when he struck once in their side—

He didn't need to notice whatever was in the window he just burst in and ripped off the mask-

“I didn't appreciate that, you know.”

He didn't care.

“Why accept then-” through attempted shots the thought slipped out. Even if they were hired there had to be a reason.

This time he aimed for the throat-

He's struck for once in the chest barely missing his vitals. Despite the sloppy aim of the intruder, whatever looping abilities the esper had was working only in their favour.

"Oh, you're right! I have no reason to go after you, you should ask my benefactor about their reasons to hire me-”

Again another arrow pierces flesh and bone through his stomach, possibly cracking the spine. That one caused him to fall over and lose his balance.

They quickly approach him just to pull out the arrows with efficiency courtesy of their own power. As soon as the piercing instruments were removed the wounds opened up, blood freely spilling the punctures over his body. The sharp tips scraping fresh lacerations over his flesh and through internal organs.

The final ammunition lodged in his chest seemed… Fond of its location, and as the assailant yanked at the shaft it caught on bone and Chu Yao raised slightly off of the ground with it.

“Oh, sorry.” Both the arrow and Chu Yao fell back to the ground when it didn’t give way, the ‘apology’ frankly being more hurtful than the removal attempt.

They grabbed hold of the arrow with both hands, heel on Chu Yao’s chest to keep him on the floor and pulled with all their might.

It caused some additional cracks in some bones and the arrowhead came out with some additional scraps of flesh, but it was out!

Oh yes. He was *so* overjoyed at their success. Perhaps this was the most embarrassing death so far.

They did seem to be pleased with the outcome, with how they begin to muse of a different topic as if one of them wasn't currently bleeding out

“I knew the Seven had wealth, but I never thought much about it til I got my first Nexus crystals.”

Blood continued to pool uninhibited again, Chu Yao could swear something in him was paralyzed when the vice grip he had previously on his dagger loosened.

“You’re really good at staying alive, I have to admit-“ they commented, leaning down. “Like a cockroach…”

Were they… Bored?

“All right, we're ending this. Have my debriefing and all that boring crap to do after this.”

He feels hands on the side of his head for a moment, he’s raised for easier access to his neck and before Chu Yao could look -

-SNAP-

#dislyte #dislyte chu yao #raven dislyte #dislyte fanfic #fanfiction

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captainaikus · 2 years ago

Note

Oliver gives me the vibes of acting all cool collected and nonchalant but secretly obsessed with this one random thing like action figures a comic book series or a childish tv show and no one knows about it except when one day he sees a limited edition of something just his eyes light up his face pulls into the biggest most innocent smile and he lets out the most adorable little gasp when you ask him about it and immediately starts rambling about whatever it is and all you can do is just stare at this 6’3 man fanboying over a kids show with all the surprise and fondness and love in your eyes. Idk I just feel like once you get to really know this man and he really falls in love with you? That he’d let some of that facade down around you. I think it just means that he feels safe to be himself around you. And he doesn’t have that cool playboy image to uphold anymore at least not for a while and certainly not around you yknow? Idk that thought just came into my head and I had to share it with you. How are you btw? How’s uni? Hows the new show going? Also if you don’t mind. I will be ranting about the end of Tokyo Revengers in another ask and how it absolutely destroyed me and left me completely empty inside and just all the feelings because it’s my favorite and comfort manga. If that’s alright? *sends many virtual hugs*

- ✨ anon

✨ (the urge to call you starry or charmer but it’s upto you ♡) , I-

I love this. so much ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ) this man has my heart and I had a dream about him last night

He'd fanboy over the little things so much - it's so adorable. 6'3 defender of japan going out shopping with you to buy figurines, mangas and pointing at the one he wants on the shelf with a smile. And imagine if you share the same passion? And what if it coincides?

I made some groundbreaking discoveries yesterday and many more reasons on why Oliver and I are the perfect couple

So I was curious to see if there was any fanart of him on twitter (cause the artists there are amazing and I found this one pic of tendou with like really short hair and he was fucking AHHh he was hot !! but anyway) I found a thread of discussion on Oliver

Turns out, he hates corn cause it gets stuck between his teeth and I have no words cause even I didn't like corn for that reason... but its alright to eat now ig; he likes shin ramyeon. (Literally stocked the goddamn thing into the cupboard yesterday adbfkjhfbhesff ) and he likes Spicy food!! 🥹

and his manga. *put on glasses* Chi: Chikyū no Undō ni Tsuite.

It is a historical manga and it’s coinciding with astronomy. *is a major of it at uni* I- Oliver is a nerd. He’s a nerd and I love him for it. And I’d like to think that there is a moment where he does engage with you in discussions about it and when you give him that look; that knowing look of ‘I know who you really are’ when he turns an argument into an intellectual one without realizing it. And he just gives you the look back of ‘I know. I’m not stupid. Surprise.’

And once he falls in love with you? playboy season is over and he will be locked.

I absolutely loved this thought and thank you for sharing it with me ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ♡

Cause seriously it fits well with his character and I can totally imagine him just being giddy about it (T.T) *heartclench*

What happened at uni today : So me and this guy I’ve known for 5 years since school share one of the majors we have out of two together. He’s very aloof, always sits at the back and doesn’t talk to anyone. But today since he was late, he sat next to me. And he goes ‘You’ve changed. You’ve lost a lost of weight.’ And not even in the positive way… it was condescending.

*proceeds to lose a debate against me* (like seriously you’d think I’d let that slide?)

I've also destroyed my glutes and elbows at the gym today and I'm writing more to the NNN challenge fic along with another one

Romantic killer is so cute and funny! I’d rec you to give it a watch !!

*passes cup of hot chocolate and a squishmallow* go on. I’m listening *pat pat* (੭˶•༝•˶)੭ ♡ You can rant to whenever you want <3

*sending warm and comforting hugs*

#Belle.☏#.lost sheep : ✨ anon

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lostandfoundbook · 6 months ago

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Chapter 15

Read it on AO3

Read it on Wattpad

The two of them said their goodbye's to Benji before making their way out of the apartment. The day was still young, and there was so much to do. Alexandria could feel all the memories brimming with threats to expose themselves to her, a feeling she hadn't felt in quite a long time.

Nostalgia. She missed this part of town. She was staring down all the grassy lawns as she hopped into the car and shut the door tight behind her. It was a quaint little piece of property that Benji had inherited, and it was nothing in comparison to Oliver's theatre.

Both were places she lived as she worked, but one of the two she was more fond of. She couldn't help but favor Benji's little theatre over Oliver's massive one. There was something so home-y about her best friends place. For a short period of her life, she continued to grow up there and thrive.

Getting to see it again almost felt like a dream. Sitting with the two boys by her side sipped away at her coffee. It really didn't energize her. Instead it brought her a sense of tranquility that just washed away at whatever fears or anxieties she previously had. It was a good cup of coffee. It tasted like home.

She lugged the duffel bag off of her shoulder and unzipped it, reaching back in for the journal. She pulled a pencil out of the bag and flipped to a free page on the book. She started writing down about what happened, and her experience at Benji's. She wrote about Everette a bit too, but not too much. Just enough to reference in her call out post.

She tilted her head to the side as she wrote. Oliver went on to pop his own car door and hop in, side eyeing her before pressing the keys into the ignition. "What are you working on?" He eventually said as they started to pull away from the theatre. Away from home. "Just journaling." she replied.

"I've heard that's really good for you. It's supposed to help you work through a lot of things" Everette added on. It was true. She had taken it up in her high school years when a school counselor had told her it was a good idea. They never could afford therapy, and it's left Alex with dozens of lost journals full of her thoughts throughout the years, with zero clue as to where those could've gone.

"Yeah. I really like being able to just talk through my feelings."

The car ride home was quiet aside from the radio quietly playing the top 2010 hits. It was a good year for music, Alex thought towards herself. She leaned her head back in the car and set her journal down. "Do you think the call out post against Everette is a good idea? I haven't talked to my PR team about it and I don't think they're going to approve."

Oliver shot her a glance. "You're asking if I approve of it?"

Alex grimaced with her lips. It had come off a bit odd. "Yes, I think that's what I'm asking."

The car slowly came to a halt as they stopped at a stop sign, and turned to look towards her. "I'll always support the things you want to to. I don't think it's a bad idea, I just think the timing needs to be perfect or else it might not have the same effect."

The girl searched around the car for something to stare at. "You're right. I want to put it out this week, or next week by the latest so that when the song comes out, people have the full context."

He nodded. "That's a good idea. I think people having the full context matters. You don't want them to associate it with any other ex you've had."

The car began to pull away again.

"Right, exactly." Alex shoved one of her legs up onto the dashboard and felt the AC blowing on her, slightly ruffling her hair. It was extremely frizzy today, and she figured it had to do with the increasing temperatures. Summer was quickly making it's way around the corner and Alex wasn't sure how she was going to cope with the heat this year.

Her thoughts were broken short by Oliver's voice ringing out. "What do you think about me hosting a gala?" Alex paused. "What about it? You do them yearly. It's about that time."

A small sound left Oliver's mouth that was reminiscent of a laugh. "No, I mean, what do you think about it?"

Another pause. She let the silence sit comfortably. Was she supposed to have an opinion on this? "It seems like a good idea. I've always wanted to go to one." Oliver perked up at this. "Great! I want to do one this month before we start putting on Big Feelings, that original musical we're doing, and I was thinking maybe we could go together. I usually take Avery."

The non-question weighed in the air. Did she want to go to a gala with him, where they would be openly photographed together? Did she want to deal with the press and rumor train that came with it? She already knew it was coasting down that track ever since the red carpet event. People noticed the way they looked at each other, and they remembered the photos of her sitting in the booth with Oliver.

Now, they had the ice skating photos to include with it. Some people were vehemently against the idea of Alex dating Oliver, which, was a good thing because she didn't intend to date him. Does she want to add fuel to the fire? She considered how easy it was to wash out Everette's bad press just by going out with a friend like this.

"I think I'll go. It sounds fun, and I think it'd be great for my career."

Oliver smiled towards her as the car came to another stop, this time because of traffic. "What else do you want to do with your career?" he asked her. "Oh, so many thing. I want to make visualizers and music videos, and I have this EP idea planned out that's slowly turning into an album... I want to do more press tours. More talking, and getting involved with my fanbase."

Oliver nodded his head. "And have you ever thought of working for me, like, in a serious manner? I'd take on your PR in a heartbeat."

It was an exciting offer. Alex wasn't particularly fond of her current management. Greg was great at his job, but he already admitted that there's not much he can do in regards to Everette. It seems Oliver can.

"I hadn't really thought about it before. It's something I'd consider."

She didn't have the same connection with her old PR team like she does to the Haven Industries. Alex trusted Avery and Oliver, meanwhile Greg was just some guy who was related to her career path with Everette. Why not consider letting Oliver give it a shot?

"You'd also want to read your contract, which you're going to want to get a copy of. If I need to, I can buy out your contract. It'd be worth it in the long haul."

In the long haul? Alex truly didn't consider her future much. As a kid, she didn't even expect to make it past 18. Now, she's shocked she's still alive. Planning for the future was something she never really learned how to do, and it seemed Oliver did it so easily, even with other people.

Alex drew her bottom lip between her teeth before speaking out, "You know, there were a lot of rumors about you and I before recently?" Oliver shot her a side glance. "Oh?"

"They said you wanted to use me to better your image." Alex replied and Oliver let out a snort. "You can't possibly believe that's why I'm offering this?"

A small exhale of breath left her mouth, almost a laugh but not quite. "Of course not. I think it's a silly rumor because I've got a lot of bad publicity around my name. If anything, I would be the one using you."

Traffic began to let up a bit between Alex's declaration, leaving Oliver focusing on trying to not get hit. "You know, this is why I never drive?" He added in while cruising past slow-moving people in the left lane. "This is supposed to be a fast lane, people!"

Alex smiled. "You yell at the road. What happens if people hear you and get out of their car?"

He smirked in response. "Yeah, right. They're gonna get through the armored car. I'd like to see them try." He waved his hands around to emphasize his point.

The lanes were slowly opening up and the freeway came out of its stand still, with a few cars sitting off to the side. A car accident that people were slowly driving past. This was the culprit of the jam they had just been apart of. "How lovely." Oliver spoke out as they passed.

"People don't know how to drive in New York. They're all used to walking. They act like driving is some sort of video game and get into all these crashes"

She stopped to think about it, life as a video game, that is. It bordered on simulation theories, which Alex totally believed to a certain extent. Life was so confusing and complicated, and she had somehow found her way to the top. How'd that even happen?

"I think you're right about the walking part. People just don't know how to drive."

The small talk flowed naturally as they filled up the cars small space with chatter and conversation. Topics came naturally towards them at this point, and there was no awkwardness between the two.

"I love the city, still." Alex spoke out while staring at the city as they re-entered their side of town. "It's so beautiful."

Oliver grunted. "It's a city, I guess. I'm so used to it." There was no question about it, Oliver viewed this city as something he had already conquered. He'd been down every avenue and walked every path there as to walk in this city. There was no need to revisit the places he had already been.

"It's beautiful, though. The way every corner tells a new story? It's amazing. I could get lost in it forever."

He looked over and watched as the girl stared out of the car window at the vast landscape of artificially re-created nature scenes along all the sides of the buildings. The terf grass there to mimic the lush greenery you see back at Benji's side of town. The trees are much sparser here too, meaning it was much hotter over here.

Alex reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She slipped through her contacts list and finally landed on Greg. She shot him a text that said "We need to talk" and quickly backed out of there. She didn't want to see if his green text bubble shot back at her, giving her an answer or reply. She scrolled back over towards Benji's contact and started writing him a message.

"Thank you for letting me bring Oliver. I know you two don't get along, and I doubt I'll ever get the full story out of either of you, but I'm glad you can put aside your differences for me. It was a really insightful day."

She smiled and hit send. She looked up from her phone and continued to city-watch the way she was used to doing while driving. She looked down when her phone pinged off another message from an unknown number.

"Stop ignoring me, you bitch!"

It was likely Everette. She swiped the notification away and shoved the phone back into her pocket. "Who was that?" Oliver questioned out as they slowly pulled up on the hotel parking lot.

"Just Everette, I think." Alex could as an annoyed look appeared on Oliver's face. "He needs to leave you alone." He returned as he parked. "Like, seriously. You might have to get a restraining order against him or something."

The girl looked up at the man as she reached for her bag. "You think? I figured, there's not many places he can get access to me. He's going to have to give it up eventually, right?" She was tired of the whole situation. She just wanted to be left along to write her music in peace. Perform theatre without being judged. Ice skate with whomever she pleased.

She pulled the bag around her shoulder before opening her car door. "I don't know, Alex. He could be really dangerous. You don't know him."

She slid out of the car and watched as Oliver did the same. "I'll consider getting a restraining order if it'll make you happier, but I think I'll be fine without it." The two made eye contact over the hood of the beamer. It was soft and solemn, a small moment of agreement. Alex would contact the police and see what she could do.

She dropped the eye contact. "Also, I think I do want you to run my management. You know, if that's something you can do." She started walking up to the garage area that Oliver had designated for just him, right up close to the hotels entrance. "I can do that, for sure. You'd need what? Management, PR, stylists, maybe even an assistant one day?"

She let out a small snort. "Slow your roll. I think I know somebody who can do make up for me, and you and Avery are practically my stylists already. You run the management side, and I don't know who controls PR. So it's not a lot of things. I've pretty much got all of them covered, I think."

She and Oliver carted their way through the revolving doors and into the building, being met with the beautiful scenery of white walls with gold trims, big open windows that dared you to gaze through them all day, and a big open walk way through the foyer. She could see the receptionist desks, and the way the walls of the entrance opened up past a certain height.

All of this spawned a new memory in her brain. One of her sitting in a harness, dangling in the air. She stopped and shook her head a bit. When was that? Where was that? Was that here? Alex didn't remember this memory, yet it stood out clearly in her head. She stopped walking and Oliver turned to give her a look of confusion.

"I think I remember breaking into the hotel" she said out.

* * *

Alex was sat in her bedroom with Avery, Oliver, and her journals laid out in front of them all. "So, what exactly am I here for, again?" The ginger girl spoke up, with a shy look on her face. "You remember things about me that I don't, and I can't gather many other people. I could try to invite Brandon, but he'd be more confused than he would be able to understand any what I'm saying. You two get it."

Avery looked over towards Oliver who gave her a simple nod. "Alright. What do you need?"

Alex sighed and sat down. They were all surrounded the couches that made paralleled each other in the middle of the bedroom, with the TV sat out behind them on a handing stand. It was her room. She had made it lived in, and she was familiar with it.

"I want to expose Everette. I remember why we were breaking in. And I remember a lot of other stuff, too. I want to write this big expose, but I don't have the full time line down. I want to clear it up, and get it posted tonight. The song about him comes out in a week and a half, and I think it's been long enough."

Avery nodded in approval and listen with a sense of understanding. Alex didn't know how much she knew about Everette, or how much Oliver had told her. She figured he told her a lot, consider she was one of his closest friends and assistants. She knew more about him than Alex did, and she was extremely aware of that fact. Avery held information about Oliver, while both of them held information about Alex. It was a tricky situation.

"I hate to repeat myself, but what am I supposed to do in this situation? I don't exactly remember much.."

Oliver turned towards her. "She's getting a restraining order against Everette." Avery's eyes widened and she turned towards Alex, who sat there nodded in agreement. "Really?"

"Yes. He wont stop messaging me and I've made it clear that I don't want him to talk to me anymore. He said he wanted to talk in person, and I have really really bad vibes about that. It's not gonna happen. We're through, and if he can't get that message, I'll get the police involved."

Oliver turned back towards Alex. "Not to mention, he tried to break into the red carpet event when he wasn't invited. None of us know how he figured out the location."

Alex shrugged. "That ones not too difficult. I could've figured it out if I were still living with him. Against you, I mean. It wouldn't be hard to find." Oliver sighed and knitted his brows. "But he was actively seeking it out. That's my point. He's trying to find you in person. That's not good."

Alex shook her head and raised her brows. "I know! I'm just saying, It wasn't the most evident example of stalking. We don't even know if the order will be approved. That's why I just want to focus at the information at hand. Everette used to abuse me, and I have lots of proof of that. I want to post it tonight. It wont be hard."

Avery raised her head. "I could write out the timeline for you.." She meekly spoke, as if she didn't dare cross the boundaries between the two. There was a line drawn in the sand between her and Alex and she wasn't going to be the one to leap across. "Really?!" Alex replied in an excited manner.

Oliver pipped in "Yeah! You said you've got it all written out, she can go based off of your notes and just write it as if she were you."

Alex frowned. "Well, you can write it, but I'm gonna change a few things in it to make sure it sounds like me. I want people to take this seriously." Oliver eyed Avery up. "You good to do it?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I can do it. Where's the laptop?"

"Woah, right now, right now?" Alex called out, standing up and headed towards her bed. "Yeah, I have nothing else to work on!"

Alex retrieved the laptop off of her bed and Oliver frowned. "Didn't I ask you to write up multiple documents for me?" She smiled coyly. "I already did them. I'm a fast typer."

The blonde girl handed the laptop off to the ginger girl and sat back down on the couch. "The notes are all here. Everything's in chronological order and all the photos to reference are in the hard drive, labeled by dates and referenced by types of abuse."

"You would make a good lawyer" Oliver said, smiling. "Yeah, maybe in another life. My sister's more the one to be the lawyer kind" She said and wiped her palms across the pant legs of her jeans. Her palms were sweaty. She was nervous. She had no clue how people were going to receive the news of Everette.

Would they be happy that she was no longer dating him? Would people be upset that she's using her voice so proudly? What exactly was going to happen, and who was going to pick this story up? Alex could feel the anxiety in the pit of her stomach, and remembered some book she read once.

'Anxiety is a stimulus without a source'

She had a source, she thought. Everette was the root of all her worries. Without him, she would be free. A piece of her wished he would just die. Or maybe be arrested. One of the two. Whichever got him out of her life as quick as possible. Maybe he could move halfway across the country and she'd never have to see him again. That would facilitate him forgetting about her first, though. That would be a long shot.

Jail. Or death.

"We can get people to pick up this story in the news" Oliver spoke up as he watched Avery work. She had gotten the word document up and was referencing some pretty heinous bruises when Alex stood up and walked into the bathroom. She stopped and stared at herself in the mirror.

She looked more familiar, like she could recognize the person she was looking at. Over the past couple of months of staying at the hotel, Alex felt unrecognizable. Like she was living in a shell of who she was supposed to be. Now she feels like she'd broken whatever mold she was thrusted into and was butterflying her way out of the cocoon.

She started at the white t-shirt she had thrown over her body this morning. Some band t-shirt for somebody she didn't recognize it. She didn't own it. None of these clothes belonged to her, and yet she was endowed with an accumulation of clothing from the hotel. From Oliver. She tried to remember that.

Oliver provided this all for her. She turned the sink on and splashed cold water onto her face. She didn't wear make up often, so this was no issue for her. She wiped her face off with a towel, and walked back out of the bathroom.

"You okay?" Oliver questioned as she sat back down. "I'm fine. Just tired." She lied. She was exhausted. Tired wasn't enough of a word for it. She felt like the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders and all she had to do was remember everything to keep the pressure off her back. Without that, the world would come barreling down and crush her clean off the map.

"How are you doing, Avery?"

"I'm almost done." She replied, looking up from the keys she was previously spent tapping away on. "Really? Already?" Alex queried

"Yup! You'll just need to change what you want to change, add the photos, and you can post it."

Alex sighed. She could feel the world lift just a bit higher on her back. Just a little bit of pressure releasing. She clamped her hands together and felt around her wrists. They were thin. She hadn't been eating as often as she should've been. There wasn't time. She hadn't been drinking enough water, either.

Just focusing on her career, theatre, and exposing Everette. She stared down at the floor. "....And... done!" Avery said, and flipped the computer around to face Alex. She stared back at the masterpiece placed in her lap.

"Is there anything else you need from me?" She added on. "No, this is perfect, thank you!" Avery smiled back towards Alex and tilted her head. "Anything for you. I'm always here... but... not literally. I have to go. I'll check up on you later, okay?"

Alex looked her in the eyes and nodded. The ginger girl stood up and meandered her way up to the door, unlatching it, and making her way out. Oliver scooted over to be sitting in the middle of the couch instead of off to the side, sharing it with somebody else. He made it his.

"So, what do you need to change?" He asked out, kicking his feet up onto the table to rest them. Alex pulled the laptop onto her lap and began rearranging the wording. "Not much. Just need to change some things here or there."

Oliver started to beam at her. "What?"

"You just look so different sat over a laptop than you do sat over a mic."

Alex could feel her cheeks go red. "Well, it's a much different process, isn't it? Writing versus recording? I have to give my all when I'm recording."

Oliver's lips formed an amused line. "And you don't have to give your all for this?"

Alex looked up at him and shook her head. "No. Avery's done most of the work for me. I'm really just editing it."

He nodded in return. "I get it. Hey, I'll swing back around later, yeah?" He started to stand up and pointed towards the door with his thumbs. "Go" She replied, a smile spreading across her own lips. He was a busy man. He had a whole hotel to run. He couldn't partake in her silly games of retribution today, and that was fine by her.

He made his own way out of the hotel suite, leaving Alex to her lonesome. She looked over the wording a bit more before making her final edits. She copied and pasted it and went onto her photo software to compile all the photos together. She put them side by side in a collage so that it would all fit, because most social media sites had a limit on how many photos you could include.

Alex had a lot of photos, and videos, and journal entries. She had so much. So much evidence. She put as much of it as she could into four slides for Twitter, and ten slides for Instagram. She added text on the screen of the Instagram slides to explain what was happening, because not everyone read long captions. She took a deep breath in and hit 'Post' on all of the websites before closing down her computer.

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