#I’m still in chapter 2 but I am mourning him already

[emerald-ranch]

Do we think they know what is going to happen to them?

[queenie-official]

Chapter Three: ‘First Impressions’ Bridgerton au!Anakin

part 1, part 2

a/n: so the outfits that Obi-Wan and Ani are wearing are the ones in the photos ☝️🤭but guys tell me how i had more of chapter four planned out then i did this chapter 🤨 like i fr already had dialogue for chapter four before i even started this one 😀 anyway i hope you guys like this 🥰

Once more you find yourself pacing around in an endless circle. Today was the day you were to meet him. The wedding was already set to happen in a week. however invitations wouldn’t be handed out for another two days, the council told you it would be wise to get to know your future husband a bit first- but honestly how much could you really learn about a person in such a short amount of time. it’s not like you had a week to get to know each other, no you had the day to get to know him before he’d be back off to his own kingdom till the wedding.

“you need to calm down” Padme’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. you look over to where she’s sat on the settee, a concerned look on her face. you’d asked her to come over and help distract you. to her credit she did try at first but she quickly realized nothing she could say or do would occupy your mind from the days events. “i’m calm” you say trying to convince yourself that more then her. “if you can say that while standing still, i’ll believe you” she retorts whilst standing up and walking over to you forcing you to stop pacing as she places her hands on your shoulders.

“you can’t blame me for being nervous, i mean wether this goes well or not this is the man i am to spend the rest of my life with” you vent, feeling your anxiety swirl. you felt like this was an impossible situation, marrying someone you didn’t know. obviously it was a common thing but it didn’t make the reality of it any weirder to you. “what if he doesn’t want to marry me?” it was a stupid question, the better question would be why would he want to marry you. he was being moved away from his home to a foreign place with different traditions and cultures. not to mention an entirely different climate, you’d read up on Tatooine it was a Warm desert kingdom a direct contrast to Alderaan.

“that’s a possibility” Padme answers, not the reassurance you wanted but you didn’t call padme here because she would lie to make you feel better. you called her here because she would give it to you straight but also support you the best way she could. “so then i’ve forced a man into a loveless marriage” you huff, feeling anger course through you as your once again reminded of the councils rash decision that got you into this.

“most people these days end up in loveless marriages y/n. most women at least, we have no say in who we marry it’s all decided by our fathers.” that once again didn’t make you feel any better but it was the hard truth. “this is going to be a long day” you’d slump over if you could but the corset you had on prevented you from most movement that involved bending of any form. “maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised” you could only hope she was right.

“i know it’s silly but growing up i always imagined marrying someone i fell in love with. my mom and dad where in love when they got married, a rare occurrence for monarchs. i always pictured having what they did.” you say sadly, it may not be the end of the world that your marrying a stranger but it was the end of that dream. a cruel awakening to your inner child. “it’s not silly, most little girls wish that” Padme says sympathetically.

“if my dad where still alive he’d have ensured it a reality” you say solemnly, feeling your heart tug at the thought. “Bail was a good man, a good king and a good father” you feel your eyes gloss over at her words, it was times like this you really missed him. your father was everything to you, he was all you had when your mother passed and vice versa. losing him felt like mourning two people at once, learning how to cope without your mother all over again in addition to coping without him.

“i miss him” it came out more as a whisper, you felt that if you spoke any louder the dam would break and tears would spill. Padme was quick to pull you into a tight hug. she was a big help when you lost him, a loyal friend who you knew would always be on your side. “i can’t help but feel i’m failing him” you let out the thought that had been nagging at the back of your mind throughout this whole ordeal. “he was and always will be proud of you” she said firmly, rubbing your back gently.

“would he be proud of me for this though?” you couldn’t help but ask. “circumstances changed y/n, you’ve done what you could. besides it’s not as if this was entirely your decision” she reassured you. you take a deep breath, indulging in the hug you both shared a moment longer before pulling away. “speaking of i really need to do something about the council before another reckless decision is made.”

“the sooner you’re crowned the Queen the better” she says with a laugh trying to lighten the mood, though she was being completely serious. right as you where about to respond your conversation was interrupted by Barclay barging in, an occurrence that was becoming more and more frequent with him.

“your majesty they’re here” he said and you stiffened, the reality of the situation crashing down onto you. you knew this was coming but it hadn’t truly felt real til now.

“oh i’m going to be sick” you mumble just loud enough for padme to hear, she gives you a gentle pat on the back a silent way of saying you’ve got this. as if suddenly reminded of her existence Barclay acknowledges her “Lady Amidala pleasure to see you” it surprisingly sounded genuine, though to be fair he had been sucking up to you the last couple days clearly something clicked in his mind that you where the one who controlled wether he actually had a job or not. that or there was something else motivating him either way his change in attitude didn’t sit right with you, something was off and you could sense it.

“Barclay” was all padme said to greet him not even bothering to turn in his direction to acknowledge him properly. you had to stifle a laugh, god you loved her. she kept her head high and walked right past him, she would be leaving through the gardens so no one knew she was there. the meeting was to be kept secret from everyone aside from the respective royal families.

with a sigh you nodded towards Barclay to signify you where ready. you both walked down the hallways heading to the main foyer, with each step you took you felt as if you where being pulled down. finding it harder and harder to move forward the closer you got. these where your last moments to breath without someone beside you- metaphorically of course, after all as a royal there’s always someone at least five steps from you which was tiring to say the least.

you could swear time was simultaneously moving faster then light and slower then molasses as you watched Barclay nod to the guards to open the doors that stand as the only barrier between you and the one you are to wed. it was hard to breath? but just as quick as the breath got stuck in you it was knocked right out as one of the guards rose there voice impossibly loud to announce your arrival.

“now presenting her Majesty, the Crown Princess Y/n Organa” it honestly made your ears ring but at the very least it served as a nice reminder of where you are and pulled you back down to earth. still it all felt a bit excessive to you considering there was only four people here excluding the guards.

Walking further in so that you and Barclay where now face to face with the two men, you scanned over them quickly. they both where good looking you had to admit, what threw you off though was how drastically different they where dressed from each other. for a moment you almost thought they came from two different places but quickly brushed that off knowing good and well that wasn’t the case.

“hel-“ just as you began to greet the two men you are quickly cut off by a third party you hadn’t even noticed was there. Chancellor Valorum. “greetings you are?” he said and you paused turning to see him standing behind you, how long had he been there? no one else seemed shocked so he must of been there for quite some time you concluded. but why was he there? deciding to act like you had known he was there you turn back to the two men. to your surprise the older looking one of the two directed his attention to you and not Valorum. it brought a small smile to your face, feeling like it was a nice change of pace finally be acknowledged instead of looked over.

“I am Prince Obi-Wan first born son of the Kingdom Tatooine. and this” he gestured to the pretty blonde beside him who could easily tower over you if he was close enough. “is my brother Anakin” he finished and you felt a little giddy, so far so good right? he was tall and handsome you could only hope he was kind and had a personality as good as he looked. though to your dismay the aforementioned man hadn’t even spared you a glance, thinking on it he hadn’t looked at you even when you first entered the room. that fact made your stomach twist.

“neither of your parents are joining us?” the chancellor spoke again before you could get a word in, honestly he was one more sentence away from you clocking him in the face. but you hold your breath and maintain your composure. this time Obi-Wan does acknowledge him but only to answer his question and you were guessing to not seem rude. “unfortunately our mother and father are quite busy but as the future king they deemed it enough for me to go with my brother for this” you felt like a child who could do nothing but watch as the grown ups speak as you look back and forth from the chancellor and him.

Thankfully Obi-Wan was quick to redirect his attention to you. “your highness shall we discuss matters more privately?” why couldn’t conversation with people of power always go this way, taking to you instead of over you. you give him a polite smile before answering. “yes let’s move this elsewhere” you say with a nod. “lead the way.” was all he said in turn.

as you all walk down the halls of the castle you can’t help but notice how quiet prince Anakin was. it worried you, was he always this quiet or was he choosing not to say anything. did he already hate you- to be fair if he did you wouldn’t blame him. if the roles where reversed and your kingdom had been basically black mailed into giving you up as marriage you’d probably hate the person you thought responsable as well. you found yourself actually wishing you two where alone so you could explain yourself and hope he could understand. Then again who’d say he’d believe you, it was worth a try though wasn’t it?

unsurprisingly throughout most of the meeting chancellor Valorum spoke for you any chance he could. and just as in the foyer Obi-Wan directed his answers to you. time dragged as you guys finished up flushing out the details of the agreement more thoroughly. it was all so casual and you couldn’t help but feel sick especially with Anakin sitting right there not saying a word. you couldn’t even get a read on his emotions his face was a blank slate. it made you anxious and you weren’t sure if you wanted to just hurry up and get all of this over already or drag it out longer so you could procrastinate the inevitable.

it was evident just how long the meeting had taken when you were met with the setting sun as you looked out the window. a panic ran through you when you realized you had no time at all to talk Anakin now and the next time you’d see him would be the day of the wedding. you where now truly going into this marriage blind- not that you would of learned much about him today regardless but anything would be better than nothing.

closing up the meeting with a handshake between the chancellor and Obi-Wan, even though he had clearly held his hand out for you- you all stand up and head out of the meeting room.

Anakin had still yet to say a word, Obi-Wan being the one to speak on both there behalf’s when saying goodbye. even as they walked away you watched as he didn’t even speak to his brother, maybe he was mad and his silence was the politest protest he could do. you could only hope your whole marriage wouldn’t be like this, what an awkward life that would be. though maybe you’d get used to it at some point.

all of these thoughts swimming in your head stopped as a pair of blue eyes met yours, it was brief and for a second you thought you’d imagined it. he had look back at you right before the castle doors closed.

that’s all you had to go off of until you would meet again for the wedding day.

part 4

okay guys the next chapter will feature a lot more Anakin and yes the pretty boy will speak 🥰 this took me forever to finish 😀 mainly because i’ve been writing this in between doing work 👩‍🦯👩‍🦯 anyways i hope you all like this chapter i know it was a lot more emotional then the others but reader is going through a lot at once 😭 side note i love reading your reply’s you guys are funny and real asf🤭 that’s all i have to say for now enjoy huns Xx<3

tag list: @luvvfromme @gatekeepingirlboss

[gretavanmoon]

an omnipresent force• ch 2

Chapter 2- DARK ENIGMA

Jake x reader (we'll get there... I promise)

Words: 12.4k

A/N: Semi-AU// Set six years in the future, the world has decided to cast humankind aside, starting with the poisonous entities that are destroying her the most.

Warnings: Dystopian Horror Cursing, Smoking, Mention of Drugs, Feelings of Fear and Uncertainty, An Apocalyptic World, Hunting, Violence (mention of firearms), Kidnapping, Wounds and Pain, Blood, Death & Dying, Burials, Lying, Deceit, Sadness, Panic Attacks, Use of Restraints, Mentions of Sex

Cheatham County, Tennessee

Five days later

Y/N

The old wood of the rocking chair squeaks beneath me as I gently move my body back and forth, snuggling into my thick afghan wrapped around my body. There is a light dusting of snow on the ground, and I’d spent the majority of the evening out here on the porch, taking in the scene of my grandparents’ farmland before me. The lead in the pencil I’ve been writing with all evening is starting to dull, but I press a little harder to get the last few sentences written down into my journal. 

December 29, 2030

Day five back at Pap and Gran’s farm. We didn’t do much today except peel some potatoes and boil chicken for broth. Gran’s state has deteriorated since we made it back here. Paps and I truly thought that maybe bringing her back to her home would make her feel better, but she’s only gotten worse. Part of me thinks that she might have just wanted to find her peace here, in her own home, in her own surroundings before she decides it’s okay to let go. Awful of me to think that, isn’t it?

I miss my Mom. And I miss my dad, and I really, really miss my brother. Having nearly no time to mourn them has truly put me in a weird headspace, I don’t know how I’m making it day to day. Sometimes I think back to that fear I felt when I first realized I had to get the hell out of my house when I found the faultline in my foundation, that feeling that it could all come crashing down on me at any second, burying me in walls and furniture and drywall to the point I can’t breathe… That’s what this feels like. Like I’m standing in my basement again, just waiting for the whole thing to crush me. 

The only thing that is keeping me going is Paps and Gran. And the fact that if I stop, then they stop. And Gran is already slowing to a crawl. 

I pull out my pocket knife from my pants, opening the blade and sharpening the graphite in my pencil a bit before licking the tip, and getting back to work. 

I’ve lost nearly 16 pounds, and my hair feels so thin. I can feel my muscles starting to wear out, and the joints of my bones are beginning to ache. Lack of nourishment, I guess. But I don’t let it stop me, and neither does Paps. We are still getting up at the crack of dawn every single morning to look for roaming wildlife to catch. Thankfully we were able to get our hands on six chickens, a rooster, a goat, and the neighbor’s old Blue Heeler, Hank. Hank sits by my Gran’s side day in and day out… I think he remembers that she used to throw him scraps out into the front yard.

The strangest thing happened to me yesterday, and I feel embarrassed to even admit it in this stupid journal. 

For the first time in months, I got the overwhelming urge to want to fuck. 

I wish I could write that in invisible ink like we used to do in text messages, yikes. But, I guess I have to realize that I am still a living, breathing woman who still goes through her monthly cycles, and still possesses the urges associated with it all. God, I  fucking laughed out loud at myself. I haven’t seen another man close to my own age since we left Nashville and I saw a group of young people throwing a cinder block through the front glass of a coffee shop. For fucks sake I’m so embarrassed. 

But I actually even dreamed about it last night. Real, true, romping sex in some strange place… it was so real that I woke up in a cold sweat with my heartbeat between my legs. Shit. I don’t even know who it was with, but that part didn’t matter. I used to love those pointless, carnal dreams that made you blush in your sleep. But damn, now? That’s as close as I’m probably ever gonna get. 

I had to spend the rest of the day fighting the flashbacks while spending time with my literal grandparents. Ignoring the fact that I used to daydream about it, then make a phone call to whoever, and make it happen. It used to be so easy. Shit, I miss random hookups. Fucking hell. 

Now I’m spending my days collecting freshly laid eggs before a pack of wild dogs come and kill my chickens. Goddamnit.

ANYWAYS. 

Tomorrow is my 33rd birthday. And I don’t even care. It feels silly to even think that even though the world is pushing me off the literal land I stand on, I still have to age. I still have to deal with being a human. And mourn the loss of my family. What the fuck. Just lost the last of my immediate kin, I’m digging up last season’s potatoes from the ground and nursing my sweet Gran as she lies in her bed in pain, and I’m having sex dreams. Really, really fucking good sex dreams. If I could roll my eyes with paper and pencil, I’d be doing it right now. The human experience is so fuc

My thought process is stopped when I hear the sound of something I haven’t heard in literal days. Weeks? I don’t know… But I hear it, the faint sound of a tune and a melody coming through an old, staticy speaker. I close my pencil into my journal and stand, realizing I’d been sitting outside for a while now as the stars had become bright and the moon sat high in the sky. 

My brow furrows as I listen harder. It’s Billie Holiday. I push the front door open and enter the warm house, firstly noticing the crackling fire that Paps had kept burning all day. I then saw him standing in the dimly lit corner, fiddling around with his old vinyl records and adjusting the volume of the music. The wall behind him is stuffed full of records, floor to ceiling and two shelves wide… all full of the music he filled mine and James’ lives with since the time we could walk. He’d been collecting his entire life.  Truly, I owe my love of music to him. 

“Paps…” I say softly as I enter the living room. 

“Hey youngin’, sorry if I disturbed ya…” he said, puffing some pipe tobacco smoke up into the air. I used to tell him he needed to quit, but now… what’s the use?

“You didn’t, Paps.”

“I sorta… forgot that music exists,” he chuckled, opening the cover of a Bill Monroe album and inspecting the inside.

I place my hand on his back, giving him a few pats as I lay my head against his shoulder, watching the record spin on his antique hand-crank phonograph. “I kinda did too, actually,” I reply, admitting it to myself. “What made you pick Lady Day?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. Always loved her voice, hated it when she passed. She left one hell of a legacy, though, huh? Your Gran sure loved her, that’s for sure,” he mumbles on, looking back to the daybed we had set up for Gran in the living room so she could be closer to the heat of the fireplace. 

“Love her, Don. Not loved. I ain’t dead yet,” we both hear Gran stir from under her blankets. The both of us erupted in a fit of laughter at her unbridled and filterless sense of humor. 

“Hell’s fire, Jane. Didn’t think you’d be able to hear us,” my Paps laughs as he places the cover back down on the table and goes to join her at her side. I follow behind. “Did we wake you?”

“You did, but that’s okay. No better way to be woken up from a dreamless sleep than by some pretty music,” she says, propping herself up on her pillows. She still has so much strength, and though she’s weakening by the day, I’m still astounded by her ability to get up and even walk herself to the restroom. “And!” she boasts with her crooked finger in the air. “No way I wanted to miss my favorite granddaughter’s birthday when the clock strikes twelve,” she adds with a reassuring nod. 

“Gran, you don’t need to stay up this late! It’s almost midnight now, go back to sleep,” I push her, not wanting to miss one second of any rest she can get, while also wishing that she and Paps could sit up and reminisce with me until the sun comes up. I’d give anything to have just one more hour with my parents and James.

“Oh, child, I’m fine!” she pushes my hands away, pulling herself back up. “You’ve gained another year. This day and age, that means something, you know?” Her voice is weak, but she still sounds like herself, her southern drawl coming out to play as she tries to fluff the pillows behind her. 

I nod in understanding. “If you say you want to stay up, we’ll stay up!” 

There really isn’t such a thing as a true bedtime, anymore. I’m up at strange hours of the night, take many naps throughout the day… time doesn’t matter, aside from the rooster reminding us of when the sun is about to come up every morning. 

But we still set the clock, and we’ll change the batteries. The Grandfather clock against the back wall reminds us of each hour, every day. And how lucky we still are to have each and every one, no matter how long they drag us on. 

Gran taps her fingers along to ‘Love Me or Leave Me’ as Paps sings quietly along, and I place a few new logs onto the fire to keep it burning. The smell of this house has always stuck out to me– matured wood, the scent of the barn wafting through the cracked windows, the Murphy’s Oil Soap that Paps was always obsessed with cleaning the floors with… it’s all still stuck here, unmoving in time. Just like the photos on the walls, the dinnerware filling the shelves, and the wall that’s covered in pencil markings and dates, marking mine, James’, and my father’s height growth over the years. 

It’s all still here, exactly where they left it. Exactly where they carved things into the load-bearing beam that runs the span of the house. The wearing in the wood of the floor where Gran stood for fifty some odd years in front of the stove cooking meals. The screen door that hangs haphazardly on the front door, the screen ripped and aging as it served its purpose keeping the flies out of the house for however many summers.

A time capsule. And by god, were the three of us overjoyed when we pulled up and found it not sitting at the bottom of a sinkhole.

“Have you got any Sinatra?” my Gran asks, pulling me from my deep-thought trance as the Billie record spins now, without any sound. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” Paps agrees as he stands to replace the record, knowing that he’d give my Gran anything she could ever ask for, just like he always had. 

He makes his way back over to his setup and finds exactly what he’s looking for, switching the vinyl out and putting the needle back down. Gran tilts her head back onto her pillows as she hears Frank’s voice come over the crackly violin sounds. 

“Ol’ Blue Eyes,” she mutters before sitting back up and grabbing at my hands. “You know, Y/N, I didn’t always love music, it was your grandfather’s doin’ that got me to fall in love with it.” Much like he did for me, actually. “Of course I’d go to the dances at the school and I knew a few songs here and there, but it was when I met him that I truly found my love and appreciation for it.”

“He’s had that effect on us both, then, hasn’t he!” I jest, smiling and squeezing at her frail hands. We both glance at him still standing by his collection, eyeing the spines of the covers and pulling them out to look over. I truly did owe a lot to him, he taught me more about artists than I could have ever taught myself. Older ones, especially. He knew the stories that were never recorded in interviews and tabloids. He knew, because he kept them all in the back of his mind as if they were his own family stories.

“That man got me to follow the Dead around for nearly six months before I told him he’d better get me back to Tennessee so I could have me a garden,” she went on, making my face warm with a grin. I’d heard the story a hundred times before, but I’d sit and listen to it a hundred times more, if time would let me.

“Oh, shoot, Jane. We had a good time,” Paps interrupted, scowling at her as he puffed his pipe. 

“Didn’t say we didn’t, Don!” she pokes back, and I can tell they’re about to get into one of their little playful spats. “Your grandfather and I tried LSD for the very first time while we sat in a drum circle after a Dead show in Kansas City,” she said, her eyes wide as she still held my hands. 

Now that, they’ve never shared before. 

“Gran!” I exclaim, truly surprised.

“Now Jane!” Paps barks from his place.

“What?!” she replies, shrugging her bony shoulders. “It was a damned good time and I can honestly say I came back a changed woman. Nothing wrong with that, now is there? I’ve lived one hell of a life…” she trails off, earning a scoff from Paps as he waves her off. “There should be nothing stopping you from still living your life, Y/N. Do you hear me? The Earth might swallow us up, but that doesn’t mean you can’t keep running, keep on living, you understand, child?” she asks, moving her cold hands to cup my cheeks.

“‘Course I do, Gran. I promise,” I relent, and I envy her ability to speak to me with this regard, knowing that the end of her life is near.

“Good,” she pats the side of my face. “Don, how about a little acoustic for a dying old woman?”

Paps drops his shoulders. “Now Jane, do ya have to keep talkin’ that mess, or am I gonna have to make you?” he teases.

I laugh and stand to go into the kitchen as Paps makes his way over to the corner, plucking his old acoustic from its place. I re-wet Gran’s cloth in the icy water, wringing out the dripping water and returning to place it back over her chest. 

Paps sits beside us on the daybed, the smoke rising from his pipe as he plucks at his strings, his feeble but strong hands re-tuning them to where it sounds best. My grandfather is, and was, a very handsome man. Strong and built like an ox. I can see why Gran followed him around chasing after the Dead for six months.

Finally he strums a perfect chord, raising his eyebrows at Gran as she smiles back at him. “Guess it’s a good thing I never got my hands on an electric, hm?” he says as he bites the end of his pipe. 

Neither Paps or I have shown any signs of the rash, at all. No where. And neither of us could fathom why.

The two of us sit and listen to Paps play a plethora of familiar tunes, his fingers still agile enough to float over the strings and play little snippets of all of Gran’s favorites. I can feel Gran’s body relax as she listens to him, her mind probably floating through a million memories of watching him play over the years. He hums along a little as his eyes close on their own, listening to himself play. I swear I could sit here for days. 

After a few minutes, his fingers contort and play a little more harshly, strumming out a tune that hits a nerve buried so deep within me, I almost cry right there on the spot. His very own rendition of one of my favorite songs in the world, You’re the One. 

“Paps…” I murmur, almost whining.

“Hush, child, let me see if I can still pull through these chords,” he shushes me. And he does. I want to scorn him for bringing up the music that was made by my favorite band in the entire world. But then again, in later months, Greta had become one of his favorite bands, too. 

“Babe, ain’t no denyin’, that I got you in my head…” he sings to Gran, making her cover her face with her hands. He plays through about half of the song before he stumbles over a note or two, and decides his hands have gotten too tired. 

“How dare you, Paps. You know that struck a nerve…” I say, scowling at him. 

“Oh, quiet, now. You used to walk around the house singing their songs for days on end. Watch those silly videos of them, hell. How many shows did you go to?” he asks, truly schooling me on my own obsession with that band.

“Twenty-three,” I mutter under my breath. 

“How many?”

“Twenty-three! Okay?” I play along with him, the both of us knowing that he attended the last five of them with me. 

We’d traveled over to Kentucky for his first time seeing them live after I’d shown him a few of their songs. He was hooked after his first play of From the Fires, ripping the album cover from my hands to read along with the lyrics. After that we moved on to Anthem of the Peaceful Army, Garden’s Gate and so on, each play enrapturing my grandfather even more than the last. 

“These kids have some damned promise, that’s for sure. This is a sound I haven’t heard in ages… and their talent? Boy…” he’d said. I still remember the day I surprised him with tickets to his first show, watching him fall in just as much love with them as I was. Swaying along to their classics, singing along with the lyrics he’d learned to love. He learned their names, he learned their personalities a little. He even met a few of the friends I’d made along the way, flirting with them as we’d all stand in line before a show. 

It was Paps and Gran’s travels with the Grateful Dead that inspired me to follow Greta Van Fleet around on their tours. Not for six months straight, as I had to hold down my job, but nonetheless. Twenty-three shows I went to over the course of nine years. Strange Horizons all the way up to their last tour before the world shut down. I had tickets and plans to meet up with my group of friends for a show after Greta had gotten back from Greece, but, of course that never happened. 

Paps grew to love them just as much as I loved them. Love them. For so many years, they were my escape. My solid rock to land on as the headaches of daily life surrounded me. I made lifelong friends through them. Traveled to other countries to see them, with my friends by my side. I watched them grow into men, as I had grown into a woman right alongside them. Watched them evolve, grow, and retreat into silence before exploding back onto the scene with something brand new and fresh, roping me right back into their world. Obsessing over every little detail they fed us. Digging deeply into the meanings of songs, and discussing all the lore with my cohorts on social media. I can account many of my life’s milestones to at least one song of theirs. 

Now, when I find the world more quiet than it ever has been in my lifetime, I find myself reminiscing on those times, some of the best times of my life with that band, and my friends that felt more like family. I catch myself humming their songs, just trying to keep myself centered and rooted to the earth as it literally is falling apart beneath my feet. Greta was always my solid foundation, and even during the End of Days, they hold true to that assignment.

The grandfather clock finally decides to strike midnight, signaling my 33rd birthday.

“I’m sorry we can’t celebrate like we normally would, sweetheart,” Paps says as he continues lightly strumming.

“It’s okay, Paps. Just having the two of you still here with me is celebration, enough.” And I truly mean that. I watch as Gran’s sullen eyes fill with tears as she watches the two of us, and I know I’d give anything to keep the two of them alive as long as I possibly could. But her rash is worsening by the day, and Paps and I can tell that though she puts on a tough exterior, she’s suffering inside.

Gran had fallen back asleep peacefully to the sound of Paps’ acoustic, and we covered her up and threw another few logs onto the fire to last us a few more hours, at least. Paps kisses my forehead after he places his guitar back on its stand in the corner, wishing me a happy birthday as we both retreat to our beds.

+++

The next morning, I wake to myself shivering; Paps and I both must have slept through the night without waking up to tend to the fire. I stretch my muscles and rub my eyes, but I’m instantly startled  by the sound of someone coughing. I throw on my robe and slippers and rush to the living room, finding Gran sitting up in her bed, coughing terribly. Paps and I are by her side in seconds, asking her what she might need to get through the fit, but she just shakes her head. 

Her skin is cold and gray, and it looks as though her muscles are shaking uncontrollably. She’s almost completely covered in the rash, now.

“Do you want to get in the tub, Jane? Do you need to get in the water?” Paps begs of her, kneeling by the bedside. 

She shakes her head more. “No,” she chokes out. Her throat sounds scratchy and dry and we offer her water, but that, too, she rejects. Finally her coughing subsides and she relaxes back, and Paps and I share a knowing look. A look that we’ve both shared three times, when everyone else finally succumbed to the rash. 

This is so fucking unfair. Why don’t I have the rash?! Why can’t I take this pain away from her? Why am I not suffering, too?!

“I’m ok Don. I’m ok,” she mutters, her voice barely her own. 

We both sit there with her for hours, until the sun is noting midday. We hold her hands, caress her face, talk to her, tell her stories… anything to get her to pass with as much comfort as we can. She coughs, still, but each time she begs us to carry on with talking to her. I watch as my grandfather finally sheds a tear, wiping it free from his face as he sniffles through it. 

“Don’t you dare cry for me, Don,” Gran says. “We’ve had a beautiful life together. Beautiful… family,” she struggles to breathe. My chest feels heavy, too, with the overwhelming amount of sorrow it’s holding. I want to throw my fist into the wall, curse everything that has ever lived. I feel a rage building up in my stomach, one that is beginning to burn with so much fury that when it finally awakens, I’m not sure I’ll be able to contain it.

“I love you, I love you both…”

And with one small exhale, she ceases to breathe any more. 

We both allow ourselves time to weep at her bedside for a minute or two before I finally stand and open the windows, uncaring of how it will chill the house. I wanted to let her soul be free. 

+++

It took me about three hours to dig my grandmother’s grave, as the ground was hard from the cold and one shovel can only dig so fast. Hank the heeler was by my side the whole time, sitting and watching guard as I threw the shovels of dirt into a neat pile. I insisted Paps let me do it alone, and he spend a little bit of time with her to say his goodbyes.

 It was cathartic, really, putting my body through physical grunt work as I let the tears fall freely. I wept for her, for the rest of my family, for the heartbreak of my grandfather. But mostly, I cried for myself. I shouldn’t have, it felt selfish to, but I had hardly allowed myself any time to feel sorry for me. Fuck, a person can only take so much. My heart was already broken into a thousand pieces, but the numbness of the past few months had shielded my ability to listen to myself. My body somehow must have felt the need to get it out, so that I could put a brave face on for Paps. He’d need me to. So, as a rare bit of bright sunlight came down and scorched my arms, breaking through the freezing cold wind, I allowed myself to cry again.

It’s almost sunset, now, and Paps had wrapped Gran up in a few white sheets, topped with a pretty lace tablecloth that she had woven many years ago. It used to cover the dining room table, but it did seem fitting for it to be with her, now. 

I give Paps a sweet smile as I make my way into their bedroom, sitting on her old chest as I open the top drawer of her armoire. There, arranged still so neatly, was all of her expensive jewelry that she hardly ever wore. Gold bracelets, diamond rings, emerald-encrusted pieces… all if it is so precious, so valuable, and so completely worthless. 

I take a second to collect it all up and slip it into a canvas drawstring bag, making sure first to keep just one piece out for myself. She’d have wanted me to, I’m positive of it. 

A sterling silver ring topped with the prettiest piece of deep blue turquoise. Her grandmother had given it to her many years ago, and she only ever wore it to special occasions, but it fits perfectly on my middle finger. And if I wanted something to remember my grandmother by, it would most definitely be this. 

I go back into the living room and gently grab my grandmother’s cold, bruised hands, replacing each piece of precious jewelry onto her fingers and wrists wherever I can fit them, stacking them one on top of the other. 

“Should we add her books, Paps?” I manage to ask. 

He shakes his head solemnly. “No, might be best to keep things like that above ground…” 

Paps and I make our way out to the barn as dusk falls, and I light the few candles he has placed around on the shelves and tables. It’s dilapidated but in a good way; the walls and ceiling showing wear of many, many years of hard work. I watch as Paps grabs up one of the candles and walks to a swing door I’d never really noticed before, using some force to pull it open and propping it with a cut of a two-by-four. My eyes take a second to adjust to the darkness as he walks further inside the room, illuminating the space. There in the center of the small room is a pine box casket.

“Paps, what in the world? When did you…?” I breathe, walking closer to it. I notice that it has my grandmother’s name carved right in the top, the letters painted in black.

“About fifteen years ago, I’d say. Jane and I always said we wanted to be buried right here on the farm, when our times came. Guess we never told you kids about that. Your parents knew, a’course, but we never dreamed they’d go before us…” 

Paps pulls his blue handkerchief from his back pocket and wipes his nose, his eyes still dripping with remnant tears. 

“It looks really good, Paps. You did a great job,” I commend him, but he pays no mind. Instead he blows across it, relieving some of the old sawdust from its home on the lid. He pulls the top open and inspects it again, pulling a few pieces of straw from the inside. 

“Help me get it over to the site?” he asks, and I realize I’d never even asked him where he wanted me to dig the grave. I just picked the prettiest place that I could. Something tells me he would have picked the same place, too. “Under the willow?” he asks. 

Great minds.

“Under the willow.”

We lower the casket onto the wheelbarrow and roll it across the back yard and along the fenceline, right beside the weeping willow tree. It was Gran’s favorite place to come and lie in the grass with a book. Hank walks alongside us, his snout on guard for any wild packs that may be a threat to us. 

Together, we lower the pine box into the hole I’d dug, making sure it was level at the bottom. “Want me to go get her?” I ask. 

“I’ll get her,” he responds as he takes off back toward the house. The wind is whipping my hair across my face, now, as the stars are beginning to show themselves, and I can’t stop myself from crying again. This shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t be standing beside a grave I just dug, with a casket my grandfather built, watching his back walk across the tall grass to retrieve the body of the love of his life. This shouldn’t. Fucking. Be. Happening. 

In the moonlight, I finally see the figure of him coming back through the shadows with her in his arms. I silently thank the heavens above that he is a strong man, still yet, with more brute strength than any man his age should have. Just like James.

I help him lower her inside, but not before the both of us place kisses on either of her cheeks. I work to cover her back up with dirt as he stands behind, Hank begging his hand for a pet.

“You wanna say a few words?” I ask him as I throw the last shovelful of dirt on top, wiping a hand across my cold-sweat forehead. 

He takes a quick, chopped breath. “Sixty-two years wasn’t nearly enough with you, sweetheart. Won’t ever be enough. Thank you for every single laugh, every single tear, every single argument and happy moment. Thank you for our beautiful children, and grandchildren, and thank you for filling my heart with more joy than any man should have the privilege of havin’. You sure made my life worth livin’. Give ‘em hell up there in heaven, Janie. I know ya will. I love ya to the moon.” He sniffles again as he gives in to Hank’s requests, finally leaning down and wrapping a strong arm around the dog. I sidestep and wrap my arm around him, too, and we stand there in the wind until we can’t stand any more.

JAKE

“RRRUHHHHH!” I growl loudly as I wake up from unconsciousness in a full-on panic. My eyes are shifty and dry as I work to sit myself up quickly, my hands still bound at my back. The tape is gone from my mouth now, though. 

It’s dark, and it's cold, but I’m indoors. I just can’t fucking see a god damned thing. 

“Hey! Help!! Can anyone hear me?!” I yell, my voice echoing hard off the walls that surround me. My voice feels dry and knotted in my throat as I try to swallow what little moisture I have in my mouth. When I get no response, I crack my neck sideways as pain sets in over my body, and not just from my arms being bound. I feel as though my legs have been hit with something hard, and my back feels like it’s bruised and sore. What the fuck? What the fuck!

“Heyyyyy! Somebody come and fucking talk to me! What do you want?!” I yell again, my heart rate flying as reality sets in that I’ve been kidnapped from the cabin. Alone. 

The last thing I remember is being alone in the back of that truck, rolling around as whoever was driving had little care for it’s cargo in the back. Maybe that’s why I feel bruised and beaten. Or maybe it’s not. 

Yes, alone. In the truck… six intruders… weapons… it’s all coming back now, in little spurts of memory. Where is everyone else? Where is my family? When was I brought in here? I feel bile rising in my throat as I feel a panic attack setting in, and I grind my hands against one another so as to try and free them from their ties. But it’s no use, of course. It only digs them into my skin more. 

I sit in silence listening to only the sounds of my uneven breathing, trying to calm myself and make a plan of action. No time to fall into fear, Jake. 

I maneuver my body around to get to the walls, standing on my sore legs to turn and let my hands run along them. There’s nothing there– no windows, no chairs or furniture. Just a box. I diligently run my hands along every one. Four walls. With nothing. Nothing but– 

A door. 

I turn my body to try and find a doorknob or whatever to open it, and when my hand finally grasps the spherical knob, I realize that the mother fucker is locked. Of course. I turn and slam my shoulder into it a few times to see if I can pry it, but it’s no use. “Hey! You son of a bitch! Let me out of here!” I yell again, getting mad, now. 

“Quiet, Jacob,” a voice I do not recognize suddenly fills the room. My stomach drops. 

I open my mouth to reply, but nothing really comes to mind. The voice is male, but distorted. Quiet? QUIET? 

“Who the fuck are you? Open this door and come and talk to me!” I yell again, my body suddenly feeling like my blood is going to pulse from every orifice of my body. 

There is a long pause. 

“I said quiet, Jacob,” it repeats. 

I grit my teeth. This voice is really pissing me off. 

“I’ll be quiet when you come in here and fucking show your face!” I yell even louder this time.

There is another long pause, and finally, I hear the metallic screeching of the heavy door opening. I waste no time in trying to push through it, relying on only my hearing to know what is going on, just as I had back at the cabin. Everything is so fucking dark.

But I get nowhere. I’m stopped by my body running into two stern and sturdy men again, pushing back further into the echoey room. I nearly lose my footing, but I press forward again, determined to get through that fucking door. But they stop me again, thrashing my body back so hard I hit one of the walls. It nearly knocks the breath from me, but I catch it. “Who are you? What do you want? I want to see my fam–”

“It’d really do you good to stay fucking quiet, like we told you to.” Suddenly I feel a gloved hand cupping across my mouth, stopping me from speaking. The man’s face is close to mine, whispering in my ear as he pins me back against the wall with his other arm. “Do you understand? Can you keep your voice down?” It asks, a little more lax. 

After a few seconds, I nod, but my mind doesn’t have the time to process another plan. Maybe if I cooperate, they’ll let me the fuck go. His hand slowly falls from my mouth, and I stay quiet, nothing filling the room now but my haggard and nervous breathing, again. “Who are you,” I whisper, my tone demanding. 

I notice that the second man must be standing behind the one still holding me to the wall, hearing him huff a laugh under his breath. How can they fucking see me? 

“Let’s just say that if you play your cards right, we’ll be your new best friends,” the man says as he releases my chest, allowing me to breathe. I hear the tear of velcro twice, realizing he must be taking his gloves off. 

“I don’t need any more fucking friends. I have plenty back at home,” I bark, still gritting my teeth as I stay at a quieter level. 

They laugh again. “Home? You mean the cabin you were holed up in? Barely surviving?” the man behind the first asks sarcastically. 

“Home is where my family is, actually,” I bite.

“Aww, isn’t that cute,” they laugh at me again as I hear that they’re both standing, now. I should try and run again, right? But it might get me knocked unconscious again. Maybe not. Not yet. 

“Little Jake Kiszka, maybe you really do have the heart of gold everyone says you have,” the first one says. “Maybe being rich and famous didn’t get to you, after all.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about? Who are you? How do you know my name?” I ask. 

They both scoff again. “You’re fairly fucking famous, my guy. Lots of people know your name,” the second one blurts. My guy? Who–

“Well it’s pretty convenient that I don’t know yours, seeing as how you have me fucking tied up in a pitch black room. Can we cut the shit? Or am I gonna have to try and run again?” I ask, completely over this game. Suddenly, I don’t feel very threatened. 

“You won’t get very far if you do, Jake,” the first one whispers, and I hear his boots step closer to me again, and his breath hot on my face. “Listen to me, and listen closely, okay? Are you listening?”

“Yeah, fuck, I’m listening,” I say.

“We told you to stay quiet for a reason. You’ve been captured by an outfit that’s been around for a long, long time. But you weren’t caught for just any reason,” he goes on, barely audible. 

“What does that mean? What reason?” I ask. 

“They’ve got reason to believe that you know.”

“Know what?” I ask, confused. 

“Why the fucking world ended. Or actually, how. Your brothers, you all wrote about this, didn’t you? In your music?” he goes on, and if I wasn’t confused before, I sure as shit am now. 

“What?!” I squeal, almost laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“Hmm-mm. They aren’t kidding. Does it feel like they’re kidding right now? No.”

“Why do you keep saying they? You are the one that’s got me locked up, right now,” I retort. 

“Because we’re pretending,” suddenly the other one is in my ear. “They think we work for them. The brunt work. The dirty jobs…. Like kidnapping you,” he says. 

“Listen Jake,” the other interrupts. “We know you, we know who you are. We were… we were fans of your band, back then. But these people, the ones who hired us, they trust us. And they have worse plans for you than holding you in a dark metal box with your hands tied…”

“Why me? Why did they take me?” I ask. 

“Your music, your songs… you fucking predicted more about all this than you think you did,” the other explains. 

Josh’s dreams. 

“We didn’t predict shit, we were just writing fucking songs, we didn’t–”

“All of it is real, Jake,” the first whispers, his lips brushing my hair. “The stories you told, the worlds you built… all of it exists, and has existed for a long time.”

“I don’t get it,” I say, blinking my eyes in the darkness. 

“The lyrics you wrote about, the Garden you all dreamt up… It exists. In a complete other realm.”

I damn near laugh in their faces. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right? This is a joke?”

They stay quiet for a beat. “No jokes here, Jake. Just know that more is happening than you could ever even fathom. It’s not just the end of the world here. It’s the end of the world there, too. Well, it’s about to be, if the battle is lost,” the second says. 

“You’re both insane, and I’m in on some kind of prank. This is all a joke!” I argue. “We didn’t create that world...”

“No, you didn’t. But you knew about it. You wrote songs about it, didn’t you? You told tales of a Battle, wrote songs about war and peace, lyrics about the water rising, and the air so thin…”

My head is spinning. I’m getting a headache. And I could really use a fucking cigarette.

“Yeah, global fucking warming, who didn’t know about that?” I defend. 

They both laugh under their breath. “Let’s just say you guys literally wrote the time and space of another world as if you’d read their history books. And, lived there alongside them.” 

There’s no fucking way. This is absolutely ridiculous. 

“What do you mean if the battle is lost?” I ask, the question coming from my mere curiosity. 

The second crouches down in front of me again, from what I can tell. “Our world here has already begun to end, right? Technology itself is murdering us by the boatloads. The thing we created. It’s omnipresence became too much for earth to handle, started to suck away at her resources and poison her. Poison her natural way of ebb and flow. So she said fuck you humans, I don’t need you. You shall all suffer my wrath, and I’ll use the poison that you created to kill you,” his voice had gotten a little dramatic, as if he was reading a romantic tragedy. 

“Okay Shakespeare, we get it,” the first says, and I can’t help but laugh a little. “Here’s the thing… the other realm is suffering, too. What happens on earth is mirrored in that realm, but the mirror isn’t a clear reflection. It’s more of a…”

“Cloudy and messy shadow of what happens in our realm,” the other says. 

“Yeah, actually,” the first agrees. “It happens here, it happens there, just not the exact same way. So their world is suffering, too. But they’re going to try and stop it.”

“How are they going to do that?” I ask.

“...Have you not figured that out yet, man? Don’t you think that uh— capturing a few guys who have predicted it all to a tee so far and using them for information on what’s to come next wouldn’t be a nice and easy route for them?”

“You’re shitting me, right?” I say blankly. “You kidnapped me because they think I know what’s going to happen next after the world ends?”

“Mm, kind of. You’ve gotten it all right, so far.”

No, Josh has. Apparently.

“That and… a pretty good other reason,” the first mumbles. 

“What other reason?”

“You don’t have any signs of the rash yet, do you?” the second inquires, throwing me off. How would he know that?

“No… but what’s that have to do with all of this?” I say, my mind spinning. 

“You’re an immune. Just like us,” the second says with a bit of pride in his voice. 

“An immune? How the fuck do we know that we just haven’t gotten it yet?” I press. 

“You’ve seen how fast that shit kills people,” the first scoffs. “Don’t you think you would have at least shown a little bit of a sign of it, by now?” 

He’s right. It’s been months since the first sign of the rash, killed more people than I’d like to discuss. And quickly, too. But my whole family… none of us have shown signs…how are we all so lucky?

“Maybe the earth decided that she’d keep a few of us, the ones who aren’t fucking assholes,” the second barks, earning what sounds like a slap to the chest from the first. 

“I don’t think that’s how it worked, idiot,” he says. “Anyways, we’ve already spent too much time in here with you, Jake. But listen. Remember we’re all pretending. They’re going to push you, they’re going to make us push you. But we want you to know we’re on your team, even if we act like we’re not. They’re out collecting immunes as we speak, trying to put everyone into some type of commune to protect the longevity of mankind. But you’re special, because they think you know. They’re special because they’re immune. You following me?”

“When they kidnap more immunes they’ll group me with them, but treat me differently because they think I can help them, got it,” I say, catching on fairly easily, for some reason. 

“Bingo,” the second clicks his tongue. 

“Do the people who hired you live in the other realm, too? Like, why do they care?” I ask, feeling like I just read the plot of a fantasy novel.

“Think of it like a family intertwined between both worlds. They’re able to bounce back and forth, but they all take up space in both places. One realm can’t live without the other. That’s why they’re trying to stop the end of their world there, so they have somewhere to be if our’s ceases to exist,” the first explains. 

“That’s fucking confusing,” I whisper. “If ours ceases to exist, one can’t exist without the other. Isn’t Earth already too far gone?” 

“Maybe her inhabitants are almost wiped, but as a planet, she’s still got a long way to go before rejoining the cosmos. If the other realm is saved, it could power Earth enough to stop her eradication. Plus we have immunes. Earth won’t completely die, she’s just trying to do a hard restart, if that makes sense,” the second one adds. “She’s sick, and she’s trying to make herself healthy again.”

I let out a huff as I try and wrap my head around the dystopian film I’m apparently a part of now. Half of me thinks these guys are lying to me. Playing games to distract me. But then again, why would they be wasting their time?

“Play dumb, Jake. Pretend you don’t know a goddamn thing. Especially when they start to question you about what you guys wrote in this last album,” the first says, standing to his feet and putting his gloves back on, from what I can tell. “This isn’t gonna last forever, we’re going to put a stop to this.”

“You are? How?” I ask, pulling hard on the ties around my wrists. 

“We are. With your help,” the second whispers. “There’s a whole group of us who plan on breaking free of this shit, we’ve just got to trust each other that we can run. Gather up the other immunes once they’re captured and create our own destinies.”

“But, if we don’t go along with them, won’t Earth completely shit out on us? If their realm dies too?” I ask. 

“Catching on quickly, Jake. I’m impressed,” the first whispers. “If we recreate our own line of mankind from the immunes, everything will be okay. We just want to do it out from underneath the thumb of these selfish motherfuckers. We can do it on our own.”

The two of them turn on their heels and start to walk toward the door again, leaving me sitting in the floor. “Hey, where is my family?” I ask. 

“They were assigned elsewhere. Separated all of you, we don’t know where they ended up. Sorry, man,” the second says. And within seconds they’re both gone, and I’m alone, yet again.

Y/N

I trudge back inside the house now under the cover of darkness, after having spent a few minutes outside trying to breathe and calm myself. Paps has lit a few candles inside, and I can see the warm glow of them through the windows making the house look like a jack-o-lantern. I smile a little at the thought. As I push the door open and lock it behind me, I turn and notice he’s stood by the kitchen table, a few more candles lit across it. There in front of him are two bowls of potato soup. 

“Paps, this is so nice of you,” I mumble as I hang my afghan on the back of a chair. “I thought you said you weren’t up for eating tonight?” 

“Your Gran would have been ticked if she knew we were too upset to feed ourselves, you know that’s a fact,” he says, pulling my chair out for me. I take a seat and I can smell the herbs he’s put into the soup.

“You’re right…” I agree. “She wouldn’t have been happy with us at all.”

“Plus, figure you could pretend one of these candles is on a birthday cake, and blow it out. Since we didn’t get to celebrate you the right way,” he adds as he takes his own seat. 

“I think I could do that,” I say, picking up my spoon to dig in. “Thank you Paps, you’re really too good to me.”

“We’re all we’ve got, sweetheart.”

As we eat, I watch as Paps’ hands seem weaker now, and how they shake a little as he brings his spoon to his mouth. He’s done an excellent job on the soup, but we both know we’re choking it down, both of our stomachs too wrought with nerves and heartbreak to enjoy it like we should. 

As we clean our bowls, he pushes one of the candles toward me, holding his hand out to motion for me to blow. The candle is old and burned through almost all the wax, but it still smells of pumpkin and apple pie. “Don’t forget to make a wish, sweetheart. And make it a good one,” he says, giving me a sweet wink from behind his glasses. 

I take a deep breath and wrack my brain, feeling like making a wish right now is selfish. Normally, I’d wish for a happy next year, health and fortune for my family, or even for the next man that walks into my life to be the right one. 

But all of that feels stupid now, pointless to request of the universe. 

Next year isn’t even promised. 

Over half of my family is gone. 

And no man is destined to walk into my life to better it in the least, let alone offer me kinship of any kind. 

So instead I wish for Paps to stay as healthy as possible for as long as possible, and that the universe bestows good things upon us both. Because like he said, we’re all we’ve got. 

+++

After I’ve cleaned the dishes and tidied the kitchen, I’m stopped in my tracks from the same sound I heard coming through the walls last night– the sound of quiet, staticy music. 

I find Paps with his record player again, cranking the handle on the side as the sound begins to spill from the horn. For a second, I’m happy that he’d kept this old thing, knowing that without it, we wouldn’t be able to hear music at all, probably ever again. 

I step up beside him and watch it spin, listening to “Lovin’ You More Every Day” by Etta James drift into the air. I know that Gran loved this one, too. It was one of the songs they danced to at their wedding. 

So I take his hand in mine, pulling him to stand with me on the old oriental rug in the middle of the room. I begin to sway around as he gently places his hand on my back, swaying right along with me. We’re dancing a little too slowly for the speed of the song, but neither of us care. We’re just enjoying our time, wishing that Gran was here to clap for us after the song ends. But as it comes to a close, we’re met again with static, waiting silently for the first note of the next song. 

“You’re a bit too big now to stand on my feet,” he says through a stiff smile. 

“Maybe so,” I giggle. “But it was your training that got rid of my two left feet…gave me a sense of some rhythm…” I grin. 

He smiles again as he sniffles through some more tears. “I’m sorry I won’t be there to dance with you at your own wedding, sweetheart,” he mumbles as he pulls me close, and my heart shatters into a million pieces. 

“Now Paps, don’t talk like that…” I argue. “Lord knows I’m not gonna find a man who can dance better than you, anyway.”

I hear a chuckle run through his chest. “May be, sweetheart. May be.”

We sway along to a few more songs before we’re both yawning. “Believe I’m gonna hit the hay,” he says solemnly, patting me on the head a few times before making his way to throw a few more logs onto the fire. 

“Me too, I’ll see you in the morning?” I ask, realizing that this will be the first night in over sixty years that he is going to sleep knowing he won’t wake up to the love of his life. 

“When the rooster crows, my sweet. Love you.”

“I love you, Paps,” I say as we part ways, drifting off to our respective rooms. 

I’m thankful the weather isn’t too horrendous tonight as I snuggle into my bed, pulling the covers onto my chest. I relax, but leave my candle lit, staring up at the ceiling and recounting the day. The look on Gran’s face as she finally met peace, no longer feeling the wrenching burn of the rash that had enveloped her body. Poor Paps. I can’t even imagine what he’s feeling, right now. 

I grab my journal back up and flip to the page I’d left off on, realizing I’d stopped in the middle of a thought. Instead of finishing it, I start a new one. 

I write about Gran’s passing, how and where we buried her, how I adorned her hands and wrists with all her old jewelry, and how Paps had made me a special birthday supper. I try to be as detailed as possible, leaving nothing out as I let my hand flow from print to cursive. My eyes begin to get heavy as the candle light flickers, and I realize just how exhausted I am. How mentally and physically drained I’ve become, simply from trying my best to stay alive. 

My eyes close a little, drifting down onto my forearm that’s covered in tattoos. My dad hated them, but Paps and Gran always told me they were an expression of my life at the time, like a roadmap of all of the things I loved, when I loved them. Keepsakes I’ll never part with. I always thought it strange, that coming from grandparents from an era of humans who normally found tattoos distasteful, but. 

But they were right. I have over twenty tattoos, but my forearm is dedicated to the band that I knew and loved so much, and who brought me some of the happiest times of my life.

The first one sits right in the crook of my elbow, a simple sun and crescent moon that I got right after I fell in love with From the Fires. Then words, right below that, reading ‘In an age of darkness, light appears’ in small font, wrapping all the way around my arm. Under that, a swirling symbol that resembles a radar, 13 lines that make an almost complete circle to commemorate the song that reminds me to step back into the natural world. Beneath that, a sword and an arrow, parallel with one another. And lastly, a symbol that truly represented their fifth album, lines shaped into what looks like a bird in flight. 

I never got to get a tattoo from this last album. And honestly, the darkness of the theme of it made choosing what I would have gotten a little difficult, anyway. 

I run my hand over the dark black ink and my mind begins to sleepily drift. I wonder what my friends are doing right now…are they alive? Are they sad, too? Are they still clinging to the good times we shared to keep their minds from falling into the deep depths of solitude?

My fingers stop over the Age of Machine tattoo, the little ridges of the skinny lines still rigid on my skin. I think about how much this tattoo reminded me to unplug and drown myself in nature every chance I got. How that song truly motivated me to do the exact opposite of letting myself be pulled into the false world of social media, and spend my time in my garden, or swept up in a book. Strange, now… thinking about how it made me feel when I listened. Haunted, dizzy, and uneasy. Scared, almost, but cautious. Ominous and anxious, but in the most peaceful way. Now I’m glad of the inspiration it gave me. Maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten the rash. It’s almost like that song was warning us of what was to come…

What are the men who wrote this music doing right now? Are they okay, too? My heart wrenches in a different way than it has, yet. Yearning to know of the state of people I had never met, yet worried about the wellbeing of for so many years of my life. “Silly,” I whisper to myself. But, it’s not silly. It’s just the heart they helped me find within myself to care about other people so deeply.

I close my pencil into my book again as I blow out my candle, thinking of all the nights I went to sleep excited to wake up before the sun and double check the luggage I’d packed, grabbing a quick coffee before I hit the road to travel to god knows where to see my friends and my favorite band again. Carefree, and careless. Living my life the way I wanted to, choosing the road ahead to achieve that happiness I’d always chased when it came to hearing their music live. Life unchained, the way Gran lived hers. 

+++

Just as my body is relaxing into a well-deserved sleep, I’m awoken by a loud rumble, a deafening sound so deep that I feel it in my bones. I shoot up in bed, realizing that the bed below me is shaking, vibrating. I pull the covers back quickly, rushing down the hall to find Paps already coming toward me with his candle in hand. 

“What’s going on?!” I yell above the loud rumbles. 

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” he yells back, and we both make our way to the large picture window in the living room. The moonlight illuminates the hillside of the farm, revealing a giant faultline that reaches from one side of the field all the way to the next. 

“Shit,” Paps mutters as I feel panic setting into my gut. “Faultline.”

“What’s that mean?! Paps, what is it?” I ask in succession, watching as the crack as wide as a river is eating up the ground.

“Probably another sink hole. Or one is going to happen nearby, I’d say,” he barks as he turns and rushes back to his room. “We’ve got to go. We’ve got to run,” he hollers. 

What?! Run?? We can’t run! 

“Paps, but the house! We’re alread–”

“Get your backpack. Get dressed, hurry! We’ve got to get away from it!” he commands, his voice booming. The house begins shaking again as I run to my room, throwing on my pants, jacket, and boots, and tossing my heavy emergency backpack over my shoulders. I make sure to secure my toboggan onto my head before stuffing my journal into the free pocket of my backpack, rushing back out into the living room to find Paps ready and waiting. 

I hear plates and dishes falling from the shelves of the kitchen, and books falling off the shelves of the living room. It’s just like an earthquake, except I had watched a crevice form in the ground, right before my eyes. My hands are shaking, and I am already broken out in a cold, panicked sweat.  We rush to the truck, throwing our things into the bed as we climb inside. 

“Hank! Where’s Hank?!” I yell, looking around for him. 

“Leave him, we’ve got to go,” Paps says as he turns the key in the ignition, hearing the engine purr to life for just a second, before shutting right back off. He tries again, pumping the fuel pedal to get the block to heat and the glow plugs to light. “Fuck, fuck!! Come on, baby! Don’t do this!” he yells, trying to coax the machine. But it’s to no avail. The battery has died.

We open the doors and clamber to grab our bags again, realizing that on foot is our only means of escaping the growing faultline. We take off rushing down the dirt road, still hearing the deep rumble of the ground separating behind us. I wish I could describe the sound, a noise unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. The cracking and snapping of deep roots, the crashing of trees, a low bellowing sound so deep that it sounds like it came from hell, itself. Unreal. And utterly fucking terrifying. 

My legs carry me, and luckily so do Paps’, straight down the long driveway and back onto the main road. I hear the wood of the house start to creak, and more wooden-sounding bangs. Fuck. Please, not the house… 

“Should we go to the woods?” I pant, knowing that Paps is just as out of breath as I am. 

“No, to the knoll,” he points, panting too as he motions toward the top of a high hill. When we finally make it there, we stop, taking a breather as now it feels as though we’re far enough from the field to get a better view of everything that lies beneath. And there, right in the center of the field is another sinkhole, giant and deep and dark with half the farm swallowed up in it. 

Luckily, the house is untouched.

“How on God’s green Earth…” Paps breathes as he lets his hands fall to his knees, trying to catch his breath as the two of us look down on the scene in front of us. Like it was straight from a horror film. 

“Had to of been Gran. She wouldn’t let the devil himself take her home, if it was the last thing she did,” I say, earning a breathy laugh from Paps. 

“You’re goddamn right, sweetheart. You’re goddamn right,” he says, finally catching his breath. “We need to run, we’re pretty close to this thing, still.” We take off again, rushing back down the road as we still hear the ground shaking below us. We hear trees falling in the distance, and we begin running again. I’m truly thankful for Paps’ stamina and heart right now, his legs getting him to safety even at his age. 

“Keep going, Paps, not much further,” I encourage him, just in case he needs it. “We’re okay, we’re okay…”

Suddenly, I see a set of headlights in the distance, barreling down the road towards us in a cloud of dust. When it finally approaches, I flag it down until it stops beside us. An old man is sitting in the driver’s seat, his face just as panicked as ours. “Hop in! Hop in!” he says, and we listen. Paps and I rush to the passenger side and slide into the cab, the man already hitting the gas before Paps can even shut the door all the way. 

“You’ve got to turn around!” I say, “There are sinkholes this way!”

He turns the wheel harshly, and I’m glad he listens to me. We rush back the opposite way, zooming down the road so fast I can hardly fathom what’s happening. Pure panic. 

“We’re alright, Paps, we made it out,” I try and calm him, reaching for my canteen of fresh water and offering it to him as he catches his breath. 

Suddenly we’re being thrust forward as the man steps on the brake, and I’m close to cursing him before I notice he’s stopped before another faultline in the road. “My god…” the man says, opening his truck door and climbing out. 

“No, no… what are you doing?!” I yell, wondering why in the hell this man is getting out of our escape vehicle and walking towards the crack in the ground. I watch as he steps closer to it, inching his steps as he peers down over the edge. “Is he insane?! Are you insane? Please, come back!!” I scream, but he doesn’t listen. The ground shakes again, throwing the man off balance as it makes him stumble, swallowing him right up into it. 

“Oh my god!!” I yell as Paps lets out a guttural scream. My hand covers my mouth as I yell in disbelief, watching as the man is there one second, and gone the next. 

“Drive, Y/N, drive!” Paps urges me, pushing my arms to scoot to the driver’s seat. I throw the truck in reverse, pulling the door closed as I rush to get us away from it all, pushing the pedal to the floor as my eyes scan for more faultlines. It feels as though we’re surrounded by them. My heart is pounding, now, as my body does the necessary work on auto pilot. 

“Keep going! Keep going!” Paps says as we get closer to town, and away from the vibrating ground. After a few minutes of shaking panic, it feels like the buzzing of the ground has subsided, and I can finally take a deep breath. A shaky one, but a breath nonetheless. 

As I finally allow my eyes to adjust and my hands to stretch, I’m finally feeling in control of my body again. Okay, okay, I’ve got this. Just keep driving. “Paps, you okay?”

“I’m okay sweetheart, you okay?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” I breathe, taking another deep breath in to calm my shaking body. “God, why the fuck did he do that?”

“Couldn’t tell ya, dumb and curious, I guess,” he says, taking another drink from the canteen before offering it to me. “Head toward the city, we’ll need to find a place to hunker down, tonight.”

And though my heart is still pounding as his words hit me, I take the right turn off the state route to head to the interstate, both of us in high hopes that the city will offer us more than it did when we left it. But honestly, I’m losing faith. 

I’d been driving for nearly twenty minutes on the empty road before I take a cutoff exit, determined to cut our drive time down and conserve fuel. The exit leads to a sideroad that is heavily wooded, but I know it will get us to the city more quickly. As the headlights shine down the two-lane road, I notice some kind of dark, shadowed figures standing down in the distance. I blink a few times, trying to see what is there. 

“Is that deer?” I ask Paps. 

“Can’t tell, it’s too dark,” he says, so I slow my pace. My headlights do little to light them up, but the closer we get, the more human they look. Tall, dark… just standing there?

And they aren’t moving. I bring the truck to a stop, my headlights almost no help at all as the figures begin to close in on us, instead of moving out of the road. 

“The hell is this, what’s happening?” Paps yells as the figures have us completely blocked from continuing down the road, now. My panic returns. I hear Paps cock his shotgun. “Drive, drive!!!”

My foot smashes the pedal to the floor, but the truck doesn’t move. The tires screech as I continue pushing it, willing the truck to keep going. But it won’t. It’s like I’m running it into a brick wall. “What’s happening!! Why won’t it go?!” I scream, my hands gripping the wheel as the truck begins to fishtail from the force of the tires on the ground. The lights from the truck are completely gone, now. We’re in total darkness. “Paps!”

“I’m here, I’m here, honey!” and I feel him grab my hand. Suddenly the truck doors slam open, and my body is being grabbed and pulled from the seat. I thrash and kick at whatever has grabbed me, but nothing works. It’s too strong. I feel a painful hit to my head, and my ears scream as I start to lose consciousness. I feel a dark cover be put over my head and secured, completely blocking my vision altogether. “Paps!!!!” I try and yell, but I’m slipping quickly into unconsciousness as my voice is barely a squeal. My hands are being tied in front of me, and all I feel is cold. 

+++

I wake up in a cold sweat, my hands still bound as I sit with my back against a metal wall. My breathing is ragged as I try and take in my surroundings, and I realize I still have the covering over my head. I wince in pain from the impact of whatever hit my head earlier. I hear others beside me, many crying, panicked voices whimpering in the same room. I try and make a sound, but my voice is hoarse from screaming. I try and speak, but there is tape over my mouth. What is happening, where is Paps?!

My heart is pounding in my chest as I try to raise my bound hands and remove the covering, but it’s secured tightly. I’m in pitch black darkness, and I can’t see a fucking thing. I try to stand, but my muscles are weak and sore, and I can hardly will them to move, let alone stand. It’s unclear how long I was knocked out, and how long I have been sitting in this cold, metal room, but it feels like only a few minutes have passed. I feel tears begin running down my face, I feel so helpless, so exhausted. So blind.  

Suddenly I hear a loud noise, like a heavy metal door being thrust open. I see a light through the covering over my face, and I try and yell again. But nothing comes out. Just like in those nightmares where you are unable to make a sound. I hear footsteps come into the room, heavy boots pounding against the concrete floor. My covering is forcefully removed, and it takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the bright light. 

Finally, I’m able to see eight or ten others with me, all of us sitting with our hands bound, lined up against the walls of this room. Some beside me, some directly across from me. I watch as two tall, masked men work their way around the room, removing each and every face covering. A woman, a man, a teenaged boy, an elderly lady… and then, Paps. I make excited eye contact with him as I feel a squeal leave my taped lips. He’s safe. He’s here. 

I watch as the rest of the covers are removed one by one, the person seated directly across from me being saved for last. They leave him sitting for a few seconds as they exchange what looks to be laughs with one another before one of them gently kicks his legs a little before undoing his head covering. 

The man’s face is beaten and bruised, his brown hair tangled and long and falling in front of his face as he winces in pain. They throw his face covering back down to the floor beside him, laughing again as they turn and leave the room without a word, locking the door behind them. 

I peer to the hair-covered face again to get a better look, and I swear if my mouth wasn’t taped shut, I would have screamed out in disbelief. 

That’s Jake fucking Kiszka.

He feels my eyes on him as he finally looks up to me, noticing my awkward stare. Neither of us can speak. I feel myself smiling under the tape, what are the fucking odds? What is happening?! Where the fuck are we?

His eyes grow wide as he realizes I know him, and he stares back at me in utter confusion. Do I tell him I recognize him? Shit, he can probably tell I do, by now. For some odd reason unbeknownst to me, I maneuver my tied hands to slowly pull up the sleeve of my shirt, showing him the splattering of tattoos that line my forearm. I know you. I watch his eyes see them as I straighten my arm out, willing him to see them, recognize them.

I watch his chest rise and fall as he begins shaking his head slowly side to side, his breathing picking up significantly as he looks at me with red, swollen eyes. 

No? Is he telling me no?

Just as I hear the sound of the heavy footsteps coming back down the hall, I watch as Jake slowly lifts his bound hands to his face, his pointer finger sticking up in front of his taped mouth. 

My stomach falls as I realize he’s serious. Not only is he telling me no, he’s telling me to stay quiet.

Tags: @gretavangroupie @britney-gvf @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner @cassiesgreta @joopsandjangs @whimsiliz @kiszkas-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick@kiszka-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @jenniferkiszka @jjwasneverhere @gvfmarge @pineapple-photographer @vanfleeter

[i-me-mine]

As time goes by | Chapter 17: Gone

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Word Count: 8k

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | AO3

Chapter Summary: Enjoying your last days in Hawkins before leaving for college could have been easier if you hadn’t had to deal with the fact that Eddie ran away and left you alone after you kissed.

Notes: Sorry it took so long for me to update this! Life got in the way, then I got locked out of Tumblr; it took me a while to get back to writing… and then I wrote this super long chapter - I thought about splitting it into 2 chapters, but it’s been so long since I posted that I didn’t want to delay it anymore xD.

People spend their whole lives experiencing moments and sensations that become memories that, over time, will weaken and disappear. But you were sure you’d never felt an emotion like the one that washed over you when Eddie kissed you. The feel of rough guitar-playing fingers on your skin felt etched into you, and his lips’ soft, urgent touch felt like you were meant to merge into one. The wave of feelings invading your being in those moments changed you fundamentally. You didn’t see how you could be the same after that.

And knowing that Eddie was gone and that you probably wouldn’t get the chance to feel that again was unbearable. It was one thing to dream of what it would be like, a wish lost in the realm of imagination… and another to have that vivid memory bubbling up inside you. You already knew you were going to suffer, like a drug addict going through withdrawal.

The sounds seemed far away while you were still deep in thought, but you could hear Steve’s voice, with a falsely excited tone, trying to encourage everyone to return to the backyard, drawing attention away from you. The room grew quieter, and you felt Robin nudging your shoulder.

“You are full of surprises, huh? I was betting on Harrington... But, you like Munson, then?” 

“Yes,” you murmured, admitting it. 

“But you like him, like… for real? How much?” Nancy urged, trying to get more information from you. 

“Obviously more than he likes me, not that I can help that,” you sighed, ashamed, remembering how everyone saw you being rejected. 

“Judging by the intensity of that kiss, I’m sure there is more love than you may imagine. I was worried we wouldn’t be able to keep things PG here.” Robin tried to cheer you up. 

You shook your head in doubt, though your heart throbbed at her words, and you wanted more than anything to be able to believe them. At that moment, when you were his, and he was yours, everything seemed perfect, making it easy to feed your delusions that he could love you back.

Robin and Nancy started commenting on the boy’s dares, making fun of their performances, trying to make you laugh. After a while, you were feeling a little better, and you joined the rest of the gang, and gladly, no one else brought up the subject of Eddie up, so you tried your best to enjoy the rest of the night. As everyone returned home and you and Steve remained, he opened his arms, and you ran to his embrace, allowing yourself to cry. He knew you were hurt, and you knew that you could let your tears run freely around him, that he would offer you comfort, not judgment. 

“It was too good to be real.” you breathed deeply. “How can the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me be at the same moment?” you mourned. “Why doesn’t he love me? Am I such an unlovable person?”

“Please, how could you think he doesn’t love you after that kiss? Seriously, I’ve never seen anything like that… I can’t even imagine what it was like for you guys who felt that. Someone who doesn’t love you wouldn’t kiss you like that; it’s impossible.”

All you could hope was that it had been as special to him as it was to you.

“But still, it wasn’t enough to make him stay. I think I’m just gonna have to leave it at that.”

Steve frowned. “Why are you saying that? Are you going to hide from him?”

“I won’t need to.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you…”

“He will do it for me. That’s what he does, what we do,” you explained. “Except that we used to do it together, hide away from our problems, from the world… But now I’m the reason why he hides away. So I have no other option than letting him go.”

“Don’t bullshit me, little lady... You may get hurt, but that doesn’t mean you stop trying.” 

But you were not sure how many times you still wanted to try. Sometimes you thought that you just don’t know Eddie anymore, that you don’t understand his signs… or that maybe he is not giving any signal at all; it’s just you wishing to have something to hold on to.

“The truth, Steve… the hard truth is that if he wanted something with me, he would have made it clear already, he wouldn’t leave.” you used the back of your hands to wipe your tears, “but he always leaves. And I love him so much, but I’m tired of being on this alone.”

Your suffering hurt Steve deeply. He didn’t understand why things couldn’t be easier for you - if someone with a heart as good as yours was not happy in love, how could anyone else? It wasn’t fair.

“You know, some people live their whole lives and will never get the chance of getting a kiss like that or loving someone as much as you love him. Why don’t you just admit how you really feel? He deserves to know the truth. You deserve to get this out of your chest. I can’t stand you keeping secrets about this.”

“It was just a kiss out of a dare, and look what happened. I can’t say anything; I’m afraid it will only worsen things.”

Steve knew you were confused and hurt, and he didn’t want to push you further, but he also loved you too much, so he couldn’t help but be honest and try to open your eyes.

“Have you noticed that usually bad communication happens out of fear? Fear of conflict, fear of the result, fear of reaction…” he noticed how you looked down, avoiding his gaze. “This fear is a little monster that, if not crushed at the first opportunity of being honest, will grow, and this will become an evergrowing snowball jeopardizing everything.”

“When did you get so wise, big boy?”

“I think you bring the best out of me” he kissed the top of your head.

You were grateful that Steve let you stay there that night. The warm shower, plush sheets, and comfy bed in Steve’s guest room were welcoming, a lull in the middle of the hustle and an escape route from the trailer park, where you’d deep down wanted to be if only things had gone your way, but couldn’t think about going back after all that happened. You were daydreaming in bed when a light tap on the door caught your attention; Steve walked in and sat next to you.

“Are you feeling better?” 

“I am. I’m sorry for my little breakdown earlier… I’ve changed my mind… I’m glad that I’m able to love him so much.” you spoke a little too quickly as if trying to justify something to him. “Could you imagine how hard it would be going through life without ever feeling something so great?” 

“That’s my girl! Things won’t be this bad forever.”

“I know… and I could have avoided all this pain… but it would also mean I would miss all the awesome moments I shared with him. Things are not perfect, but I think I can live with that.” you shrugged.

“Speaking about the pain that could be avoided, but gladly was not… I think I never told you, but thank God I met you when I did… you changed my life.” he held your hand. “I was so heartbroken because of Nancy… I could have easily gone back to being a douchebag that didn’t care about anyone…”

“I doubt that, Steve…”

“I mean it.” he interrupted you. “I was confused back then, but you helped me. And you made me care about you. You showed me that there are still people with good hearts out there.”

“And you are one of them! Come here, big boy” You hugged Steve tightly, and he gently rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You saved me… and I can’t save you… that makes me so sad.”

“I don’t know how I would have survived all of this without your support, Steve. You are the best, and you are very special to me.”

You genuinely enjoyed spending time with him and getting to know him as a person was undoubtedly one of the few good things you got out of the whole nightmarish period when Eddie was with Samantha. You appreciated Steve’s kindness, loyalty, and sense of humor. He deserved so much more credit than he got. 

“Same here, little lady. I just wish you didn’t have to go so far away… but I’m sure you’ll do great things..”

“Just wait and see what I’m about to do with my life.” you laughed. “But don’t worry, a part of me will always be with you.” 

“I’ll miss you so much! Who is going to hang out with me now? No one understands me as you do. How am I going to keep myself busy without you here?”

“You won’t be alone. The kids love you, especially Dustin. Robin is great too.”

“Yeah, but she hates me.”

“She’ll learn to love you, just like I did.” 

“I’m not so sure of it! I’ll miss having someone to take care… and be taken care of.”

“Take care of our kids for me, will ya? I’m sure they’ll need you. And don’t stop looking, you’ll find someone.”

“I’ll try my best! I’ll let you rest now. Everything will be better tomorrow; you’ll see.” 

He kissed your forehead softly and stroked your hair like a loving father saying goodbye to a child at bedtime. All you could hope was that his words were true, that things would improve. But in the meantime, you could still find refuge in the memory of the kiss that changed everything.

It’s strange to see how a whole life fits into just a few cardboard boxes. Memories of years, happy and sad moments, little pieces of you separated into piles, cataloged as things to take to college, leave at home, and donate. Packing up your things was a long process over days, but it helped you physically stay away from Eddie, even though your thoughts were always on him. Until one day, as you were putting out the garbage, he approached slowly as if afraid you would run away from him.

Eddie, the vivid chaotic boy, who just couldn’t shut up about things, who always narrated so many campaigns, who had a quick mind ready to counter any smart player in D&D, was now tongue-tied, unable to find the right words to say, with a heart full of emotions and words stuck in the throat, repressed. He tentatively raised one hand as a ‘hello’ and just got a slight nod of your head as a response, which made his stomach ache. 

“I’m sorry for fucking this up. I hate the silence between us. Shit, I miss you.” he bursted.

“A little late for that, don’t you think?” 

You shouldn’t sound so wounded, damn it; you also missed him, you shouldn’t be pushing him, but your instinct gave out that reactive response before you could control yourself. You could see Eddie closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before speaking again. 

“Look, I don’t want us to go on like this, ignoring each other in life, knowing that soon you are going away.” the dark circles under his eyes indicated that he hadn’t slept well in days. “So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, stupid, and if you were merciful, we could take a shot at just pretending nothing changed and being friends again.”

The sad look in his eyes reminded you of the face he used to have sometimes as a kid. You hadn’t had an easy childhood, but you also knew that you’d somehow muddled your way through it because you had each other to hold on to. Time has passed, but somehow you were still those two kids, not knowing what you were doing but always there for each other. And you had to believe that it wouldn’t change. 

“Ok, I can do that.” you would rather have small pieces of him than nothing. “I miss you, Eds.” you gave him a small, shy smile, thinking how it was so good to tell him that, knowing all the feelings behind that.

Seeing your shimmering eyes and smile made his heart beat quickly. He wanted to take you in his arms and kiss you, but he wanted to take things slow, not wanting to risk losing you again.

“So, you should come to see us at The Hideout tonight… that could be your last chance to see us making a fool of ourselves on the stage before leaving us here.”

“I’ll be there; Gareth invited me… I’ll always be Corroded Coffin’s number 1 fan, no matter what happens or where I am.”

“Then let me show you firsthand the new song I’ll be playing today!” His eyes were now glimmering with barely contained excitement, holding your hand and guiding you to his trailer. 

He showed you the setlist, played some songs, and told you how they almost secured a fixed weekly day to play at the hideout. He was so happy - It was so good to have that soft, funny Eddie back - that boy willing to make a fool of himself just to make you laugh and feel comfortable and happy. It was easy to forget all the worries while standing with him in his bedroom. 

“We should stop running away from each other; things are always better when we are together,” he said, out of breath, after playing a few songs. 

“Hey, don’t look at me; maybe the problem is you.”

“Oh, the problem is definitely me, I’m sure.” 

“You have been nothing but trouble since our younger years,” you said, throwing a pillow at him. 

“But it was fun,” he threw it back. “I didn’t know how much I liked you until I realized every time I saw you, I just smiled…. even you being an annoying little girl, I couldn’t stay away.” 

And you smiled hearing his words, without even meaning to, like some infectious effect that Eddie had on you.

“The idea of having an older boy to protect me was too good to let it pass. I’m glad I found you.”

“I’m glad you never gave up on me.” As much as it was true, those tiny confessions were still hard to come out of Eddie’s mouth, so how the hell was he supposed to say anything else? He was trying to take small steps, but it was not getting any easier. 

He laid down next to you without a word. It could have been an awkward silence, but staying next to him was too good of a sensation for you to complain about.  

“Do you think I’ll adapt to college life? Sometimes it does not feel like something for me,” you said in a shy voice, as that was a genuine concern in your heart. 

“I’m sure you’ll do great! You were made for this! I was not made for college, and unfortunately, I was also not made for anything else” Eddie hugged you and started to brush his fingers through your hair.

“You were made for being with me,” you thought but did not dare to say. As much as you wanted to kiss him and tell him how much you wanted him, you were also happy to be able to be there, hugging him again. 

When you embraced Eddie, you felt like it was a kind of energy transmission, and it made you feel at peace, even if for a few seconds. Staying there with him like this was like the world stopped so you could be truly happy for a while. Even if just for a bit.

And in times like these, feeling his arms around you, you thought that there was nothing greater in life than your love for him… and that it should count for something… but you also knew that it was nonsense, that you were just living the last few breaths of something that had already ended. 

“That was amazing, guys!!” you exclaimed as you entered the backstage. 

“Things will be way quieter now that we won’t have you single-clapping for us after the show anymore.” Jeff laughed.

Acid remarks were being thrown on each side - you would surely miss spending time just hanging out with the boys at the hideout. Eddie, however, was grumpy in the corner of the room, clearly not sharing the fun vibe that was going on. When he noticed you taking gifts from your backpack to give to the boys, the farewell gifts you were distributing to everyone, he couldn’t handle that anymore and stormed out of the room.

“Don’t worry about him; he is just having a hard time dealing with… you know… the fact you are leaving soon” Gareth face transformed with a huge smile when he saw the red flannel shirt you gave him. “I love it, by the way.”

“Yeah, you rock!” Jeff added, proudly looking at the Black Sabbath shirt you gave him. 

“Would you mind if…” you started saying

“Go, he needs you.” Gareth encouraged you with a smile. 

You found him smoking a cigarette, looking to the stars, and he let out a startled gasp when he noticed you approaching. 

“Would you mind sharing?” you said tentatively, getting a small smile from him, and he handed you the cigarette. 

You stayed there for a moment when you finally broke the silence. “What’s wrong, Eds?”

He ran his hands on his face before looking at you. 

“I just can’t understand how everyone could be so okay with you going away.” 

“And I can’t understand why you are acting like this and wasting our time before I’m gone. It’s not easy for me, you know.” you countered. 

Your sudden sincerity took Eddie aback. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His facial expression seemed confused for a moment, and suddenly he wrapped his arms around you, and you rested your head against his chest. His hands slid up your back, and his cheek leaned against your hair.  

“I’m sorry if I’m making things worse… I’m just feeling lost,” He admitted.

“So am I,” you whispered.

The scariest thing about distance is that he didn’t know what to expect. Maybe you would miss him or completely forget about him. He never planned to fall in love with you, and things could be much easier if he didn’t. But at the same time, thanks to you, he knew that his life was way better.

“Let’s go home, shall we?” he offered.

The ride home was quiet, both of you with a million thoughts running in your heads but not verbalizing a single one. There were so many things you wanted to ask him… but you knew that Eddie would lose it if he knew what you were thinking and feeling. As you got to the trailer park and climbed out of the van, you asked the question that was burning in the back of your mind. 

“So… what should we do with our last days here?” 

“I just want to spend every possible minute of them with you,” he admitted.

How could someone give you so much strength yet still be your only weakness?

“Come on, then,” you said, pulling him into this trailer, feeling his warm and sweaty hand in yours. It was insane to think how you were both afraid of speaking about your feelings but were also unable to deal with how starved for each other closeness you were. 

Laying on the bed beside him felt like a luxury you couldn’t afford. You wished that you hadn’t wasted so much time shutting him out, maybe it was already too late to live what you would really want to, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t enjoy what you have now. 

“I know you are giving gifts to everyone, but would you accept one from me?” he whispered and smiled when you nodded, agreeing. 

He then turned to hit play on his stereo, and you waited silently. Then the music began. And his voice, sweet, deep, passionate, started singing, and the lyrics described the travels of an adventurer in a distant land with his companion. Under that disguise, you recognized some of your own adventures and moments you both shared, and you knew it was a song about you. You listened, speechless and wide-eyed. You knew he was waiting for your reaction, but you couldn’t find the words to speak. Tears welled in your eyes, and you reached up to wipe them away before they streamed down your face. 

“I thought that maybe you could take the tape to listen whenever you miss us.” his voice was low, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at you.

“Oh, Eds…” you started, but he interrupted you, putting a small package in your hand.

You opened it and couldn’t help but smile. It was a guitar pick necklace, but that wasn’t a typical guitar pick. When you were younger, you started doing small jobs here and there to get some coins, and the first thing you bought wasn’t something for you. You went to the music store and chose that pick for him. He used to tell you it was his lucky pick and used it in important concerts or whenever he was too anxious. 

“Take it with you… maybe it would make you remember me once in a while. You know how it is, out of sight, out of mind.”

You took it in your hand and felt it for a moment. Its energy was warm and comforting, like a warm hug. You placed its chain over your neck and held it close to your heart. 

“You’ll wear it?” he asked.

“Of course, I will.” 

He grinned at you with that wide happy smile that melted your heart. 

“You may not be able to be around me, sweetheart, but you can carry a piece of me with you,” he added shyly. 

You reached out to touch his cheek, and he caught your hand, pressing it against his lips. He stroked your cheek With his other hand, and you could feel the blood rushing beneath your face. You stayed there, pressing your foreheads together, inhaling simultaneously. You wished you weren’t able to be so comfortable in silence because there were moments when things had to be said, but you both were, again and again, choosing to avoid speaking about what really mattered. Once again, you decided to delay a hard conversation and sank into sleep, enveloped in his warmth. 

Eddie, however, was having a hard time falling asleep, afraid that if he closed his eyes, you would disappear. He slowly realized how much he would miss that intimacy - holding the other in the middle of the night, cuddling, holding hands, laughing about something dumb the boys did or said, listening to music, reading to each other. All the lingering stares. All those conversations without speaking. He knew he would not find that with anyone else, and knowing that he was about to lose made him want to cry, and it took a long time until he finally gave up and slept.

Despite the gray day, the sun escaped and entered through the window. When Eddie woke the next morning, he gazed at your back as you slept and felt something that he couldn’t name in the pit of his stomach. It could have been desire or affection, but he knew it was more. 

Your bat tattoo on display seemed to tease him. You made it as a promise that you would fly away together, but now you were leaving, and he would stay behind, left, forgotten. He wanted to hold you close and not let you go away, but he knew it was selfish. 

“I’ll make you proud someday. I promise,” he murmured, knowing you could not hear him. 

He lightly touched each of the bats in your tattoo, trying not to wake you, thinking if they would somehow help you fly back to him one day. A gasp left his lips as he noticed you turning to face him. But you were not awake, not yet. He noticed how your eyes started to blink and knew you were close to waking up, so close… he ran his hand over your face gently and wished he could keep you there. He wished he had the power to know what’s on your mind and wished you couldn’t know what’s on his as he was ashamed of all the messy thoughts clouding his mind.

“Are you awake already, sweetheart? Let me get you breakfast then” he kissed your forehead, getting up and leaving the room. 

An idea has been forming in your mind the whole night, and you looked around, finding Eddie’s notebook and his pen. You hurried and wrote what you wanted desperately to tell him on a piece of paper, folding it and writing “For Eddie” on top of it, leaving it on his bedside table before leaving his bedroom. 

You had existed in a blissful bubble for the past few weeks, living in the moment, savoring every second of the time you spent together. You watched movies, read to each other, went on hikes, laid on the top of his trailer, and gazed at the stars. You took advantage of any opportunity to find comfort in each other’s arms without crossing the line of a kiss again, but you were happy anyway. It had been easy during this time to put off any serious discussion, any talk of the future. But as your last day in Hawkins approached, Eddie started to get sad, and in his heart, he began to believe he wasn’t good enough for you and that soon you would realize it, so it would be better if you were not there by his side when it happened. 

On the morning before your last day, you got up and left the trailer while Eddie slept on unawares, snoring softly. You promised Will that you would play one of his campaigns before leaving, and the boys would meet very early in Mike’s basement. You knew the campaign would likely go through the whole day, so you had already planned a sleepover with Nancy, and Max would join you. Joyce was kind enough to convince Hopper to let El join the boys during the day, so you had the chance to also say goodbye to her, but unfortunately, he didn’t allow her to stay the night. 

It was fun playing D&D with the boys. You couldn’t wait until they got to high school; you were sure that Eddie would love to welcome them to Hellfire. They were excited when you gave them your old miniatures and D&D guides. You knew you wouldn’t have time for it in college, and D&D stuff is usually something that you pass from one player to the other - you hoped that maybe you could pass your guides to Max, but she wasn’t interested in it - hopefully, your old things were safe with the kids until they could find a new player who would benefit from them. 

You had a great time during the night with the girls. You knew that Nancy cared about the kids a lot, and you wanted Max to know that while you would be away, Nancy would still be someone she could count on - that’s why all the moments you three shared mattered a lot to you. And you knew you were going to miss them.

The morning of your last day finally arrived. Steve planned a farewell party for you, which was good, as everyone was busy with their summer jobs and you didn’t see them as much as you wanted to. But that was the last time you would see Max before leaving. When the time for the goodbye came, you gave her your gift: a Walkman. 

“Music always helps, no matter what you’re going through. I’ll be listening to mine, so whenever you listen to yours, we’ll be connected,” you explained when you gave it to her. 

Unexpectedly, Max threw her arms around you. “You be careful,” 

You hesitated just a moment before you hugged her back. “You, too,”

She still kept her arms around your neck, head on your shoulder. “I’ll be all right,” she said, clasping your face. “But I’ll miss you, for sure.”. 

“I’ll miss you too, Max. You have Nancy… and you have El too. She needs her time, but I’m sure you two will be great friends, be patient; it will happen, I know it! And I love you, don’t forget that!”.

“I love you too,” said Max, not wanting to let go of you.

When you got back to the trailer park, Marc was already waiting for you. He was there to get your things to put in the car, so you could go right after the party, not needing to come back to the trailer park later. You were glad he was there to help you - your boxes were heavier than you thought. 

“Need a ride for the party?” he offered after loading the car with the last box.

“I’ll go with Eddie… but I’ll see you there, right?”

“Of course.” his smile diminished a bit. “see you later, princess,” he said before driving away. 

Your house suddenly felt so empty. Your father was drunk already, snoring on the couch, and didn’t pay attention when you tried to say your goodbyes. You left your house and met Eddie in your usual spot in the woods near the trailer park. Without a word, he understood how you were feeling and held your hand, guiding you to the old tire swing where you used to play when you were kids. 

“I think you need a little bit of fun, m’lady,” he said while helping you get into it. 

He pushed you, and you started singing silly songs as you did as a child. He laughed and started to sing along, and at that moment, the sound of your voices made you forget all the things that were worrying you. It was like being back in those simpler times.

“You know I’ll stand by you, support and love you, no matter the distance between us, right? Nothing will ever change.” He said in a choked voice. The fact that he wasn’t looking into your eyes made it a bit easier for him to speak. 

“Things change, Eds… in a moment we were kids playing here.. And in a blink of an eye, a decade goes by, and here we are… with me getting ready to move to another city, having to deal with living by myself, going to college, finding a job, adapting to a whole new life…”

“All of this seems too much for only one girl.”

“Well, don’t blame me for trying. I’ll try to have courage.”

And Eddie thought it was beautiful becausem deep down,  he was a man afraid of many things - and he got distracted for a moment and didn’t notice you tried to jump off the tire swing and fell to the ground.

He hurried to check if you were hurt, and the sound of your laughter echoed while he helped you get back up. The rest of the world dropped away when you took each other’s hand and looked into each other’s eyes. You felt as if you could hear the flickering of birds, water lapping, and the wind blowing, and then all at once, you couldn’t. Everything around you fell silent. It was just the two of you.

It could have been minutes or just a second; you couldn’t measure how long you stared at each other, unable to break eye contact. Eddie looked like he was about to slam you against a tree and make out to you, or maybe it was just the burning desire playing tricks with your mind. Being so close to him was torture. You were tired of pretending.  

“Eddie, I have to admit… I’m scared.” you were on the verge of tears

“Just saying that makes you more brave than you imagine… but you don’t have to be scared, sweetheart.”

But you were scared about the new life ahead of you and the things you were leaving behind. 

“What if I’m making the wrong decisions, Eds? What if…”

He interrupted you: “I’ll be damned if I let your insecurities win. I have never met anyone like you; if there is anyone that can conquer the world, that one is you.”

“The rest of the world may not agree with you, Eds.”

“Sweetheart, other people’s judgments are meaningless… unless you allow them to mean something. Don’t do this”.

And as soon as the words came out of his mouth, Eddie realized something - He was always fearless, not worrying about the bullies in the school, always doing as he pleased… but it was different with you. He usually got speechless and was always worried about messing up and afraid of what you could think… and that was the reason. He didn’t care about what others were thinking except for you. What you could think about him meant the world to him, the opinion that mattered.

There was a lot he wished to confess, but he struggled to let the next phrase come out of his mouth: 

“You know… I’m scared too. Things are easy when you are here… but life will be hard again once you leave.”

“And what does that mean, Eds?” you paused. “Is there anything you wanna tell me?”

His heart was hitting his chest, and he hoped you couldn’t feel its ragged rhythm. He, a man who could talk to anyone, was now tongue-tied in your presence. He just couldn’t seem to control his words or his emotions, though he tried his best. Every time you were together, he held back. He wanted to be all over you but was cautious, not wanting you to see how he was burning for you. 

But time passed, and he kept quiet. You felt your chest getting heavier and bit your lip to avoid the tears pooling in your eyes. You took his silence as a sign of indifference.

“We should get back,” you murmured, defeated, walking back without waiting for him.

The sadness of the cold goodbye you got from your father and the silence from Eddie faded away when you got back to the trailer park, as Wayne was waiting for you with warm eyes and a smile. Saying goodbye to him was more challenging than you thought, and you could already feel the tears pooling in your eyes, and you looked down, not knowing how to say goodbye to him. 

“You should get Hopper to arrest me - leaving you and Eddie alone is practically criminal negligence; who will take care of you now?”

“Our lives won’t be the same without you here… but I think it’s important to get away from where you’ve grown up for some of your life… Go see the world, kiddo! But don’t forget you’ll always have us here whenever you want to come back.”

“What if I don’t want to go?” you mumbled, pouting like a small kid.

“Keep your head up, my sweet, beautiful girl. This is just the beginning. Don’t forget this old man will always wish you all the best.”

You were never good with words, and this time you wished you were because there were so many things you wanted to tell him. 

“I love you, Uncle Wayne!” You hugged him around the waist, tears streaming down your face. 

“There, now. You don’t want to miss your party. Go have fun, kiddo. I love you.”. He patted your back and tried to hide that he was almost crying.

Eddie was also trying to keep his emotions under control and tried his best to distract himself by singing in the car while going to Steve’s house, knowing that was probably the last car ride you would share. He didn’t want to think of all the preparations you did - how you left him a copy of the keys to your trailer, how you let him store some of his belongings in your old room, to declutter a bit his bedroom in his trailer, how you were wearing his favorite shirt, and wearing the guitar pick necklace you gave him. He just couldn’t believe this was the day he would lose you. 

When you got to Steve’s house, everyone was already there - Eddie let you go and join the others, he knew that everyone wanted to spend time with you, and he wanted to let you enjoy it. He was happy to see you all playing and having fun together. 

And during all that, he gazed at you, trying to memorize everything about you. Your hair, your eyes, the clothes you were wearing, your lips, your cheeks, the color of your skin when the sun hit it, your voice, so beautiful while singing along with the boys, that smile that he loved so much. 

He looked at you and wished he would never stop looking at you, but he knew it was the end. He could already imagine that the weeks would pass, maybe you would stop to write back his letters, to answer his calls, there would be that unspoken thing, the heavy silence, and you would then forget about him. So he knew he had to remember every little detail now because those were the last moments he would have the chance to see and witness them.

And you were smiling so beautifully, playing catch with the girls when you stopped and looked at him. And then you started to run to him, and without thinking, he also ran to meet you. He picked you up and spun you around, inhaling the sweet scent of your hair. Being around you made him feel giddy and excited. It made his heart race, and he could not string a coherent sentence, but he was glad it didn’t bother you. 

“You know that not a single day will go by that I won’t think of you, right?”

“Good!” you replied, smiling.

He could picture the whole life ahead you would have, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was holding you back. He had no idea what would happen in the future, which scared him. 

“You and I are going to be okay; you know that, right?” he didn’t know if he was telling that to reassure you or to convince himself about it. 

You nodded, and when your lips opened to say something, Robin grabbed your arms, making you stand in a chair to make a speech to everyone before you left. Shyness washed over you, but you did your best to mumble a few words to everyone.

“And we may have had some ups and downs,” you concluded, looking fondly at the group, “but I love every one of you. I know that I’m moving on to the next chapter of my life, but please know that I sincerely hope we can hold each other close in our hearts. I know I’m taking all this love with me wherever I go.”

“She is smart. Too smart to stay stuck here,” Steve murmured. He could feel the tears falling, and Robin, standing by his side, was surprised to see that he wasn’t trying to stop the tears.

You raised your cup, your eyes shining with tears. “Cheers, everyone. I’m so glad I met you!”

“Cheers!” They all responded in unison, tapping their cups together and wiping their eyes with broad smiles. No one was smiling brighter and crying harder than the curly hair boy in the corner.

“That’s my girl!” you heard Steve call out from the sidelines - you were thankful he was there trying to cheer you, although it made you feel the blood hot under your cheeks.

He held out his arms for you and brought you in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you, little lady,” he murmured into your hair as you leaned your head against his chest. 

“I know you are, big boy!”

“I’m gonna miss you so much” Nancy stole you from Steve’s arms to hug you. 

“Don’t. Be. A. Stranger.” Jonathan wagged his finger in your face. 

You pretended to think about it for a second. “Sorry, Jonathan. Can’t make any promises.” You patted his face giving him a confident smile.

Eddie stepped into the space Jonathan had once stood in, finding himself beside you. The indescribable urge to touch and kiss you welled in his entire being, but he attempted to keep it at bay.

“Are you gonna say goodbye? I don’t wanna hear it.” Eddie said quickly. 

You shared one last hug, hiding your face in his neck. You mumbled what you knew could be your last words to him.

“I’m afraid we will forget this. I don’t wanna forget how this feels.” 

He stepped back and gently cupped your face, staring into your eyes. “I won’t forget. I could never forget you… it’s hard to forget someone who gave me so much to remember.” 

You were unable to speak another word, lost in those chocolate-brown eyes. You hoped that your eyes would say enough. 

“shh,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. “it’s okay, sweetheart.”

Your eyes locked, and your breathing quickened. A tiny spark of hope that you would kiss crossed your mind, but the sound of a door slamming snapped you out of the moment. You turned to find Marc ready and waiting for you by his car. 

“Up you go,” Eddie said, in a voice he was fighting to keep steady. He leaned in close, gently, and whispered, “I’ll miss you.” 

He stepped back again, you both just staring at each other awestruck. Dazzled. In his mind, he kept repeating, “I’m never gonna be okay with being apart. I’m gonna keep missing the hell out of you,“ but he couldn’t find the strength to tell you that.  

One side of his mouth pulled up into your favorite uneven smile. You couldn’t catch your breath soon enough to reply and just tried to smile back. The words stuck in your throat as you saw the lost light in his eyes just before he turned and walked away. 

You waved your goodbyes to the others and joined Marc, ready to start the ride. Through it all, you sat numbly in the car, tears leaking steadily from your eyes, while you left your heart, your whole life behind, heading into the unknown. 

Several beer cans were spread out in the trailer’ living room, and Wayne’s heart ached when he noticed a wasted Eddie with his head on the table. 

“Boy, are you ok?” he asked, knowing already the answer.

“She left. Why leave me? Why no one stays? What am I going to do now she is gone?” the intrusive thoughts were fighting their way into Eddie’s mind and were winning. 

“C’mon, boy, as much as heartbroken you must be now… she must have felt the same pain when leaving; she is crazy about you.”

“All I ever wanted was to be enough for her. But I’m not. Do we get what we deserve? Because it seems that I surely don’t deserve her. Why would I? She is now going to college while I’m here, stuck repeating the senior year. I wanted to be a perfect guy and be important, but why would she want someone like me? She would never want…” 

Eddie was speaking so fast, his breathing increasing as he was getting increasingly anxious, until Wayne put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. 

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself, Eddie. You need to see yourself as worthy of love, son, because you are.”

“I’m not; I’m just a fucked up mess.” he tried to push Wayne away, but Wayne decided not to leave Eddie’s side. “I always thought that loving someone, giving that much authority to one person was scary, but you see… that’s the easiest part. I would give my whole life to her without thinking twice - but the problem is that my life is not valuable, not enough for her, and that’s scary.”

“Being receptive to affection is one of the things that trauma steals from us, boy, and it hurts me to see this happening to you.” Wayne caressed Eddie’s hair. “I’ve already been in that moment of not accepting, or rather forgetting how to accept good things… and I can tell you that pain can put us in places that are complicated and far away from the ones we care about, and we can get lost… you don’t have to go through that.

“It’s not that easy! When I saw all those romantic movies with her, I understood why she loved them, but I never wanted to live them... I mean, can you imagine loving someone so deeply that when they leave, you crumble into pieces?” he sighed. “And here I am, feeling just like them. And I know what comes next, a pain that will engulf me so much that I won’t be able to eat, sleep or drink properly… I felt it before when we were apart, and now it will be even worse.”

“So you would rather not love her, then…”

“Loving her is the best thing that could have happened to me! But it’s the worst for her! I only mean trouble for her.”

“Life is trouble, son. You’ve got to fight for what you want.”

Eddie spent so long trying to convince himself he did the right thing but wasn’t so sure anymore. He didn’t know what to think. 

“I don’t have the right to hold her life up. I can’t fight for her if that’s not what she wants. I need to respect her decisions, and she decided to go away. There’s nothing I could do.”

Eddie got up and left, not wanting to argue anymore. Wayne sighed - He knew how good for each other you were, how you always encouraged and supported each other, how you saved each other. And he could only hope that this would not be lost forever because he didn’t want to see Eddie suffering. 

Eddie’s eyes drifted across his bedroom as he slowly entered. Every corner had something that reminded him of you, of the connection you two had, a sense of bittersweet nostalgia. What once was his happy place now felt empty and hollow. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw your trembling lips trying to form a smile in that farewell moment. The weight of unspoken words pressed heavily upon his heart.

He sank onto the edge of the bed, letting out a sigh, replaying the moment of your parting in his mind - you have left for college, to your new beginning, while his feelings remained locked away, unvoiced - as these emotions surged, a whirlwind of frustration and regret filled his chest - he wanted to believe it was the right thing to do, he didn’t want to hold you back from pursuing your dreams, but with every minute away from you, his doubts gnawed at his resolve.

Amid his thoughts, a sudden flicker of color caught his eye. The folded piece of paper was on the nightstand amidst the chaos of scattered textbooks and old photographs. Seeing your handwriting in “For Eddie” made him smile. 

He hadn’t dared to read it when you left it for him, but he hoped that your letter would have words of comfort and would help him cope with your absence. His trembling hands reached out to retrieve it, and his heart skipped a beat as he unfolded the note.

“FUCK! SHIT, SHIT, NO!” Eddie yelled, his frustration growing into a potent mix of anger and regret, settling like a heavy fog, enveloping his senses, making him throw things around - while broken fragments stayed scattered on the floor, his tears burning their way down his cheeks. 

He sank to his knees, clutching the note tightly in his hands. It was a poignant reminder of the depths of feelings and the missed opportunity to express them. With every fiber of his being, Eddie wished he could turn back time and rewrite the script of your farewell.

Instead of the heartful, lengthy letter that Eddie expected, you wrote only 4 simple words to him:

“Ask me to stay.”

💜 For all of you that are still reading this, thank you, thank you! This story is my little baby, a coping mechanism for me and writing it helps me feel better, and I can't believe that there are people that actually read it! 🥰 Your feedback, likes, reblogs, and comments make my day!

@sidthedollface2 @bimbobaggins69 @moonmoosblog @corrodedseraphine @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @basketcaseeeeee @chloe-6123 @tlclick73 @them-cute-boys @mushroomelephant @crook3d-strang3r @ingridvasquez @vulcrum332 @1paire2vans @strangerthingsstories5255 @stranger-messenger @mitenchii @sherrylyn628 @sapphire4082

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 1

Prologue || Index || Chapter 2

Fireheart’s paws felt like stone as he carried Quickflash’s body into Thunderclan camp. In the tunnel behind him were Graystripe, Longtail, Dustleap, and Tinyfrost - all mourning the loss of yet another deputy in only two seasons.

And he knew exactly why.

His blood boiled as he saw Tigerclaw across camp, chatting nonchalantly with Bluestar. As they turned to see the returning patrol, the dark tabby’s face turned into a perfect expression of shock - one, he could imagine, the cold-hearted murderer had been practicing for ages. But he kept quiet, partially because he had no proof and partially because he was still carrying Quickflash.

He gently laid the deputy’s body in the center of camp as the Clan began to congregate around him. “What happened?” Bluestar was the first to ask, grief filling her eyes even as she stood tall in front of them.

He glanced at those that had actually been on the Shadowclan border patrol to answer. Graystripe had buried his face into his father’s fur, blind and deaf to the outside world, while Dustleap stared empty-eyed into the distance. It was Longtail that finally responded. “He was laying in the middle of the Thunderpath. A Monster must have hit him.”

“What was he doing out there?” Patchpelt, the newest elder, asked as he gazed down at the too young deputy’s body.

“I don’t know. He must’ve seen something - maybe a Shadowclanner-” Longtail’s voice was rising rapidly, and he blinked gratefully to Bluestar when she raised her tail to quiet him.

“This is a horrible accident. Quickflash was a fine warrior, full of energy and courage. He dedicated himself to his Clan wholeheartedly.” She shook her head mournfully as she stood above him. “I was certain he would have led Thunderclan to a great and prosperous era.” 

Unspoken words hung in the air as she crouched down, murmuring her own thanks to her fallen deputy for serving her. One by one, Thunderclanners came up and paid their respects to Quickflash. Just as Fireheart was approaching, he heard a burst of noise from nearby.

“Quickflash! No!” A silver blur rushed by him, and he realized after a moment it was Willowbranch, the deputy’s mate. She nosed under his chin, as though trying to wake him up, but it was already too late. His body had grown cold in the late leaffall breeze. “Oh, my darling…” She whispered softly as she blinked back tears. “What am I going to do without you?”

He found it hard to breathe as he watched the grieving queen whisper words only meant for her mate’s spirit to hear. He could have prevented this. He should have prevented this. He raised his head to see Peppermask and Dewpaw approaching their father as well, their expressions horrified. So much unnecessary grief, all for Tigerclaw to get his way.

Fireheart dipped his nose down into the pale tabby’s short fur. The tom still stank of the Thunderpath; the elders had had no time to put the mourning herbs into his pelt. “I promise I’ll make sure this never happens again.” He whispered, hoping that like Redtail, Quickflash’s spirit could hear him. He glanced up, wondering if he might see either of them, but there were no spirits lurking at the edges of camp.

At last he moved away, padding over to the healer’s den where Yellowfang was watching. “We need to talk.”

She flicked one torn gray ear. “I know.” She dipped her broad, flat face towards where Tigerclaw and Darkstripe were conversing, staring at the corpse in camp. “I’m sure all of us that know are having the same thoughts. But the children will need time to grieve, as well.” She nodded to someone behind him, and he turned to see his old mentor approaching. “Tinyfrost. Do you need something?”

“It’s Fireheart I’m here for.” The little tom’s icy blue eyes were burning with barely contained fury, and he could see on his white paw that his claws were partially unsheathed. “We need to speak. In private.”

“Yellowfang’s seen Redtail’s spirit.” Fireheart murmured quietly, careful to keep Tigerclaw from overhearing. “She knows.”

“Ah.” The two regarded each other for a moment, gauging intentions, before Tinyfrost sat down beside him. “Then you know we must do something. Now, before Bluestar names the next deputy.”

Yellowfang shook her head. “We have no proof. As far as anyone knows, Quickflash had a tragic accident.” She nodded to the littermates sharing tongues for the last time with their father. “And we should include them. It’s their father; they’ll be furious if they’re not allowed to avenge him.”

“But there’s a chance-”

“No.” The grizzled healer gave him a hard glare, one he reflected back. “I will talk to Bluestar. She will likely want to see me anyway, for Starclan’s guidance.” She looked around camp, slowly appraising each warrior. “Believe me, I have no desire to see Thunderclan fall to the reign of a cat all too like Broken- Brokentail.” She swallowed hard at the thought of the tyrannical tabby’s reign. “But we must not act rashly, or we will fall right into his trap.”

“Just like Quickflash did?” Tinyfrost growled. From near the warriors’ den, he could see Tigerclaw flick an ear towards them.

“Tinyfrost.” Fireheart hushed him quickly. He nodded towards Tigerclaw, who was now slyly listening to them with one back turned ear. “You’re right, Quickflash would want us to go hunting while the Clan mourns. The freshkill pile is far too low.”

His old mentor was still glowering at the giant tabby from across camp. “Fine.” He spat out, his claws flexing in and out of the dirt as though he were imagining the ground beneath him to be Tigerclaw’s neck.

“I’ll go tell Whitestorm, then.” He mewed quickly, bounding off before the little warrior could change his mind. Normally, he would tell Bluestar, or the deputy, but neither were in a position to listen to him, and everyone knew that Whitestorm was essentially third in command within the clan.

The snowy tom was sitting next to his mate under the Highrock, his yellow eyes sorrowful as he gazed at the body in camp. He slowly raised his gaze to see the other warrior approaching. “Fireheart. Did you have need of us?”

He shook his head quickly. “I- I just wanted to say that Tinyfrost and I are going hunting. The Clan will need freshkill tonight, and with so many cats grieving…”

Surprise flashed in the senior warrior’s gaze, which quickly turned to gratitude. “That is an excellent idea. I am sure Bluestar and the Clan will appreciate your initiative.” Lionheart nodded slowly beside him in agreement, though his own green eyes were listless. As he bounded away, Fireheart felt guilty for not feeling the same; but already, the grief he had felt had turned to determination to make sure this never happened again.

Tinyfrost was already waiting for him at the entrance, and together the two padded through the bracken and into the greater territory. Wordlessly, they headed back towards the Thunderpath; none would be willing to go near the scene of the crime so soon.

“We can’t let him get away with this.” The older warrior interrupted his thoughts as they moved through the forest. “Not again. If he succeeds in becoming deputy-”

“Do you think Bluestar would choose him?” Fireheart asked, tilting an ear towards his former mentor. “Yellowfang said she would try to dissuade her, but surely there are better choices. Dappleshine, Whitestorm… You, even.”

He glanced to see what the other tom thought of that, but his mentor didn’t show any emotion on his face. “You’re only saying that because we’re not murderers like he is. To the rest of the Clan, Tigerclaw is a strong, formidable warrior; many in the Clan would support him becoming deputy.”

The ginger tom wrinkled his nose in disgust. “And they wouldn’t support you?”

Tinyfrost glared at him, though he could tell the warrior’s anger wasn’t directed at him. “Do you really think the Clan would support a former kittypet potentially becoming leader?” 

The new warrior hesitated. “They’ve been accepting of me…” Mostly, he thought bitterly, thinking of Tigerclaw’s two warrior children back at camp. 

“They’ve accepted you because Starclan supposedly gave a sign to accept you.” Tinyfrost growled. “And as you told me yourself when we first began training, not everyone did so. What do you think they think of me, the runty kittypet that was only accepted on a technicality?”

Fireheart wanted to deny that, but he knew Tinyfrost spoke the truth, or close enough to it. “What about Lionheart? He’s just as strong as Tigerclaw.” In a battle to the death, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pick which mighty warrior would survive such a confrontation.

The little tom twitched his whiskers. “Most of the Clan still thinks of Lionheart as reckless and hot-headed. Besides, his apprentice only just became a warrior, like mine; I’m not sure Bluestar wants to choose an inexperienced deputy again, especially not one with his reputation.” 

This was the first he’d heard of the golden-furred warrior being considered so negatively. “Really? He’s always been so level-headed around me. Especially compared to you.” The ruddy warrior paused, not sure if his old mentor would take offense to it, but thankfully his companion just chuffed in amusement.

“Back when we were apprentices, he thought himself invincible. Redtail couldn’t keep him out of trouble.” He paused, glancing out into the forest. “I think his mentor’s death came as a shock to him. It reminded him that we’re all mortal.”

Fireheart slowly nodded at that. He understood; he couldn’t imagine what state he’d be in if Tinyfrost was killed so unexpectedly. “There are options, though.” He pointed out after several moments of silence. “We have to have faith that Yellowfang will guide Bluestar into making a good choice.”

Tinyfrost wrinkled his nose, but didn’t reply. It didn’t matter if he did; the roaring of the Monsters announced that they had reached their destination. The giant creatures raced by, oblivious to the two Thunderclanners lurking on the side of the road. He could see smears of blood and fur on the Thunderpath even from here. This was the scene of Tigerclaw’s treachery.

“I can’t smell anything with this stench.” Fireheart muttered to Tinyfrost, who grimaced and nodded agreement. “And I doubt any of that fur is Tigerclaw’s, either.” He grumbled. If only it could be so easy.

“The verge here is so thin.” Tinyfrost growled. He was right; from where the forest concealed them, it was only a tail-length at best until the thick, dark stone of the Thunderpath. “It wouldn’t take much to shove a cat out there, even if they were struggling.”

“And any claw marks that he might have would be hidden by the Monsters’ tracks.” Fireheart responded, heart sinking. He wasn’t sure what either of them had expected from coming out here. He glanced around, hoping to find pawprints, fur, anything that would link the dark tabby to the scene, but there was nothing. Tigerclaw had been careful, and they both knew it.

They were silent, gazing out at the bloody mess, before finally Fireheart forced himself to turn away. “Come on. We should at least try to bring something back for the Clan.” He tapped his former mentor on the shoulder, and after a long pause the senior warrior turned and followed him back into their territory.

Their tails were low as they returned to camp, Tinyfrost with a robin and Fireheart with a mouse. It was a pitiful catch, even for late leaffall, but none challenged them as they deposited their kills on the freshkill pile. 

He turned to see Quickflash surrounded by mourners - Willowbranch, his children, his siblings, One-eye, and even Dustleap. Even with only those closest to him sharing tongues for the last time, it was still nearly half the Clan that was gathered around him now. The impact of the deputy’s death would be felt by all in the Clan for many moons.

Only a few cats were watching now. None of the queens were in the clearing; most, he imagined, would be in the nursery, making sure the kits didn’t interrupt the vigil. His eyes narrowed as he saw Tigerclaw and Darkstripe talking with the elders, but he did his best to hide his disgust and anger as he followed Tinyfrost over to where Lionheart and Sandstorm were sitting.

“Tinyfrost. Fireheart.” Lionheart nodded to each of them, and even though Sandstorm’s gaze lingered disapprovingly on Fireheart, she didn’t say anything as they sat opposite her.

“Has Bluestar announced the new deputy?” Tinyfrost wasted no time in asking as he sat down beside Lionheart. Compared to the giant warrior, he was comically small, looking almost like a kit. Still, he didn’t seem intimidated as he gazed up at the other warrior - his nurserymate, Fireheart remembered.

“No. She’s talking with Whitestorm and Yellowfang now.” His green eyes were hard as he stared at the gathering of cats in the clearing. “She had a tough time deciding last time. And there are even fewer candidates now, with Patchpelt’s retirement.”

“Did Whitestorm say why she chose Quickflash last time?” Fireheart asked, his ears perked. As his mate, Lionheart would be the most likely to know what Whitestorm had discussed with her.

The golden tabby stiffened for a moment, before sighing and relaxing himself. “You are new to the ways of the Clan. I suppose you must not know much about how a deputy is chosen, beyond what the Code teaches you.”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “I know they’ll be leader one day, if Bluestar passes on to Starclan. And that they have to have first mentored an apprentice.” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry if my question was too forward. I- I was just curious, is all.”

The giant warrior nodded. “I understand. I cannot say what Whitestorm has told me in confidence, but I can tell you what I would say to any inquisitive apprentice.” He gazed up at the sky, where the moon was starting to rise. “In choosing a new deputy, Bluestar is looking for a worthy successor to her legacy. She is wise, and just; she knows when to fight, and when to seek peace. Her deputy must be willing to consider each in equal measure, for the good of the Clan she has stewarded for so many seasons.”

They were silent as the youngest warrior mulled that over. “Not someone like Dustleap, then.” He finally said, remembering the fight he’d had with the brown tabby his very first day in Thunderclan.

Sandstorm growled at the mention of her brother, but Lionheart twitched his whiskers in amusement. “Yes, precisely. Nor someone that would seek peace above all else, even to the detriment of our Clan.” He gazed across the clearing. “There is nothing wrong with either, in moderation; but learning when to stand your ground and when to flee is a skill that only time can give. But we have lost so many of our greatest warriors in recent seasons…”

He bowed his head, and Fireheart knew that he was thinking of his lost mentor, Redtail. If only he knew that the culprit for this murder was the one and the same as his mentor’s. How might he react? Still, he didn’t dare say anything negative about Tigerclaw; not in front of his daughter, anyways. “Who would you pick, then?” 

Lionheart paused, finally looking back up to the ginger tom. “I don’t know. That is why this decision is so hard for her.” He shook his head bitterly. “While inexperienced, Quickflash had all of the qualities that make the greatest warriors, just like Redtail before him. Who could replace them now?”

Silence hung in the air for a few moments. “What about you?” Fireheart ventured, ears perked for the other warrior’s answer. “You’re one of the greatest warriors of all the Clans.”

The golden tom chuffed as though amused, but the way his brows furrowed suggested otherwise. “Bluestar would never choose me.”

“Why not?” The youngest warrior tilted his head in confusion. “Surely-”

Bluestar suddenly burst forth from her den, Whitestorm and Yellowfang on her heels. Though their leader’s tail was bushed as though in fear, her eyes were bright and her ears were forward as she jumped onto the Highrock. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!”

“It’s rather early for a decision.” Sandstorm murmured to Lionheart as they all padded towards Bluestar. “The moon has only just begun to rise.”

Fireheart turned his attention towards the other two that had been in Bluestar’s den. Whitestorm looked troubled, but sat down to the side and wrapped his tail over his paws nonetheless. Yellowfang, however, looked furious, her eyes almost vanishing in her scowl. His heart dropped at the sight. That couldn’t mean-

“I had hoped that I would never have to do this again.” Bluestar’s mew was solemn as she looked down on the body of her fallen deputy. “I saw in Quickflash a great warrior, and a greater leader - one, I know, would have led Thunderclan to a new era of prosperity.” 

She bowed her head, and the rest of the Clan joined her. “But it is Starclan’s will that a new deputy be chosen. It is through their guidance that I choose Quickflash’s successor, and perhaps one day the cat that will lead Thunderclan in my stead.” The silver queen raised her head to the sky, where the stars were just beginning to shine. “I say these words before Quickflash and Starclan, so that they may hear and approve of my choice.”

A long, agonizing moment of silence hung in the air as every cat waited for Bluestar to speak with bated breath. “Tigerclaw will be the new deputy of Thunderclan.”

“NO!”

Fireheart’s yowl was drowned out by the cheers of cats around him. Sandstorm and Darkstripe were among the loudest, though nearly every cat looked on approvingly. He glanced over to Graystripe and Peppermask, who were staring up at Bluestar in abject horror. Tinyfrost’s spine was bristling, and for a moment he was sure his former mentor would throw himself at the new deputy as he stood up.

“Bluestar, I am truly honored.” The scarred tabby’s amber eyes were glistening with dark satisfaction as he spoke, and Fireheart’s stomach churned to imagine what the tom was thinking. “I had never dared to hope that I would be allowed to reach such a high rank. And yet, if it is Starclan’s will, I of course must accept.” 

Starclan’s will? Fireheart snarled at the thought. There was no way that Starclan had chosen Tigerclaw! He looked to Yellowfang, whose own tail was lashing in anger. It was clear she hadn’t wanted this either. Yet, without her input, how could Bluestar believe that Tigerclaw was Starclan’s choice?

“By the spirit of Quickflash, I promise to serve you - and Thunderclan - in any way that I can.” Tigerclaw continued on, interrupting his thoughts. “May I be worthy of Starclan’s eternal gaze.”

“May Starclan light your path.” Bluestar sounded proud as she leaped down from the rock, briefly touching noses with the new deputy before going to say her final goodbyes with Quickflash. She nestled in close to Willowbranch and Mousefur, her murmurs impossible to hear over the celebrations surrounding Tigerclaw.

Fireheart didn’t feel like joining them, instead padding over to Yellowfang. “What in Starclan’s name happened in there?” He hissed at her. “You promised-”

She shook her broad head, quickly silencing him. “Tomorrow.” She replied quietly to him. “I’ll tell you all everything that happened - tomorrow.” With that, she stalked back to her den, disappearing into the rocky crevice before he could call after her.

As he turned back to Tinyfrost, whose tail was rattling in pent-up frustration, part of him felt hopeless. What could they do now that Tigerclaw was one step away from leading the Clan? At the same time, however, he knew that none of them would allow this to stand. The murderous warrior would not be allowed to lead Thunderclan into darkness; not as long as he was around.

[sleepingpopplio]

Observations for Bnha volume 37’s cover

Ok there is so much going on in this cover that I don’t even know where to begin and it’s pretty difficult for me to articulate my thoughts when I get scatter brained like this, so here are some important observations I made.

The cover looks similar to the draft version of volume 29’s clover, with the feral deku front in center mourning his injured friends. Except this time, it’s just him and an injured Bakugo— both have a feral deku, and both have an injured, unconscious Bakugo 

This cover reminds me of certain comic book illustrations of heros holding injured friends/loved ones/family members in their arms. I am not implying anything in particular, take that information as you will, but it definitely does display closeness between Izuku and Katsuki. 

The red used in the background is pretty much the exact same shade of red as the cover of volume 10. Both of these volumes also include hand imagery, as the force of AFO (with Shiguraki under his control/manipulation) stands in their way as heroes and in the way of their development as people and friends

The color same shade of red also appears in many other volumes, such as volumes 2, 8, and 12

This is clearly a pattern, and brining things back to volume 10 again because it is the most similar in terms of design motifs, we are coming back

Red is an extreme color, and is typically used to indicate danger, violence, and general intensity. It is also the color of blood and as we know, Katsuki’s blood has been spilt in an attempt to get to Izuku (which worked before Mirio stepped in as an emergency therapist lol)

@siflshonen told me that red in a Japanese cultural context, red can mean happiness, and is used for special events such as weddings. I’m personally not thinking too hard about this, but it’s still an interesting and thought provoking fun fact I found out as I was trying to dig around for info! (Also, take this information as you )

The red string of fate also exists in Japanese culture. The string is typically depicted as being tied to fingers, and interestingly enough this cover is filled with fingers in the background that happen to be red. Now I am taking this one more seriously, as this could be a sign of how Bakugo and Midoriya’s fates are intertwined within both their lives and the legacy of AFO & OFA (they each represent one half of heroism— saving and winning— afterall) (ps. I’m not necessarily implying a romantic subtext to this, but I do think fate is a key part of MHA’s story and Bakugo and Midoriya’s close relationship)

The colors of Deku’s new costume currently seem to be inconsistent throughout all the images we’ve gotten of it thus far. WHERE IS THE REFERENCE HORIKOSHI I HAVE TO KNOW WHAT COLOR IT IS

Not having character references is an artist’s worst nightmare, trust me

Deku’s face is covered by his cape. This was shown in multiple chapters, but clearly horikoshi wants us to notice as it is front and center. The last time deku’s face was covered was duing the vigilante arc, and I’ve already talked about how much trauma and pain he was trying to hide during that time. This is probably a similar case

We cannot see his expressions with his mouth, so we have no indication on whether he is smiling like he does when he wants to save, or a frown like when he wants to destructively win

This is not a good thing— this is a warning to the audience to be on the lookout for some more moral dilemmas and emotional hurdles for deku to overcome. 

Finally, it should be noted that this is the 3rd volume cover to just have Bakugo and Deku on it— no one else. The first one was volume 2, then volume 29, and now volume 37

The volumes start with a literal rift between Bakugo and Midoriya, and they clearly are on opposing sides. We then transition into Bakugo reaching his hand out to (kid) deku, and the gap between them is now being bridged by Bakugo’s outreached hand. We then end with this volume, with Deku supporting Bakugo’s body. The point I’m trying to make is that they ae slowing getting physically closer to eachother with each of these 3 volumes. This clearly shows the growth and recovery of their relationship.

In the 2nd volume I mentioned (volume 29), Bakugo is reaching his hand out to deku while in this volume (volume 37) Deku is putting his hand on Bakugo, almost like he is accepting the hand that Bakugo offered to him. Of course he can’t physically reach out to Bakugo’s hand since he’s kinda sorta dead at the moment, but the symbolism of accepting Bakugo’s hand is there.

Also quick shoutout to @mettywiththenotes for being the first post I saw to mention the similarities between the covers for volumes 10 and 37, right after I was shouting about it to people on discord lol it made me really happy

[summerwritesfics]

🏢I Wanna, I Wanna Stay ‘Til The End, Chapter 2 - However Long You Stay Is All That I Am

Pairing: Rain/Kuai Liang Length: 6361 Words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings: Neighbours AU, Modern AU, Friends With Benefits, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Medical Procedures, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Past Cheating, Cockblocking (especially relevant in this chapter LMFAO), Anxiety, Eventual Smut, Is it slowburn if the sex is fast but the emotions are slow, Minor Tanleena, 70% of this fic is me cockblocking Rain

I Wanna, I Wanna Stay ‘Til The End Masterlist

Notes: Hurray! Another chapter of another fic I havn’t updated in a while 😭 I’m doing it guys. Heads up, this chapter does have some discussion of past domestic abuse and past infidelity, but it’s kind of still tame atm. As a note before anyone leaves me a comment about it, I am aware that as of MK1 Rain has been given an actual name. I will however, still be referring to him as Ranjit for this story. I already started with that name and I don’t want to change it now. Chapter Title is from “All The Same” by Sick Puppies.

“Rule one of the getting laid guidebook, don't try to fuck someone who has something in the oven.” Mileena sat back in her chair, putting her feet up on the desk. “Rule two, don't have your phone with you, and if you do, don't answer it.”

Rain glared at her, head on the desk. The report had taken him far longer than he'd liked. He hoped to get it done quickly and then return to Kuai's apartment again. He was so close, Kuai was even fighting whatever anxieties he had and flirting back. But by the time he finished the report it was 3am, and somehow he doubted a booty call at that time would go down well, no matter how into it Kuai was.

“Hey, look at the bright side,” Tanya started and Rain aimed his scowl at her now, because what bright side? “You know he's gay, single and, for reasons I can't fathom, down to fuck you.”

Rain stuck his tongue out at her. She had a point though. Kuai was flustered by Rain coming on so strong, but seemed open to it. He flirted back. He looked genuinely disappointed when Rain had to leave. God fucking dammit a hot guy was going to fuck him and then the universe decided to cockblock him. That seemed fucking typical.

“Are you three actually working or are you just having a circle jerk?”

Rain sat up. His glare now on Reiko, standing in the doorway and looking at the three of them with disgust. Why the hell Shao Kahn continued to hire him, Rain had no idea, especially given what he did to Mileena while they were dating.

“Don't you have to be a douchebag somewhere else?” Tanya hissed, and it was obvious she was trying to resist the urge to walk over there and punch him. Rain wouldn't hold her back if she did.

“Don't you have work to be doing?” Reiko sneered back. Rain clenched his jaw as Reiko's gaze landed on him. “Sorry to hear your plans didn't go ahead last night.” Rain snorted, how long had Reiko been listening in to know the details? “Guy must be pretty desperate though if he considered fucking you.”

It was one thing for Tanya to tease him about something like that, but Reiko's tone made it clear this wasn't just friendly ribbing. This was malicious. It was quite frankly gross, how Reiko tried to tear him down for daring to side with Mileena after the breakup. Like Reiko wasn’t the cause of it in the first place.

“Sounds like you're jealous no one wants to touch you,” Tanya snapped back. He wanted to tell her that stooping to Reiko's level wasn't exactly the best idea.

“That's not what your girlfriend thought.” And that was why engaging seemed like a bad move. Mileena was shrinking into her seat, looking like she did not want to be here. Tanya looked like she was about to rip Reiko's head off.

“You know what, my personal life is none of your business,” Rain interrupted, hoping to god he could put an end to the argument before it really got ugly. The last thing they needed was being reprimanded for getting into a physical brawl in the office.

“Maybe you shouldn't talk about it so loudly then.” Okay being the bigger person really isn’t working. Of course it wouldn’t when the person you’re trying to put yourself above was such a condescending asshole. “I really don't want to know the details of some old guy you're going to swindle into having sex with you.”

“Then put your hands over your ears and walk away, no one's forcing you to listen.” Rain tried to ignore the weird twist of doubt now in his head. Swindle into having sex... Was he swindling Kuai into having sex with him? What did that even mean in this context?

“Whatever, I hope the guy figures you out before he gets himself hurt.”

Rain didn't get a chance to retort before Reiko disappeared, turning his back on them and leaving the room. He gave an annoyed sigh, shaking his head as he turned back to look at his friends. Tanya still looked ready to gut someone, while Mileena was staring down at her hands.

“You okay, Milly?” He asked, and Tanya's anger finally faded as she turned to her girlfriend.

Mileena looked up at them and gave a forced smile, “yeah. Let's just pretend that didn't happen.”

Rain wanted to agree except that nagging doubt was back. Mileena and Tanya were his best friends, but didn't coddle him. If he asked if they thought he was in some way tricking Kuai Liang, they would tell him their truthful opinion.

“Do... Do you guys think I'm 'swindling' Kuai to sleep with me?” He asked. He didn't particularly like the look the pair shared.

“I mean, you do seem a little preoccupied with sleeping with him, rather than getting to know him,” Mileena said, rubbing the back of her head.

“I can be interested in sleeping with him and getting to know him,” he argued. “Those two things aren't mutually exclusive.”

“I just think you need to talk to him first, see what he wants from this,” Tanya advised. “I mean he's what? A single 40 year old man? He's probably more interested in someone he can settle down with, rather than rampant sex.”

Rain hadn't really considered that. He'd been so distracted by the fact Kuai was hot and gay he hadn't really thought about what the other man could potentially be looking for in a relationship. Maybe he just wanted someone to fool around with too. But maybe it was like Tanya said and he'd want something serious. Rain wanted something casual, but that didn't mean everyone else did.

“Just be careful,” Mileena said, “he seemed really anxious, and if you aren't on the same page about this, it could really hurt him.”

Rain was a bit of a fuckboy, he openly admitted that, but he never really intended to hurt anyone. Maybe I need to slow it down a bit. 

“Alright, I'll see if I can talk to him.” He wasn't sure if he should do it before or after he had sex with him. He'd just see how things went the next time he saw him, he guessed.

“Good, until then though, we should probably get to work before someone who isn't dickface comes and yells at us,” Tanya said, picking up a pile of paper on her desk. “Did you want to go over the newest marketing pitch again before I send it off?”

“Yeah we should do that,” he agreed, although he knew that part of him would be thinking about the man living opposite to him, and how to figure out what he wants from a relationship.

Kuai hummed to himself walking down the street. It had been a good day. He'd managed to get a good chunk of the first draft done, spoken to Johnny about the scripting of the next book-turned-movie, and managed to get his bubble tea order in one take without stumbling over his words. It seemed a little silly to call that last one a win, but when you were used to always saying the wrong things, getting things right seemed like an accomplishment.

He had mostly been able to put the night before to the back of his mind too. He had thought about it though, while he sat in the park and drank his bubble tea. He really needed to figure out what Rain wanted.

Well, other than sex because that much was completely obvious.

It seemed like Rain wasn't looking for serious commitment. Just because that was how it appeared didn't mean that was what was really going on.

He'd been committed for 15 years, rushed into marriage at 20 and never really knew what it was like to not be in a long term relationship. And look what that had given him? Nothing but pain, emotional and physical. He was still healing from what had happened to him. He wouldn't rush into another serious relationship, he wouldn't let himself be hurt like that again.

He didn't think that Rain would do terrible things to him, but then he hadn't believed his husband would either. The possibility was terrifying to him.

If they could keep things casual in some way, he would appreciate it.

As he approached the apartment, he noticed the very man he needed to talk to was at the door. He looked like he was trying to figure out the trick with the door. The door clicked open and he gave a loud cheer as he did.

“I'm the best around! Nothings ever gonna keep me down!” He sang triumphantly, pumping his fist as he did. It was very endearing.

Kuai bit his knuckle to try and stop himself from laughing. Unfortunately, he snorted very loudly as a result, and Rain's head snapped around. He looked extremely embarrassed that Kuai had just seen that.

“Oh uh. You saw that, huh?” Rain sucked in a breath as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Don't worry, the secret of your dorky side is safe with me,” Kuai teased, trying not to grin. Rain gave a sheepish smile before holding the door open for him. Kuai thanked him as he slipped inside.

“So, I was actually hoping I'd catch you,” Rain finally said, following Kuai over to the elevator. “Given that I still owe you for the cakes, and I was thinking about ordering takeout tonight, I was wondering if you cared to join me?”

Huh. I wasn't expecting that. Maybe he had been wrong about Rain just wanting something casual. Or... was just having a meal together still considered casual? Kuai really didn't have enough experience with dating to be able to say.

Still, I can't really go wrong with free food, can I? 

“That does sound good,” Kuai answered with a smile, just as the elevator doors opened. “What did you have in mind?”

“Maybe a Chinese or pizza, whichever you prefer.” Rain lent against the wall of the elevator and the smile he wore made him look so handsome Kuai had to physically restrain himself from swooning.

“I could definitely go for a pizza right now,” Kuai replied, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He bit his lip. “I was hoping to talk to you, actually.”

“Huh, no kidding?” Rain hummed, pursing his lips. “There was something I was hoping to talk to you about too.” He grimaced slightly, “although it's a little personal, and we should probably wait until we're in my apartment.”

Strange. But Kuai smiled still and answered “ah, what I wanted to talk about may be better for a private place too then.”

Rain looked like he wanted to ask, but then the doors opened, and the subject was dropped and they exited as Rain asked “so, how was work today?”

“Pretty well, actually,” Kuai replied, “I made good progress on a couple of my current projects.”

Rain pursed his lips, “I don't think I've actually asked what you do for your job?”

He was right, now that Kuai thought about it. Between the questions they had asked each other and the growing sexual tension between them, the nature of their work life hadn't really come up.

“I'm a writer,” he explained, trying to figure out how in depth he wanted to go. He was well known, although not to the level of being stopped in the street like Johnny was. But at the same time, a few of his books had been made into blockbuster movies. “Currently working on a first draft of my next novel, as well as helping a friend with scripting a movie based on one of my others.”

He maybe shouldn't have mentioned the last bit when he noticed how wide Rain's eyes had gone.

“Wait, one of your books is being turned into a movie?” Rain sounded completely astonished. Even as he got his key out and tried to put it in his lock he was still looking at Kuai.

“Technically it's the third to be adapted,” Kuai admitted sheepishly. He didn't usually talk much about the movies. Not because they were bad or for lack of involvement, they were actually fairly faithful and he was involved every step of the journey.

No, it was more because after learning just who was involved, people suddenly were a lot less interested in Kuai Liang and far more interested in using him to meet world famous actor Johnny Cage.

Johnny was understanding. The last thing he wanted was Kuai being hurt because someone had carelessly used him as a gateway into fame.

“Wow, holy shit, that's amazing,” Rain stated, finally looking away long enough to actually get his key in the lock. “My brother is an actor.” Kuai felt a little apprehensive. He'd heard “my family members an actor, can you get them a part” before. Kuai still followed Rain into his apartment regardless. “Well... He's been in movies... as an extra.” Rain sighed as he shut the door behind Kuai and threw his keys onto a little table beside the door. “Although the way my family talks about him, you'd think he was Johnny fucking Cage.”

Kuai laughed nervously, partially at the mention of his dear friend, and partially because Rain's tone sounded extremely bitter. I get the feeling things aren't good with his family relationships. Still at least Rain wasn't pushing to know more about the films, or if Kuai could get his brother a better role in future ones.

“So, you never told me what you do?” Kuai tried to divert the conversation as he looked around the room. Observing at Rain's furniture, he suddenly understood the comment about Kuai's matching. There was such a mismatch of different styles and patterns.

If he was completely honest it was all extremely hideous but he knew that was just his personal opinion and definitely not a welcome one.

“Oh. Uh, nothing as exciting as you, by the sounds of it,” Rain replied, walking over to a drawer in his living room, and rooting through it. “I'm a Sales and Marketing executive.” He pulled out a pizza takeaway menu. “I'm basically behind a bunch of adverts and selling our products to clients, y'know basically making sure people actually want to buy our stuff.”

“I don't know, I think that sounds extremely interesting,” Kuai said, accepting the menu when it was offered to him. He already knew what he wanted, but it didn't hurt to pretend to look. “The closest to a normal job I've ever had was when I was 16 and doing weekends at the gas station.”

“Huh, you must have lived the starving artist life for a while then?” Rain questioned, flopping down on the couch and patting the seat next to him.

“Ah, not really. I married my ex-husband at 20 and he was ridiculously rich.” Kuai absentmindedly sat down, eyes still on the menu, trying to make sure the pizza he wanted was still available. “I technically didn't have to work, but I got bored quickly, and began writing to keep myself entertained. Sent my first draft to a couple of publishers one day on a whim, lo and behold one of them loved it and the rest is history.”

“I- Oh. Your ex-husband?”

Kuai paused.

He hadn't even realised he'd mentioned his ex. Shit. It had been a slip up, not a major one mind, but enough to make him feel apprehensive. Because usually when he mentioned him, people immediately felt entitled to know why they split up. Kuai didn't enjoy talking about that with his therapist, let alone to people he barely knew.

“Yes I was married for 15 years,” he explained, “we divorced 5 years ago.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” Rain said sympathetically. “Why did you split?”

“We-“ Kuai stopped himself.

He was going to say they drifted apart but that just felt wrong to say. They didn't drift apart, Kuai just finally grew tired of the cycle. His husband berating and hurting him and then showering him with adoration and gifts. The promise that it would never happen again, only for a few days to go by and it to all start over. He would never forget the night he finally attempted to leave. He'd never forget hands on his chest, pushing at him and the sensation of falling down the stairs. He'd never forget waking up in the hospital to his husband swearing up and down Kuai had slipped and fell. He'd never forget the desperation he felt when he finally managed to slip the nurse a note that just read “he's lying, please help me”.

He took a deep breath, now was really not the time he wanted to talk about this.

“He just wasn't the man I thought I'd married,” he settled on.

Thankfully, Rain didn't seem to push for more info than that. Maybe it was clear the subject was too painful for small talk.

“Anyway,” he said with a cough, seemingly wanting to move on. “Did you decide what you want?”

“Vegi-surprise, please.” He passed the menu over to Rain, trying to smile and put the memories to the back of his mind.

“Vegetarian?” Rain questioned as he took the menu and got his phone out and started putting the number in.

“Ah, no, I just prefer vegetables on my pizza,” he explained, just before Rain put the phone to his ear.

He kept quiet as the order was made, wondering what the rest of the evening would bring.

“I can't believe you are partially behind that jingle,” Kuai exclaimed after swallowing a mouthful of pizza. Rain had been telling him about some of his previous advertising campaigns, and a very well known and annoying jingle for Outworld Superstores he'd had a part in creating. “It was stuck in my head for months!”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Rain said with a grin. He wasn't the person who performed or wrote the jingle, but he was the one who had suggested it and given it the green light. He had been repeatedly told it had ruined people's lives with its earworm nature.

It was weird. Rain didn't consider his job exciting at all. Not that he regretted it, just normally when he talked about the ins and outs beyond specific adverts, people tended to zone out. Kuai on the other hand seemed fascinated. And here was Rain thinking he'd be the one asking all the questions about Kuai's job.

Actually, Kuai had barely talked about his work, it was a little strange. He was accomplished enough to have movies made from his books. Surely that was something to brag about? Kuai was probably just more humble than Rain could ever be. Years of his accomplishments being completely ignored in favour of his brothers meant he felt the need to be bold and push them to the front.

Now that I put it like that, maybe that is more a me issue. 

He was sure Kuai would open up more as time went on. Both on his work and the mysterious ex-husband he mentioned. Rain wasn't an idiot, he could tell whatever caused them to split up was painful. He hadn't pushed, it wasn't his place. The only thing about it that bothered Rain was Tanya and Mileena's earlier warnings that Kuai might be looking for something more serious.

And 15 years sounded pretty fucking serious to Rain.

He turned to Kuai with the intention of finally bringing the subject up, only to stop when he saw the other man. He had a small amount of dip on the corner of his mouth.

“Ah, you uh- you've got a spot on you,” Rain informed him, tapping the corner of his mouth, as an opportunity came to his mind.

Kuai reached his hand and wiped his mouth, "is that better?"

Rain scooted forward, reaching a hand to Kuai's chin. "Here, let me~" he purred, before leaning in to kiss the other man.

So much for talking about things first. Kuai made a surprised huff, but it didn't take long for him to lean into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Rain's shoulders. Kuai opened his mouth and Rain took the chance to slip his tongue in. He was delighted to feel Kuai's tongue mingle with his own.

He began to shift, gently pushing Kuai back down against the couch. Rain's hands fumbled with Kuai's shirt, trying to undo the buttons. He released Kuai's lips, trailing kisses along his neck instead. Kuai moaned as Rain managed to brush aside Kuai's shirt. He pulled back slightly, just enough to observe the other man below him. Kuai was surprisingly fit, not too muscular, not too lean. His chest was covered in scars, some looked like they had potentially been from surgery, while the others he had no idea what could have caused them. Now was not the time to ask. He'd been so distracted by the scars, he'd barely registered that the other man's nipples were pierced.

Holy shit, how the hell does this man seem to fit every niche I’m into? 

“God, you're so fucking hot,” he muttered, before leaning down pressing his lips between the other mans pecs.

“R-Rain,” Kuai whimpered as Rain continued to kiss down Kuai's torso. He mostly followed one of the scars that seemed to go mostly down the middle. Kuai continued to make sweet little noises, even arching his back as if to push himself closer. He continued down, meeting Kuai's navel and slipping his tongue out and swirling it around the man's belly button.

Rain searched for the buttons on Kuai's jeans, undoing them before hooking his fingers in. He lightly tugged on the item of clothing and-

He jumped a mile when his door buzzer went off.

He sat up and stared at the intercom, before looking down to Kuai Liang. His face was bright red as he looked across at the thing that had interrupted them.

“S-should you get that?” Kuai asked, looking up at him while biting his lip.

“They can wait,” Rain decided, turning to settle back between Kuai's legs. He trailed his hands down Kuai's sides, leaning down about to kiss him. He stopped when the buzzer went off again. He grit his teeth, wanting to ignore it, until the buzzer started to rapidly go off, like someone was repeatedly pushing the button in quick succession. He gave an annoyed sigh as he pushed himself up. “Sorry, I'll just deal with this.”

God he was so fucking annoyed. As he got up and walked over to the intercom, he couldn't help but mentally berate whoever was on the other end.

He clicked the button and sharply answered with “Yes? What do you want?”

“Nice to talk to you too, Ranjit,” the familiar voice spoke back. Rain mentally groaned.

“What are you doing here Taven?” He reached a hand up to rub his temples. The last thing he needed was his brother coming over to pass judgement on how this place really wasn't up to scratch.

“I mean, I am your brother,” Taven replied. “But mostly I need to talk to you about something important.”

“Can't it wait? I'm kind of in the middle of something here.” He glanced over his shoulder. Kuai was sitting up on the couch, fiddling to redo his fly up. Shit shit shit. He wasn't going to let Taven ruin this for him. Not again. He thought he was done having family members walking in on him “accidentally”.

“No not really,” Taven said, sounding annoyed. Not as annoyed as I am. “The sooner you let me up there to talk, the sooner I'll be out of your hair.”

Rain made a frustrated hand movement, before dragging it down his face and finally biting out “fine, but you'd better be quick.” He hit the button that would let the door open, waiting to give Taven enough time to get through.

He turned back to find Kuai had already done up his shirt, although he was still sitting on the couch. He looked extremely embarrassed and Rain couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

“Should I leave?” Kuai asked quietly.

“No, no, it's okay. Hopefully this'll be a few minutes tops.” Rain held his hands up, hoping it might help calm Kuai down. There was a knock on his door, and he went to open it. He was rather thankful that it was just Taven on the other side.

“So, uh, this place is where you're hiding huh?” Taven said in greeting, looking around the place like he was expecting someone to jump out at him. Rain wanted to roll his eyes so badly. “Am I allowed in?”

Rain didn't want to let him in, but he supposed it would be rude not to. He reluctantly moved aside. Taven stepped in, looking around like he was trying to scope the place out. He did a bit of a double take when he spotted Kuai.

“Oh, uh, hello?” Taven sounded confused, and Kuai looked completely out of his depth.

“Hi?” Kuai squeaked out, looking desperately towards Rain for help.

“That's my neighbour, Kuai Liang, and this is my brother, Taven,” he introduced, gesturing to each of them as he spoke.

“Oh, you didn't say you had company,” Taven said, biting his lip.

“I did say I was in the middle of something,” Rain pointed out to him, trying to not just scream in frustration.

“Uh, would- would it be better if I left?” Kuai asked again, clearly getting nervous.

“Yeah, that might be for the best,” Taven said before Rain could open his mouth to reassure Kuai it was fine.

He watched as Kuai nodded in defeat, before pushing himself up and grabbing his bag. As he made his way towards the exit, he paused briefly to give Rain a small smile.

“I'll see you later,” he whispered, before turning and leaving, closing the door behind him.

Rain just glared at Taven as he growled, “well now you've cockblocked me, you might as well tell me what the fuck you want?”

Taven shook his head in shock as he muttered “coc- huh?” He blinked a few times, “oh, my god, Ranjit, you weren't actually going to have intercourse with your neighbour were you?”

“Why do you have to refer to it like that?” Rain groaned. Why can't he just call it fucking like everyone else? “Yes, I was going to fuck him, but seeing as you've kind of ruined that plan could you please tell me why you're here?”

Taven looked like he wanted to say more on the subject of Kuai Liang, but eventually settled against it when he said “Mom's birthday party is next Friday.”

“And?” Rain rolled his hand to try and get Taven to get to the fucking point already.

“Well, I've been texting you asking if you're coming, and you've just left me on read.” Much to Rain's annoyance, Taven walked over to his kitchen, and settled down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

“I don't know if you know this, Tav, but I've been rather busy lately,” he snarled, while flailing his arms to the apartment around him.

“So too busy to send me a one word text, but not to try and seduce your new neighbour,” Taven replied, crossing his arms. “Seriously, you've been here two days. You don't even know the guy.”

“I know he's hot and I want to fuck his brains out, the rest is none of your fucking business,” Rain argued, storming over to the kitchen counter. “As for the party, I don't know yet.”

“She's your Mom-“

“No. She's your Mom! I'm nothing to her! The only reason I'm around her is because Dad couldn't keep his cock in his pants!”

The outburst lingered in the air, thick and heavy. It was a button Rain hated being pressed, Taven knew it was and yet he still insisted on bringing it up. In Delia's defence, on some level she had tried to be a supportive step-mother to Rain. It was clear, however, that her priority lay with her biological children. He knew that on some level she resented him, the constant reminder of her husband's betrayal.

He supposed she had at least tried, unlike his father.

He closed his eyes in defeat as he mumbled out, “when is it?”

“Next Friday at 6.” Taven was still looking at his hands. “If it helps, you can bring a plus one.”

“Fine, I'll be there,” he whispered, still not closing his eyes. He had a feeling Mileena and Tanya were busy next Friday, he might have to hunt for another plus one. “And I'll be with someone.”

“Thank you.” Rain opened his eyes, and hated how genuinely grateful Taven looked. “I know she'll be happy to see you there.”

I doubt that. 

“Was there anything else?” Rain asked, rubbing his face with his hand.

“No, I guess I'll leave you be,” Taven jumped off the seat and began to walk towards the door. “But, promise me that you'll be careful with the neighbour thing?” Rain just furrowed his brow at him. “We've been here before Ranjit. You rush into things, it's great for a while and in the end everyone just gets burned because they want commitment you can't offer them.” Taven reached to place a hand on Rain's shoulder. “I know it doesn't feel like it sometimes, but I do care about you and I don't like seeing you get hurt.”

There were so many things Rain wanted to say about that, but just couldn't. He resigned himself and just said “I'll be careful.”

Taven just nodded, wishing him a final farewell and then he was thankfully gone. As he closed the door, Rain rested his forehead against the door, resisting the urge to slam his head against it repeatedly.

Kuai sat on his couch, staring silently at his TV, despite it being turned off. He was more watching himself in the reflection. He was rubbing his fingers across his lips repeatedly, trying to soothe his nerves.

Rain had seemed very upset to see his brother. He wasn't sure if he should have stayed as a mediator, or if he'd made the right call by leaving them to it. Either way, it seemed his talk with Rain was going to have to wait. Well, not that it seemed talking was where things had been going.

It had been 5 years since Kuai last had sex. He’d thought about it a few times, but never worked up the courage. The way Rain kissed him, touched his body. He couldn’t believe how good he felt. It wasn’t until he was in that moment that he realised how much he missed that kind of intimacy. Even when he was married, that softness was limited to his ex’s good days, that man was a very selfish lover.

He didn’t want to think about that, he wanted to think about how wonderful it had felt for Rain to touch him.

So much for talking about things though. He sighed, and rubbed at his face. All it took was a kiss and I was spreading my legs for the guy. It did rather indicate that Rain was more interested in something casual, or at least, more interested in the sex aspect. If that was indeed the case, Kuai could handle that.

He jumped a mile when he heard a knock on his door. He scrambled to get up and rushed over to it. As he expected, once he opened it, there was Rain, looking extremely apologetic.

“I am so sorry,” Rain immediately told him before Kuai could even begin to utter a word. Kuai simply smiled and stepped aside to let him in.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kuai tried to assure him, shutting the door as Rain entered the apartment. He felt a flutter in his chest, realising it was probably going to be now or never in regard to that talk. “Um… So, I think now would probably be a good time to have that conversation.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right.” Shang Tsung reached up to rub his face with his hand. “Um. Shall I go first?” Kuai nodded in confirmation. Honestly even bringing it up first was a big step for him, he didn’t think he could handle going first as well. “What exactly do you want from… whatever this is?” Rain gestured towards the both of them as he spoke.

So, we wanted to talk about the same thing. Funny. 

“That is what I wanted to discuss with you too, actually.” Kuai began to rub at his wrist, swallowing as he tried to think of how to explain. “I’ll be honest, I was hoping for something… casual.”

“Casual?” Rain asked, tilting his head. He didn’t look put off though, more hopeful if Kuai was reading him right.

“I don’t think I’m really ready for anything extremely committed.” Kuai bit his lip, trying to ignore how hard his heart was beating. Even though Rain showed no sign of being upset by this, the little voice in Kuai’s head wouldn’t stop telling him the other man was going to leave and never talk to him again over this. “I’d like a companion but not a partner… I don’t know if that makes sense?”

“No, no, that makes perfect sense.” Rain stepped forward, taking Kuai’s hand in his. “That’s what I’m wanting too. Just someone to have fun with.”

“Oh.” Kuai chuckled awkwardly. “Well now I feel stupid for being worried.”

“Pth, don’t. My friends kinda got in my head about how you’d probably want something more serious.” Rain rubbed the back on his neck and gave a handsome smile. “So, uh, something like friends with benefits good for you?”

Kuai laughed. Aren’t I a little old to be having friends with benefits? Still, it did sound nice. He didn’t really get to have the awkward early adult phase, it’d be nice to experience a little of what that would have been like. Even if he was about 20 years too late.

“Friends with benefits sounds perfect to me.”

He was surprised when Rain suddenly took hold of his hips and pulled them close. Kuai giggled as their lips almost touched.

“Well then, with that out of the way, where were we?”

Kuai felt a little bold, confidence brought on by the previous conversation, bringing his arms up and around Rain’s neck. He felt Rain pushing him backwards until his back hit the wall. How he resisted the urge to grind against him he had no idea. Rain’s lips were on his, and he opened them hoping for their tongues to meet again. He quite enjoyed that the first time.

It really should not have surprised Kuai when a ringtone started to sound from Rain’s pocket.

Rain pulled away, and grimaced. “I cannot believe this.”

“I’d have thought after yesterday, you’d have learnt to leave your phone behind,” Kuai teased a little, snorting when Rain pouted at him.

“You would have thought I'd have learnt my lesson, wouldn’t you?” He sighed and reached into his pocket, frowning at his phone. “I have to take this.”

Kuai nodded as Rain stepped back and answered the phone. He just stood and watched as the other man got more and more exacerbated. There was a part of Kuai that felt sorry for him, being interrupted yet again, but the other part of him that felt a little bitter that he hadn’t done the obvious of leaving the stupid device behind this time.

By the time Rain was done with the conversation, it was clear he was more than a little annoyed by it.

“Work?” Kuai gently asked, and Rain gave him an apologetic look.

“Unfortunately.” He grimaced and shook his head. “The universe really does not want me to fuck you.”

Kuai laughed despite the situation. It really seemed that tonight was not going to be the night again. But there would always be more opportunities.

“It’s okay, I understand.” Kuai pushed himself away from the wall, stepping forward and giving Rain a quick kiss on the cheek. “I promise I will still be here tomorrow.”

Rain nodded, not hiding the somewhat goofy smile on his face from Kuai’s display of affection.

“I will see you tomorrow,” Rain assured him, patting his arm slightly. All Kuai could do was sigh as Rain made his way back to the door.

As soon as it shut behind him, Kuai flopped backwards against the wall, letting himself slide down it and staring at the ceiling. Honestly, if he were a little more superstitious, he’d genuinely think the constant interruptions were the doing of Bi-Han’s ghost. Big brother always was very protective, and a little too distrustful of just about anyone who found Kuai attractive.

It was a shame he wasn’t there to stop Kuai from getting married. He was certain if Bi-Han were still alive, none of the terrible things that happened would have. He’d have beat the shit out of his ex the second he suspected so much as a finger had been laid on Kuai’s body.

But Bi-Han hadn’t been there, and he wasn’t here now. Kuai just had to believe that all of this wasn’t some kind of bad omen. Like the universe was trying to stop it from happening to protect him.

Not like the universe protected me before. 

He was due to see Johnny again tomorrow, and work together on the next script. He was generally pretty decent at relationship advice. Maybe I should ask him tomorrow? At least get some idea on what to expect and how to maintain the boundaries to keep them both safe.

Until then, well, the whole experience was starting to give him creative inspiration. He finally stood up, and rushed over to where his laptop was, determined to write some notes before he forgot everything he’d just experienced and felt.

⋞ Previous Chapter ≛❀≛ Next Chapter ⋟

[mariamariquinha]

What's behind...

Well, it's been a while since I wanted to bring this kind of "trivia" about the things I write here.

Music has always been with me as an emotional and life support - basically everything I do involves music. I love it. With my stories, it's no different; each thing takes shape through other stories that the songs I listen to tell or represent. 

Today I start with this small project for my multi-chapter stories, Versos de Placer and Bossa Nova. In the future, when I start writing more, I can keep doing it.

Let’s go, then?

--------------------------

Bossa Nova - Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon

Being a minor character in a B-movie of very dubious quality, writing for Benny is always an adventure, but at the same time a great writing exercise tool (for those who like that approach) or even pure and simple creativity. I like to say the benefit of writing for him is having the one and only physical sketch that Maurice Compte brought us, which was awesome because the guy knows how to be pretty as fuck.

ANYWAY

Bossa Nova was planned a little more closely than Versos de Placer, so even the title was chosen from a meticulous perspective of a Brazilian musical rhythm - with meaning. I've already explained this here, so I won't extend myself and go straight to the structure of the story haha

THE DIVORCE: 

The moment that kicks off the whole story is the main character's divorce. There was a past and an established relationship between everyone, but the trigger for everything we've been doing since then comes from that moment of separation.

The reader and Theo, her ex-husband, had a crisis through cheating. Therefore, this plot was thought with a song in mind:

DREAMS - FLEETWOOD MAC

I think it's common sense that the Fleetwood Mac drama yielded that impeccable album called Rumors and ‘Dreams’ is my favorite song by far - theirs, of course, because there's so much fucking artistic pain in there.

--

Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom Well, who am I to keep you down?

--

Players only love you when they're playing

--

Theodore was the antagonist due to a classic but no less painful situation, which opened wounds that the reader disassociates, but that she feels. Parents don't know about suffering; the brother, limited to a minuscule fraction of the divorce bureaucracy. She knows that, deep down, Theo became empty and selfish enough to find what he wanted, when he wanted it, no matter what it could cost him, and hopes that he will be frustrated in the end (overcoming? I don't know her). ‘Dreams’, for me, is the biggest representation of someone mourning towards a person they loved but couldn’t have because, in the end, this someone choose to be with another someone. Tell them, Stevie. Tell them! 

FEMALE ENERGY PART. 2 - WILLOW

BEING HERSELF AGAIN:

In another, slightly older post, I mentioned how I constructed father-daughter relationships differently in my two "biggest" stories, and that applies a lot with this aspect in particular. In both cases, I explored something that is personal to me, which is my relationship with the men I live with in life - I work in a predominantly male place, a father who is present but a difficult family history in this regard. Here, I think it's important to use such relationships to demystify the woman built under what she lives with a man.

The Bossa Nova reader is not as close to her mother as she is to her father; this dynamic will often interfere with her future relationships, from what to expect from a man to living with other women. When she loses Theodore, she finds herself alone. The father would not understand her like the mother, but how to talk to this figure who has always been partially distant?

--

Oh, and I'm falling into the arms of naked truth Not surprised to see the sky and know what I must do

--

I am human, I am woman Drifting down my life

--

The changes she has been going through include facing her own nature and looking for all the personality hidden in a failed relationship. We still have a lot to explore here, but I value that heartfelt, honest parallel as we build a background romantic drama.

BILLIE BOSSA NOVA - BILLIE EILISH

THE FIRST DATE:

Oh yeah, yeah, I’ll be the devil’s advocate here and give credit to a white girlie using a latin rythym to make money. SORRY. The song is a banger tho, I like Billie. 

That’s basically the beggining (where we are now btw) of Benny and reader’s relationship. No one wants to prove anything or have high expectations - it came naturally and they linked right away. A few drinks, a kiss below a lamp post, a football game and sex. Everyone could do that. Makes sense for me. 

--

'Cause waitin' for it gets so borin' A lot can change in twenty seconds A lot can happen in the dark

--

I'm not sentimental But there's somethin' 'bout the way you look tonight, mm Makes me wanna take a picture Make a movie with you that we'd have to hide

--

For me it’s the basics of: hey, found you really attractive, let’s fuck. In a way, they both don’t want complications and happens that Benny and reader can provide that to each other. I wouldn’t say they are 100% in tune, but they both agree that they should do what they should because there’s nothing better than a few orgasms. 

FADE INTO YOU - MAZZY STAR

THE FIRST TIME:

This song was mentioned in the last chapter of Bossa Nova and it wasn’t just because. 

--

I look to you and I see nothing I look to you to see the truth

--

Some kind of night into your darkness Colors your eyes with what's not there

--

I think that's something we'll explore in the future, but there was a reason Benny was wary of the reader in her house and genuinely indulged in lying on the floor with her to relax. I hate being that playful type of person who puts metaphors into everything because sometimes life is life, but they both knew it wasn't going to be, generally speaking, a grab and go thing. It's the beginning of opposition to what they think will be that 'convenient meeting', even if they don't know it yet. She knew him, but she didn't know who he was; the same happens with Benny. In the living room, the two of them are discovering themselves and understanding that to get where they wanted, they would have to find a balance point, something that would erase a more difficult reality for a moment of satisfaction.

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P.S.

It's a little early to bring more of this, we have a way to go, but I think it's worth sharing this kind of creative dynamic to help set a good narrative tone and involve those who follow the story. 

I want to take this opportunity and thank everyone who has been giving me this strength here, as well as congratulating all the fanfic writers who keep sharing incredible stories with dedication and affection. You are amazing! ❤

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No pressure tags: 

@cheesybadgers

@thesandbeneathmytoes​

@nerdyreaderpapi

@thoroughlymodernminutia​

@the-hinky-panda​

@mysoulisasunflower​

[orqheuss]

The sun does not weep for Icarus PART 2

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader ANGST) Can be read as platonic, implied Ominis/Anne and Sebastian

Parts: 1 2 3 4

Summary:

His body shook like a leaf on a fall morning, desperately holding on to any semblance of security and promise of life. But, the cold touch of death did not feel sympathy— not for the leaf, not for the tree, and not for the boy who had just lost everything. *** Mere days after receiving the news of Sebastian's demise, Ominis gets a chilling letter from Anne that changes the course of his life entirely, as well as brings a new possibility to the fate of their doomed friend.

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: suicide, suicide idealization, death, panic attacks, mentions of murder A brief synopsis of this chapter will be posted at the beginning of chapter 3 for those who do not feel comfortable reading. Your mental health is important!

AN: I’m moving all of my fics over from Ao3 to make them more accessible! These are my fics.

Chapter 2: I Am Not There, I Do Not Sleep

My Dearest Ominis,

I appreciate you checking in on me, it was most definitely something that I can tell we both needed. I apologize for the brevity of the visit, the pain seems to come quickly as of recent, and takes inordinately longer to leave. Time seems to move slower these days— they blend into one another like the cusp of seasons, or like rain falling into a pond. I did not truly know the meaning of the word lonely til this moment of my life. “Lonely.” It is such a full word. It carries so much with it, so much misery. So much despair. Each new sunrise brings it to my doorstep, brimming with sorrows and unhappy memories. Maybe that is why they call it “being alone.” To be lonely and to be alone; one cannot exist without the other. What a terribly unfortunate oxymoron. 

I miss Uncle Solomon everyday. I know that he was not the best man; he was curt, discourteous, and unyielding in his opinions, but he was still family. He was the last of our family, after the death of mother and father. Each day I stand at his grave, bringing new flowers from our little garden. The chickens have long since left— it is just me and the Chrysanthemums now. I feel indebted to him, in a way. He took us in, fed us, gave us shelter, and, albeit harsh and in sparsity, he gave us love. He held me in my moments of weakness, he did not try to fix what couldn’t be mended, and for that I will be forever grateful. Now, I fear that there will no longer be any Sallow’s come next year. With my pain, and with Sebastian’s fate… there is not much more to mourn in this world. 

I do mourn for Sebastian, though, more than I mourn for anything else. He is the last soul that I grieve. I ache for my twin, my only brother. The last I saw of him, he was not the person I grew up with. There was so little of him left, it was like looking at a reflection— a painting of sorts. It was his form, his face, but the eyes were not quite right. There was something missing in them. Maybe a wrong color, or a misplaced brushstroke, or an accidental drop of ink where it shouldn’t be. It was simply wrong, all the same. That was not my Sebastian anymore, and I fear that he has not been him for some time. His horrendous fate will not heal the hole in my heart, but I doubt that there is anything that truly will. 

I know that I do not have much longer on this earth. The pain is becoming unbearable. I cannot leave my bedchambers most days, and when I am able to, I am left with very little life to live. I cannot do this on my own, Ominis, and I wouldn’t dare ask anyone to carry my burdens for me, let alone you, who has so much on his shoulders already. I worry for you, dear friend. You carry so much in that heart of yours, and have very little places to put it down and let it rest. You deserve safety, more than anyone I know. That is why I know that If I don’t end this soon, I fear that the pain may end me instead. I will not let this ailment, this curse, take me. I will go out on my own terms. At the arrival of this letter, I will be peacefully resting next to mother and father once again. I ask that you do not grieve for me. I know that it is inevitable, much like the truth of death, but please know that I am now in my little paradise. It was truly wonderful to be in your life, even if it was only for a short while. 

I must ask you one more thing, my darling Ominis. I do not wish to be in my paradise alone, and I do not wish the fate that has been dealt for him on my brother. He is not completely gone— I saw a spark of himself deep inside on that terrible day. I do not think that it is reachable anymore, but I think that he can still be saved from his treacherous fate. I know my brother, and I know that he would not want this to be his end. He is as headstrong as I am, even more at times. He would also wish to go the way that he chose, not at the hands of a demonic creature and unfeeling prison guards. Even with all that he has done, he does not deserve that. Please help him leave this world with some semblance of his soul still intact. I know that he will greet me on the other side if you are with him when he moves on. You and your new friend, of course. I wish we were able to meet on better terms, they were truly a wonder to see. In another life we would be a quartet, one that they would write legends about in the books that I read. There would be no pain, no sadness, no dark magic, no death. Just us, the world at our fingertips, and stars in our eyes. I hope that day will come— someday, somehow. 

Please take care of yourself. It may feel like you have no one, but you have so many people who care for you. Just because we may be gone does not mean that we are no longer there. We will be in the air you breathe in the Hogwarts courtyard, the laughter you hear in the common room, the sparks of magic that linger on your fingertips in the Undercroft. Most importantly, we will live in your heart; there is more than enough space in there for us. 

Live fearlessly, and love earnestly, Ominis. Live your life, and find your happiness once again. We will wait for you in our little paradise, under the lone sycamore tree at the top of the hill where we would laze about for hours in the summer. Please do not rush to greet us, though. We have all the time in the world now, and have no qualms with waiting. 

All my eternal love,

Anne Sallow

The sound of paper fluttering to the ground fills the desolate chambers of the Undercroft. A lovely white Chrysanthemum rests atop of it, petals stained slightly grey with dirt and dust. Tucked away, in the farthest corner from the only doorway in and out, sat a young boy. His knees were drawn up to his chest, only the smallest puff of ashen blond hair poking through the arms he had cradled atop his head. Withering, sorrowful sobs escaped between the gaps of his gangly limbs. Scattered around his tightly balled form was the shattered splinterings of crates, each destroyed with a level of fury only shown in grief. Singed marks littered the corners, filling the room with the scent of fire and ash. A lone wand blinked on the ground, calling out for its owner like a mother calls for her child. The boy was much too young to feel this level of anguish. Much too young to feel this level of pain. His body shook like a leaf on a fall morning, desperately holding on to any semblance of security and promise of life. But, the cold touch of death did not feel sympathy— not for the leaf, not for the tree, and not for the boy who had just lost everything. 

Ominis desperately wanted the world to slow down, just this once. Everything felt like it was moving too quickly, much faster than it ever did before. His head felt like it had been through a wall. Pounding pain bounced around the inside of his skull and landed directly behind his eyes, pushing the tears that rested there out even faster. The young boy had felt loss before; there had been many family members in the Gaunt household that were lost to the dark after reaching hopelessly for the light, one being his aunt Noctua. He remembered her sunny disposition and the love she held for the good in the world. Many had told him that she was beautiful in an almost ethereal way— like an angel that had fallen from heaven to the dark depressing depths of earth. She radiated joy from her very soul, and she took her nephew under her wing and gave him the space to breathe in the fresh air of the outside rather than the smog of his childhood home. He had felt her disappearance in the very core of his being. Day after day he waited for a letter from his dear aunt, but when days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, he slowly gave up any hope he once had of feeling her presence again. His life had been lacking a little sunlight ever since that moment. 

Yes, the boy was familiar with the feeling of loss. What he wasn’t familiar with, though, was receiving a goodbye. 

He could hear each word of the letter read to him in Anne’s sweet voice. Every lift and fall in her speech had been memorized by him long ago. Ominis lived his life in two timelines: before the Sallow’s, and after. Anne was the first he had met, and what an impression she made. She was his treasure— his sister— his friend. The girl brought a freshness to his dreary world, a lightness in her laughter and a calming energy in her cadence. She wasn’t sunlight, like his aunt, she was the moon on a cloudless night. Ominis associated her with the smell of the outdoors, the cooling wind of a fresh fall breeze and the windswept blades of grass that flew into the sky after a rough game of quidditch. She always had an air of mischief about her, every word she spoke came from a wayward smirk and a twinkle in her eye so bright the boy could see it without the gift of sight itself. 

Then, there was Sebastian. If she was a gentle fall wind, he was a tornado; sweet, blissful calm at the center of maximal chaos. Much like Anne, the Sallow boy was more than a friend, he was a brother to Ominis. With him came an air of mystery and adventure— late nights filled with sneaking about the castle and muffled laughter against shoulders and behind grandiloquent pillars. There was nothing in the world that he couldn’t conquer with that boy by his side. Ominis associated him with the smell of old books, hidden deep in the depths of the restricted section and just begging for someone to take a look at its forbidden pages, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he was told a particularly preposterous joke. If Anne brought the joy, Sebastian brought the laughter. There was a time, not that long ago, that Ominis would do anything, go anywhere, become whatever, for the twins. 

Now, one was a dimmed light across a blackened sea, and the other would light no more. 

Ominis felt like his heart was being stabbed into his chest. The words as sharp as damascus steel pierced his ribs and wiggled its way into his most loyal organ. Never once had the boy worried about if his heart would stop— if he would ever cease to be. Not for a long while, at least. But the moment he had picked up that final letter from Anne, he felt like everything in his chest stilled in solidarity with the dearly departed witch. The boy was truly a ghost, and the world around him continued to move like his entire soul hadn’t just been unrooted from his body and tossed into the black lake to drown. 

Such as life, he supposed. It does not stop turning. Not for the sweet hello of life, nor the dismal goodbye of death. Why curse at or plead with something that does not owe him any favors. 

Still, the Gaunt boy rested in his personal mausoleum and mourned for the beautiful life lost. He did not care if the world continued, for him it had stopped. The world did not end with a grand bang, nor with a soft whisper. The world ended in silence, and the demeure promise of nothingness. 

A despondent creak sounded from the Undercroft gate, almost like it too cried for its fallen companion. Ominis held himself, willing his breathing to still and his sniffles to quiet. He wanted to blend into the darkness that surrounded him and disappear once again into the sweet nostalgia of his mind. The idea of speaking to another person, even someone he regarded so highly and held so dearly in his heart, set a deep pain in his teeth that spread down his arms and ended at the tips of his toes. He had mourned with them not long ago, a week in the past at most, but he was not prepared for this level of emotional vulnerability. They had known Sebastian as personally as he had— they did not know Anne the same. 

The sound of his friend’s steps echoed against the high stone ceilings and were swallowed by the soft ground below. He could feel their vibrations getting closer, but they had not spoken yet. They approached him like a frightened animal would tiptoe towards the outstretched hand of a stranger, hesitant and wary of each possible reaction. The animal did not know if the hand would feed and care for them or snatch them up and cook them for dinner, and neither did his friend. Each gentle sound sent his heart roughly against his chest once again, jump-starting it from its eternal slumber nonconsensually. The gentle brush of cloth against concrete silenced his brain. His friend had sat next to him with not a word said— absolutely no questions asked. They were just there. His breathing stilled in his chest in startled silence. Ominis counted the breaths of their companion, each one filling the still air and pushing on the moments of quiet. They were waiting for him to allow them to read the crumpled parchment at his feet. Minutely, the boy nodded his head against his knees, and he heard them shift and reach for the letter. The sound of paper rustling kissed his ears once more and every hair on his body rose to attention. He could hear their breathing catch in their throat at Anne’s confession and shakingly release once again at her death wish. Ominis did not know what was to come next from his stoic partner. Would they leave him in his solitude to fester and rot alone in agony? Would they laugh at his grief and cringe at his weakness? He wasn’t sure which would hurt worse. 

A soft brush of a hand against his neck drew him from his stupor and shocked the skin that rested there. He stiffened under the light touch, shoulders rising around his ears in protection. A zephyr-like voice crashed against his barriers like a benign tide. 

“What can I do to help?” 

He stilled again. A sudden cold crashed over his body like falling through the ice of a frozen lake. He was not expecting this. He was prepared for the darkness to consume him; for the giant squid resting in a deep slumber under the black lake to wrap its twisting tentacles around his ankles and drag him deep, deep down below. He was prepared to drown. But this? Mutual grief was understandable, but compassion? This he was not used to. A part of his comatose heart thawed at the notion of someone caring for him that weren’t the Sallow children, and at the same time it frightened him to his bones. He did not want anyone to get close to him again; all he brought was death and destruction and destruction and death. He raised his haunches even higher, shrugging the soft hand from his skin like it had burned him. 

“You did not know her like I did— did not love her like I did. What could you know of my pain? How could you possibly help me?” Ominis spit at the student, defenses raised and teeth bared like a wild animal in a cage. 

The student paused, lowering their hand to their side once more. They may not have known Ominis for long, but they had not heard the bite of his anger since their fateful first meeting outside of the Undercroft. Even still, his vexation was not that startling. They could hear the stuttered breaths of their companion, the thick coating of tears in his voice, and their heart broke. It was true, they did not know Anne like the boy did, but they knew him, and they knew that he needed help. Ominis was not one for emotions— showing the slightest change in expression in the Gaunt household was often met with harsh consequences. He often hid himself away when something bothered him, lashing out when the status quo is challenged in any way. They had noticed this soon after arriving at Hogwarts. His slight shift in expression and posture whenever they were around Sebastian was all they needed to know about his opinion on change. They wished to tell him that they did not wish to encroach in his world, did not wish to take what he protected so dearly, unless explicitly invited, but did not want to hurt his pride in the process. The easiest way to thaw a seemingly unthawable heart? Simply be kind. So, that’s what they did— they were kind to the young Gaunt boy who so rarely experienced the notion itself. 

“Yes, I did not know her. You are right about that. But, you did. You loved her, that much is obvious.” He heard his friend shuffle on the ground, searching for the words and the comfort they hoped to bring with them. “What I do know, though, is that I love you. You are hurting, and I am here to answer the call. I will not leave your side, Ominis. I will stay until you are ready to speak, and we will work through this together. I'm here, if you'll have me.” 

Tears sprung to his eyes, wetting the slightly dried flesh of his cheeks and erupting him back into sobs. How was this person real? How could the torturous world outside of these castle walls create something so tender, so human? They didn’t wish anything from him. They were not forcing him to talk about his feelings, or silence his crying and move on with his day. Such a simple courtesy that he had never been allotted before. 

Ominis relented in his stubborn solitude. Releasing one arm from the petrified stance he had been in for what felt like hours, he rested his hand between the two students as a show of peace. A pinky brushed against his own, and that was all there was. That’s all there needed to be. 

With the heavy weight of the world a little lighter on his back, Ominis wailed, and he grieved, and he yearned for something better. 

The two friends rested in silence for what felt like years. Ominis could feel the ghosts of time-shaped vines crawl around his ankles and up his legs, the flowering buds along its tendrils tickled at his arms and tightened around his chest in a pleasant hug. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough, he could feel the leaves enter his mouth and curl around his brain, only to exit once again out of his eye sockets and bloom with beautiful nature. He couldn’t help but think of Anne, six feet under the ground. He hoped the flowers were kind to her. 

Once his breathing calmed down and his sniffles retired to sleep until the next cry once again, his friend spoke.

“I know what we can do.” 

The boy raised his head slightly in confusion, silently asking the student to his left to continue. 

They sensed his trepidation and clarified in a voice filled with a strong eclipse of finality. “I know what we can do for Sebastian.” 

Ominis paused, going back through the letter in his head for context. He was so overtaken with the grief of Anne’s suicide that he didn’t pay any mind to her last wish. Like the rapture itself had been born in the room, the boy’s fast spinning world stilled in its movement. Of all things that she could have asked for, she had asked the pair of them to help Sebastian kill himself and escape his fate at the hands of dementors. Could they do that? Would they be able to do that? The rational part of his brain said yes. The rational part of his brain reminded him that he had lost Sebastian long ago to the hands of dark magic. The Sebastian he knew died that night when the loyalists cursed Anne and took his sister from him. The irrational part of his brain, though? The idea of helping with the death of his best friend caused the same sorrow that he had gone numb to moments ago rear its ugly head once again with a vengeance. He was too tired to feel any more emotion, too tired of the pain in his body to listen to his aching heart. His mind filled with the sound of static, encasing all of his senses in a perturbed nothingness. It was like one million tiny lacewing flies were trapped behind his eyes, buzzing at a frequency that could only be heard by someone with the same heightened senses as his. His rational side took over, locking away the steely gaze of his turmoil behind the iron vault doors of his own personal Gringotts. Anne was right, Sebastian would want to leave the world on his own terms, but could they truly give that to him? In the grand scheme of things, which was better? Saving the rabbit from slaughter only to cook it for dinner, or throwing it to the wolves and watching it get torn limb from limb? 

Either way, someone kills, and someone gets eaten. 

He decided to hear them out. They had obviously thought about this for a while; he could smell the determination on them like the pungent odor of a badly brewed potion. He cleared his throat, not trusting himself to speak quite yet, and nodded his head for them to continue. 

They took a deep breath before beginning their plan. “I was doing inventory for Professor Sharpe a few days ago, just something to clear my mind from this hell of a year, and I saw something peculiar in his stores. Have you ever heard of the nightshade berry?” 

Ominis shook his head at the fifth year, a look of curious confusion muddling his features. 

They continued, “It’s a small berry, no bigger than a gobstone, I’d say. It’s used frequently in muggle medicine. One or two berries can be helpful in curing ailments; a handful can cause death.” 

The boy’s eyebrows raised to his hairline in intrigue, silently asking them to finish their tale. Their friend fully faced them and spoke animatedly. 

“I remember a young girl in our village went into the woods to gather some blueberries for her mother one day. She had been gone for hours, and a search party was sent out to bring her home safely— the woods were very dangerous, you see. They stumbled upon her completely by accident, tucked under a bush not far off the beaten path. She had found a bushel of nightshade and mistaken them for edible, snacking on a few of them before planning to bring the rest home. She must have eaten enough to stop her heart indefinitely. The adults of the village gossipped about it for weeks. Apparently, they hadn’t known that she was dead until they felt how cold her skin was. She looked peaceful enough to have been asleep under the stars.” 

Ominis met his companions eyes, seeing meeting unseeing, and puzzled through their story. A muggle poison would be their best option, he mused. They would never think to check for something like that, as muggleborns weren’t allowed in places run by the Ministry so they likely wouldn’t know about anything other than magical deaths. They could easily crush the berries into an extract of sorts; easy to conceal and easy to take. The question was, how would they get into Azkaban? The prison was guarded by the best Aurors that the Ministry had to offer, not to mention the fact that it was the main nest of all the dementors in the wizarding world. They couldn’t just simply walk in for a visit, it was unheard of. Sure, there were always ways to bend the rules, but how could they bend something as immovable as Azkaban?

He could hear his friend’s footsteps as they paced the length of the room, likely pondering the same questions that he was. When he spoke of his hesitations, they quickly made their way back to his sitting form, squatting down to his level and placing their hands atop of where his were on his knees. He could hear the sad, mournful smile in their voice as they spoke. 

“Let me worry about retrieving the poison for now. We will convene back here after supper and plan the rest.” 

They leaned close, brushing a stray hair that fell from his quiff back into place before pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. He timidly smiled at the gesture, feeling the love they held for him in that touch. Even after all these years, the young boy was still not used to the feeling of unconditional love. Everything always came with a price, even the simplest joy of finding comfort in another. He tried to push his past trauma down deep into his gut, far past the scars of childhood and the fear of the future, but his smile still did not reach his eyes. His friend could see this, of course. They were astutely aware of everything to do with the young blond boy. The student chose to ignore the pain in their companions' expression, just this once; they knew that he did not want to share any more than he already did that afternoon. Softly, they bumped their forehead against his in a show of unity and whispered some final soothing words against his skin.

“You are not alone, my dear Ominis. Please do not feel like you must solely hold up the world for others. You are not Atlas, and we are not Zeus.” 

The two friends departed the Undercroft with a new air about them— a freshly bleeding chunk missing from their souls, each holding a needle and thread for the other. 

Only a tiny, sterling white Chrysanthemum remained in the sheltered hideaway. 

***

like what you read? here's more!

[leonsrightlations]

The Earth is Online Chapter 15.1

(Under cut to prevent spoilers.)

“Your first words were, ‘I am also not a stowaway.’ This sentence is saying, ‘the previous person and I are the same. Neither of us are stowaways.’”

The young woman’s whole face was covered in tears. She unceasingly shook her head in denial.

Tang Mo said, “According to the current situation, without a doubt, the probability of me being a stowaway is the lowest. Next is him, then him.” He pointed one by one to Li Bin and Luo Fengcheng.

He raised his head. “However, there’s no person we can be certain definitely isn’t a stowaway. There’s also a possibility that I’m a stowaway. But your first words just acknowledged that the chef who spoke before you isn’t a stowaway. The one who knows for sure that the chef isn’t a stowaway is only the stowaway themself.”

The young woman’s body shivered and she didn’t stop wiping her tears, but now there was no one who would again dare to approach and console her.

No matter how weak her outward appearance was, she had been a murderer all along.

Li Bin also sharply nodded. “That’s right. When I heard you say what you said, I felt that there was something fishy. Regarding what happened during those three days, you remember it the clearest and can even declare specific times. You definitely made up this lie early on to be able to make such a smooth declaration.”

This point was very obvious. As soon as Li Bin pointed it out, Li Wen and the other two with him [1] were all suddenly illuminated.

“So it’s like this! You’re definitely a stowaway. Such a small child can really go as far as killing someone? That’s too awful.”

The young woman was still working hard to make excuses. “I haven’t…” But after wailing a few sentences, she seemed to also feel she couldn’t make people believe her again, and gave up struggling. She didn’t speak again and only continued to weep.

Paying no attention to the cook’s lament, Tang Mo said, “Mr. Luo, do you think this guess is correct?”

Luo Fengcheng had always been standing at the side not speaking. When Tang Mo suddenly steered the topic in his direction, he only rhetorically asked, “Do we now still have to guess who the stowaway is? You don’t need to mention other clues. These two points are already enough to prove who the stowaway is. It’s just that I’m quite curious… Who did you kill?”

Everyone’s gazes all turned to the young woman.

No matter how many tears there are, they will eventually run dry, but people’s fears won’t disappear.

In the corner of the underground cavern, the big mole rustled as it dug, whistling a sharp, mocking tune. It took out a piece of bloody meat from who knows where and chewed on it with its big mouth, its tiny eyes surreptitiously looking at the seven people. The young woman fearfully shivered, unable to cry anymore. She looked to Lin Qiao in search of help. Lin Qiao was still soft-hearted and couldn’t bear it, turning her head so that she wasn’t looking at the young woman. What the eye doesn’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve. [2]

After a good long time, a hoarse voice softly sounded.

“You have all decided that I’m a stowaway? Yes, I killed him. But that can’t be considered murder. It absolutely can’t!” The young woman lowered her head. No one could have imagined that the young woman whose voice was ice cold like steel was the one who had just now been weeping pitifully. She raised her head. “Can that be considered murder? I gave him life!”

The voice of one who had been forced into desperate straits resonated in the cave, shrill and ear-piercing.

At this time, many of them remembered. This young woman seemed very thin and weak and her expression was also very bad, but just because she looks petite doesn’t mean she was an ignorant child. She wasn’t little. **[3]**

Tang Mo frowned in astonishment. This answer completely went beyond his expectations. Without waiting for him to speak, Luo Fengcheng already said, “You didn’t eliminate your parents?”

A mournful, helpless expression flitted across the young woman’s face. “How can I eliminate my mom and dad? They’re so good to me. The one I eliminated…it’s that thing that shouldn’t have been born!”

Her answer was abundantly clear. This time, even the cook, who was the least clever of them, understood.

The young woman said in an ice-cold tone, “You all say that I lied, but it can’t actually be called lying. I didn’t need to make up those words, because for the past three months, I’ve lived this kind of life. I was cheated by a scumbag and accidentally became pregnant. The doctor said it had been more than seven months and I couldn’t have an abortion. It was very possible that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to have children again afterward, and my life might even be in danger. I absolutely didn’t want that child. But my mom said she didn’t want me to regret it afterward and also didn’t want me to take that kind of risk. The child would be raised by them. They had me give birth to that thing.”

The young woman raised her tear-stained face, her line of sight sweeping past each and every person.

“I’m not as smart as you and I don’t have any use to you, but I only want to live well. To live my life. During those three days, I was hospitalized. On the evening of the second day, I gave birth to that thing.”

Tang Mo’s eyes flashed.

Actually, in the young woman’s words, there had been another two obvious gaps.

One of those was that she said her mom didn’t care about the Black Tower problem. If her mom really didn’t fear the Black Tower, why did she say, on the evening of the second day, that phrase, ‘don’t be afraid?’ What was there to fear from the Black Tower?

This was a contradiction from beginning to end.

Tang Mo initially thought the young woman was lying and not doing a good job of it. Now it seemed that this phrase, ‘don’t be afraid,’ was said so that she would be unafraid and do her best to give birth to the child. No matter what happened later, don’t be afraid of any of it.

“So long as you’re good, I’ll be fine.” This was her mom that, as a mother, she would spare no effort to protect her child. She wouldn’t let her child land in desperate straits.

The young woman’s expression was vicious but her eyes still flashed with a thread of regret and reluctance. Her tone was resolute. “That evening, he was crying. I couldn’t sleep and couldn’t stand it… I eliminated him. He absolutely shouldn’t exist!”

Lin Qiao couldn’t help but say, “You didn’t have to give him life, but you gave him life. He had the right to live.”

“He was going to ruin my life! I’m not even married!” [4] The young woman’s eyes saddened and turned red.

Tang Mo flatly said, “He was just born.”

The young woman suddenly choked and silently lowered her head, not speaking again.

This truth was different from what Tang Mo had imagined. He originally thought the young woman had killed someone by accident, most probably her parents. Because she was barely an adult and was too naive, she wasn’t burdened with the feeling that she had killed someone, and all the things she’d said were lies. The truth was that she detested that child, so even when she was exposed, she completely lacked remorse or panic.

The cook excitedly wrung his hands. “So we found the stowaway, right? We don’t need to die, right? That big mole wants her, not us.”

These words were a bit unpleasant. Li Bin knit his brows. “En, she already admitted that she’s a stowaway.”

Tang Mo said, “What is your ability? Stowaways and official players are the same. They all definitely have abilities.”

The young woman had previously almost been grabbed by the big mole to be eaten up and she hadn’t displayed her ability.

Tang Mo thought about it and said, “Does it have something to do with that flashlight?”

The young woman wiped the tears on her face. “You want to know what my ability is?”

Not only Tang Mo, Luo Fengcheng also said, “It should have something to do with the flashlight.”

The young woman clenched her fingers and suddenly gave a strange laugh. “Yes, I’m a stowaway. You want to deliver me to that mole? My mom died, my dad died, I also have to die…don’t any of you think about living either!”

In an instant, a huge match appeared in the young woman’s palm.

It might be because she had just given birth, but even though she had an ability and her constitution had increased, she was still very short and thin. The match was practically half as tall as her. She brandished the big match and rushed toward everyone, first charging at the cook who had just then taken delight in her misfortune and wanted her to go die.

“I’ll kill you! If I die, don’t even think about living!!!”

[PREV] [TOC] [NEXT]

Important footnotes this time please read them!!!!! Scroll down to **[3]** and beyond if you don't want to read anything else.

Half a chapter this week and next week. Potentially the next two weeks as well. Unfortunately, I work in retail and it's the holiday season (among other things). I just don't have the energy to do a full chapter each week at the moment. ):

Character Refresher:

Li Bin (李彬), 29, male, works at a PR firm.

Peng Yu Wen (彭玉雯), 18, female, first year of university. Small, looks like a junior high student.

Tang Mo (唐陌), 23, male, librarian. Our protagonist! :D

Li Wen (黎文), 25, male, unemployed. A foolishly sweet second generation who plays around with female celebrities!?!?

Lin Qiao (林巧), 20, female, university student, Gamer.

Zhao Xiang (赵翔), 32, male, former chef.

Luo Fengcheng (洛风城), 28, Black Tower researcher, wears glasses and looks refined.

Uncle Mole (鼹鼠叔叔), a cute mole who is eating melon seeds meat and wishing a Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate! ^_^

Translation Notes:

[1] 黎文三人 - lit. Li Wen’s three people, i.e. the group of three people headed by Li Wen. This should be referring to Lin Qiao and the cook.

[2] 眼不见为净 - lit. what’s unseen is clean

(jk Lin Qiao's too nice for that)

**[3]** This is an important translation note so I put asterisks next to it. Comparing this paragraph to the original online text cleared up a lot of things that were confusing me about this whole arc both because of the text itself and my memories of reading TEIO the first time. It felt weird to me that the published version kept referring to her as a little girl even though she’s eighteen and only two years younger than Lin Qiao. The text also kept calling her a junior high student and Luo Fengcheng even implies that her lack of reaction stems from her innocence as a child. Can an eighteen year old university student still be called an ignorant child who doesn’t understand what murder is?? I also remember being way less suspicious of her the first time I read the novel and I like to think I’m at least a LITTLE bit harder to trick…

However!!!!!

It turns out that she’s eighteen in the print version and was fifteen in the original text. This makes the entire way she’s viewed by the other characters and spoken about by the narrator make way way way more sense. I intend to go back and edit the ‘young woman’s into ‘little girl’s to preserve the author’s original intention. I haven’t decided whether I’ll go back and alter the age back to the original yet. Feel free to comment if you have an opinion. I think it’s pretty obvious that this change was made due to censorship (the reasons for which should become clear in the rest of this chapter) and not as a late stage edit by the author to better suit the text. 

[4] Just reiterating the above footnote by saying that her original response is that her life would be ruined because she is only fifteen. This also makes Tang Mo’s following retort make a lot more sense. “Maybe you are only fifteen, but he was just born.” <- is the original subtext.

[further footnote] There are additional changes throughout this part of the text that really bring home the point about her age. For example, when the official print version says 'she's barely an adult' the original text says that fifteen isn't that young and that she's almost an adult. There are also additional details about her relationship with the father of the child and his responsibility in the situation. Also, rather than the way the print version insists on referring to her actions as 'elimination,' she directly says she smothered the baby with a pillow. :|

So...uh...

See you next week!

[ponds-of-ink]

Notre Dame AU Chapter 12: “As The City Slumbered”

AKA The scenes and song in Act 2 I’ve been looking forward to for so long now. (Besides the finale)

I really hope I nail this, even I’ve gotta make this shorter than even I’m wanting.

Also, because this is important: After this, there may be a brief hiatus until further notice. I know I’m so close to the finale and I have a pretty good idea of how it will go down, but I'm waiting on more Help Wanted 2 info to solidify my decision. This may mean that we’ll both have wait until December, but I could also just randomly go “yeet this” and write it anyway.

Either way, here’s the night before the big day.

-

Hours passed on the grounds of the Princess Challenge Castle. The stars aided the furious judge as he set up wooden beams around a nearby service elevator. The only noise he heard was the banging of his hammer against the nails. And yet, in his “sleep”-deprived mind, the entire mall was already set ablaze. Each nail clanging into place now sounded like the ever-inching elevator readying to plummet.

However, by some miracle, the rabbit’s fevered imagination was kept at bay with the fact that he had to build the thing. So, with a strange mix of self-annoyance and unnatural glee, he kept working instead of laughing like a madman.

The other souls inside the castle, however, weren’t thrilled. Cassie chattered with Gregory, her confusion slowly melting into sorrow as time went on. Gregory himself tried to keep his voice stable, but even he couldn’t shake the pain away. “I’m sorry,” he murmured faintly. “I thought leaving my walkie-talkie behind would help Agonia get out, but I guess I should’ve realized that Glitch would try to trick somebody else with it.”

Cassie opened her mouth to speak, but a soft sob emitted from the speakers. “It’s all my fault,” she could hear Gregory choke out. “I didn’t listen to him. I should’ve just—“

“You didn’t have to listen to that ‘judge’,” Cassie insisted, battling her own tears to keep her tone stern. “And you still don’t! He’s been nothing but trouble ever since he got here.”

”But.. Wh-What about you?” Gregory stammered, as if he completely missed that last sentence. “I don’t want to be responsible for anything else! I don’t want to lose you too!”

Cassie’s sneer dropped into a look of shock. Instead of asking the obvious, she glanced over at Vanessa sitting beside her. The woman’s pained wince and rapid nod told all. They had both been through the same horrors, whatever those were.

Cassie refocused her attention. “Don’t worry about me,” she said gently. “Whatever happens, I just want you to be safe. To be with your family again.”

Rather than the sounds of slowly-processed comfort, Gregory only sniffled and repeated “I’m sorry” in an even more broken manner. The static cut into silence.

“Gregory?” Cassie asked quietly.

Vanessa inched closer to the girl. “I think he’s finally figured out who ‘46’ was,” she explained somberly, placing a hand on Cassie’s shoulder. “Or, to be honest, he remembered who ‘46’ was.”

Cassie just stared back in bewilderment.

“Oh, yeah, you probably weren’t there for that,” Vanessa sighed darkly. “At least we’ve got a couple more hours to unpack everything before the ‘big bonfire’. Should give you a bit of closure.”

”But I’m not going to die!” Cassie insisted, flailing out an arm. “…Am I?”

Vanessa bit her lip. “Unless someone manages to break you out…” her voice trailed as her heart sank. She wouldn’t dare finish that sentence.

Both went quiet. Cassie clung to Vanessa’s arm. Vanessa was now the one trying to keep herself steady. Cassie, on the other hand, finally let out all the tears she held back. The hall echoed with sobs, even as the banging of construction battled against it.

Unbeknownst to the grieving pair, one other soul was also in mourning. Agonia had gone dead silent as soon as him and his master arrived back “home”. Aside from his eyes surveying all of said master’s work, he was now rendered motionless as well. Watching from the bell tower. Waiting for the unbearable dawn.

A dawn that he was beginning to think he deserved.

A morning of fire, a new day with innocent lives lost when he can only watch…

Yes. That sounded like a fitting punishment. Both for his current crimes against his master and the unspeakable crimes of the past.

And, besides, it wasn’t like he couldn’t escape anyway. He had a new task at hand. Something his master specifically ordered. An order he dare not disobey— Even if it meant being bound by wires and drained for power. Why should he care? He was in his ghost form again, after all.

A second ghost, however, was not this resigned. “Father, you must try to free yourself!” Michael called out, grabbing the elder by the shoulders.

“The girl needs your help!” Charlie chimed in, aiding Michael in pulling the sulking man back inside.

Agonia did not fight his fellow specters, but he did snarl at them. “Quiet,” he hissed faintly. “Go away.”

“You’re the only one who can save her now!” Henry reasoned, uncharacteristically showing his fury as he pointed at the descending staircase. “Everyone else has given up— Even Gregory.”

“You know what happens when I try to help,” Agonia snapped back, keeping his full attention on his former partner. “I only make things worse!”

“You don’t believe that!” Elizabeth and her younger brother exclaimed in horror, rushing to their father’s side. Charlie shared their expression, but kept close to her own dad instead. She could already sense a firestorm ready to strike.

Agonia chortled bitterly. “How do you know what I believe?” he sniggered as he distanced himself from the group. “What do you know of me? What do you know of all the things I feel…?”

His voice trailed as an old feeling resurfaced. His skeptical expression shifted into a furious sneer. His mouth ran faster than his brain, descending into a ramble that even the person telling this story couldn’t properly track and transcribe. All that could be descipher was the general theme: They had lied. He had lied to himself. Only the judge made the proper verdict.

Meanwhile, the ghosts tried to argue back. Henry and Michael appealed to his logic. Elizabeth and her other brother offered their support as best they could. Charlie attempted to do both of these, but Agonia’s sudden jump from broken animatronic pile to broken animatronic pile made it hard on her.

But, in the end, the only result was a shriek of absolute rage and pain from the specter himself.

Charlie was the first to retreat. “Okay, Agonia,” she said softly, rejoining her dad’s side. “We’ll leave you alone.”

Henry scooped his daughter before backing away slowly. He simply gave a nod of agreement.

Michael gathered his misty-eyed siblings. The usually-crying child looked back at the dad he once respected. “You’re right, ‘Agonia’,” he said in a flat, not-choked tone. “We’re just ghosts too. But…”

He paused to gauge his siblings’ faces. Michael and Elizabeth bobbed their heads in agreement.

“We just thought you were made of something stronger,” the boy finished, watching as the rest vanished. Soon, he too disappeared into the darkness.

Agonia winced, refocusing his attention to the scenery before him. All was quiet now that his “guardians” had departed. The only noise he clearly heard was the pulse of the ever-moving wires tied around his extremities. The only sight he truly had was the starless night sky through the fractured grid of glass.

And yet, for a moment, he could see something else. Almost like a vision from some other realm.

There was someone else still there. Ever-shifting in form and mood, but very present. Watching from a distance– Perhaps waiting for his mind to change, if he had to take a guess.

He shook his lowered head. Whoever it was, that person was sadly mistaken. He was not going back out there.

Bracing for impact, he let all of his lingering emotions drain into the wire-built.. thing he was powering. Some tears leaked through, but they quickly vanished. He fell onto his hands and knees. His contorted face turned cold and stoic. The process, whatever it was, had succeeded.

[saturnite0614]

hitting some major writer's block so in order to remind myself that I can do it, I'm sharing my favorite lines from each chapter of my on going fic. I haven't allowed myself of a lot of self-celebration in my life so I'm doing it now.

Chapter 1: Soap holds his hand up, "You need to let me finish. It's not fair, because no matter what you say, I still want to kiss you. And you're saying all this shite in a pub bathroom about how you want to be with me."

Chapter 2: All the insecurities he's buried since childhood peek out with ugly little eyes, watching the rest of his world crumble around him and waiting for the moment when they can crawl out on little arachnid legs.

Chapter 3: His feathery hope was born in crisis. It was born in the rain on the streets of Mexico, fed only by the gravelly tones of Ghost in his ears. His voice and eyes are all it knows. Now it's hammering for more. It wants to know it's not going to starve once the winter comes.

Chapter 4: "That person was happy. For the first time in months, I didn't feel like a living corpse and it was ripped away from me. Shutting it away meant I didn't have to feel their loss. I didn't have to mourn them. But when I'm with you, I am happy again. I'm that person and I have to feel them all over again." His voice breaks.

Chapter 5: A ghost on the stairwell and a reminder of their mission.

Chapter 6: "You're fucking beautiful, Johnny." There's a crack at the edge of his voice, "Just," he rubs his thumb across his cheekbone, "every part of you." His touches are so light now, as if Soap might break underneath them and given the last few days, he felt like he very much might, but not around Simon.

Chapter 7: He would focus on the movie and the candy before him. He had a life before Ghost and this weird obsession he could only partly get over by giving into it. Now he would live that life with Price and Gaz.

Chapter 8: “I’m home now.” Simon says. He itches to leave the mask there and truly move on. That’s what a healthy person would do. He wasn’t there yet. He’s big enough to accept that.

Chapter 9:  Ghost observes him, drinking in his profile – the slight way the bridge of his nose rounds downwards but the tip points slightly upwards, the thickness of his eyebrows, and the way his upper lip is almost tilted inwards, adding to the thinness of them. Ghost stares at this profile now, like he had then. But then, when Soap had turned back towards him, he froze.

Chapter 10: Ghost can’t help but mirror that smile. This is good. He did something right.

Chapter 11: At work, it's easier. You’re allowed to work yourself to the bone, carry exhaustion with you to bed and let it chase away any inklings of dreaming. Here, where there is nothing to do but relax, there is no defense against the past. Even Soap was slipping as an anchor. As he embraces his own past, Ghost loses his grip on the present.

Chapter 12: “You can sit and judge me all you want, everyone knows you’re bloody well good at it. I will be your target. I will be the fuck-up. But you will not talk about my sister or Simon in that way... He’s perfect because he loves her. Simon is perfect because he loves me. And it’s more than you have ever done for either of us."

Chapter 13: “Something wrong with your ears?” He bites his lip in the gorgeous smile of his, as if he’s trying to hide it entirely, or like he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“Yeah, they’re burning. Say it again.” If he thought his own confession was electric, Simon’s was tenfold, stronger than any explosive he’s ever created. Already his skin crawls, itching out and reaching for those three words again.

[not-alien-girl-v]

Vampires Will Never Hurt You (Harry Styles)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆  

That night, I dreamt of him. That was the first night I dreamt of Edward Cullen.

Kidding. But I did dream of someone.

It was 1877. I was in Massachusetts, living on a quaint plot of land with a nice house with my family. Long before I had met Donna, and I was sitting by my favorite tree reading some random book about a fairy tale. wearing a very elaborate, very uncomfortable dress.

"Pardon me ma'am, but do you know how to get to Boston from here?"

I looked up from my book to see a tall, handsome young man with curly blonde and brown eyes hopping off of his carriage (there was a good 10 years until the first car was invented) and taking a few steps toward me before slowing.

"You're a long while away from Boston, how'd you stray so far?" I stood up from the grass to match his stance.

"I must admit, I'm not from around here. I'm from New York, but I've come here for college. I'm looking to meet a friend in Boston first, then I'm off to Harvard," he took off his tan hat and shook out his hair.

"Well, you've got quite the journey ahead. It's a couple of hours from here. Gosh, it's getting dark already. Would you like to stay the night?" I asked him hopefully.

"Oh, well, I wouldn't want to be a burden," I could see a small blush forming on his cheeks.

"Nonsense! We have plenty of spare rooms, my family and I. It would be my pleasure; I wouldn't want you to be in danger. It gets quite dark around here at night," I reasoned with him pulling my best damsel smile.

"If you insist," he hopped back on his carriage to take his horses to the stable.

"Say, what did you say your name was?" I asked him innocently.

"Thomas Fletcher. Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am," he said politely.

"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. I am Faith Callahan," I politely curtsied.

"Thank you dearly for having me, Faye," he smiled at me.

Faye. I think I like that.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆  

I woke up gradually after that. Not the shooting straight up kind or the eyes suddenly bursting open kind of wake. Just the soft and gradual type, where you realize you're awake and your eyes slowly open.

Out of all my loves over the years, Thomas meant something special to me. He was the first to call me Faye, and I've stuck with it for over a century now. I think it suits me rather well.

Thomas wasn't the first, and certainly wasn't the last, but he inspired me to pick witchcraft back up after I had quit for a few decades. If it wasn't for him, I definitely wouldn't be where I am now.

Although I'd come to terms with his fate, it still hurt to remember him sometimes. It hurt to remember any of them. I had a habit of getting attached to people I know I'll never be able to keep around. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now, but no, I keep falling for people pathetically and mourning them when they die, like I never thought it would end.

One of the downsides of being immortal, I guess, is you can't get attached too easily.

I decided to get up for a while once I gathered my thoughts. I quietly walked to the bay window, passing the bedrooms holding Donna in the left room, and Charlie in the right room, which was the spare bedroom. He decided to sleep over and stay at Donna and I's while I went to my interview so he wouldn't have to keep going back and forth between his house and ours.

I sat down next to Jorge and leaned my back against the wall next to the window. I stared at him as he stared back at me. Does this bird ever sleep? Then again, maybe vampires don't sleep. If I'm being honest, I didn't read the fine print. I just saw bloodsucker and immortal together and went with it. I really have to stop being so impulsive.

Eh, I'll start tomorrow. I then quickly decided to get up and make some tea. I went with unsweetened green tea, although it tasted like absolute shit, Donna said it was healthy, or whatever, and I just let her do her thing. While in the kitchen I decided to quickly prick my finger to get Jorge a little drink as well.

I let it drip into a sauce dish that I couldn't remember ever buying and took it back to the window along with my mug.

I slipped the sauce dish into the cage and he eagerly hopped of his little platform to drink from it. I should invest in stealing blood bags sometimes if I want to keep my blood in my body.

I picked up my phone as I took a sip of my ass-tasting tea and scrolled through twitter. I saw a tweet from Harry Styles, and to my complete astonishment, the tweet read, got attacked by a bird today. Some random girl with green hair saved my life. Wherever you are, bird girl, thanks.

My eyes widened and I swear my heart skipped a beat.

He wasn't supposed to remember that.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆  

"Bye, Faye. Bye, Donna. If you two crash my car I swear I'll rip your hearts out and feed them to Jorge," Charlie spoke to us over the daily newspaper and a mug of coffee. Donna just giggled.

"Bye Charlie," I said and lightly pushed Donna out the door so I could lock it behind us.

"Am I driving?" She asked me. She was the better option if we wanted to not crash the car but that wouldn't stop me.

"No, I want to drive," I said and Donna tossed me the keys.

She half scoffed, half chuckled, "do you even know how to drive? I don't think I've ever seen you drive for however long we've known each other."

"Of course I know how to drive, I just don't do it often. The last time I owned a car was the 70's, but Jesse crashed it," I laughed without thinking, then I remembered what I just said.

"Jesse," she spoke plainly. It was a sensitive subject for me. All of my past flings were, but Jesse hurt the most. Everyone knew not to mention them. "You know, I don't think I ever met him."

"Really? Hmm. That's a shame. That was the year that you spent with Eleanor and Leonard finding recruits, right?" I thought back to the polaroids I had of me and he stashed under my bed. "Strange, I only have a few pictures with him.”

"That is strange. Didn't he buy you a polaroid camera for your birthday?" She nearly caught onto me.

"No, that was Leonard, in '77."

"Right," I'm really glad she left it there.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆  

"So, what do you think is your greatest strength?" Florence, the employee interviewing me asked me as we sat in a back room.

"I'd say my ability to move along after accidents happen. I'm not one to dwell on the past, and instead of focusing on mistakes, I like to focus on what I can do to fix them," It was half true. I could move along from things. I didn't have a choice, but I definitely was a dweller.

"Alright, thank you for coming. If you could write down your name and email or phone number on this sheet here, and we'll contact you if we decide to hire you.

"Thank you so much, Florence, was it?" I asked.

"Yeah, but you can call me Florrie."

I nodded and was on my way out to the main area.

As soon as I opened the door, I collided with someone much taller than me. The contents of my purse fell onto the floor along with my body, and I looked up to see Harry Styles. Again.

"Oh, I'm so sorry miss," he started to pick up the items that fell out of my purse. I happened to look down at my body to see my special dagger in my pocket. Right that moment, a sinister thought popped into my head.

I grabbed his arm, tracing the sigil onto his wrist, pricking him quickly, and whispering the incantation.

As soon as Harry got that look on his face that I had seen on Jorge earlier, I released his arm. Is it weird for him to be able to make the same expression as a bird? You'd think birds only really have one face, but as it turns out, they have other ones. Such as this one.  After a second or two of him staring blankly, he seemed to come back again. "What just happened?" He asked.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there, I didn't mean to bump into you, I swear," I played it off like I didn't just do something potentially really really evil.

"Right, yeah, hey wait. Are you the bird girl? From yesterday?" He asked through a smile.

"Yeah, that's me, are you okay? That bird really did a number on you, huh?" I grinned, referring to the several scratched on the sides of his face and forehead.

"I'm alright, thank you for that, is that bird yours?" He stood us both up once we finished scooping my purse guts back into the purse.

"Yeah, that's Jorge. Sorry about the scratches, he's a little aggressive," I chuckled nervously.

"Right, so what's your name, bird girl?" He then leaned against the wall while conversing with me.

"Faye Callahan," I stuck my hand out for him to shake. He did so, firmly.

"Hey, did you grab my arm and say something earlier?" He asked with a growing curiosity.

My eyes widened a little bid. I snapped my fingers in front of his face. "I didn't grab your arm. You bumped into me and recognized me from yesterday, I told you my name. Go home."

He furrowed his brows for a moment before saying, "You didn't grab my arm. You bumped into me and I recognized you from yesterday. You told me you're Faye Callahan. I'm going home."

"Bye! It was nice to meet you again," I smiled and gently pushed him out the door.

"Nice to meet you again, Faye." He walked away and I was certain this time the enchantment worked correctly.

As soon as he walked off, Donna practically sprinted towards me. "Was that Harry freaking Styles?" She was a bit of a fangirl.

"Yeah, he got attacked by Jorge yesterday, I wanted to apologize to him."

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆  

(Harry’s POV)

I walked into the flat I currently rented with Louis, to see him making dinner. Less of a flat, more of a penthouse, but what's it really matter anyway?

"Mate, what took you so long?" He asked me, referring to how I hadn't been home since I left for IHOP that morning.

I was still feeling a little dizzy. That girl Faye was strange. Especially with how she just told me to forget how she grabbed my arm and whispered something weird. Did she really think that would work?

"Sorry, I ran into some fans and I spent some time with them today," I lied to him as I sat down on a stool next to the kitchen island.

"Aw, mate, you should have told me, I would have joined you guys today," he took out an almost comically large knife and started cutting a bell pepper, and I could practically see what was coming.

Just as I expected, he pricked his finger rather badly and started bleeding. "Ah, fuck. Harry, could you get me a bandage from the medicine cabinet?" He tilted his head towards the bathroom where we kept the bandages.

But for some reason, I couldn't take my eyes off the red liquid pooling in his palm. The delicious, warm, salty liquid.

What the fuck?

"Harry? Bandage?" Louis asked again. I still couldn't take my eyes off his hand. "Fuck's sake, I'll get it."

Just then, faster than I had ever moved in my life, I moved from off the stool to right next to him and gripped his finger tightly. I stared at it for a while until I felt the strength to look up at him, where a look of absolute horror resided on his face.

"I'm sorry," I muttered before grabbing my phone and sprinting out the door, not even bothering to close it.

I knew then who was at fault here.

After a few minutes of vigorous googling, I got a phone number.

Once the person on the other end picked up, I said, "Faye whatever your middle name is Callahan, did you turn me into a fucking vampire?"

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆  

[bluepeachstudios]

The Tortoise and the Hare Update

Read "Chapter 2: Do You Want Nothing Else" here!

He missed them so much already. It’d barely been a few hours, and he could hardly imagine what they’d been going through. If Drako had sent him here, maybe he had sent them here as well? Or were they still trapped at home fighting Ultimate Drako? Had they been sent to other worlds, completely different from their own? Would they be able to get to the Nexus? They didn’t know the symbols by heart, and none of them knew the chant. No, it would be up to him to get them back.

They’d never been so far apart before. Not even when Donnie had been taken by the Triceratons. They were always together, and now, suddenly, they were split apart by dimensions and even possibly time.

“I know the ritual,” Usagi assured him. “I will help you in any way I can as soon as Lord Noriyuki is under the Shogun’s protection.”

“Is this what you’ve been dealing with lately?” Leo asked. “You said you were going to be busy.”

“Partly,” Usagi nodded. “Gen and I were working for a merchant for a short while, but after we heard of Hebi’s assassination plot, we came to meet Tomoe Ame and Lord Noriyuki. It was a pleasant surprise to find you as well.”

“Tomoe Ame was your friend, right?” Leo asked hesitantly. “You’d mentioned the people of the Geishu Clan in your letters.”

“Yes,” Usagi said quietly. “She was my friend. She was an honorable warrior.”

“She fought skillfully,” Leo murmured. “I’m sorry, Usagi.”

“We will have time to mourn her later,” Usagi’s voice firmed. “We have a duty, and duty comes before all else.”

Leo nodded quietly, understanding. Duty to his family came before all else. Even to himself. He needed to focus. He couldn’t let… Whatever went on with him when Usagi was around distract him.

-------------------

Another chapterrrrr I swear the picture is different than the last one sobs

Read the rest of it here: The Tortoise and the Hare - Chapter 2 - AmevelloBlue - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

And check out the rest of my TMNT fics here: AmevelloBlue - Works | Archive of Our Own

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 7 - zuko x fem!reader

I think my ways are wearing me down

part 6 | masterlist | part 8

a/n: as said very astutely in my outline, "y/n just keeps taking L's"

i actually had to take breaks while writing the final scene and watching the episode LMAo i forgot how fucking sad this scene was!!

warning(s): you know what happens in this chapter. its siege of the north part 2. its so much more angst like SO MUCH ANGST. im so sorry i got so sad while writing this

wc: 4.0k

chapter title comes from brand new city by mitski!

Y/N adjusted her hold on the basket of clothes as she knocked on the door with her free hand, pushing it open after waiting a few moments.

“Prince Zuko?” she called in a whisper. They had gotten past the point of formalities, but it was a precaution she opted to take when they met like this. She spotted him sitting on his bed and he gave her a thumbs up, a sign she took to mean they were in the clear. Y/N closed the door behind her and bounded over, then set the basket on his bed.

“Alright. I brought you the book that you wanted to borrow.” She unearthed the novel from the pile of clothes with caution, taking care to not ruin the hard work that went into folding all of them. “I had to hide it so I could get in here — no one thinks anything of a servant bringing clothes around, but books are a little more suspicious. But here you go! My very own edition of ‘Keiko and the Koalaotter’.”

“Thank you!” The prince grinned as he took the book and examined the cover. “I’ve always been curious about Water Tribe culture, even more after you started teaching me about it. They don’t really tell us about it in our classes.”

“It’s not really accurate to actual Water Tribe stuff, but it is cute,” she laughed. “I remember begging my parents for a koalaotter for weeks after I finished it. They told me that there was no way to get one all the way in the Earth Kingdom, but I never listened to them.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” His eyes lit up as he ran over to the windowsill. “I got you a gift too!”

“Zuko, really? You shouldn’t have.”

“Well, I did. So don’t even think about not accepting it,” he joked. He picked something up from a vase and bounded back over, doing as good a job of hiding the flowers behind his back as his excited grin.

“What is it?” she questioned.

“They’re silver wisterias!” he exclaimed as he presented the bouquet. “They grow in the palace gardens. They’re really pretty, and so are you, and I know how much you love the gardens, so I thought you’d like it.”

She felt her cheeks heat up when she accepted the gift, twirling the stem in her fingers as she inhaled its sweet scent with a smile. “That’s really thoughtful of you, Zuko. Thank you.”

“Of course! You could wear one in your hair, pin one onto your uniform, put them in your room, whatever you want.”

As she carefully ran her fingers over the petals, she couldn’t stop the nagging question at the back of her mind from escaping.

“Why are you so nice to me?” she blurted out, causing Zuko’s brows to furrow in confusion.

“Because you’re my friend. Friends are nice to each other.”

“I know, but why are we friends?” she pushed. “You know that you could get in trouble for talking to me like this, but you still do it. Why?”

He pondered the question for a moment before he answered. “Well.. you don’t treat me like everyone else. I’m the prince, so everyone here has to do what I want and be nice to me. But you’re not like that. When it’s just the two of us, you treat me like anyone else, and I like that — I know that you always mean what you say, so when you’re nice to me I know it’s because you like me, not because you have to be. Why do you do that?” the prince asked as he turned the tables. “You know that you could get in trouble for talking to me like this, but you still do it. Why?”

She punched him playfully on the shoulder and giggled. “Someone’s gotta keep you humble.”

His cheeks flushed a bright red as he rubbed his arm shyly. “I’m really glad we’re friends. Sometimes it feels like you’re my only one in this whole nation.”

“So am I,” she beamed. “Always and forever, right?”

“Right.”

-

Y/N’s eyes snapped open and she gasped, immediately whipping her head around frantically to see if the Avatar was still there, but Katara shook her head.

“He’s gone,” Katara said miserably, confirming her suspicions. “I woke up a few minutes before you and I checked everywhere.”

“Great,” she muttered. She rubbed the back of her head and winced — she had a feeling she would be plagued by headaches for at least the next couple of days.

“So…” Katara began. “You and Zuko both recognized each other. He— he said he thought that you were dead.”

Y/N pursed her lips, wondering how to start that story, when Sokka and Yue burst into the oasis on Appa.

“What happened?” he questioned. “Where’s Zuko?”

“He took Aang,” Katara mourned. “He took him right out from under me.”

“It’s not your fault, Katara,” Y/N insisted. “It really looks like he’s improved since… since last time.”

“‘Last time’?” Sokka asked, prompting a sigh from Y/N. She looked to Yue for help, and the princess nodded supportively.

“We have… history.” She looked at her hands for a moment before continuing. “I’m not from the Northern Water Tribe. My mother is, but I was born in a small village in the Earth Kingdom. I told you that my village was invaded, Katara, but after it, my mother and I were captured for being waterbenders, and they took us to the Fire Nation to work as healers and servants in the palace.”

“I became friends with Zuko there. He was nothing like you saw today, or like anything you know from the past. He was kind, and caring, and passionate, and he made my dismal life a little bit brighter. And… we ended up falling for each other.”

“We went too far, the Fire Lord found out, and— well, he was going to kill me. My mother managed to get me out, but she stayed behind, and I haven’t seen her since that night. I haven’t seen Zuko since that night. I always held hope that I would find my way back and see them both again, but now that Zuko is like… like that?” She bit down on her lip and shook her head.

“Now I don’t know what to think. He’s completely different than anything I knew, than the boy that I fell in love with. And I can’t help but think about what happened to my mother if that is what happened to Zuko.” And I can’t help but think that it’s my fault for not being there for him.

A collective silence hung in the air for just a moment before Sokka broke it. “You had a thing with Zuko?”

Y/N let out a surprised laugh as Katara hit him on the shoulder. “Sokka, now is not the time!”

“No,” she chuckled. “No, it’s alright. It’s a lot, I know. It’s just… impossible. That the Zuko I knew turned into someone like this. I mean, you saw, Katara— he didn’t even hesitate to try and hurt me.”

Katara pulled her into a warm embrace before separating and looking her in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N, for all that you’ve been through. And I know that fighting against Zuko hurts, so if you can’t come after Aang with us then I completely understand—”

“No,” she said once more, something hardening in her eyes. “I’ll help you find Aang, it’s the least I can do. Besides, I… I have to see him again. I have to see him again to know that this is actually real, that— that this is actually who he is now.”

Katara nodded solemnly; Sokka had already started walking back to Appa with Yue. “Well, Zuko couldn’t have gotten far. We’ll find him — Aang’s gonna be fine.”

Katara looked back hopefully at Y/N and she met her eyes with a smile, though slightly strained, as she jogged to catch up with them. But as she climbed onto Appa with her fellow waterbender, the anger in his eyes was all she could see.

The boy she fought might’ve been the Fire Prince, but it was not her Zuko.

-

Cold.

That was all Zuko seemed to know as he trekked through the frozen tundra, the blizzard around him threatening to end him at any moment. No more had he despised the Water Tribes than he did in this moment, but the weight of the Avatar on his back and the promise of his honor was enough to push him onwards.

The only thing on his mind that he couldn’t shake was her.

Zuko thought she was dead, honestly and truly. Few were lucky enough to escape his father’s wrath once it was incurred upon them — Zuko himself wasn’t even an exception — and though he wanted nothing more than for her to be one of the few, he knew that she was dead. There was no other explanation.

For years, the waterbender had been a staple in his mind — a memory of a childhood love, of a better time. He thought about her when he fought against his soldiers on slow evenings on the ship, her words of encouragement and joking retorts echoing through his ears as he went through every form. He thought about her when he talked to his uncle, his attitude often mirroring hers. The morning of the Agni Kai, he almost turned to her for reassurance before remembering.

Spirits, Zuko thought about her every time he looked at the water. And even all these years after her disappearance, he was still plagued by nightmares of her fate.

He had resigned himself to mourning her. Zuko truly thought she was dead.

But there she was, in the flesh, with the Avatar and his friends. Breathing. Alive. His enemy.

How the fuck was he supposed to deal with that?

She was even more beautiful than he remembered, but it was obvious the years since her escape had weathered her. He noticed a certain emptiness in her eyes, the brightness from their childhood a distant memory. It was obvious she had grown — she carried a certain elegance that he didn’t remember, and her skill in waterbending had improved so much since the days of their sparring sessions.

It felt like he had betrayed her. The expression she wore after his first blast was like a physical weight, the guilt of broken promises heavy over his head when he struck the final blow. So familiar to their friendly fights, yet such a far cry.

But they weren’t kids anymore. She had changed, and so had he.

It had been years. Any feelings he still harbored for her didn’t matter anymore.

Zuko had a mission, and he was going to complete it no matter what.

-

The tundra was treacherous, the blizzard making it difficult to see anything at all. Y/N had taken to holding Yue’s hand, something the princess had offered when she had seen how restless her friend was, as well as gnawing on the bottom of her lip. She feared for both Zuko and Aang, and she could only hope that they would be able to find them before something happened to either of them.

“Don’t worry,” the princess reassured. “Prince Zuko can’t be getting too far in this weather.”

“I’m not worried they’ll get away in the blizzard,” Katara murmured. “I’m worried that they won’t.”

“They’re not gonna die in this blizzard,” Sokka said as he gripped the reins tighter. “If we know anything, it’s that Zuko never gives up.”

Y/N chuckled softly and nodded. “You’ve got that right.”

Yue gave her hand a squeeze and a small smile, a sentiment that Y/N returned as Sokka continued. “They’ll survive, and we’ll find them.”

It took a few more minutes of riding and searching, but eventually a bright blue light streaked through the air. Katara gasped and pointed up. “Look!” she exclaimed. “That’s gotta be Aang! Yip yip!”

Appa groaned once more and Sokka turned to follow the light — it had stopped in a small cove before glowing brilliantly then disappearing — and sure enough, Zuko and Aang were down in the snow.

“Appa!” he cheered as they landed, causing Zuko’s eyes to flick up too. Y/N met his gaze for just a moment before he broke it, throwing Aang to the side and easing into a bending stance as Katara slid off of Appa’s back.

“Here for a rematch?” Zuko challenged, the undeserved confidence he spoke with a glimpse of the past.

“Trust me, Zuko,” Katara countered as she raised her hands, “It’s not going to be much of a match.”

She blocked his fire blast then sent a current of snow at him, launching him up into the air on a frozen column before letting him fall to the ground and knocking him out. Y/N couldn’t help but wince, and as Sokka jumped down to free Aang, she slid down as well.

She ran over the pile of snow and bent it off of Zuko, then knelt down next to him and pulled off her glove. She put two fingers on his neck and confirmed what she already thought, but it was still a relief. He was alive, but he wouldn’t be for much longer if he stayed out here.

“What are you doing?” she heard Sokka yell. Y/N turned to find everyone back on Appa already, staring expectantly at her.

“We can’t leave him!” Y/N protested.

“Sure we can!” he countered. “Now come on, let’s go!”

“No,” she insisted, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead. It was ice cold. “If we leave him, he’ll die!”

“She’s right.” Aang airbended himself off of Appa and helped her pick up Zuko; Aang bringing himself and the prince back onto the bison with his element and Y/N climbing back up with a hand from Katara.

Sokka rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Yeah, this makes a lot of sense. Let’s bring the guy who’s constantly trying to kill us.”

Y/N ignored the remark and met Aang’s eyes, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’. He smiled and nodded, then grabbed the reins and took off.

As they flew through the sky, Y/N glanced down at Zuko. He looked so much more peaceful now than a few moments ago, his features relaxed rather than tense. It was strange seeing him like this after all these years; angry, scarred, changed. Nothing like the reunion she had imagined.

She bent some of the snow falling down into water and molded it over the cuts on his face, the element taking on a slight glow as she started to heal him.

“Oh, Zuko,” she murmured. “What happened in those four years?”

As if her concentration had broken, the water previously under her control lost both its shape and glow as it pooled on his face. She frowned and attempted to bend it off, but none of the usual power she felt at night was flowing through her veins.

It was at that moment that Y/N looked up and noticed her surroundings.

Everything was cloaked in a veil of red, a crimson moon their backdrop as they continued through the air. “My bending isn’t working,” Y/N muttered, earning a curious look from Katara.

And to make matters worse, Yue winced and held her head, Aang doing the same.

“Are you okay?” Sokka questioned as he reached out to comfort her.

“I feel faint,” she muttered, the effort it took not lost on Y/N.

“I feel it too.” Aang pressed his palm against the side of his head and grimaced as his gaze shifted upwards. “The Moon Spirit is in trouble.”

Y/N’s eyes widened immediately as they flicked towards Yue, the princess choosing not to meet them as she began to tell them all the story of her birth and how she owed the Moon Spirit her life. By the time she was done the Water Tribe siblings were staring at her with disbelief, but there was no time for questions as they flew into the Spirit Oasis.

The sight that awaited them shocked Y/N to her core. A Fire Nation admiral — one she recognized from all the years ago, yet unable to place a name — held a bag with one clenched fist, the other posing the unsaid threat.

“Don’t bother,” he spat in response to their fighting stances, the two words overflowing with unearned confidence. But as cocky as he may have been, it worked — he knew that they were rendered helpless when he held the possibility of a dying spirit against them.

“Zhao, don’t.” Aang dropped his staff and held his hands up in surrender, an action Y/N and the others mirrored.

Everything after that happened unbelievably quickly. After General Iroh — a man she knew as both the ruthless general that laid siege to Ba Sing Se for six hundred long days and Zuko’s surprisingly kind uncle — threatened the admiral with his own firebending, Y/N foolishly believed it to be the end once he let the fish back into the pond.

But any hopes of peace were dashed with the slice of firebending the admiral sent at Tui, plunging the world back into shades of grey just as quickly as it had returned.

“NO!”

A bloodcurdling scream rang in the air; Y/N thought whoever produced it must’ve been insane. It took her a moment to realize the strangled sound had come from her, and that Sokka’s grip on her arms was the only thing stopping her from foolishly throwing herself into the raging battle that had started.

Did the admiral not understand what he had just done? To attack any spirit was to inflict the rage of many others, to kill a spirit was to sign not only one's own death warrant, but those around him as well.

To kill the Moon Spirit meant to destroy waterbending as the world knew it. To kill the Moon Spirit meant to disrupt the balance of the world. To kill the Moon Spirit meant to kill Yue.

The admiral should’ve considered himself very lucky that her waterbending was gone. With it, Y/N knew she would’ve done something she would regret.

As soon as the flames of Iroh’s onslaught disappeared, Sokka’s grip loosened on her arms and she all but sprinted over to the pond. A choked sob fell from her lips when she saw the dead fish in the water, palpable horror in the air as the rest of the group joined her.

Not even Aang’s feat of merging with the Ocean Spirit could help — it might’ve saved the tribe from the attack on the Fire Nation, but it could do nothing for the dead spirit. Y/N watched on mournfully as Iroh placed Tui back into the pond, the mortal body of the fish laying there unmoving.

“It’s too late,” Katara lamented. “It’s dead.”

Iroh looked up and met Y/N’s eyes, recognition flashing through them for just a moment before they moved to Yue’s. The blue hues of her irises were even more striking than usual — they were the only sign of color in the world around them.

His own widened with surprise as he gestured at her. “You have been touched by the Moon Spirit. Some of its life is in you.”

Yue seemed to understand what he was saying as she raised her head, her features taking on a mask of stoicism. “Yes, you’re right. It gave me life… maybe I can give it back.”

It was as if lightning had struck Y/N, the way that fear was jolted into her heart. “No!” she cried at the same time as Sokka, a reprise of her earlier plea. “Yue, you can’t!”

“You don’t have to do that!” Sokka reached out for her hand but she wrenched it out of his grasp — nothing they could say was going to change her mind.

“It’s my duty.” The princess stated it so plainly, carving the letters on her headstone herself.

“I won’t let you!” Sokka insisted. “Your father told me to protect you.”

“Yue, your duty isn’t to die for your tribe!” Y/N cried. She couldn’t think, spirits she could barely breathe. She couldn’t go through this again. She couldn’t go through this again. “Please, there has to be another way!”

She smiled sadly at Y/N and shook her head. “This was what I was born to do.” The princess glanced at the pond then took a step forward, wrapping Y/N in the tightest hug she could muster. She pressed her lips against Y/N’s cheek in a feather light kiss before she pulled away and continued forward and placed her hands against the koi fish.

The fish began to glow, Yue closed her eyes, she collapsed into Sokka’s arms.

And that was it.

The color returned to the world, but Y/N was frozen in place. She couldn’t do anything to save her friend, the girl that she was pretty sure she loved, as she died in front of her. Her cheek was still burning from where Yue’s lips had touched, and she wanted to bottle that warmth because she knew that was the last time she would ever feel it.

The first tear to fall snapped her out of her paralysis as she fell to her knees next to Sokka, her body cradled in his arms as he mourned for a lost love. Y/N wanted to scream, she wanted to sob, she wanted to do anything to get this anger and sadness out but she could do nothing but stare, eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears.

Her body slowly faded away, and Y/N could’ve laughed at the irony. Yue gave her life for the spirits and all they could leave them with was the fleeting memory.

The fish in Iroh’s hands began to glow and he placed it back in the water, and almost immediately it returned to its natural rhythm. The oasis took on the glow of the fish and it formed the cruelest joke of them all.

Princess Yue. She was ethereal, both her hair and white dress flowing down her back and a peaceful expression on her face. She was more beautiful than ever, and her voice echoed through the oasis as she spoke.

“I will always be with you, Y/N. Thank you for making me feel alive.” A small smile, much like the one she gave her just moments ago, played on her lips. “I love you.”

Y/N could do nothing but stare, awestruck and heartbroken, as she whispered something to Sokka and kissed him.

And then she was gone.

Her gaze was trained forward, tears spouting and falling down her cheeks, some dim part of her still hoping that it was just a cruel joke by the spirits. She couldn’t go through this again.

How could they do this to her again? How could they introduce a light into her life and make her fall in love, then wrench it away from her grasp? She felt selfish for only caring about herself. She couldn’t go through this again.

Yue was gone.

She couldn’t go through this again.

Another strangled sob fell from her lips and Katara pulled her into a hug. That simple motion seemed to open to the floodgates, and suddenly she was choking on her own tears. Katara’s arms around her were the only tether she had to the world right now, she had to focus on it or else she would lose herself to the grief.

It felt like the minutes were hours with how long it took until Y/N was finally able to walk out of the oasis, but Katara and Sokka stayed by her side the entire time. When they finally stumbled out into the real world, Y/N felt weaker than ever. The constant go go go of the siege had finally caught up to her, and she was so damn tired.

“Always and forever.”

“You’re stuck with me.”

She was losing hope in promises.

-

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

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[jerzwriter]

When the Bough Breaks - Part 1

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Casey MacTavish)

Series: Part 1 of (3?)

Rating: Teen +

Summary: Casey traded one dream for another when she accepted Ethan’s proposal. Even within their magical life, there were still times she mourned the loss of the child she’d never have. When Ethan learns he unknowingly fathered a child with a former lover, how will she cope? Will their marriage survive?

Category: Angst

Warnings: Decisions to have children, long-lost children, marital problems

A/N: I honestly don’t know why I decided to do this to myself… Several writers I follow received an anon ask for this story and my heart immediately ached for anyone who would attempt to write this; but, after contemplating it more than I care to admit, I accepted my masochistic tendencies and took out my laptop. It was too good a challenge to pass up. I’d like to thank the incredible @bex-la-get. I first saw this on her blog and I asked if she’d mind if I took a stab at it. She could not have been more gracious and encouraging. I know you already know what a blessing she is to the fandom, but I just extend my praise.

A/N 2: I want to thank my fellow FF addict, friend, and is now official long-lost sister (sticking with the theme!) @kachrisberry. Thank you for encouraging me, pre-reading, and being my cheerleader.

A/N 3: I’ve never been more stressed about posting a FF (to my DTI readers, yes, even more than Chapter 13😊). The idea is just… oofff. I hope my love for the characters shines through and I hope I do this story just a little justice. I can't wait to read Bex's and the other writer's versions. I am merely a princess in the presence of the queens and I am salivating to see what they produce.

CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS

Link to original ask: https://bex-la-get.tumblr.com/post/658265281308852224/are-you-willing-to-write-this-i-want-to-read-it

“Dr. Carrick, please report to the ER. Dr. Carrick, report to the ER.”

Ethan chuckled as he clutched his wife’s hand a bit tighter.

“Wow, they have their very own Dr. Carrick. I wonder how he compares to ours.”

Casey turned to him and smiled wanly.

“I’m sure ours is a much more colorful creature. There can’t possibly be two of them.”

She turned her head back to the banal painting that had been her focal point for the past half-hour. She attempted to reconcile how they ended up here. The idea of being in a hospital 150 miles away from home, waiting on test results that would forever change the course of their lives, would have seemed inconceivable just a week before.

Ethan brushed his fingers against her chin, turning her face toward his.

“Baby, don’t worry, no matter what, we will be OK.”

She swallowed and attempted to smile.

“I know,” she said.

Yet, if she truly meant that, her lip wouldn’t be quivering, she would not be biting her cheek in an attempt to hold back her tears, and her heart would not be ripping in two.

Two months earlier

It was a perfect April morning, crisp, sunny, without a single cloud in the sky. Ethan smiled as he gazed out the window. The day was nearly identical to the one three years before. That day was undoubtedly the happiest of Ethan Ramsey’s life, and he liked to believe it was for Casey Ramsey as well. Although she had assured him of it countless times, he still found it difficult to believe. In his opinion, being married to him could not begin to compare to the joy it brought to be able to call Casey his bride. Each year he did his best to make the day special. Two years ago, they were tucked away in a villa on a secluded beach in Hawaii; last year, it was in an adorable B&B on Martha’s Vineyard. Unfortunately, their schedules would not accommodate them taking off more than one day together now, and Ethan was none too happy about it. As was often the case, his wife had to talk some sense into him.

“Ethan, the only thing that matters is that we will be together. That’s all we need to make any day spectacular.”

He knew she was right, but that was not going to stop him from doing all he could to make this a memorable day.

Casey was still sound asleep when Ethan quietly entered their bedroom. He placed a breakfast tray on a table next to a vase of lavender roses that he arranged earlier. They were the same flowers that carried in her bouquet as she walked down the aisle to him. Despite their rarity, Ethan promised to present them to her on every anniversary thereafter.

He knelt beside his wife and began peppering her face with kisses.

“Happy Anniversary, Casey.”

She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Happy Anniversary, Ethan. What’s all this?”

“It’s me making sure you have the best day possible. It’s not every woman who could tolerate being married to me. In fact, I am firmly convinced you’re the only one who ever could. So, it continues to be my mission to spoil you rotten as a thank you for putting up with me.”

Throwing her arms around his neck, she gave him a lingering kiss.

“Married three years, and you still don’t get that being your wife is the best thing that has ever happened to me, Dr. Ramsey. So, while I appreciate the spoiling, it’s completely unnecessary. I couldn’t be happier just knowing you’re mine.”

“Do you mind if your breakfast gets cold?”

“Well, why?”

“Because now that I think of it, there is something else I would rather do first.” A sly grin spread across his face as he pushed his wife back into the bed, laying on top of her as she giggled.

“There’s always the microwave.”

He momentarily lifted his head in disgust, “The microwave? Have I taught you nothing?”

“You’ve taught me plenty,” she said pulling him back on top of her, “now, let’s practice some of those things.”

Though their relationship had been a tumultuous journey, they had settled into idyllic wedded bliss. It took three years to overcome his insecurities and admit just how much he loved Casey, but once he did, he could not wait to make her his wife. They were married in a beautiful beach ceremony just 3-months later. When people asked why the rush, Ethan said they were making up for lost time.

They couldn’t be happier. However, for Casey, this beautiful life did come at a price. From the beginning she knew Ethan did not see children as part of his future, but then again, neither was a committed relationship or marriage. A part of her hoped that his personal evolution would continue. Perhaps he would open the door to the possibility of fatherhood, but he did not.

When he asked Casey to marry him, she insisted that they resolve this issue first. It was a difficult time. Ethan was petrified. After finally overcoming his fears and admitting he wanted a life with the woman he adored by his side, he faced the real possibility of losing her. This was one issue where compromise was not possible, and, as much as it pained him, he couldn’t even blame her if she decided to leave him behind. Asking her to give up her dream of becoming a mother was not a small request. He found it impossible to assuage his guilt as he watched her struggle to make a decision. There were many days when he considered giving in, but he could not. There was no way he could bring a new life into this world knowing in his heart he would never be able to provide what it would need. Not after the childhood he endured and the lasting damage that ensued. The only thing he could do is wait for Casey to come to a conclusion. His entire world was on pause.

When Casey broached the subject, she was optimistic even though, deep down, she already knew his answer. She didn’t even want a big family, she explained; just one child would be plenty. She pointed out all of Ethan’s virtues that would lend to being a wonderful father. She knew in her heart that they would be able to give their child everything it needed and more together. Several tear-filled conversations later, he was adamant, he loved her, but this was the one place he could not give in. She told him that she needed some time. Two weeks, she said, she would give him an answer at the end of two weeks.

It was excruciating. Neither knew if their love story would continue with them solidifying their commitment to one another. Or, if it would end, adding their names to a list of tragic lovers who were destined to live their lives apart. The prospect of losing each other was more than either could bear, but there was no other solution to this dilemma. One of them would have to make a sacrifice, and Ethan already made it clear, it wouldn’t be him. So the choice rested on Casey's shoulders.

In the end, she didn’t need two weeks. Six days later, while out for her morning jog, the answer came to her as clear as day. She changed direction and ran to Ethan’s doorstep.

“I want you.” She declared. "Ethan. I want a life with you more than anything else in this world. When it comes down to it, I can imagine living a happy life without having a child, but I cannot imagine one without you by my side. So, yes, Ethan, yes, I will marry you.”

He was simply overjoyed but still fearful. What if she changed her mind? What if she grew to resent him and it tore them apart? He insisted on attending pre-marital counseling before they set a wedding date. Casey laughed; they couldn’t do anything simply, could they? After only a few sessions, they realized Casey would never be happy about not being a mother. Still, she had accepted her decision and did not resent Ethan for it. Life was full of choices, and people never get everything they want, but she knew where she belonged, and it was with him. Ethan could not believe that anyone could love him that much.

They went on to be the couple everyone else aspired to be. Their faces brightened whenever the other entered a room. They couldn’t wait to see each other at the end of the day – even though they worked together. They found their other halves and Casey never regretted her choice. But it was impossible to ignore the sadness in her eyes each time a friend or colleague announced that they were expecting. She would smile and celebrate, genuinely happy for them, but anyone who knew her could see through the facade. As time went on, she passed on invitations to all but her closest friend's baby showers. Ethan knew she had no commitments on those days, but never asked why she wasn't attending, he already knew.

Shortly after their first anniversary, Casey’s cousin Peter asked them to be godparents to his daughter, Jenna. They both delighted in the role. They made frequent trips to her cousin’s home and spoiled her as much as her parents would allow (well, maybe even a little more). Ethan simply adored spending time with Jenna. Casey watched as Ethan would hold her while she napped, or play with her on the floor, and she allowed her hopes to rise once more. But it was for naught. He loved Jenna, Ethan explained, he loved children; he simply did not want any of his own.

Casey never discussed it again after that day, but Ethan was not unaware of her sorrow, and, at times, his guilt was overwhelming. He was living in a twisted paradox. He loved Casey more than life itself and wanted to give her the world, but he knew he was denying her one of her greatest dreams, causing her ongoing pain. Before they were married, he worried that she would eventually resent him causing their marriage to erode. Now, he understood that his untamed guilt could have the same effect.

Unbeknownst to Casey, he began seeing a therapist to better understand his reluctance to becoming a father. He wanted to determine, once and for all, if it was something he could open his heart and mind to. He did not tell Casey. He had to know first. Allowing her to have hope and then crushing it again would be cruel. In time, he began to see a change in himself. The idea was no longer as daunting; he started to see it as something he could embrace. Occasionally he daydreamed of how he would share the news with Casey. He had settled on wrapping a onesie up and presenting it to her after a quiet dinner at home. He wondered if it would be too cheesy to have “Would you be my mom?” written on it. A baby proposal, if you will. He was almost there. He could practically feel it, but he needed to be one-hundred percent certain.

Two months later

Casey spent her day off shopping for Jenna. Her second birthday was next week and they would be traveling to Pennsylvania to help her celebrate.

When returned to their townhome, Casey cleared the dining room table and began wrapping the abundant number of gifts she purchased. She laughed because she knew Ethan would see the plethora of presents and say, ‘Are you sure we got enough?’ These were the moments when Casey felt the yearning inside her and the pain that inevitably followed. It was especially difficult because she felt so alone. She never shared this with Ethan. She made her choice and gave her word; it would be unfair to burden him with a decision she made. But the issue felt too intimate for her to share with others, so she bore this pain herself. Still, when she looked at the mantle and saw all the beautiful photos of the life she and Ethan shared, she knew she made the right choice. It just hurt sometimes.

Ethan left his lunchtime appointment and returned to work. Today would be his last day of therapy. He conquered the fears that were holding him back. Not only was he confident that he could be a good father, but the idea of having a child with Casey was exhilarating. He could not wait to tell her and considered running home immediately to share the news. But this was too big, too important, and he wanted to make it memorable. He decided to tell her the following week, before Jenna's birthday party. He would slip his present in with Jenna's and give it to Casey before leaving their hotel. As he walked the halls of Edenbrook, he could not wipe the grin off of his face, causing consternation among all who came into contact with him.

The doorbell rang, startling Casey. She had not expected any visitors or deliveries today. A stunning woman, roughly her age, stood before her when she opened the door. With her immaculate chestnut brown hair, crystal blue eyes, and a kind but elegant face, she looked like an old Hollywood starlet come to life. But her furrowed brow and the constant wringing of her hands made it clear she was troubled.

“Hi, Can I help you?”

“Uhm, yes, ah, I’m looking for Ethan Ramsey. Is this the correct address?”

“Yes, but I’m afraid he is not home. I’m his wife, is there anything that I can help you with?”

The woman’s complexion turned ashen.

“Oh, I didn’t realize there was a Mrs. Ramsey, uh, I’m sorry.”

Casey’s blood went cold.

“Well, there is, and it’s me,” she said with a nervous smile. “May I ask who you are and why you need to speak with my husband?”

“Uhm, my name is Amanda, Amanda Pierce. I’m an old friend of Ethan’s, and I just wanted to… I need to talk to him. Could I possibly leave my number with you? Or maybe you could give me his... if that’s OK.”

“I’ll get a piece of paper and take yours. Can you wait here a moment?”

“Sure.”

Casey felt her heart racing. Something wasn’t right. She knew Ethan wouldn’t be unfaithful to her, but she couldn’t stop her mind from going there. Pushing the thought aside, she retrieved a receipt on the kitchen counter and a pen before rushing back to her front door.

“Here,” Casey said, “write your information, and I’ll get it to him today.”

Amanda's hand was shaking, so much so that Casey took the pen back to write the number herself.

“I’m truly sorry to bother you. You really seem like a really lovely woman,” Amanda said, almost apologetically.

“Well, thank you. I will be sure to give this to Ethan right away.”

____________________

Casey could have waited until Ethan returned home that evening. She could have called him or sent him a text. But something inside her felt that this needed to be handled in person and quickly. She grabbed her keys and headed to the hospital. She didn’t quite run, but she was undoubtedly walking at a brisker pace than she did on her regular walk to work.

Ethan’s face beamed when she walked into his office, “Hey, you’re off today. I didn’t expect to see you!”

She closed the door, locking it behind her. Ethan took one look at her and realized this visit was not for pleasure.

“Casey, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. But a woman stopped by the house, and she said she needed to talk to you and implied that it was important. She gave me her number.”

Casey handed him the receipt.

“Her name is Amanda, Amanda Pierce. She said she’s an old friend.”

Ethan’s eyes went wide.

“A, Amanda?”

“Yes. Is she an old friend?”

“She’s an old girlfriend or as much of a girlfriend as I ever had. We had a brief relationship shortly before I met you.”

Casey swallowed, “Was it serious?”

“No.” Ethan answered emphatically, “It was my standard MO. We dated for two or three months, then she wanted something more, I didn’t, and we went our separate ways. I haven’t seen nor heard from her since.”

“Why do you think she’s here now?”

“I have no idea, but I’d like to get to the bottom of it.”

He picked up his phone and motioned for Casey to take a seat. He dialed the number, placing the call on speaker.

“Hello.”

“Hello, is this Amanda?”

“Yes. Is this Ethan?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Oh, I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“Well, you did. Can I ask why you wish to speak to me?”

“Of course. But not over the phone. Are you available anytime soon?”

“I’m available right now. Where can we meet?”

“Oh, well, I’m still in Back Bay.”

“There is a coffee house, The Thinking Cup, on Newbury St. Can you be there in 30-minutes?”

“Yes, I’ll see you there.”

Ethan looked up at Casey, “I don’t like waiting on these things. Mysteries do nothing for me.”

“I don’t disagree.”

Casey looked like she saw a ghost and Ethan could see her trepidation. He leaned over the desk and took her hand.

“Casey, I don’t know what this is about, but I hope you know that you have nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I don’t think… I’m not under the assumption you want to have an affair or anything, but exes don’t typically pop out of the woodwork for a good reason. So, yes, I’m nervous.”

“Would you like to come with me? You are more than welcome. There is nothing she, or anyone else, can say in front of me that they cannot say in front of you.”

Casey thought about it, but something inside of her told her not to go. She trusted Ethan implicitly, so he could handle this.

“I think you should go alone. I will be at home, but please come there as soon as you’re done.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll ask Harper to pick up my cases for the day and I’ll be home as soon as I’m through.”

He walked around his desk and kissed her forehead.

“Don’t worry, Case. Everything will be OK.”

____________________

Casey made herself a cup of chamomile tea. She attempted watching TV. She took out a book she had been hoping to catch up on. She went on her phone and scrolled through social media posts. Nothing kept her attention; nothing kept her mind off Ethan and what he and Amanda could be discussing right now. She began pacing the living room, and shortly after that, she heard the front door open.

Ethan entered from the foyer; he was as pale as a ghost. Casey had been trying her best to stay calm, but the moment she saw him, her heart sank.

“What? What is it, Ethan? Tell me.”

He appeared to be in shock as he walked toward her. His movements were methodical, his words bordered on robotic.

“Casey, I… I think you should sit down for this.”

She could identify the very moment when her heart and head began to pound so hard, she could hear them. Her stomach churned as adrenaline pumped through her body. She tried to steady her breathing. Hysteria was not going to help here.

“No. I’m fine where I am. Please, tell me, Ethan. Tell me now.”

Ethan exhaled a shaky breath before collapsing in a wing chair across from her. He leaned forward, forehead in his hands. He rubbed his temples before pulling his hands through his hair, grasping it for several moments before finally letting go.

Casey felt hot tears welling in her eyes. She had asked him to tell her now, immediately, and he was stalling. She considered demanding his reply, but she felt like her entire life was about to change, and not for the better. So, part of her appreciated the delay; perhaps he was affording her the final few moments of her life as it once was. But the reprieve could not last forever and, eventually, his voice broke the silence.

“As I told you before, Amanda and I were involved before you came to Edenbrook. We, we were only together a short time and….”

“Yes, Ethan, please get to the point.”

“Well, uhm, today… Amanda told me that….”

He lowered his face into his hands and shook his head vigorously. There was no easy way to say it; he just had to do it. He stood up and looked directly at Casey.

“She told me that we have a son.”

Casey felt like the wind knocked out of her. She stumbled backward as one hand grasped her chest, and the other covered her gaping mouth.

“What?” she said with a meek voice, her quivering lip matching the rhythm of her shaking body.

“She said she found out she was pregnant shortly after we split. She knew I didn’t want a relationship at all, never mind one with her, and she knew I never wanted a child. So, she felt it was better that I didn’t know.”

Casey turned away from him. Her body had gone numb. She could hear Ethan speak, but his words were not reaching her mind.

“She moved back to Connecticut to be near her family. She never told anyone who… who the father was. But... he's been having some issues and ... anyway, that's why she decided to tell me now."

The room fell silent; the only sound was Casey’s ragged breath. It seemed to last for an eternity.

“Casey, say something.”

She slowly turned around. Shock and anguish distorted her beautiful face.

“I… I suppose you believe it is true.”

“The timeline plays out. He is 6 years old. She said she’d arrange for a paternity test to be done. She offered it before I even asked. She insists that I was the only person she had been with during that time.”

“Did she happen to show you a picture of him?”

“Yes.”

“And?” Casey asked, her voice a guttural cry.

“And the resemblance to me at his age is… it is remarkable.”

Casey’s body had been tense, pin-straight in anticipation, but with these words, it went limp. Her head fell into her hand as her tears broke free. She felt her knees buckling as she collapsed onto the sofa.

“I can’t believe this,” she sobbed.

Ethan ran to her side and wrapped his arm around her.

“Casey, I... I didn’t… I don’t… I’m ….”

“You didn’t know … so don’t… you couldn’t tell me if you didn’t know.”

“I know, but… I’m... I’m sorry, Casey. I’m still in shock ….”

“Of course, of course,” she spoke without emotion, looking straight ahead, never at Ethan. “Are you ok?”

“I’m shocked. I’m confused. I want to know for certain… but…” he trailed.

“But?”

“But I’m most worried about you.”

She wanted to tell him not to be. She wanted to tell him she was fine. She knew that this was earth-shattering for him, and, as usual, she wanted to be his place of comfort and support. But this time, she couldn't be.

“Yeah,” she said trying to stifle tears, “I’m worried about me too.”

She stood up and walked across the room.

“Honey, I…” he got up to follow her. She still had her back to him when she lifted her left hand to stop him.

“No, no, Ethan. Please, don’t come by me. I know you didn’t do anything wrong. I know it is insane for me to be upset with you. But right now, I’m not thinking logically, and I need to be alone. Please?”

Ethan closed his eyes. “I understand.”

“I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back.”

Casey left their home and walked to The Esplanade. For the first half-hour, her mind was so clouded she didn’t even think about what just occurred. There was emptiness, a void inside her, unlike anything she had experienced before. She sat on a park bench and bent over, covering her face from any passersby.

This can’t be happening.

She kept telling herself this wasn’t Ethan’s fault. He didn’t know. She loved him more than anything in the world. How could she be upset with him? He didn’t do anything. But she was. She was so upset with him. He was the reason she would never be a mother. He was the one who gave an ultimatum and forced her to make a choice. She was fine with her decision because she loved him so much. But could she be fine with that decision now? She gave up her dream of motherhood to be with him, and now he may share a child with another woman. How could she live with that?

The pain in her heart was so wretched she didn’t think she could breathe, much less stand, but if she stayed still, she was convinced she would combust. So she lifted herself off the bench and walked furiously along the river.

Why are there so goddamned many baby strollers and kids out here today!?

She knew that there were probably no more than usual, but today, they were impossible to ignore.

She didn’t know how much time had passed since she left home, but the sun was beginning to set, and she wanted to return before dark. She was so far away, it would take her at least a half-hour to walk back, but there was no way her legs would carry her. She called Ethan and asked him to come to get her. She believed she was ready to face him. After all, she had no more tears left to cry. She was still anguished, but numbness and exhaustion began were taking the place of shock and horror, and, in comparison, they felt good. She leaned against a brick wall and awaited his arrival.

When Ethan pulled up, it was clear that his afternoon was every bit as painful as hers. Casey lamented that they were unable to share it together, but there was no way. His eyes were swollen and red and his expression was vacant until he saw Casey. The moment his eyes met hers, a look of sorrowful longing overtook him. She witnessed the transformation, and a warmth began to spread within her. She loved him. She loved him so much. She’d do anything for him, but she didn’t know what to do with this.

Ethan jerked his car to a stop, leaving it parked illegally behind him. He ran to Casey with the hopes of enveloping her in his arms, but he was unsure if she would accept him. To his overwhelming relief, she wrapped her arms around him and collapsed into his chest. She thought her tears had dried out… she was wrong. She sobbed into him as gentle tears fell down his face. He held her as tightly as he could, caressing her back and her hair.

“Casey, I love you. I don't know what to say. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can't imagine...."

“I know you don’t want to hurt me. I don’t know what to do either. I don’t know how to feel. Ethan, I’m just, I’m scared.”

“I am too, baby. I am too.”

“Can we go home? We need to talk, and we can’t do it here.”

We need to talk. He felt his chest clench.

“Of course, we can. Let’s go.”

He took her hand and led her to the car, opening the door and kissing her head when she sat down. The ride home was grueling. They drove in total silence, but their hands never parted, each wondering where did they go from here?

When the Bough Breaks - Part 2

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