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thejustmaiden · 4 years ago

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Heyo, fellow Inuyasha fans! Happy Friday! This particular blog will serve as a collection of random thoughts I’ve been mulling over lately. Hope you’ll consider giving it a read. By the way, it’ll specifically pertain to the Sessrin ship. If that’s not something that is of interest to you, then no need to read any further. Whatever happens, I wanted to get this out before the sequel. Alrighty, let’s go!

I’m not sure many of us realize just how much fiction sparks public dialogue and shapes culture. There have been countless studies and research done to prove it, therefore this really isn’t up for debate. What the real question here should be is have we taken the time to fully contemplate and assess just how much fictional experiences are able to change or influence our perspective on real, everyday life? The visual arts are just one of many evolutionary adaptations that serve to give us more insight into one another’s mind. If our outlook on fiction contrasts with said insight, then perhaps some re-evaluating is in order.

Powerful works of literature such as 1984 and the beloved Harry Potter series are just two examples. George Orwell’s book contributed strongly to how readers viewed government and politics during that time, and to this day it’s a book that resonates with many. As much as Harry Potter is cherished all across the world, there are religious and academic institutions that condemn it or have even gone so far as to ban it. I may not agree with the extreme measures taken, but it’s fascinating nonetheless to witness the extent to which fiction can move and mobilize people for a cause.

The takeaway is that indicating fiction doesn’t have the power to create change in our everyday lives is misleading to say the least. So how exactly then can fictional stories that are, after all, completely made up affect society in such profound ways? It all lies in the power of the psychology of fiction. According to cognitive psychologist and novelist, Keith Oatley, who’s been researching the psychological effects of fiction for over a decade, he states that engaging with stories about other people can improve empathy and theory of mind. When we identify with these characters’ struggles, we begin to share their frustration for societal problems that plague them. These types of stories tap into our emotions more so than- believe it or not- nonfiction, and thus their effects inspire us and even have the ability to alter our worldviews.

I’ll be returning to that specific topic a bit later, but moving on for now!

It’s safe to say that I speak on behalf of the majority of antis. That being said, I first want to add that we are aware that sessrin shippers claim to agree that there was nothing inherently romantic that took place between Rin and Sesshomaru during their travels together. The thing is we have trouble believing you guys when you time and time again provide contradictory statements to defend your stance.

Voicing things like, “all signs point to Rin” and “it’s been foreshadowed” sends the exact opposite message of what you supposedly stand for and, if anything, confirms that you’ve had romance on your mind long before it would’ve been acceptable to come out with openly. You can’t just go along with what we say when it’s convenient to your argument and then back it up later with “who else but Rin.” How can the relationship you’re imagining be so obvious if they didn’t hint at it for the whole duration of the original series like we agreed upon? Elaborate on how we could’ve possibly come to such wildly different conclusions when we started AND left off with the same views for and throughout the series.

On top of that, making the excuse that we don’t speak for adult!Rin and that she has the right to make her own decisions once she’s old enough is a weak defense. Firstly, because we haven’t even met her. Secondly, because it’s unfair of you to assert that you know what’s best for Rin and then say we’re not allowed to just because it doesn’t align with your beliefs. I get that you feel protective over her character, but do recall that this adult version of her none of us have actually met yet. We have no idea what kind of woman she’s become, what her dreams or aspirations may be, and whether she’s married or even wants to be. I’m not against the idea of her falling in love, I just don’t think it’ll be with Sesshomaru. I guess I’m also a fan of the idea of her following in Kaede’s footsteps, because if anyone can grow up to be an independent, trusted, and wise leader of the community like her it’s Rin.

To make matters worse, way too many of you continue to celebrate the drama cd and profess that it was sweet that Sesshomaru basically promised he’d wait for Rin all while somehow ignoring the glaring grooming implications. Why do you only see what you want to see and fail to acknowledge that actual child grooming scenarios do in fact play out like this in real life? A high percentage of people who have been victims of grooming can attest to this. If Sessrin does go canon, all the sequel succeeded in doing to avoid the direct correlation with grooming was skip over the more questionable and dodgy portions of it. Take out the time jump, however, and you no longer have a loophole to cover up the scary unmistakable truth, which is that Sessrin and grooming are essentially one in the same.

No one case is identical to another so please don’t come to me with your “but how is it grooming if Sesshomaru didn’t manipulate Rin” refutes. Nobody knows what the hell went on during those years between The Final Act and this upcoming sequel. Based on everything exhibited so far- that is if we decide to recognize the drama cd like so many of you choose to do- Sessrin’s dynamic is eerily reminiscent of real life child grooming. Why else do you think a lot of us fans have a huge problem with it? It’s triggering for a reason.

Let’s be honest, Sesshomaru’s supposed love confession could’ve just been the first of many gestures like it. Who really knows, right? According to you shippers, a major shift in their relationship took place sometime during this critical period none of us got to watch unfold. I’m sure you all have explored the various ways this would’ve gone down in fan fiction and through other creative means of expression. Not to spoil the fun, but all I can’t help but wonder about is just how many of those supposed “cute moments” would’ve been as creepy and cringey as that proposal. Hundreds of thousands (possibly millions?!) of fans would undoubtedly agree with me, too. It seems to me this ain’t due to a mere difference of opinion. Taste is one thing, ethics a whole other.

By the way, in case you didn’t know, groomers don’t necessarily need to plan out every single move in order for their behavior to constitute as grooming. What we should be paying attention to instead is the fact that Sesshomaru made a conscious decision to act on his own selfish desire for a young girl who couldn’t have possibly known in that moment the magnitude of what he was asking of her. Why is it that a vulnerable Rin is put in a position that forces her to be the one responsible for making such a big, life-changing decision for the both of them? Yes, Sesshomaru gave her the choice and, yes, she doesn’t have to make it till later, but why on Earth is he coming to her with this well before a child her age is ready and mature enough to handle it? Even if his intentions are good (broadly speaking of course), his what you shippers probably call “innocent acts” are incidentally coercing Rin into reciprocating his feelings. Whether he planned for that or not, he’s at fault. Period.

That’s one way the power imbalance works. A child wants nothing more than to please the adult they look up to and adore, because they’re impressionable like that. Maybe Rin processes this like she’ll want whatever he wants, so that’s what she trains herself to believe- either right then and there or over time. Plus, if you really think about it, why wouldn’t she trust him if in her eyes he’s been nothing but good to her and that’s all she’s ever really known? (Psst! Charm is integral to the manipulative nature of grooming so it’s deceiving AKA manipulation can come off as praise or flattery.) Bottom line is that Rin is too young to have to think about this kind of deep stuff at all, and Sesshomaru shouldn’t have taken advantage of the power he had/has over her to influence a decision she was by no means prepared to hear about much less decide on. Your headcanons seem to imply that she’ll eventually have to choose though, and Idk about you but I rather not push my own fantasy agenda onto a underage girl regardless of how much I want it. Idc if she’s fictional, it wouldn’t feel right so why would I want to see that? My principals couldn’t ever allow for it.

Even if it wasn’t an official proposal, per se, it’s still disturbing to me that so many of you find joy in the thought of a grown adult male essentially waiting for a young girl HE KNEW to become old enough before pursuing her. I know this drama cd ain’t technically canon, y'all, but since this is literally the only source we have that may foreshadow a potential Sessrin to come, and it’s referenced a lot, I figured it still should be called out for exactly what it is- Grooming: 101!!!!

Just as I demonstrated above, fiction has the ability to make even the most inappropriate and uncomfortable situations be viewed in a favorable light when you put the right spin on it. *cough* Lolicon culture, need I say more? *cough* Despite what you may believe, the strategies fiction utilizes to explain themes/concepts can genuinely lead to how we perceive them, and ultimately to how we come to make sense of a similar event presented to us in real life. Especially if we have no prior experience with any of it and have nothing to compare something to, these perceptions can be dangerous yet still persuasive to certain fans- young ones in particular. The more narrative consistency across stories and different mediums, the more likely they’ll influence social beliefs. Minors don’t possess the same capacity as adults to think critically about the content they consume, and if we aren’t more careful about what we put out there then all of us will continue to face serious repercussions.

This is precisely why it’s crucial we persist in our fight against the rabid phenomenon of glorifying young girls in every sexual context imaginable. Just look at what something as seemingly harmless as fiction has the power to do. The scope of fiction is broad and far-reaching, and it’s about time we stop denying that fact and actually do something about it if we have the means to.

The truth of the matter is that we’re in desperate need of proper education and training programs on this issue in our communities. Families need to ensure their children have access to the necessary resources, but it isn’t just on them. ALL of us gotta do our part and ALL of us should be up for the task. It takes a village, right? If we do not properly discuss and address child sexual abuse (CSA) with our children and in public forums, including the internet, then we’re ultimately accepting incidents of CSA should they arise. Consequently, that also translates to indirectly accepting that the predators among us stay untreated and/or unpunished. That’s how the generational and societal aspect of the abuse can continue, and we must do everything in our power to secure our children’s future. Yes, even when it comes to fiction.

If you still somehow don’t think the Sessrin pairing has anything to do with grooming, allow me to break this down for you one more time:

1. If some of your fellow sessrin shippers say that a relationship like this in real life is harmful, then that should be pretty telling in and of itself.

2. Piggybacking off #1: if your only defense to that is “well it’s just fiction,” then you should ask yourself why you can’t ever come up with better reasons. Same goes for history and culture, so please stop using those to justify this relationship. None of the above can or should be applied since it’s already been established that fiction pervades our lives and vice versa.

3. If fellow shippers who are victims of grooming say they are drawn to Sessrin because it allows them in a way to “take back control” from their abuser so that they can better cope with past traumas, then they’re inadvertently admitting that Sessrin does possess qualities associated with the past child sexual abuse they underwent. AKA Sessrin is relatable for its abusive dynamic.

I have to ask by the way, but why do you get so offended when we don’t support your ship anyway? Is it because we interpret it to be controversial and you don’t like your ship getting a bad rap? Is it because it would be insulting to admit that antis actually have a point in it being problematic and you rather double down instead? Or is it because you’re projecting yourself onto Rin and prefer to not go into detail about why that is? Maybe it’s too personal, or maybe it’s because deep down you’re ashamed. Of course that doesn’t mean you’re bad people, but suppressing these kind of negative emotions can’t be healthy for anyone. A little awareness and self-reflection on your part can benefit not just you but all of us in the long run. Cognitive dissonance can suck, but it’s also part of being human.

I recently came across a comment I’d like to share with you. Unfortunately, this is not the first time nor will it be the last I see the likes of it. Anyway, in it a fan stated how embarrassing it must be being an Anti in this fandom when an episode like “Forever with Lord Sesshomaru” exists. Guys, this shipper and all those who liked their post are showing their true colors. Perpetuating and/or anticipating these sexualized images of young girls is a grave issue in both our society and media alike. I think we can all agree on that, or at least I hope so. It’s remarks like these that prove we still got a long way to go in terms of progress, and if we ever hope to effectively reverse some of our backwards way of thinking. So serious question for ya in regard to this: Why is it too much to ask that grooming be portrayed for what it is? Grooming. To clarify, grooming is bad and needs to be painted in a bad light. It’s as simple as that. If only we could all acknowledge it for what it is, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.

Historical accuracy and cultural differences aside, it appears the crux of the matter between Sessrin shippers and Antis is our acceptance and/or denial of fiction’s influence on real life. If we can’t agree on this, then we’ll never agree on anything else. As mentioned earlier, there is more than enough evidence to support the idea that fiction impacts our lives in extraordinary ways. I, for one, believe in the transformative power of stories. I think they do more for us than many of us give them credit for and/or are inclined to admit.

This is partially why I believe that the majority of sessrin folk are missing the point most of the time. All they do is focus on insignificant and irrelevant information that accomplishes nothing but more gaslighting and strawmanning. Whether it be an intentional or unconscious decision, whatever we argue goes right over their head. All they do is throw around deflections and antagonizing remarks that serve no real purpose other than to make Antis out to be the unreasonable and irrational ones. Making connections between our own lives and our stories is a completely natural and normal occurrence. If those particular shippers insist on denying just how interconnected real life and fiction both are, what that tells me is they’re either out of touch with reality or deliberately choose to be.

Just to be clear, I am of the opinion that most if not all antis aren’t real life predators. If they say they aren’t, I honestly take their word for it. Speaking to Sessrin shipper directly: We know it’s not Sesshomaru you want to be but Rin. No, we’re not calling you pedophiles or groomers. None of us think you are using a fictional ship to attract underage fans to be the Rin in your life or anything of the sort. We are well aware that many of you are self-inserting yourself as Rin, so please don’t feel the need to tell us yourself because that would be stating the obvious.

I learned from a few of you since this sequel was announced that the Sessrin relationship isn’t just a ship but an opportunity for you to confront the person who used and abused you. So there’s two issues with this I’d like to raise. (Sorry if I’m repeating myself, but it’s urgent I stress this again!) This is what I have to say:

If fiction does not affect real life or have the ability to normalize anything as you claim to believe, then why does “fixing” what happened to you via your preferred choice of coping associated with these two characters in the first place? Why bring your past abuse into this at all if at the end of the day it’s “just fiction” and nothing more to you but a source of entertainment?

By confessing that you use Sessrin to cope with your past trauma, you therein reveal that Sessrin does in fact resemble an adult-child relationship with a grooming dynamic. So why then would you want other fans to be exposed to a pairing that brings to mind the very abuse you endured? We’re supposed to stop this toxic cycle- NOT find more ways to manifest and relive it, much less subject other fans to it.

You may think that Sessrin doesn’t fit the textbook definition of what child grooming is, but that’s not to say it doesn’t embody it or that it doesn’t at the very least have traces of it that stand out.

“Antis are miserable people who don’t know how to enjoy a good story. It’s just fiction, stop ruining it for other fans!”

Well, no, it’s not just fiction or just a story. Some of you evidently went and proved that yourself, and without my help, by revealing how you relate Sessrin to your own life and apply it to cope with past abuse. Past abuse or not, as far as I can tell we’re all equally invested in these characters. That speaks volumes and just goes to show that fiction touches our lives in long-lasting ways.

I have something I want to say concerning some of who believe that it’s inconsiderate of antis who have been victims of grooming or another form of child abuse to tell other victims who ship Sessrin how they should cope with their trauma. Now as much as I respect the various means victims discover to deal with their painful pasts, there’s always an appropriate time and a place for these things to occur. We must seek out better ways to safely cope with the abuse we lived through (if any) without running the risk of hurting and endangering others.

There are plenty of fans in other fandoms who don’t try to defend their ships going canon, because they’re able to recognize an unhealthy or toxic pairing when they see one and won’t try to justify it. A Sessrin romance simply does not belong on a show geared towards teens, and I really don’t need to go into detail about why we shouldn’t support it, at least canon-wise. Shipping Sessrin is your right, but if you don’t keep it to yourself and your corner of the fandom then you really shouldn’t be surprised by the opposition. All we ask is you respect that their specific dynamic falls under the category of child grooming (or very close) and should be treated as such in public. The world of fiction may be wider than the world we live in, but that doesn’t always mean “anything goes.” In the creative spaces our minds occupy we must still adhere to the same fundamental and moral guidelines we live by in life. There’s nothing wrong with exploring new terrains and experimenting with ideas, but we must also remember that our stories are all about communicating and connecting with people. So let’s please be more mindful of the sort of messages they’re sending.

Besides, this isn’t only about you and what makes you feel safe, it’s about all of us. I don’t know how much more I can stress that really. How can thoughts endanger our children, you ask? Well, it’s not like we’re suggesting that our thoughts can jump out of our tvs, materialize themselves, and place kids under mind control. The forces behind fiction are a lot more complex and nuanced than a “monkey see, monkey do” approach, so don’t waste any more time trying to describe that to us. You’re taking this argument in the wrong direction.

Take the “violent video games breed killers” theory. I’m afraid you’re misconstruing what we’re saying and then taking it quite too literally. Please stop twisting our words, because nobody on our side is saying that just because you play violent video games that you’ll become a violent person. The Sessrin equivalent of that would be if you ship them then you must be a pedophile or turning into one. *sigh* I know you guys are feeling attacked, but I’m afraid your defensive nature is keeping you from thinking straight. Clearly, there are always exceptions (I’d recommend reading up on the Slender Man case), but Antis aren’t saying you’re one of them.

You see, it’s not so much about the content as it is the notion of the content. Kids and teens who are playing these video games have been informed that killing is wrong, because they grew up learning that early on like the rest of us. No sane person would advocate for violence and nonsensical killing in real life. Since they fully understand the severity of the consequences of killing a person in real life, they are able make a clear distinction between the two. When it comes to killing there is hardly any ambiguity. Sadly, that is far from the truth when it comes to sexualizing girls. It should immediately be perceived as wrong leaving no room for interpretation, and yet here we are still putting up with these inaccurate and demeaning female representations.

Most children who have been groomed don’t realize it till years down the road. If they aren’t ever taught the telltale signs to properly labeling grooming situations, how do you expect them to make sense of and relate to a fictional version? Let’s think of about it from a child’s perspective. Yes, this includes teens who rely pretty heavily on adult guidance and the content we put out there for them. Put yourself in their shoes for a moment and picture that you’ve never had child grooming explained to you (because that’s just the reality for so many unfortunately). Wouldn’t you say it’s possible for them to deduce that what they see on their screens is how they come to discern something in real life, especially if they have little to no experience with it? Perceived realism is plausible, y'all.

What it comes down to in the end is that the ideas and emotions we cultivate behind these stories leave an impression on others. Impressions are capable of influencing the way we see the world, which in turn affects us and beyond just our imagination. The way I look at it, stories contribute to how and why we normalize certain beliefs and trends. If fiction reflects real life like most of us tend to agree, then wouldn’t you say Sessrin is a (in)direct result of this world’s tendency to place young girls in overly sexual or romantic environments? Where do you think fiction draws its inspiration from? Sure, some of it originates from our imagination, but most of what drives us to create these stories is the real world and the people who live in it.

Fiction is meant to mirror reality, but it’s ridiculous to suggest that it’s only a one-way street. That fiction in no way, shape, or form influences our reality? Or that it only works the other way around? With all due respect, that’s simply not true. No productive discourse can be had if we choose to ignore the truth and don’t come together (at least halfway) to tackle the real issues at hand.

Okay, I think I’ll leave it off there! Thanks so much for reading. I expect this to be my last blog on any topic regarding Inuyasha in the near future. As much as I’ve looked forward to answering all of your asks and writing all the blogs I have over these past almost 5 months, I think it’s best if I spend some time away for now. With the sequel fast approaching, I’m doing what I always do: hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. I’ve met some amazing people along the way, that’s for sure. And who knows, maybe you’ll see me active in the tags sooner than we think. Until then, it’s been an absolute pleasure! Enjoy the sequel, all of you. 💜

#inuyasha #hanyo no yashahime #anti sessrin #it's been real y'all #catch ya on the flipside #(which I hope is in a promising sequel 🤞)

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years ago

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35. This Train Don’t Stop There Anymore (Final Chapter)

I don't want this story to come off as a "No matter what you do to hurt each other, forgive and forget and fall in love." Because it's FAR from that and their relationship is still a little bit dysfunctional in the end, but they're working through it and making it work. I want the moral to be, "If you want to try to work on things, it can happen, but nothing is perfect." Hopefully, that is the journey that you've taken on this wild ride with these two. Thank you for reading, and hopefully, I'll hear from some of you. Word Count: 10484

Hazel was extremely excited and almost frantic in her movements as she tried to get ready for her party. Whenever she first came to live with Grace and she would see those rich girls at school with their name brands and such, she really didn’t think much of them. It actually bothered her a little bit to know that the woman that she would be calling mother was like that at some point.

But, these years later, Hazel understood that they didn’t make themselves rich kids and judging them for it was fun when she wasn’t one of them, but as long as she kept her smarts and her morals, she could be a better rich kid. While she wasn’t “self-made,” per se, she did believe that her talents and personality were what kept her afloat, after having been given a platform by becoming Grace Monroe’s daughter.

Furthermore, she had several ideas for brand building, for Grace, for Simon, and for herself, and one conclusion, that she came to, happened on Father’s Day…

Hazel posted one of her original poems onto her page at the very stroke of Midnight. She told Grace that since Simon is her father and not “father of my child,” then SHE should be able to post her Father’s Day sentiment first. That was certainly agreeable, and they made a deal that Hazel could post at Midnight and Grace would post at noon.

Hazel: (Father's Day Poem)

Guest: Is this confirmation that Grace and Simon are a couple???

Hazel: This is a Father's Day Poem. 🙂

Guest: If Grace is your mom and Simon's your dad, ARE THEY TOGETHER?

Hazel: I posted for my mom on Mother's Day. Today is Father's Day. This post is only about my dad.

Guest: We all knew it! We've won, y'all!

Hazel: Were you all trying to win a Father's Day poem? Because that's what's posted here.

Guest: Thank you for finally breaking the news officially!

Hazel: Breaking the news that Simon is the closest I've come to a father? That’s not really news, but this is really a celebration day for it. Y'all are weird.

Guest: You're being pretty rude to excited fans who are just trying to celebrate.

Hazel: This is a Father's Day poem and "fans" keep trying to drag my mother into it. If you want to celebrate something, might I suggest... Father's Day? Scroll up. There's a poem.

Guest: You take away from the poem by being a very rude person.

Hazel: I don’t care if you like the poem. It was free to you when I absolutely could charge for anything that I ever offer freely on this page. But more importantly, it was actually written for my dad and I know he loves it, so no, I haven’t taken anything away from his poem by not entertaining your entitlement. Au revoir tho.

Her takeaway was, “We really ought to charge people for insight into our lives.” Simon was in another room, handling the invasive trolls on Hazel’s account, instead of just soaking up the joy of having his first official Father’s Day. Grace nodded her head, selecting the perfect photos for her own Father’s Day post.

Hazel watched her select ones from the exclusive and private “Babymoon” that Simon took her on, meanwhile, Hazel was having a retreat with GlamMother at the time, as “We’ll need to be refreshed and ready for that baby coming as well.” Hazel felt that. She also felt left out. She understood that they just wanted some “alone time” before Ivory arrived, but on a deeper level, she took that to mean that they didn’t want her around. She broke into her own thoughts, “Like… Instead of ever having ANYTHING on our pages about our life together, we should have all the photos, comments and stuff elsewhere… like… on a Patreon account or something.”

Grace hummed and offered, “That’s for people trying to get off the ground, but I could definitely speak to your team if you want to try to monetize more of your content.”

“I think we should ALL monetize our content! As a family.”

“That sounds scarily like Shana’s suggestion that we do a reality TV show,” Grace said. Hazel made a face and Grace nodded, “Yeah. Something along the lines of our road to recovery. Showing how we managed to make it from where we were at the time of her interview to where we are now. Of course, I declined vehemently, but Si was willing to potentially do a documentary, which I could handle; but only if it's one of us holding the cameras and ALWAYS recorded with consent.” Grace was very invested in the whole consent thing and Hazel understood to a certain degree.

There were times whenever they were out and about and Simon would have a little, hmmm, should she word it “disagreement” with someone where he would actually take a pause to look towards Grace.

At least twice, Hazel witnessed her say “I consent,” very faintly, right before Simon snapped to action. Hazel wasn’t that young anymore and she had always been both clever and wise, in her opinion, and sometimes in others.’ She knew what siccing looked like, and in her family, it looked like her dad furiously looking at her mom for approval to go off, and her mom saying, “I consent” to prompt him into attack mode. Or perhaps “permit” was more accurate. Grace would then gently remove Hazel from nearby, in case it happened to get physical. She would collect her and shield her, but watch in satisfaction as Simon defended either her or the family.

After a few lawsuits and some potential charges, Simon got a little bit better about leading with his fists. That’s not to say that they didn’t get thrown anymore… but he at least tried to talk to people first… usually like they were a fucking idiot, but that was a step up from that guy who’s face Hazel saw him bust open the day she first called herself his daughter.

Since then, she had helped him create dozens of “Simpsona” tees, and he mostly wore them around the house or the camper, but after today, she could only imagine how he was going to be wearing one every single day of his life to announce, even when he’s silent how much of a simp he was for Grace.

Whenever Grace posted her Father’s Day post, Hazel wasn’t jealous that more people loved it and validated it and were super excited about it… but she didn’t feel it was fair that the tribute from the person who Simon wasn’t father to, got more attention than his daughter’s did.

Rationally, she knew that Grace had been in the public eye for almost as long as she had even been alive, and she knew that Grace had so many avenues of business and fame - professional dancer, the natural beauty industry, internet personality, musician, singer, song writer, and famous former supermodel turned socialite’s daughter, whatever it was that Grandest did to make him more money and more important than GlamMa (hence why Grace would have a massive mountain of fans and stans that cared)… So, Hazel GOT it, but boy did it get to her, on that day of all days.

This was her FIRST Father’s Day, with the first person she ever had the time, heart, and permission to read as her father. There was a Haitain man out there somewhere, who may or may not have known she even existed, and Irish girl that left her under a bush - possibly while too high to think about the consequences, (and countless faces in different houses that never bothered to give her the chance she deserved), but for the years that she ached for them, she finally was in a place where they had been replaced fully. So, she really wanted to be “selfish” and bask in that as the center of attention.

EVEN THOUGH Simon definitely loved her poem and said that he was going to get the handwritten version duplicated and framed so that he could have one in all of his workspaces and stuff, He was wearing his “Grace Monroe’s Babydaddy” shirt and had been beside Grace ever since she hit “post.” She knew that he was much more happy about the fact that after almost 3 years, Grace was finally actually claiming him officially.

He had spent that entire time hoping and wishing and praying and dreaming… or whatever he did for things… working? Whatever. He’d spent the time dedicated to the accomplishment that one day Grace Monroe would call him hers and stop making people wonder. Hazel had always been very open that she knew Simon, cared about him, appreciated his work, wanted to see him do well… and it wasn’t like Grace HADN’T… But, she was always really hushed about what he meant to her when Hazel hadn’t been!! This was their first Father’s Day since Hazel acknowledged him as such and she couldn’t help but to feel overshadowed… Hazel had been his “pupil” before ever becoming his daughter and everyone who followed her knew that Simon mattered and they were close. For the moment, she didn’t even seem to register in his world.

She was staring at Simon, smiling at Grace, a baby on his shoulder (who looked so much like Grace they could be mistaken for each other on side by side baby pics) and his hand playing in Grace’s hair… For a few moments, Hazel felt outside of this family again. Simon and Grace were family long before she came around. She might have slid into the fold whenever they were distant, but now, they were back and they had this perfect baby. Their baby. And she was… “this girl who came to live with them,” for a few moments.

Grace noticed her pondering and smiled, “Haze… you wanna come see some of the stuff people are saying about your dad?”

“No thank you,” Hazel said and forced a smile. She noted the look that Grace and Simon gave each other - the worry - and she laughed, “It’s just that we’ve heard it all before, right? It’s just always been premature, and now… it’s the perfect time. They’ve got everything that they wanted… for free.”

“You are really on this charging the public thing, huh?” Grace asked. Hazel rolled her eyes. Of course, Grace would miss the true point of the statement.

Simon added, “She has a point. We’ve got TWO trust funds to work on now..” You too, Simon? Both of you are so thick! And they merely continued!!!

“We’ve got way more investments into them than trust funds…” Grace corrected him.

“That sides with my notion of ‘she has a point,’ so…?” Grace rolled her eyes and playfully plucked him. He caught her hand and kissed her fingers. Hazel rolled her eyes too now, but mostly because those two were just gross! She longed for the days where they tried to be affectionate behind her back. What a FOOL she felt like for ever pressuring them to do it in plain sight! “I think she should start a magazine,” Simon said, breaking into the fog of frustration brewing in her mind.

Grace gasped and said, “YES! That would be so perfect for her!”

“If she’s interested...”

Neither of them were going to note that Hazel was feeling like an outsider, and maybe it was best that they didn’t. Hazel knew that sometimes, she was simply insecure and it was all her imagination. They loved her just as much as they did Ivory. They loved her like she was their own. They never did anything to make her feel like she wasn’t. She just had to wonder, did they ever feel like it? Did they have days where they looked at her and thought, even for a moment - “this is not my daughter?”

Now, they were both looking at her and she came over to sit, thinking about this magazine idea to help push her insecurities away. If they DID ever think that, what was important was that they ignored it and just continued to love her. What was important was that such thoughts didn’t disrupt their family. That right there was enough proof to her that no matter what, she was theirs and they had her best interests in mind.

“What would I have to do in order to start a magazine?” They made way for her to sit between them and Simon began looking up information on the computer, while Grace searched the contacts in her phone as she breastfed, to figure out who she had connections to that might be able to help with the idea.

Which brings us back to Hazel frantically getting ready… for the release party of her new magazine! She was going to be rolling out a printed version, although there would definitely be more content online. This was why she couldn’t even knock the rich kids anymore… Her mom bought her very own magazine company for her for a fake holiday, mind you. All of the employees and the supplies and information and everything that went into creating a magazine were all under Grace’s umbrella of, “For your No Shell Needed Celebration!”

Hazel hadn’t dissociated via turning into a turtle in almost as long as Grace and Simon had been officially out to her. Grace tossed out the idea of having a celebration for each month that Hazel went without turning into a turtle, but Hazel declined, insisting that she couldn’t control it and it felt like a lot of pressure to know that if it didn’t happen to her, she might get a reward. But, since she once again, was not as simple as some others, she did note that Grace usually got her sweet little “just because” gifts each month (typically around the 7th) - mind you… Hazel’s last turtle episode wasn’t on the 7th. It was on the 4th.

Hazel remembered because it was the day before Grace and Simon sat her down and told her that they were going to actually try to make a romance work between them (The day before what they observe as their anniversary). She remembered, because she had been so conflicted, in having wanted to know details about them, but not really wanting to know this detail, not at that time, at least. But, she had given Grace enough grief the day before, so she said that she was happy about it and then sulked in silence for three days, until Grace brought up the turtle thing and tried to start a celebration, etc.

Hazel figured that whenever she said no, Grace probably put a monthly note in her calendar to do secret celebration things for her anyways. She was feeling like she had put Hazel through a lot that week and Grace always overcompensated upsetting her loved ones with whatever it was she had to offer.

The next November 7th, lo and behold, Grace thought, “Would you like to change out some of the turtle stuff in your room, or do you want to hold on to that?” Hazel still liked turtles and commented that she would like MORE turtles, as a matter of fact, trying to call Grace’s bluff and get her to admit that she was trying to celebrate her not turning into a turtle for a full year… but, the way that Grace’s heart was set up, it was Hazel’s day and if what she wanted was more turtle stuff, that’s what she was getting. Hazel got so much turtle stuff that her friends wondered if she was going through something.

The next year, Hazel informed her, “I know what you’ve been doing, Mom. You celebrate every month that I haven’t had a turtle episode with little gifts rewarding me for being normal, then you want to do something big when I get to another year.”

Grace blushed and brushed Hazel’s hair away from her shoulders, “It’s not about you being normal. I love my little girl and I loved my little turtle. Hazel, you went through a lot and you found a way to cope with things, a way that wasn’t necessarily dangerous or bad, but unique. Celebrating the fact that you don’t do it anymore isn’t so much of me being cheerful that you’re “being normal,” but me being grateful that you don’t feel like you have things that are so hard for you to cope with, with me. I figured… it makes me happy to know that she doesn’t have to be a turtle, so I’m gonna do something nice and make her happy today, too. I always felt like you went inside of yourself, created that shell because it was the only place that you could feel at home.” She squeezed her tightly, kissed her hair and grunted, “I love you sooooo much. I’m so lucky you found your home with me.”

Hazel started crying. Grace was really good at making her cry. But, she was also really good at giving her comforting hugs and cheer up gifts. So, immediately after that, she restocked her entire WorkBox 3.0 and they set up a sundae bar in the kitchen.

Simon… didn’t interfere. He felt like a lot of the things that Grace did was very overboard/unnecessary, but he also remembered being a teenager and wanting SO MANY things, but not being able to have them and Grace simply asking her parents for stuff and giving it to him. Her parents rarely batted an eye and she didn’t mind asking them for material things, even knowing that she wasn’t going to use them. It was never on the level of the things that she gave Hazel, but Hazel was her daughter, not her friend from school, and it was her money to do whatever she wanted to do with it. Grace’s love language was definitely in gifts.

He supposed that he was instrumental in that. He had given her gifts when they were young and gotten others to do so as well, and being her first and only friend and love… she might have incorporated that practice into how she perceived love. Maybe that was why no matter how mean her parents were, she loved them so much she couldn’t stand to disappoint them. They were constantly giving her stuff. Then again… everybody gave her stuff… well… he didn’t know for sure, but he wanted to take some credit for how she modeled her love life.

Plus, Hazel was a good kid. She deserved anything that her heart desired and if Grace could and would give it to her, he was in full support of that… even when it seemed stressfully irresponsible in his brain.

This year, at least she was giving Hazel a gift that could potentially give back. Because Hazel would have, if nothing else, the first looks at things inside the Monroe/Laurent household, their business, their promos and such… and she would likely be able to get some fresh scoops from their friends and business associates, too.

For instance, Shana conducted an interview with Simon in which they speak about their past - her old feud with the Apex in school, the assault outside of the prom, the interview with Grace (how he felt about it and their alliance), her attacking him in the elevator, whether or not the Wicked Heiress in Esmoroth was meant to be her (she definitely was), and where they would be going from here, since she was still friends with Grace and he didn’t appear to be going anywhere any time soon… That interview would be exclusively found in MonDoe Magazine, or with the premium subscription to the website.

Tulip was hired to design the website and upkeep. Grace kept as much as possible within her ecosystem. Hazel’s friends were contributors, and she drew a logo that was a triangle with red lips in the center, which was placed as an overlay for her, Lucy and Lindsay holding hands in a triangle formation, then the lips would say in Hazel’s voice, “New Apex Publishing.”

She and Simon played around a lot with different designs and names before she decided that she adored the thought of being the new mother of a new Apex (the old ones all sort of defected either to Grace’s brand or the Esmoroth fandom) and neither of them used Apex anymore (though they still saw it in hashtags and stuff). “I want to be as big as she is,” Hazel had said, a glimmer in her eyes. “Someday.”

“You’re great, Haze!” Simon offered.

“I know that. I don’t just want to be great. I want to be Grace …” He seemed alarmed and she even shocked herself in saying it, and cleaned it up, “...like.” She fumed a little, “Please just admit that me at 13 and her at 13 are so very different and you probably wouldn’t have even been friends with me if you knew me in school!”

His eyes widened and he winced, trying to figure out a good way to answer that without telling her that she was absolutely right. “I wasn’t friends with anyone else at 13,” he said. “And yes… you and Grace are very different, but… I think you’ve definitely got an advantage on her. You have two involved parents. You have a genuinely supportive community. You had an early start online and already have a pretty massive following. Hers didn’t gain traction until high school. You have several of your own companies to inherit. You’ve… gotten your healing from the shit that is life much sooner... If you were to ask Grace, I’d bet that she wished she was more like you at your age, than to have been stuck with just me as backup, getting ready to rush head forward into high school and let public opinion mold her into something she didn’t even like being.” He took a deep breath and said, “Grace was the kind of person who people met and just wanted to be near and wanted to be like, and that pressure made her want to be everything that we wanted her to be. She only became the version of Grace-like that you know after a lot of hard times and hard work that neither of us would ever want for you. Besides, we love Hazel in this house. We stan.”

“God, you two are such A-holes!” Hazel said, wiping her tears. “Always making me feel super loved and therefore making me CRY.”

“We’re gonna keep super loving you. For the rest of our lives.” He grabbed her into a one armed hug and kissed her on the top of her head.

“The rest of your lives… do you two… like… talk about that?” He scoffed and shook his head. “Am I able to ask why?” Simon sighed and chewed on his lip, tilting his head to try to figure out if this was one of those things where it was his responsibility to explain or Grace’s right to. That was one of the harder parts of parenting with somebody that you’d hurt so badly. You had to consider things and approach them in ways that untarnished

trust/relationships just didn’t.

“What do you know about the Sweet 16 Party?”

“Only that it was, and I quote “too much,” or maybe it was “a lot,” it’s been years since this subject came up and it’s usually shut down real quickly.”

Simon sat up and rubbed his hands together, preparing himself, “Okay. Well, my parents weren’t very festive after my sister died. They’d get me presents and a cake, sing happy birthday pretty miserably, and then just kinda go. So, around, well… I guess it happened for our 13th birthdays, Grace got her folks to sort of graft me into her birthday parties, since she had just as few friends, just as detached parents, and our birthdays are a month apart. It was really great. We loved being able to celebrate together, even though we usually had REAL celebrations on our actual birthdays that were just the two of us. But, Sweet 16 was different. It was different because by then I was obsessively in love with Grace and unhealthily close to her parents. I had convinced myself that we were supposed to be together, so I used everything to my advantage to try to coax her into being my girlfriend. Then, I got really upset with her when she tried to tell me that she didn’t know if she wanted to be, so… she just… let me have my way.”

“What happened?” Hazel’s eyes were wide and she looked both apprehensive, but intrigued. He knew he had made the right call. It was his responsibility to tell this story. Grace would have been hurting to have to admit to telling her the things that Simon had done to her back then, now that they were a family.

“I made a huge production, with a massive audience, put her in the center of the spotlight and asked her out in front of everybody whose opinions of her mattered, most of all, mine. I put her in that position and stood right in front of her, in front of everyone and made her feel obligated to give me an answer.” Hazel looked disgusted. “Yeah. And just like you realize that she would hate that, I knew it too. But, I knew that she couldn’t say no. I knew that my chances would be greater in that situation. Whenever I finally asked her to give me a chance again… It was very casual. We were on the phone and I playfully threw it out there. Of course, after she said yes, I sort of got carried away, but she reigns me in whenever I do that, now. She’s already forgiven me a lot of stuff, but there’s a lot of stuff that I can tell is never gonna leave her mind. I just feel like I don’t know if we’ll ever be in the position for me to be able to bring up something like… THAT. Asking her to marry me would probably just make her feel pressured.”

“You’ve been in the position to pop a baby in her, I think you could manage to pop the question,” Hazel said.

He smiled, “Why, Hazel, while worded a bit crudely, am I to understand that I am getting your blessing right now?”

“Why, Dad, you had my blessing whenever I even let you in this place. What did you think I was doing? Helping my mother to select some boy toy? I absolutely would have gone with someone less scraggly and more muscular for that.”

“Hazel!”

“I’m just saying, if he’s just for play or for show, WHY would I choose you?”

“You do realize that instead of roasting me in this setting, all you’ve managed to do is heighten my dad's senses in the event a non scraggly buff dude is present, right?”

“Psssht. I don’t care about dudes. That part of hormones hasn’t hit me yet, I guess.”

“Thank God. May they never. May you be ace, like your mom.”

“Well, that’s short sighted. It didn’t stop her from making very questionable romantic choices - having sex, getting pregnant, getting an abortion…”

“Okay! Okay! Please, no more, thank you.” He thought for a while and then wondered, “Has she ever mentioned anything about it?” Hazel looked a bit horrified. “Not THAT. God. About… us… the future…”

“Umm… not specifically. I’ve gotten the idea that she doesn’t really zhush with marriage in general, maybe? But, she talks about you like you’ll always be here. ‘Whenever you graduate, me and Simon can do this thing.’ Or, ‘whenever you have a place of your own, please have mercy on us with babysitting fees, because Simon is so paranoid and would bring kids anywhere’… like… at least the near future, she sees you two together.”

“Whether or not it happens, I’m still always gonna be here for you, Hazel.”

“I know, Struggle Beard.”

“It’s a full healthy beard!”

“For a bird.” He laughed and covered his beard up. “Or like… a little bug with a hat on.” He tried to glare at her, but her face was straighter than his can

Grace noticed that Simon was acting bizarre… er, than usual. Sure, he was spending a lot more time at the studio, now that filming was underway, and he definitely still wanted to be sure that he was checking in with her, Hazel and Ivory. But, something was off about him. Father’s Day evening was very much a life altering experience for her, but she knew that her body was a *little* different than it had been prior to pregnancy and even though pregnancy made her very physical and they had been intimate the whole way through, especially the Babymoon, she didn’t know if it bothered him that she wasn’t *as* perfect as before.

Monty’s first birthday, she began to notice his behavior. He was very much into celebrating Monty’s day, but he also talked to her mother in secret a lot and whenever her father came around, he got all cheery and fake. He was up to something, but when she asked, he changed the subject to how it was sad that Ivory couldn’t have any cake because they were too young, which got her on the subject of how Ivory was too young to even care and distracted her from her initial concerns.

She was a little more stressed out caring for an infant than she had been in the early months of mothering Hazel, but she definitely was not making Hazel help, so she sometimes had to do things on her own or insist that Simon figure out how to set the time aside. Sometimes… it almost felt like he was avoiding her, but that didn’t make much sense as whenever he did come around, he was all up under her and the baby and his hardest clingy. He was hiding something, and she didn’t know what, but he eventually told her that he had something that he wanted to tell her.

She prepared herself for bad news, simply because even though Simon didn’t tend to give her much bad news, he only seemed pressed about bad news and he was definitely in a state of unrest. Ivory was about 3 months old and Grace set them on their play mat on the floor, so that whatever Simon was about to say wouldn’t affect them.

“There are things that you do that nobody else is capable of doing,” he said. She felt her heart accelerate. Was that a declaration of appreciation, or the precursor to something messed up? “And lately, with this movie happening, I’ve met so many more people and you’ve had your own stuff happening too, with the new mommy blog and stuff…”

This sounds like he’s about to tell me that he’s met someone. I can handle that, can’t I? I can. I’ll have to. What am I gonna do? Kill him? I’m not a murderer… but none of those women on Snapped were murderers before their episode of Snapped, either. “You’re a musical genius, even if the charts don’t necessarily recognize that yet. You play all these instruments and you make honestly great stuff…”

What? Did I miss something? Did he tell me what woman is about to get him killed? It better not be Abigail. She’s a good nanny, but I’d feel obligated to get her fired if my man is trying to leave me for her. And if he thinks he’s taking my baby with him… “So, if you have any time, and can manage it, I really need you to be in charge of the music department…”

She blinked away tears and asked, “What?”

“I know… it’s asking a lot, especially because I’m not sure that the studio would pay you what I believe that you’re worth, but…”

“You want me to work on the music for your movie?” She asked, tears streaming down now, relieved tears, scared tears… she actually scared herself a lot for a moment there.

“Umm… yes… you’re crying, so I don’t know if that’s because of this or something else?”

“I…” she laughed and wiped her eyes, “I thought you were about to break up with me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know! You were acting weird, Man!” She had her hand over her heart and he took it into his, kissed her fingers and shook his head.

“Yeah, but it was ‘I hate asking Grace for big favors’ weird. Break up with you? In what fucking world?”

“You’ve broken up with me before!” She said and flailed her arms.

He opened his mouth and shut it. “Oh my God, I honestly keep blocking that part out. Mentally, I feel like you broke up with me first, but I keep being reminded that we were actually still together when I did the… shit.” he tilted his head, “Technically, we never broke up.”

“Umm… if you didn’t consider that confession to me, followed by a punch in the mouth a break up, then I don’t want to hear another word about my little misunderstanding just now.” Simon flinched thinking about that and she flinched seeing him flinch. She didn’t mean to bring it up. Sure, he’d deserved it that day, but it was a pretty triggering day and combined with some of the things that she knew about how his mom was, she felt bad that she mentioned it.

“But, sure, of course I’ll work on movie music! My first soundtrack? That’s great to me! In fact… you’ve… listened to Meta’s stuff, right? What would you think about me cutting a track with Meta for The Future King’s theme?”

She was SUPER excited, already. “Like, can you imagine Meta rapping whenever whatever blond waif boy steps onto the scene and he’s like (imitates Meta’s deep, soft voice and NY accent, “All of my life, I believed that I was never going to be anything but a peasant; but I suddenly knew that wasn’t true, whenever I first looked at you...”

Simon’s eyes twinkled, “This is why I love you. Do you know how many writers want to see the most beautiful woman alive recite lines from their work?” She just smiled. Of course she knew his work. She had that line highlighted in her copy of the first book. That was absolutely Simon speaking through a character.. “And… wow… I wouldn’t have ever considered a rapper for FK’s theme, but Meta’s style is somehow perfect for him.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’ll have him actually rap, or if I would just have him doing more of a spoken word thing over like that fantasy music that all those epic movies loved so much, but remixed with a beat… as a matter of fact…” she thought for a moment, “My dude… if I put the R612 beat over some of that with the…” (she sang a high pitched, haunting sort of sound and made a wave gesture with her hand), “and throw Meta’s contrasting deep ass voice on there, just spitting lyrics, that would be the epitome of FK’s inner thoughts verses him always hearing the voice of the Idol Princess, even when she’s nowhere around!”

Simon clenched his fists, “I fucking love you, Grace.” She collected him into a hug, then got up and rushed to get to creation. Having Grace actually read his work was one thing he couldn’t imagine in his late teens, but after she faced that hoard of ugly Esmoroth fans, he never thought she would ever warm up to the lore… then she read book 3 and she had been a fangirl ever since. She even went back and reread the series herself and made an audio version for Simon’s website.

He looked at Ivory, kicking their legs around on the circular mat and drooling on a toy. They looked JUST like their mother and he picked them up and played with them while she was off, doing the thing she loved doing, and doing it for Simon, specifically. He smiled. “I really love your mom, you know that?” Ivory pushed their slobbery toy right into his mouth. “Ughghgh. Disrespectful.” They laughed at him and he laughed too, taking away their weapon of mass disgust. “I’m gonna ask mommy to marry me… I don’t know when. I think… I think she’ll say yes.” Ivory was staring at his mouth. “You are a baby. You are only 3 months old. You literally have no idea what is happening. You just wanna know where is the thing that you cover in saliva and assault daddy with, probably.” He handed the toy back and set them back down, then laid next to them. “I think I’ll do it next month. I have plans…”

Grace came rushing back into the room and said, “I know EXACTLY how I want the Idol Princess’ theme to go AND I have already gotten my close music friends excited about it, but I need to like… get you to get with them on the contract stuff.”

“Yeah, just have your assistant send me contact info for everybody that you wanna work with…” Grace let out a gleeful squeak and she rushed out of the room again. “I love when she’s happy…”

Grace tended to stress herself out whenever she worked really hard on something that didn’t seem to be going her way. Some of the work on this album was going to be out of pocket. She wasn’t concerned about that. She was concerned about the fact that her vision wasn’t being materialized because her demands weren’t being met. “I need to be able to use that song. The hook is perfect. I KNOW it’s a Christian song and that the Christians at large have already spoken on Esmoroth and their disapproval. Get me the use of the song, though. Because, I am SURE that my lawyers can wiggle around if I use it anyway, but I’m trying to be nice about this shit!” She hung up and Hazel bounced Ivory on her lap as Grace tried some breathing exercises.

“The song sounds dope, but it doesn’t have to be on the soundtrack. You can put it on your fanpage.”

“No!” Grace snapped, then took a deep breath, softened her voice and said, “No, Haze. It has to be on the soundtrack. It has to be.” She hugged herself and Hazel texted Simon. She didn’t know exactly what was wrong, but Grace was not okay, obviously. She sat back down and began to mess with the dials slowing things down and mixing. Hazel played with the baby while Grace played with the song. “Serve me. Serve me with your whole heart…” “Never let me go, never let me go..”

Simon didn’t take very long to arrive. He was scheduled to pick up the kids anyway. “You’re not coming home?” he asked.

“Uh uh. This is not blending right. Something is off, even though I know this is a perfect mash up.” She played herself singing and heard Simon quietly tell Hazel to go into the camper and get comfortable. “Just leave me, Si. I have to work on this.” Hazel took Ivory away and Simon leaned against the table, looking down at Grace until she stopped to look back at him.

“You’ve gotta get some rest.”

“And I will,” she said and raised an eyebrow, daring him to challenge her.

He was feeling confident tonight. He got on his knees and turned her to face him. She froze and stared at him, her heart jumped into her throat as she wondered what he was doing. Then, he just hugged her. She sighed and rested against him, enclosing her legs around him and laid her head on his shoulder. She didn’t realize that she needed that, but she had. “Okay. I’ll let it go for tonight,” she said softly.

Only until the next day, though. She was back in the studio, bright and early, perfecting the song and whenever she stepped into the box to sing, Hazel was there to help out. “So… Miss Monroe, Miss Ma’am, Mommy… Ummm… What happened with the note, Mother, Dear?” She pointed to her throat, “Are we having a situation?

“I guess I missed it?” Grace asked, looking a little bit sad.

“You did. But, we can hit it again. You need some tea?”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows, working on aome tech as he sat in the studio with Hazel and other producers helping Grace. “ A little mean, huh?”

“I’m helping to drive her towards Graceness,” Hazel said with a shrug.

“Well… do it nicer, please,” Simon suggested. “She’s been super sensitive lately.”

“It’s the pregnancy,” Hazel said. Simon rolled his eyes, then he paused and thought for a moment, trying to recall when the last time she had a period was. “Mmm Hmm. We were synched up beforehand. She had a baby and I was waiting to see if we’d sync up again and lo and behold, I have not seen one sign of a period anywhere.” Simon tilted his head and Hazel wondered, “Shall we take five?”

“Yes, please.”

“Take five, Moms. We’ll come back to the note.” She smiled as Grace removed her headphones and set them down.

Simon came in and she smiled. “Here to give me a pep talk after how Hazel just absolutely demolished me?”

“No. I mean, I talked to her about it, but I was actually wondering, Haze and I were wondering… has your cycle started back up? Since Ivory was born?”

Now, Grace furrowed her eyebrows. She hadn’t thought about it. “Well… No, but I’ve also been working super hard and I also sometimes have that whole athletic amenorrhea going on. I hardly had any periods whenever I was at Julliard.”

“But, since then, you did, right?”

“I mean… yes. But, it’s also very stressful having this movie, this relocation, this new baby, this soundtrack and the score all happening, so I might just be stressed out. I’ll take a test, if that makes you feel better.”

Immediately following the positive test, she called the New Page center to make an appointment and wondered how she would explain that she was potentially a couple of months pregnant without having noticed anything being off at all. They were fortunately very understanding about it and made her feel like it was completely normal. She most likely got pregnant on Father’s Day and she and several of the doctors at the center made jokes about how fertile one of them was. Charlotte reminded her that they could do tests, if she needed to know (in case one of them wanted to have a procedure to reduce future pregnancies).

She and Simon thumb wrestled to determine who was the fertile one between them, blaming each other for Grace “always getting pregnant” vs Simon “always getting her pregnant.”

Hazel reminded them, “Thumb wrestling has no bearing on whose reproductive system is more active.” Simon had his tongue out as he struggled to get Grace’s little nimble but somehow powerful thumbs down. She won and got up to twerk right in his face in the victory that HE was the reason that they kept having pregnancies. He didn’t seem to mind his ‘loss.’ “You guys are gonna be sorry whenever I write a play about this.” Simon’s 26th birthday was nearing, but he had so much of what he had always envisioned for his life happening that he didn’t really want to have any type of elaborate celebration, but Hazel had situated his photoshoot for the dedication that he intended to put up for the MonDoe website around that time.

The three of them were all so very busy that Simon’s birthday wish was a few days to just rest with his family. They would unplug, have cake, pamper each other, have a family sleepover with cuddles, talk and maybe share some of their upcoming plans.

Nobody wanted to rush through this pregnancy or neglect to do any of the things that had been done with Ivory (although they discovered them sooner), and were all less busy in the duration of the pregnancy), so Hazel suggested that for the trimesterly family maternity shoots, they do something like this period of rest that Simon took for them and create the shoots in home, like Grace used to create her looks and videos. Once again, with the great ideas. Between the three of them, they could make every shoot work and appear to be professional calibur.

Since Grace’s birthday was around the end of the first trimester and they knew they would set aside time for it, that was when Hazel planned the first maternity shoot for. This was also a perfect time for Simon to get something off of his chest, as well. Mrs. Monroe had begrudgingly given him a ring that was a family heirloom. She took some work, but at the end of the day, she knew that this was a man that her daughter wanted to be with and if she chose to do so for the rest of her life, so be it. So, while Hazel was taking the couple shots, and had Ivory in a playpen and Samantha in a cozy carrier, Simon took both of Grace’s hands, and began to talk to her.

Hazel was actually recording, because she knew that she could always come back and select stills, but she didn’t want to miss any of this.

“10 years ago, I made a huge spectacle to ask you to be my girlfriend. There were too many people and there was too much pressure. I guess deep down I was trying to trick you. I knew that the time wasn't right but I wanted you to feel like it was, so I set it up in a way that I got what I wanted. Only it wound up being what neither of us wanted.

So tonight there's just me and you. I've already talked to Hazel. We have Ivory, we have each other. I know that we're a family but I want us to be official. I want to adopt Hazel. I want all the paperwork we can get. I want the rest of my life to be spent as yours.

I'm not sure exactly what you think I deserve, but it's only right that I tell you my intention: And I want to be able to be Mr. Grace Monroe…”

Grace was in tears. She looked over at Hazel, who was smiling, and waiting. Simon pulled out the ring that had been in her family for several generations and had its own display case in her household her entire life, in the vault. The only way Simon could have gotten this was if her parents had given it to him… which meant he would have had their blessing… both of them… She nodded her head and extended her hand. Hazel squealed and she turned the camera around, “I’m gonna have a whole family! Not like the family I’ve had for the past few years, but like a FAMILY, in every sense of the word!” She was crying, overwhelmed and breathing hard. Eventually two pairs of adult arms found her and wrapped her up tight.

She confessed how she had been feeling bout the family dynamic and her place in it, bringing up the fact that Simon didn’t even always trust her by herself with Ivory, to which he of course had to explain and remind her that it was a trauma response to having accidentally killed his sister when he was younger and in no way a reflection of his feelings for her, and certainly, she CERTAINLY was their daughter.

Ivory was still a baby. The attention that they needed was crucial to their development, but Hazel was always going to be both their little girl AND their firstborn.

They didn’t share the video. Only stills of the maternity shoot, and because Hazel was so excited about it, the engagement ring. Once again, the fan base went wild, but this time, Hazel was chill with it and spent most of the night going through and liking supportive comments.

Fans were asking Grace how to get their trash men and exes to turn it around and simp like Simon, and she's like, "I don't know. Ask him," prompting him to get back into the swing of social media, after his long break from it for his new fun thing “Simp Like Simon.”

His first installment, Hazel is in the background, staring at him with complete judgement. "It was always gonna be like this for me" was the caption of that one.

"Ladies, do not hesitate to use your body as a weapon. If Grace isn't happy, I don't get cookies. If I want even a shot at cookies, guess what? Grace being happy all the time is my goal."

Hazel squealed, “Ho my God!” And could be seen in the background, picking up the cat from the floor and leaving the frame. But, he continued answering questions, whether or not they seemed real.

“Grace keeps me in line by positive reinforcement, sometimes of the affectionate persuasion…”

Grace appeared on the screen beside him, "No. No, that's inaccurate. Stop that," and he immediately stopped, "Good job," she cooed and touched his chin and of course, he merely sat there, gushing. “Will you wrap this up soon? My birthday is tomorrow.”

“I’m right behind you,” he said and unceremoniously stopped the feed. He was about to be given Birthday+Engagement bedtime, so nothing else mattered.

Well… She went to make sure that Ivory was settled in the nursery and Hazel was settled for the night, but then, they celebrated in that way that had become a merging of every sense of their being, a manifestation of every emotional charge between the two. He rested in her arms, his back against her and her arms around him with their fingers joined together. She wondered, “Do you really want to be “Mr. Grace Monroe,” or is that one of your many extreme displays to try to prove yourself to me?”

He took a deep breath and admitted, “My family name doesn’t mean much to me. My family doesn't mean much to me. Ever since we were little, whenever I think about family, I think about you. Sure, I didn’t realize whenever I met you that it would ever be this way and whatever hope that I had whenever I came back to find you over and over again was innocent at some point, then convoluted, and now it's in its purest shape, I think. With my clearest mind ever and my most open heart, I know that you let me into your family a long time ago. You shared your parents. You shared your daughter. You’ve shared yourself. I’ve been indebted to you. I am Mr. Grace Monroe. The Laurent kid died in the hospital.”

“Ummm… My child is named Ivory NeoVon Laurent Monroe.”

“Asterisk our child, and you insisted on putting it in there.”

“I felt like something had to buffer that NeoVon from MY last name,” she joked.

He suddenly became serious, “Do you hate their middle name?”

“No. I think it has the potential to be a name that they hate when they’re older, but they can change it, if that’s the case. But, it’s a cute callback to Book 2. Seriously… are you sure you’re not at all concerned with being a man and taking a woman’s last name? My mother’s family migrated to England from Nigeria, and she took my dad’s name. I have my ancestors’ slave owner. I could have been Grace Adewale, and I might die mad about it. You WANT to be a Monroe?”

“Of the Monroe Square Monroes? Hell yeah.”

“Ugh. What about your French heritage?”

“Woman… My dad is from Louisiana. Have you seen how white he is? You’re going to tell me that his French ass ancestors didn’t own slaves?”

“Your dad looks like he owns slaves, right now .”

Simon cackled and uttered, “I hate you so much for that.”

“Same. This is even more tasteless than that time when we were laughing about my dad molesting you.”

“WHEN WE WERE WHAT?” She laughed harder now. He could barely talk through his own laughter, “Your dad molested me and we were laughing? That DIDN’T happen!”

“Noooo. You don’t remember that time when I asked if my dad was your sugar daddy and you were like, ‘I’d suck his dick for tuition,’ or whatever?” Now they both howled, and she had to pee, but couldn’t tell him as she tried catching her breath through laughter tears and pushing him off of her. “Peee!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I know I have never said that before in my life. I’d maybe give a handy, but I don’t have the gag reflex to suck a dick and your dad’s probably PACKING!” She screamed laughing and shoved him off of her to go to the bathroom.

She was naked and partially running and laughing (which he also found funny, now) and she peed on the floor almost as soon as she got into the bathroom. She can't stop laughing and she's like there's pee on the floor he can't stop laughing and he still doesn't remember whatever the Hell she's talking about and then they got to clean up pee?

“DAMMIT, I peed!” She was in pain from laughter, but still couldn’t stop. The peeing actually made her start more.

“You PEED??? You’re only like 3 months pregnant!”

“This was both post sex AND you made me laugh and then you laid on me too… In fact, you should have to clean this up.”

“I will clean it up because I’m a good husband to be, but I’m certainly gonna be calling you piss nicknames until I get tired.”

“Noooo, Simon!”

“The Long Piss Goodnight. Piss It Better…” She laughed and turned on the shower while he grabbed some cleaner out of the cabinet. “Piss and Say Goodbye..”

The calm warned her to worry, but she couldn’t be bothered to do so. Because, this little secret ceremony was about to be everything in the world to her. They rented out a barn at the pumpkin patch, invited only immediate family and closest friends, then enjoyed the pumpkin patch for the first time since they were kids, this time with their own kids.

The wedding itself was small and of course, not traditional. Mrs. Monroe was absolutely scandalized that they had decided to go this route, but with Simon not having many friends (none that he would want to be a part of his wedding), Grace lent him Iza, Meta, and Tulip, and she had Shana, Chapa, and Mikayl on her side, with Damita being her Maid of Honor and Hazel being Simon’s Best Kid.

They took photos with Samantha and Ivory, too. Mrs. Monroe would be impressed with how it turned out in photos, despite the way she felt inside of the barn. The bridesmaids helped Grace to change afterwards and instead of a reception, it was an afternoon in the pumpkin patch… the place where Simon first fell in love. They weren’t announcing it.

Hazel enjoyed the hayride and the food and drinks and she and Simon selected several pumpkins that they were going to carve masterpieces into and Simon would make all kinds of pumpkin goodies for Grace.

“Happy November the 5th” came around with nothing but that caption alone and one photo of Grace and Simon kissing at their wedding, with Hazel in a regal pose near them, Samantha in her finest suit, in the girl’s arms, and the baby in a high chair, decorated for purposes that could only be thought of as wedding like.

The family was much too preoccupied with their energy shifted to Hazel’s magazine release on the 7th to do much beyond that via the internet and social media. Hazel was in shambles, somehow. She had been conducting behind the scenes events and managing various productions since she was 10 - everything from helping Grace, to the tasks she did in the theater program at school in New York, to even being on set with Simon and being allowed to share feedback. But, this was totally different.

When she first got her own business, she was too young to comprehend what was even happening. Grace asked her basics - would she like this or that, what did she think of a certain design, testing natural products on her to see how they worked for her hair or skin type, and whatnot. This. Was. Her. Baby. Suddenly, the day of, EVERYTHING was corny. EVERYTHING was cringy! EVERYTHING was cruel and she was in a panic.

“I’m gonna turn into a turtle on my anniversary of not turning into a turtle!” She said, getting ready to A. Cry and B. Turn into a turtle.

“This came out SO AWESOME!” She heard Lindsay cheer and she turned to see her with the clique - Lucy, Alex, Todd, and a few other kids that she knew were New Apex but hadn’t had the chance to meet yet. Lucy and Lindsay gushed over all of the work put into things and how well it all looked.

Lucy was excited for her parents to see her own contributions, as she was given a segment that they called “That’s My Folks,” which focused on kids speaking about what their parents did for a living or what they were known for and how it affected them, as their children. The first release of that segment would cover Lucy, Lindsay, and of course Hazel. Lucy worked very hard on it and Hazel’s earlier stress smoothed over while she cheered her on.

Lindsay was in charge of “Own Own Devices,” which focused on fun, safe, and exciting ways for children to entertain themselves and sometimes others, in various cities (New York and LA being the ones that she was most used to), and also when at home by yourself. Most of hers and Lucy’s social media for the past few months had been almost predominantly promoting their best friend’s magazine that they were excited to be a real part of.

Hazel adjusted the glittering leaf embellishments in her head, made sure that her huge ponytail was looking great, and led her guests to their seats, in a reserved section up front with her. Mom would be on soon. Grace opened the release, clearly pregnant now, though it added to her performance to have a 5 month pregnant singer and dancer in the center of a children’s dance team that would be highlighted in the first installment. She performed the theme from The Mighty Tuba and Her Musical Friends, which Hazel had grown out of by this point, but had sentimental value, as it had always seen her through tough times in her childhood, a remixed version of Introducing Hazel Doe, and she gave opening words.

Simon had on his Hazel Doe Monroe: The Child Celeb Blueprint, under his open blazer and a pair of jeans that she had covered in her artwork with celtic leaves. He told everyone about his first meeting with Hazel, how this magazine idea came about (his idea), and how hard she worked and was always working in every medium that she was interested in.

Mrs. Monroe had thousands of different tiered swag bags created for most of the guests. Mr. Monroe was there, too, despite usually not getting involved with the entertainment things that his daughter and her family did. Performances closed out with Grace and Hazel doing Hazel’s newest song - one that she had written and produced herself, with Grace as backup in the studio. Grace would normally do the choreography for a big performance. Whenever Hazel learned dances from her, she tended to also pick up faces from Grace, so that at certain parts, they would both stick their tongue out or make a stank face, or whatever Grace’s face did in certain parts of a dance where they were really eating it. But, whenever Hazel choreographed and Grace learned from her, there was a similar but equal reaction of Grace becoming Hazel’s hype woman and this particular number she had yelled out a lengthy “DOE!”

It became a thing that all of the fanbase picked up on and when Grace and Hazel were both dancing, a loud chorus went through the audience of “DOE!” At all of the perfect times.

When the performances were over, there was still music and much of it was Grace, her friends, and Hazel. There was a huge sized canvas for people to sign, like it was a guest list, and some even left artwork, well wishes and little poems of their own. “Happy No Shell Needed Day!” Grace said, admiring the room. She had changed into her own denim pantsuit, though of course, hers looked like high end fashion. She had her hair twisted back into locs and had them pulled up and wrapped up in a blue headwrap, the pantsuit (which was sort of like a romper) had a doe patch, New Apex symbol, and the hashtag #Doenizens on it.

Hazel blushed and gave her a big hug. Simon was working the room, exaggerating his hand movements to show off his wedding ring, with Ivory in a pouch he was wearing.

Ivory’s First Co. was being worked on and Grace juggled her work on that, her next maternity blog, “Mommy’s Killing It,” new products for her health and beauty brand, along with Hazel’s, the score, the soundtrack, finding someone to handle the music video, and being a supportive mother, wife, and friend. Hazel’s magazine was a success. She became more popular and followed than her mother and father! That had not even been her goal, but she loved to see it.

Also, her mom became much more open. The magazine gave her another way to express things that wasn’t merely screaming into the void on the Internet, or worse, just telling all those people her business and letting them judge her. It also gave Hazel one of her favorite quotes to describe her parents, one that she had asked her mom to give her for a response in the inescapable event that people asked her, Hazel, why on Earth after all of that, did her mom actually MARRY Simon Laurent?

“You can’t undo some pain and you don’t just get over things that truly hurt you, sometimes. Sometimes, you revisit them numerous times and eventually, something may work… we’ve both found that we’re willing to try…”

THE END

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 4 years ago

Text

Being Simon

Chapter 1: The Past

Chapter 1/2 (All chapters)

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 8493

Summary: Simon's type of therapy is...unusual to say the least. He has the incredible chance to go back in time to fix what he regrets. However, things get more complicated when Simon meets someone very interesting in the past.

Read on AO3

AN: Ahahahaha I did it!!! I finished a fic! That's a big achievement for me nowadays tbh. This has taken forever because stupid fucking health, but I did it! Of course I'm not 100% good with it but I'm still proud. Being Erica is one of my fave shows ever and is severely underrated imo. Then I saw this post and was like "oh damn that would be great for snowbaz." Now like three-four months late, here we are! Big thank you to @carryonmylovelies as always. She has been a big support for me through this writing slump. I couldn't be more grateful for her <3

World basics: time travel therapy is a thing, no further explanation given, and going back in time to fix past regrets teaches patients how to live better in the present. Patients take over their past selves' bodies for a bit. Patients can return from the past either suddenly or by stepping through doors. So just imagine Simon doing that. Saying much more is spoilers.

I’m gonna post chapter 1 today, then chapter 2 sometime within the next week. Hopefully y'all like it!

———————————————

You know that guy who’s got it all? A perfect job, a perfect partner, wonderful family, a life that people are secretly jealous of? You know that guy, everyone knows that guy. Unfortunately, I am not that guy.

My name is Simon Snow, and I’m a fuck up. But I’m getting better.

“Mr. Snow, Mr. Snow!” Cassidy shouts, waving her hand, “I know the answer!”

“Cass,” I say, “what did we say about inside voices?”

She pouts and crosses her arms. “Keep the volume down for all those around.”

“Exactly. Now, try again.” Cassidy raises her arm with no added sound effects. I point my chalk at her. “Cassidy, what’s the answer?”

She puts her hand down, grinning wide. “It’s 42.”

I hold my hand out to her. “Nice job, Cassy, right on the money.”

She gives me a big high five. The feeling of accomplishment surges through me. God, I love this job. My old customer service work made me feel dead inside. Day in, day out, same old fucking garbage from garbage customers. It was just never something I wanted to do. Now I get to see a little girl smile, and I helped her smile. Yeah, little self centred, but I’ll take it.

“Patrick,” I say, “can you tell me how we can find 8 times 4?”

Patrick nods and starts rattling off the technique he’s come up with. It’s a bit odd and round about but all his. That’s what I love about kids, the strange and unique things their little minds come up with. It’s why I wanted to be a teacher in the first place, before I lost my way.

The bell rings and everyone's on their feet immediately. “Alright everyone,” I shout over the clamour, “make sure to finish chapter three for tonight. And get your worksheets done! We’re going to go over them with a fine toothed comb. Have a good weekend, kids.”

“Bye, Mr. Snow,” they all parrot back. I wave them off, then start on my laptop. Being a teacher means having a lot of paperwork. (Or Google Doc work, I guess.) Everything is in mismatched folders and I have to scour them for my lesson plan draft. Unfortunately, I’m still not great at organization, but I’m working on it. I’m working on a lot in my life.

My phone rings. I look up from my screen, and notice there’s no sunlight from the windows. Holy shit, how long have I been sitting here? I quickly grab my phone. “Hello?”

“Simon!” Todd shouts. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Oh, uh, hi Todd.” Fuck, what did I do this time? “I-I’m still at work...”

He scoffs. “Of course you are. Shit, Simon, I’ve been sitting at Casper’s for an hour!”

My heart drops. I look down at my watch. It’s 6:34. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, love, I just totally lost track of time-”

“Yeah, I guessed that. I should expect that of you now.”

Well, that stings. A lot. I’ve felt like a screw up my whole life, so much so even my parents didn’t want me. Like they had some prophetic vision that their kid would be a no good moron. Therapy has started to rid me of those thoughts, but they still creep up every once in a while. Like now.

“I’m sorry, darling, I’m really sorry. We can go to my place, have take away-”

“No, Simon,” he sighs. “I just...I picked the day, the time, and the restaurant. All you had to do was bloody show up, and you couldn’t even do that. I mean...do you even care, Simon?”

A horrible, familiar pain goes through my heart. I can still hear Agatha’s voice all these years later. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. My thoughts get all muddled up, mixing up old fears and trauma with today.

“I do care, Todd, I really do. I just- I didn’t- I was- We can-”

“Please stop..” He sighs again. I can almost see him rubbing his pretty black eyebrows together. “Don’t stress stutter, it’s alright. Enjoy your work and takeaway.”

“Uh, could we reschedule?”

“No, we can’t.”

I gulp. I hate that I know what’s coming. “Are...are you too busy?”

“No, I’m just...I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, Simon. Hope you do well. I mean that.”

I slump in my chair. “Okay. You too. Bye, Todd.”

“Goodbye, Simon.”

He hangs up, but I keep the phone by my ear. My body feels too heavy to move and get out of this fucking chair. Once again, I screwed up my relationship. And the fact that it’s too familiar is even worse. This is what, the third partner I’ve lost in the last year? An abysmal track record. Before that I had been alone since uni, yeah, but I think it was better than feeling like this.

Slowly, I pack up all my stuff. Everything is quiet, like the world is in mourning for my latest lost relationship. Self centered as fuck but a nice thought. I sling my book bag over my shoulder and walk towards the door. It’s not even a shock when I don’t enter the foyer, but step through and end up in Dr. Margaret’s stony yet brightly lit office instead, complete with torches and pristine furniture. It’s like some medieval version of an IKEA showroom. Dr. Margaret is sitting in her chair with a book in hand, obviously waiting for me. Just another day with a super powered therapist who has her office in a pocket dimension outside of our reality. (That’s my theory anyway).

I speed walk forward and flop down face first on her white couch. “Hi to you too, Simon,” she says. I groan into the cushions. “Good day, huh?” I groan louder. “Tell me what happened or get off my couch.”

I move my face to the side, glaring at Dr. Margaret. She just keeps looking at me blankly from her large leather chair. Dr. Margaret has little time for my whining, something I usually appreciate. “Todd broke up with me.”

“You poor baby.”

I narrow my eyes even more. “Aren’t therapists supposed to be all sympathetic and shit?”

She scoffs. “Sympathetic when you’re not being pathetic.”

“My boyfriend just broke up with me, I’m allowed to be a bit pathetic.” I rub my very strained forehead. “I always get dumped.”

“Mhm.” Dr. Margaret picks up the notepad, the one I filled with my regrets the first day we met. It’s embarrassingly long, but a lot are crossed off too. “Tell me about ‘breakup with Agatha.’”

I groan, head falling back against the couch. “God, that’s one I’ve been waiting for.”

“Stop groaning and tell me.”

“Okay, okay, gimme a sec.” I sit up and put my elbows on my knees, rubbing my temple. Headache is coming. Though I’ve started to actually pay attention to my health and take care of myself now (thanks to Dr. Margaret), the headaches still happen sometimes. Especially when I think about this.

“It was 2003,” I sigh. “Agatha and I had been together for six years. Just before third year finals, Agatha broke up with me. I got really pissed at her. Turned into a huge screaming match. She said I didn’t care, and I called her an arsehole that never loved me.” I run a hand through my hair. Old stress habit. “I’ll never forget the look on her face. She was so unbelievably hurt. I knew it was wrong the moment after I said it, but I was too angry and proud to apologize. Agatha walked out. And that was the last time I ever saw her.” The words piece my heart like a knife. I feel like I'm about to shatter into pieces “We avoided each other all through finals. Right after graduation, Agatha moved to California for her masters. She wouldn’t take my calls, then she changed her number. So I gave up. Haven’t talked to her in twelve years. No idea where she is now and what she’s doing.”

Dr. Margaret nods thoughtfully, placing the notebook down. “What would you do differently? Try to fix things? Stay together?”

I shake my head vigorously. “No, god no. We weren’t good as a couple. But Agatha was one of my closest friends way before she was my girlfriend. I just, I want the breakup to not be so awful. That way we can stay friends. I want to keep her in my life. If I wasn’t such an arse, she would be.”

“Sounds reasonable. Let’s see if you can do it.”

A familiar chill hits me. At first it was terrifying but now I expect it. “Alright.”

Dr. Margaret nods, and the world spins.

———————————————

“You’re not hearing me, Simon!” Agatha screams. “I’m trying to tell you that it’s over!”

I stumble, blinking at Agatha and trying to focus on what’s around me. Dirty walls, Lady Gaga posters, a shitty desk I picked up off the curb. Yeah, this is definitely my uni apartment. And this is definitely Agatha screaming at me, trying to break things off and I’ve just been yelling. She’s so mad but I can’t help but smile. God, I’ve missed her.

“What are you smiling about?! Are you listening to me?!” She groans and shakes her head. “We’re done, Si. I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye.”

She turns around to leave and my pulse skyrockets. No no, not again. “Ags, wait! I-I am listening. Please, don’t leave!”

Agatha freezes, hand on the knob. She glares at me over her shoulder. “What?”

“I-I’m sorry for yelling, that was awful. Can we just sit down and talk this out? Please?”

She looks me over, probably trying to figure out if I’m being sincere. I know I am, but as far as she's concerned I was screaming my bloody lungs out a minute ago. Must be weird for her. Thankfully, she lets go of the knob. “Fine.”

I sigh in utter relief. I sit down on my shitty mattress (pretty sure I got this off the curb too) and Agatha follows. She’s tense, arms crossed. I fiddle with my fingers. The nail beds are all chewed up, hangnails surrounded by dark dried blood. Glad I broke that habit, but right now I sort of wish I still did it. It made me feel better.

“Are you going to say something?” Agatha asks, voice biting.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh...” I rub the back of my neck. Words are getting fucked up again.

“You’re not going to change my mind, Simon. We’re through.”

“I know, Ags, I know. I don’t want us to stay together.”

Her eyebrows furrow. It’s really cute. I miss when she did that. “You don’t?”

“No, no, we’re not good as a couple. We don’t work well.”

“Oh.” Her arms fall into her lap. “Okay. Yeah, I think the same.”

“Awesome.” I turn towards her with a big grin. “But, uh, could we still be friends though? You’ve always been one of my best friends, Agatha. I-I don’t want to lose you after this.”

Agatha rubs her lips together, But slowly, she nods. “Okay, yeah.”

A huge weight lifts off my shoulders. I grin so wide it hurts. “That’s great! That’s so great. I-I just, I don’t want to lose you just cause our relationship didn’t work out.”

She looks even more confused, and I’m not sure why. “What do you mean ‘didn’t work out?’”

“Well, I-I mean, y’know, we just don’t work as a couple. We haven’t been happy for awhile because things have kind of...fizzled out, right?”

Suddenly, that infuriated expression comes back. She groans and stands up. “I can’t believe you, Si! You really haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said, have you?!”

I stand up too. “No, no, I have! You want to break up, and I get why, we’re not happy together. We’re not a good couple-”

“Because of you!” she screams. I stumble back slightly from the force of her words. “You fucked up!”

A horrible, upset, disgusted feeling takes over my whole body. Like my very soul is sicking up. I step towards her, reaching out. “Ags, I don’t know what you mean. H-How did I ruin things? Tell me what I did wrong!”

She shakes her head and backs away. “I’ve told you a hundred times, Si. If you don’t know by now, I don’t think you ever will.”

Agatha starts to stomp away. I chase after her. “Agatha! Ags, please, don’t-”

She slams the door so hard all my knick knacks rattle. I’m left in silence, except for the thoughts rattling around in my head. Fuck, what did I say? What did I do? I can’t think of anything I’ve done horrible enough to warrant such a response from Agatha. I pull at my hair and gnaw at my nail beds. I mean, this me already does it, so where’s the harm? Fuck, I don’t know what I did. I can’t remember!

Penny. I gotta go find Penny. She always has the answers. She’ll remember why I fucked up. I rush out the door and swing my way down the shitty stairs, careful to avoid the usual vomit puddles. I’m speed walking across the lawn towards Pen’s TA building when I spot familiar frizzy white hair.

“That was fast,” Dr. Margaret says, looking down at her book with a Starbucks drink in hand. She’s dressed in a horribly ugly orange tank top and boho skirt. Perfect for 2003. She needs to blend in with the time period, or at least that’s what she says. I think she just likes to dress up. “Saw her storm out. Looked really mad.”

“What the fuck was the point of this?!” I yell. I��m so angry, I can’t help it. My temper is something I need to work on but I really don’t care right now. “I still cocked things up with Agatha, so she still hates me, and all I’ve learned is that I apparently did something horrible that I don’t even remember because it’s been twelve bloody years!”

She takes a long drink from her large Starbucks cup. “Hm. Quite difficult. What’re you going to do?”

“Find Penny, I guess, She’ll know, right?”

Dr. Margaret shrugs. “Don’t know. You have a phone. Call her.”

Oh, right, phones are a thing. I dig around in my cargo shorts (god, I can’t believe, I used to wear these things) and pull out my old Nokia slide phone. I sneer at the thing. It was my first and shittiest cell phone. I thought I was so cool because my mobile slid out. I was such a prat.

I go to my contacts, and Penny is one of five. That makes me a little sad. I always liked people, but I was always bad at making real friends. I’ve gotten better now but past me barely had anyone. I click her number, and she picks up after two rings.

“Hey, Simon, what’s up?” she asks.

“Um, not much,” I respond automatically. Dr. Margaret glares at me. Right, I don’t need to push down my problems and pretend everything is okay. Penny’s my friend, she’ll want to help. “Actually, there’s a lot. Aggie and I just broke up.”

“Oh Si, I’m so sorry. How’re you feeling?”

“Not too bad. I guess it was inevitable. I’m more confused than anything. Ags said I ruined it by doing something, but I’m not sure what I did. Do you have any idea what she meant?”

“Uh...I really don’t know. She hasn’t told me anything. She doesn’t usually tell me things anyway.”

I sigh and rub my face. “Yeah, true. I’ll figure it out. Thanks, Pen.”

“Welcome, Simon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I hang up and shove my phone back in my massive pocket. Dr. Margaret is back to reading. “Well, that was no help.”

“Too bad. Maybe going to the source would be better.”

I frown in utter confusion. “You want me to go talk to Agatha again?”

“She knows what’s wrong. You don’t. Ask her.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You’re never this direct. What’s going on?”

She flicks her eyes to me, smiling slyly. “Don’t trust me, Simon?”

“No! I just know you always have something else going on. Nothing in therapy is ever easy or simple.”

“Know that. Taught you that.” She snaps the book closed. “Do what you think is best, Simon. Then live with choices.”

She stands up, book tucked into her hippie purse, and walks down the lawn. I huff, blowing a piece of stray hair out of my face. “You know I hate when you say that! It’s just pointing out the obvious! That’s lazy therapy!”

Dr. Margaret, the woman who has changed my life in so many ways, makes the “whatever” W sign at me. I chuckle and shake my head. Okay, well, this is probably some weird test (again), but Dr. Margaret has a point. Best to be direct. Maybe Agatha will have cooled down by the time I get there. I should do something nice. Bring her flowers, yeah, that’s a good idea. I look down at my cargo shorts, baggy Eminem shirt, and filthy knock off converse. Definitely need to change too.

I rush back to my apartment. It’s dingy and gross, but there’s a weird nostalgia to it. I should’ve put up more posters. (Why can’t that be a regret? That would be so much easier.) My dresser is bursting at the seams as usual. I throw my t-shirts around looking for something passable, but everything is dirty, tacky, smells like weed, or all of the above.

“Christ, how did I live like this?” I grumble, as if I wasn’t pretty much still living like this a year ago. (Minus the weed. Kicked that after uni, thankfully.)

Eventually I find a plain brown shirt and a pair of jeans with only one tomato sauce stain. Alright, I’m passable now at least. That’ll get Agatha’s attention just because it’s so out of character for who I am in this time. I open the old pickle jar where I keep all my change and scrounge together about 20 quid. Should be enough for flowers, especially before the 2008 crash. The exchange rate is the only thing I miss about the past, honestly.

“Alright,” I mutter to myself, slinging my bookbag over my shoulder, “decent clothes, okay hair, pocket change, bag to hold flowers. Let’s do this.”

I walk out my front door feeling confident, hopefully not too much. Can’t get a big head. Need to focus on Agatha.

“Simon, mate.” I turn around to see Rhys wheeling out of his flat. “What’s up? Heard a lot of shouting earlier, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m cool, man. Agatha and I broke up and things got messy.”

He inhales sharply between his teeth. “Yikes. Sorry to hear that. Can’t believe she dumped you for that snotty prep.”

I stand ramrod straight, then spin around on my heels to face him properly. “What snotty prep?”

“Oh you didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know what?!”

Rhys raises his hands in surrender. “Whoa, take it easy, man.”

Shit. Reel in your temper, Simon, don’t explode. “Sorry, sorry, mate. Just, what are you talking about with this prep?”

“Yeah, this preppy pretty boy Agatha sits next to in our romantic literature and creative writing classes. They’ve always got their heads together. I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t my business, but then you said you two broke up, so...”

“So you thought she told me, got it.” I rub my temples. Headache is coming back. “Do you know who he is?”

Rhys scratches the side of his head. “Yeah, think so. Tall, dark-ish skin, grey eyes, posh accent, even more posh clothes. Name starts with a T. Terrence, Terry, Tyler-” He snaps his fingers and points at me. “Ty! That’s it!”

My face scrunches up. “Ty? Ty what?”

“Dunno. Just Ty, I guess. Like Madonna. Dude thinks he’s better than fucking everyone just because he’s rich or something.”

My blood boils to a fever pitch. So Agatha broke up with me for someone prettier and richer. She said it was my fault because she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Mission failed, because I am fucking gutted.

“Thanks for telling me, mate,” I say, holding out my fist to him. He bumps his own against mine. “Really appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, mate. Come have a beer with us to commiserate?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, but you may have to remind me later. Brain like sieve.”

“Gotchu. See ya.”

“See ya.”

Rhys rolls down the hall towards Gareth’s. Right, it’s their weekly beer and footie night. I would hang out with them sometimes. I miss that. I should call them when I’m back in 2015. Right now though, I have a mission.

———————————————

Finding Ty will be pretty easy. I know when Agatha and Rhys’ creative writing class is, which is in a couple of minutes. (Rhys skipped a lot of class. Luckily he was a genius so he graduated at the top of our year. And Agatha never went to class when she was upset, so I know I won’t see her.) I run over to the building I know it’s in, a massive hall made from dingy grey stone and filled with caffeine addicted twenty somethings. Then I sit by a tree, waiting to see someone like Rhys described. Oh and when I find him I’ll- Well, I’ll do something. Not sure yet but it’ll be something!

Droves of zombified uni students pass me by. None of them look posh and preppy enough to be like this Ty dude. He sounds like such a twat. What the fuck does Agatha see in him? (Or did see in him, I guess. Time travel is weird.) Maybe Agatha is still with him. Maybe they went to California together. She talked about me going with her for a bit, but I was scared to leave England. I don’t regret staying, but I do regret the crushed look on her face.

The guy passes by me. He looks ridiculous, wearing oxfords, black slacks, and a goddamn tweed jacket with leather patches on the sleeves. It’s the preppiest posh shit I’ve ever seen. I can see his hands, curled around his textbook, and his slicked back hair. Dark-ish skin and ear length black hair. I’m on my feet in an instant.

“Hey!” I shout. He doesn’t move. “Hey, Ty! I’m talking to you!”

He finally turns around, and my heart stops for a second. Holy shit. This guy is beautiful. Like, super model on the cover of a high end fashion magazine gorgeous. He’s got cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and his eyes aren’t just grey, they’re green and blue mixed together. Like deep ocean water. And right now they’re staring at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind.

“Yes?” he says. His voice is smooth, strong, really pretty. “You called my name?”

I shake off my small gay panic (technically pansexual panic) and my anger returns. I glare hard at him. “Yeah, I did. My name is Simon Snow, Agatha’s boyfriend.”

His confusion quickly switches to stone faced boredom. “Oh you’re the boyfriend. Well, the ex-boyfriend now, according to the text Agatha sent me.” He tilts his head to the side, ocean eyes scanning me over. “I thought you’d be taller.”

My body feels like it’s on fire. This guy may be hot but he’s a total prick. How could Agatha dump me for him?! “Who do you think you are, huh? Flirting with someone’s girlfriend? That’s fucking low, you pathetic shit!”

He scoffs, putting on hand on his hip. “Very well spoken. If you’re done with your little alpha male display, I have a class to get to.”

Ty turns away. I’m ready to explode. I haven’t felt this angry in years but this guy is getting so under my skin. I grab his shoulder and force him to look at me.

“You don’t get to walk away, dick!” I roar. “Do you think you’re better than me?! Well you’re not!”

“I’m not the one shouting at a random stranger on the quad.”

“I’m shouting because you stole my girlfriend!”

“I didn’t steal her, you sexist shit,” he hisses. “She’s my friend. Are you the kind of arse to not allow his girlfriend to have friends?”

“No! And I’m not sexist! I just don’t like someone flirting with the girl I was with when I was with her, especially when you’re all...posh and shit!”

Ty scoffs again and leans forward. “Well, at least I don’t wear dirty jeans out in public. I have more self respect than that.”

My entire body explodes in a way it hasn’t in ages. My vision goes completely fucking red. I shove Ty, hard. Way harder than I mean to. He stumbles backwards, dropping his books on the grass. He looks at me in utter shock.

“What the fuck?!” Ty shouts. He then shoves my shoulders, and I stumble five steps back. Holy shit, he’s strong.

“Fuck you!” I shout back. I charge forward with all my might. Ty blocks me but that doesn’t stop me. I claw and push and pull at him, no clue what I’m doing at all. I’m just so angry and pushing it all at him. He pushes back just as hard. Neither of us will give an inch. We scrabble like a pair of cats. I can’t think, I just feel. I'm so angry and sad and worthless because...because....

Because I’m losing my friend again. And I don’t know what to do.

My hits get weaker and weaker. All the energy dribbles out like a melting ice cream in July. As I slow down, Ty stops pushing back. My arms fall down at my sides. His hands rest awkwardly on my shoulders.

“Uh,” he says, “are you alright?”

“No,” I choke out. Tears fill my eyes and cloud my vision. “No, I’m not.”

I break down, crying with heavy, ugly sobs. Everything is just collapsing in and around me. I really am losing Agatha all over again. It hurts even more this time. I’ve never fallen apart this badly on a regret. But everything from the past and present, losing all my partners in the past year then Agatha again, is just hitting me in one terrible mental blow.

“Oh shit,” he says. “Um...” I feel his hand move off my shoulder and slowly pat my head. “There, there?”

I snort like one of the kids I teach. I pull back, wiping the still flowing tears under my eye. “Seriously? That’s the best you can do?”

Though it’s a bit hard to tell, I think Ty’s face flushes. He crosses his arms defiantly. “Well, what the fuck are you supposed to do when a stranger attacks you then breaks down crying?”

I shrug. “Dunno, really. This is new for me too.”

Ty rubs the back of his neck, shuffling his polished oxfords in the dirt. I’m still sniffling like a child. “You want to go somewhere private? Where no one can see you?”

My eyes catch a couple of people glancing and outright staring at us. Or just at me. I nod vigorously. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Ty collects up the books I knocked out of his hands. He jerks his head to the side, and I follow behind him. Tears are still streaming down my face. They won’t stop no matter how hard I try. Ty leads us through a secluded area, past large trees and bushes, until we reach a completely hidden, beautiful ravine. Holy shit. Was this always here? I went to this uni for three years and I have no memory of this place. Either I’m super oblivious or getting old. (Probably both.)

We go past a couple more bushes until we come upon a ramshackle rainbow coloured bench against some trees. It looks handmade by some stoned out art major. The mess of cigarette and joint butts on the ground only reinforces that theory. Ty sits on one end of the bench. I take the other, but we’re still pretty close. It’s not very big. We sit in silence for a bit, save for my continued sniffling. Something bumps my arm. I look down to see Ty’s long fingered hand holding out a cigarette pack.

“Want one?” he asks.

“Smoking is bad for you,” I say automatically.

“Like you’re one to talk. You reek of marijuana”

“Fuck, really?” I sniff my shirt collar and get a whiff of weed. I groan, letting my head fall back against the tree. “Dammit. Thought this one was clean.”

“Unfortunately not.” He shakes the box. “You want one or no?”

I sigh and pluck a stick out of the box. Ty takes one as well, then pulls out a pristine silver Zippo lighter. He lights us both with one flame. I watch the paper crinkle and shrivel away into ash. I’m a bit nervous. Technically, I haven’t smoked anything in over a decade. Hopefully I can depend on past me’s muscle memory.

Ty takes a long, deep draft and breathes out a long puff of smoke. I try to mimic him. My lungs burn with the heat of twin suns. I wheeze out, thumping my chest. Ty throws his head back laughing, hair touching his neck.

“You must be a shitty stoner,” he chuckles.

“Yeah,” I cough, “never been great at inhaling.”

“Bring it into your mouth, then your lungs. Don’t do it all once.”

I nod, even though I kind of knew that. Just been awhile. I smoked a few joints but I preferred my old bong. But I try again, doing what Ty said. This time I only cough a little instead of wheezing like the world’s most pathetic dragon.

“There you go,” Ty drawls. He’s definitely mocking me a little.

“Fuck off.”

“Christ, what bug crawled up your arse?”

I glare at him, and his face is completely unaffected. “The bug that Agatha broke up with me for you.”

He scoffs, flicking cigarette ash on the ground. “Your ex- girlfriend did not break up with you to be with me. We’re only friends. I’d never date her.”

“That’s mean, Agatha is amazing.”

Ty rolls his eyes dramatically. “It has nothing to do with Agatha. She’s wonderful. I just don’t like women.”

My eyes grow wider than saucer plates “You’re gay?”

He cocks an eyebrow. How did he get so good at that? Does he practice in the mirror? “You have a problem with that, Snow?”

“No, no, of course not. Just didn’t realise...”

“It’s not like I’m hiding it.” He gestures to his perfectly pressed button down, spotless navy slacks, and polished Oxfords. Okay, he has a point, most straight men don’t take such meticulous care of their clothes. 2003 closeted me had the excuse of being heteronormative as fuck, but 2015 pansexual me needs to work on his gaydar.

“I, uh, didn’t want to assume...” Usually a safe answer in my experience.

“How noble.” Ty takes a long drag. I still hate cigarettes, but the way his lips fit around the smoke plume is kind of attractive. “Agatha knows I’m gay. I told her after she almost kissed me.”

“What?!” I throw down the cigarette and shoot to my feet. The fire in my gut is back, along with the sense of utter worthlessness. I fucked up so badly, made Agatha so miserable, that she nearly kissed a gay bloke. I feel so awful and confused and I don’t know what I'm supposed to do, I’m just mad.

He rolls his eyes, again. “Sit down, alpha male, I said ‘almost.’ I’m not even sure she realised what she was doing, we were both completely pissed. She leaned forward slightly and I blurted out that I was gay. Then she promptly burst into tears.”

My heart feels like someone has reached inside and twisted every vein. My arms relax at my sides. “She...she was crying?”

“Yes, quite heavily.” He taps the cig with one long, graceful finger. (Does he play piano? He should.) “She said she was sorry, then blubbered for an hour about how conflicted she felt about wanting to break up with you.”

The impact of those words send me back down onto the bench. My whole body feels heavier than lead. “She felt conflicted?”

“Of course she did.”

“I-I thought this was easy for her. That our relationship was already going downhill, then I did something so bad she decided to end it. And then I thought it was because she found you, someone better than me.”

Ty scoffs. “My god, she was right, you are completely oblivious.”

I scowl at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You’re so blind to what you’ve been doing.”

“What’ve I been doing?!”

“You’ve been a terrible boyfriend!” he yells. “You’re forgetful, you miss things, you don’t pay attention to Agatha, and most of all you take her for granted!” He sighs, rolling the half finished cig between his fingers. “Ags says you don’t mean to do it, you’re just oblivious, but she’s still hurt. There isn’t one bad thing you did, Snow. You’ve been hurting her for awhile.”

Every word is slap to the face. My body literally aches with all the guilt I feel. Ty is right. I was an awful, awful boyfriend. Every missed date, every burnt meal, every stupid thing I’ve ever said, they all rush into me. Fucking hell. How could I have not seen it? I always had reasons, and they were always small things. But I guess a lot of small things pile up.

“Fuck,” I choke out. Tears make little wet spots on the dirt floor. I don’t know when I started crying again. God, I’m a mess.

“Please don’t cry,” Ty says, sounding almost sympathetic. “I only have so many cigarettes.”

That makes a laugh surprisingly fly out of my mouth. Yet I’m still picking at my nails, flicking away bits of my cuticle like I want to get rid of my pain. I’m nervously babbling before I even realise it. “My brain’s always filled with...stuff. Keeping my scholarship, keeping my job, working towards my future. E-Everything’s always been about my future, what I’ll do eventually, even with Agatha. She was supposed to be my happy ending after all the shit I’ve been through.”

“She’s a person,” he mutters, “not your goal.”

“I know that!” I rub away more tears. “Well, I’m learning. I dunno. I-I had a shitty childhood, okay? So I’m always waiting for things to get better. And I thought if I did well at school and found a nice girl, things would just fall into place. Turns out shit is more complicated than that.”

I laugh to try to break the tension, but Ty stays silent. I cautiously flick my eyes over to him. He’s still holding his cigarette. It’s burnt down to the filter. His face is stone again, yet I can see the slight tremor in his fingers. It’s miniscule but it’s there. I don’t think he’s okay, but I barely know this guy, I’m scared to ask.

“I don’t know how to fix things with Agatha,” I sigh. “I’m bad at talking, bad at relationships, sometimes bad at friendships. It’s not like I want her back. I...I just want her in life. She’s amazing. I don’t- I can’t lose her again.”

“Again?” he says. My face goes bright red and my breath hitches. Fuck. Stupid time travel, screwing things up.

“Y-Yeah, we’ve had fights before, stopped talking for a while. I know this feeling, I hate it. I want her to be in my life and be happy and I don’t know how to do that!”

“Tell her that.”

I face him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

Ty sighs and flicks the butt onto the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his utterly perfect oxford. “Tell her that. Say you’re scared and clueless but you want to still be friends, so you want to figure out how to do that. Be honest. What else are you going to do?”

My mouth flaps up and down. Fuck. It’s so damn obvious yet it never came to mind. I thought I needed something big and smart so Agatha would understand. But... “All I need to do is be honest with her.”

“Exactly.”

I smile for the first time since I got here. “Wow, can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“You do seem to be a bit thick.” His slight smirk and teasing lilt save me from getting angry. I scoff and shake my head.

“Yeah, well, you seem like a bit of a prick.” He scoffs too, but he’s still smiling.

We sit there in silence for a little. All I can hear is birds chirping and students in the distance. I feel calm. So calm I don’t want to get up for a while. I just want to catch my breath. Ty slowly tilts his head back over the bench.

“I haven’t sat down in awhile,” he says quietly, almost as if to himself, but too loud for me not to hear. “I’m always at class or studying. I don’t sit down and just...sit.”

“Well you haven’t really been only sitting,” I chuckle. “You’ve been helping me.”

“Would it be sad that this has actually been the most relaxing time I’ve had in months?”

“Uh, yeah, and a bit concerning.”

Ty laughs a little louder this time. His smile seems a bit more genuine, but his pretty eyes are a bit sad. It may just be his face. It looks like it’s designed for pouting. “I’m a political science and English double major getting ready for law school. My whole life is stress.”

I chuckle sadly. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It is. A nightmare I chose...” He spins the cigarette pack between two fingers. I know he’s just fiddling but it looks so damn cool when he does it.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re happy about that choice.”

His eyes shift over to me without moving his head. “Since when do you know anything about my feelings?”

I shrug, crossing my arms. “I usually know what sadness looks like.”

Ty sighs. He rubs his temple slowly with his elegant ring finger. (What is with my finger fetish today?) “Ever since I was little, it was expected that I follow in the family tradition. Get perfect grades, go to a good university, go to an even better law school, become a lawyer, then finally take over the family practice. It’s what my mother did. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” he scoffs.

I tilt my head towards him, but not too close to scare him away. “Well, if you could do what you want, what would you do?”

“I told you, it doesn’t mat-”

“Then pretend it does matter. What would you do for the rest of your life?”

Ty sinks further into the bench. It makes his stupid tweed jacket bunch up slightly, and he almost looks like a normal young adult. “Honestly, I just want to read books forever.”

I giggle quietly, and Ty glares at me with a now obvious flush in his cheeks. “Fuck off,” he snarls.

“I’m not laughing at you!” He doesn’t look convinced. “It’s just, when I first saw you, I never expected you to be a total bookworm. You seem too posh for that.” Ty snorts, keeping his arms crossed. He won’t meet my eyes. I lean closer, and he doesn’t back away. “Reading books forever sounds hellish to me, but it sounds like heaven for you. It’s a great idea. Why not do it?”

Ty’s glare somehow gets even more intense. His eyes are just slivers of beautiful grey. “Because I’m a responsible person, unlike you.”

The words hit me right in the gut. I scowl deeply at him. “That is beyond not okay. You don’t know me, you don’t know my life. So you don’t get to spew shit like that just because you’re pissed off. Got it?”

Honestly, I’m surprised how clear and articulate I’m being. A year with Dr. Margaret has made it a lot easier for me to stand up for myself in a meaningful way, not just with growls and punching. But still, it’s hard, and I did this so easily. I’ve really made progress.

Ty scowls back, but I don’t back down. I’ve always been good at standing my ground, thankfully. Slowly, Ty’s face falls and gets less angry. In fact, he looks a bit regretful. We slowly move apart again. He takes a few deep breaths before he finally speaks again.

“You’re right,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Good, apology accepted.” I lean my cheek onto my fist. “Seems both of us are having trouble with our futures.”

“Mine is secure.”

“But not happy.”

He rubs his lips together, like he’s chewing his words. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Why not? Why not do what you want instead?”

“Because I’ve already applied to law school!”

“Okay.” I put my back to the bench again, staring up at the sky through the trees. “Well, I’m nearly done with my maths and am about to start my teaching degrees. Then I've got a private school job lined up, but who knows? Maybe I’ll hate the job and quit and work at shitty customer service jobs for years until I decide to get my shit together and find an actually good teaching gig at a school I like.”

Ty’s dark brows furrow together. “That is extremely specific.”

I shrug, hoping my smirk doesn't say too much. “I don’t know, just a possibility.”

“Alright,” he snorts. “My life will be fine, it won’t go off the rails.”

He looks so sure and resolute. I don’t think I’m going to change his mind, and I don’t think it’s my job to. I can’t save everyone, something Dr. Margaret taught me. Plus I just met this guy. No matter how pretty he is, I don’t know him. (Wish I did.) Hopefully he can figure out his own shit.

“Okay. Your life, you can figure it all out.” I put my hands behind my head, leaning back, staring at the sky.

“Your life is going to be fine,” Ty says. “Agatha says that despite what you think, you’re smart. And I’m partial to agree. You have trouble with relationships, but who doesn’t? You’ve still got a good head on your shoulders. You’ll figure everything out too.”

I can feel my face turns bright red, and from the smirk on Ty’s face he can see it. I rub the back of my neck, trying to use my arm to hide my blush. “Y’know, I get why Agatha liked you. You’re weirdly nice and, well, really hot.”

Now it’s Ty’s turn to have his eyes go wide. He looks very cute. “Wow, you’re pretty forward for a straight guy.”

“Whoever said I was straight?” I smirk at him with one eyebrow raised. I hope I look confident and sexy and not just fucking weird.

“Oh.” His voice is almost a squeak. “I’m sorry I assumed.”

“S’alright, common mistake.” I look down at my stupid Nokia. “Wow, you’re beyond late for your class.”

Ty scoffs. “And who’s fault is that?”

“Okay, yeah, guilty as charged. You should probably get to it though. Need good grades for law school and all.”

“Yes, good point.” He stands up, and I follow, hands in my pockets. I both hate and love that Ty is a little taller than me. “But...it was nice to talk to you, Snow.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Ty. So, uh, see you around.”

I grin brightly, then turn around before I say something really stupid. I usually do in front of pretty people. Plus I need to see Agatha. That’s why I’m here, back in 2003. I’m not supposed to be chasing after a pretty guy who went to my uni ages ago. Even if he is like, really pretty.

“Simon.” His voice makes me stop in my tracks and turn back.

“Yeah?”

Ty steps forward and holds out a scrap of lined paper. “Since you’re newly single, and now I know you’re not straight, give me a call sometime? If you’re up to it, that is.”

My brain completely short circuits. Blows a fuse. Maybe every fuse. I just stare at Ty with my mouth hanging open for a bit too long. Ty starts to look genuinely concerned. But thankfully the synapses start firing again and I shake it off.

“Um, y-yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I would like that.” I take the paper. “Uh, thank you.”

“You’re most welcome. I hope to see you around as well.”

I watch as he walks away, and I’m mesmerised by the way his hips swing. Fuck, he is so hot. And he likes me. I honestly have no clue why but I’m not going to question it. I have to make sure to call him before I go back to 2020. But right now I have to find Agatha, so I carefully put the paper in the smallest pocket of my bag, then dash off towards Aggie’s dorm.

———————————————

I knock on the door softly, and there’s no answer at first. “Aggie?” I say. “I came here to say I’m sorry. I won’t yell, I promise.”

Still silence at first. I nearly leave, but then the sound of soft footsteps comes from under the door. The doorknob slowly turns and my pulse increases every second. Agatha is wearing her purple Watford lacrosse sweater, a pair of my trackies that I left behind last week, and blonde hair piled up in a bun. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are red. My stomach drops at the sight.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks, voice low and flat. She sounds more tired than angry. For some reason that hurts even more.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for how I treated you, Ags. Our relationship didn’t fall apart for no reason. I didn’t pay attention to what you wanted and took you for granted. I was a terrible boyfriend. And I’m really, really sorry.” I start nervously pulling at my hair. “I-I’m not saying we should get back together. We weren’t happy, and you deserve someone who will put you first. But I still want to be your friend. You’re one of my first and best friends. I’m not sure how to do that, considering I was such an shit boyfriend, but can we figure it out? Together?”

Agatha rubs her lips together, taking slow deep breaths. Her fingers tap against the door one by one. I don’t know if I’m going to throw up or run or both. All are possible. But then Agatha nods slowly.

“Okay,” she sighs.

“Okay?”

“Let’s try to be friends again. I don’t want to lose you either.”

I grin ear to ear. “Okay, awesome, that’s great. I’m so glad you want to as well. I do love you, Ags, and I’m sorry I hurt you so much.”

“Apology accepted, Si, so you don’t need to do it anymore. Let’s just move forward, alright?”

“Alright, yeah, I’d like that.” I rub my neck and nervously gnaw at my lip. “Um, could I hug you? As a friend?”

She smiles softly. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her smile. Not just because I’m from the future, but I can’t remember the last time she smiled back when we were together. I hope I can make her smile more now.

“Yeah,” she says, “that would be nice.”

We both step forward and throw our arms around each other. I haven’t hugged Agatha in a long time either. Sure, we snogged and had sex, (though not very often honestly), but this is so much better. There’s no pressure or nerves. It feels normal. The most normal I’ve ever felt with her.

As we slowly part, we’re still smiling. “You,” Agatha pokes my chest, “need to study for your exam on Monday.”

I chuckle and nod, being silently thankful I’m not doing that exam again. Once was more than enough. “Yeah, I know. This felt more important though. You’re more important.”

She blinks in confusion. I can’t blame her. Past me was always too focused on my work so that I could reach the happy ending I always wanted. Future me is figuring out that there is no happy ending. There’s just life, and I have to make it what I want, not just wait for happiness to fall into my lap. I haven’t got it down pat but I’m getting there. That’s more than good enough.

“Well, I’m definitely glad to hear that,” Agatha says. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll go get brunch, okay?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Sounds great.” The voice in the back of my head reminds me about the small fact of time travel, and that when I go back to 2015, past me is only going to remember bits and pieces of this day. “But, uh, studying may fry my brain. So could you maybe call instead? And I’ll call next time?”

Agatha sighs with exasperation, but she’s still smiling. “Alright, that’s a valid excuse.” She presses a small kiss to my cheek. It’s completely platonic, and it feels great. “See you later, Simon.”

“Yeah, definitely.” I hug her tight one more time before I go. She gives me a kind wave before closing her door. I’m grinning like a mad man as I walk down the hell. I did it, I saved my friendship with Agatha. I’m so damn happy. Plus I met Ty.

Oh right. I reach into my bookbag, feeling around for my notebook. My hand curls over the rings of the spine as I push open the stairwell door. And I instantly fall face first onto the dirty public school floor.

“Mr, Snow!” Ms. Petty, the nicest janitor in the entire school, possibly in the whole world, rushes to me. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’m fine. Just clumsy.”

“Here, let me help.”

I take her hand and she hoists me to my feet. I still feel a bit dizzy, a small side effect of time travel I know all too well now. Ms. Petty keeps a hand on my back until I regain my bearings. “Alright, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be alright.”

“Okay, dearie.” She pats my shoulder. “Go get some rest, get your mind off work.”

“Right, yeah, work...”

Ebb gives me one last comforting pat and goes back to sweeping the hallway floor. I wave at her as I leave, hoping she doesn’t see the distress in my face.

Fuck.

———————————————

AN: Chapter 2 will be posted within the next week, i.e whenever I'm well enough to edit it lol. See you all next time!

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #carry on fanfiction #being erica au #time travel #time travel therapy #fluff #angst #first meeting #mysnowbazfic

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