#YOU CAN EVEN FREEZE THE SHELLS YOU DONT HAVE TO MAKE THE STOCK RIGHT AWAY ITS OK

[alternian-survival-advice]

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT! STOP THROWING AWAY THE CARAPACES OF BUGS YOU EAT! ESPECIALLY THE REALLY BIG ONES! YOU CAN USE THE SHELLS TO MAKE STOCK FOR SOUP OR STEW!!! ITS NOT THAT HARD I PROMISE AND YOU GET MORE FOOD PER BUG THAT WAY! AND IF THEY'RE TOO SMALL FOR MAKING A STOCK TO BE EFFICIENT WHY DONT YOU JUST EAT THEM WITH THEIR CARAPACE ON YOU COWARD

[wild3flow3r]

Chapter Six

January 7th

Lorelai did not want to interview for a job as Xavier Styles’ assistant. She wanted nothing more to do with the Styles’, and if she got the job then she most definitely would not want to admit that Harry had helped her do so. But she desperately needed a job. She did not want to move back in with her parents or Jones who had offered to house her for a while, and not because she was too embarrassed or too prideful to do it. Lorelai didn’t want to move away from London. Sure, she didn’t have many friends here, or any for that matter, but the city called to her like it was always where she was meant to be.

So Lorelai sucked it up and gave Xavier a call after the New Year started, and after a short interview earlier this morning he instantly gave her the job. It was nice to have this to fall back onto, but she promised herself that this job would only be temporary. She would look for other jobs while working for Xavier, and when she finds one she will rid herself of all Styles’ for the rest of her life.

“I haven’t had an assistant in quite some time,” Xavier notifies her as he shows her to a desk outside of his office. “So it might take me some time to get used to.”

Harry looked so much like his Uncle Xavier that it was almost uncanny. From their freakishly tall height to their bright green eyes, Lorelai could definitely see the family resemblance. The only difference was that Xavier’s hair was a sandy blonde that was starting to turn gray. All this did for Lorelai was further prove one of her theories about Harry, that he and his family were just a bunch of clones sent to Earth to ruin everyone’s life.

Except Xavier was so much nicer than Harry. In place of Harry’s snarl, Xavier was always smiling at her and being respectful to her. Being a nice human being must skip a generation, Lorelai thinks to herself.

Lorelai sets her bag down on the desk and turns to smile politely to him. “Well, just think of it this way. Whenever there’s a part of your job that comes up that you don’t want to do, the tedious work, just give me a call and I’ll get it done for you.”

Xavier shakes his head in amusement before walking off towards his office. “Get yourself settled, and in about an hour or so I’ll be emailing you something that I’ll need to be faxed over to another doctor. Faxing might be my least favorite part of the job.”

Lorelai frowns, which Xavier thankfully doesn’t catch because he’s already shut his office door behind him. Another thing that Styles’ have in common, she supposes.

Lorelai sits down at the chair provided for her, and clicks the computer mouse twice. Xavier Styles owned his own medical practice, naturally. He’s a cognitive behavioral therapist for children and teenagers, meaning he helped his patients confront any types of problems they were having and help them get better. Lorelai really respected him for his work; it was much better being a assistant for him than for a divorce lawyer.

As it was the first day the practice was open since the New Year started, Xavier was taking the day to settle back into the work setting and would start seeing patients the following day. Lorelai types in her new login information that Xavier had given her, and luckily she finally gets it right on the third try. After signing into her new email as well, Lorelai takes a moment to text Jones and her mother that she’s gotten this new job. She knows they will be pleased with how much more money she’ll be making as well.

The hour passed by slowly, but finally Xavier sent her the documents that needed to be faxed. She’s about to print them out when the phone on her desk begins to ring. After quickly clearing her throat, she picks the phone up and pressed it to her ear.

“Hello, this is Xavier Styles’ office. How may I help you?” Lorelai attempts to keep her voice as bright and chipper as possible.

“So my brother finally got himself an assistant, eh?” There was a man on the other side of the phone, and his rough voice instantly makes Lorelai tense up for two reasons. One, unless Harry had another uncle then Lorelai was currently speaking to his father. And two, just by the way he spoke Lorelai could tell that he was even worse than Harry, and he’d only said one thing to her.

“Yes sir, he just hired me today,” Lorelai lets him know, unable to think of anything else to say.

“You would think because… Well never mind. Just tell him I need to speak to him. It’s an urgent family matter.”

“Yes sir, please hold for a moment.” Lorelai's index finger presses a button on the phone so that it transfers her to Xavier’s office phone. She immediately lets out a loud breath from no longer being on the phone with another Styles’ man that she hopes she never has to meet. Two of them were enough for her.

“What is it, Miss Sterling?” Xavier asks, picking up his phone after two rings.

“Your brother is on line two, sir. He says he needs to speak to you about an urgent family matter.”

Xavier lets out a deep sigh. “Alright, thank you, Miss Sterling.” The line goes dead and Lorelai hangs up her phone. She stands then to print out and fax the documents.

Xavier exits his office ten minutes later, just as Lorelai was finishing up. He eyes her for a moment with a contemplative expression. It makes her uncomfortable, but she waits for him to speak first.

“How long were you on the phone with my brother before you transferred his call over?”

Lorelai stands by her desk with her hands behind her back. “Only for a moment,” she responds.

“Did you tell him… Did you tell him about knowing Harry?”

Lorelai cocks her head to the side before shaking it twice. “Only that it was my first day here, and then I transferred the call.”

Xavier nods curtly before turning around. “If he calls again, don’t interact in any small talk with him. Just immediately transfer him over, or if I’m not here apologize for it and hang up.” He shuts his office doors behind him.

What the hell is going on? Lorelai sits back down in her chair with a soft thud. She didn’t really seem to know why it mattered that she knew Harry, but Xavier was acting pretty perturbed after the phone call. Just a few more weeks until I can find another job, Lorelai reminds herself. Just a few more weeks until she can rid herself of this family forever.

***

As there weren’t any patients today, Xavier let Lorelai leave an hour earlier than her newly scheduled release time. She was very thankful for the fact, and already she could see that she would enjoy working with Xavier for the next few weeks drastically more than she ever liked working with Bertram. Her original plan had been to go directly home and call her parents while making dinner, but instead she caught the tube that took her away even further from her home. She had struck an idea as she was exiting Xavier’s practice, and the idea was making her act on impulse.

Lorelai must have been out of her mind, she told herself that several times as she stood outside the building in this freezing weather. The sky looked like it was about to start pouring at any moment, but Lorelai stood stock still against a wall. She was beginning to shake, from the cold and also from what she was about to do, but she barely even noticed.

Lorelai stood outside for exactly thirty-three minutes before Harry Styles exited the Clemens & Son building. He didn’t notice her at first as he strolled over to his car, his ever present frown playing across his lips. He still didn’t notice her as he threw his briefcase into the backseat of his car and closed the door with a quick slam, even though she was standing only five feet away from him. Lorelai walks those few feet over to him just before he can grip the handle of the drivers side door, and taps his shoulder twice. He jumps around so fast, his eyes wild with surprise and confusion, and Lorelai would have laughed if he wasn’t Harry Styles.

“Lorelai-”

“We don’t work together anymore.” Lorelai states calmly.

Harry raises an eyebrow. “We don’t.”

“You’re no longer my superior.”

“I’m not.” His voice was thick with uncertainty.

“You’re an arsehole, did you know that?”

Harry leans against his car, almost like she’d pushed him. “Yeah, I know that.”

“You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“I don’t,” he responds, but it sounded more like he was just repeating her words than actually agreeing with her.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you off so bad since the first day you walked into Clemens & Son. You were such a prick to me that day. You said things about me behind my back before you even knew me.”

Harry frowns now, the memory of his first day playing in his mind. “I did.”

“And then you just get me fired? How could you do that? Everything I’ve ever done to you, none of it will ever match those two terrible things you’ve done to me.” Lorelai was close to tears, but she takes a few deep breaths to try and keep them at bay.

He watches her carefully, taking in her trembling form and wobbling lip. He places his hands on her shoulders and she goes to shrug them off but it only makes him hold onto her tighter.

“You’re freezing,” he acknowledges while holding her still. “Get in my car, I’ll drive you home.”

Lorelai shakes her head, but he’s already leading her to the passenger side of his car. He opens the door for her, but she doesn’t make a move to step into the car.

“Why did you fire me? Tell me why you fired me, and I’ll get into the car,” Lorelai demands.

Harry sighs, his body blocking hers from trying to walk away from him if she wanted to. “I’ve announced today to Bertram that in two months Clemens & Son will have to close down. He spends money like he isn’t running a company, and it’s finally caught up to him. If you were laid off at the same time as the rest of us and couldn’t find a job immediately after, or if I couldn’t get my uncle to hire you, then the company doesn’t owe you anything. But if you were fired before the announcement was made, then we owe you a certain amount of money each month until you find another job or six months after your firing date, whichever comes first. It was just a precaution.”

“But-”

“Please, Lorelai,” Harry cuts her off and lightly pushes her towards the open car door. “Can we talk about the rest of this in the car before we catch frostbite?”

Lorelai’s shoulders slump down before climbing into the car. Harry shuts the door behind her before entering on his own side, immediately turning the car on and the heat to its maximum. She leans her head against the headrest while closing her eyes and trying to catch her bearings. The rain starts to pour down only a few seconds later.

It was silent for about another minute before Lorelai speaks up again. “Why were you so rude your first day at Clemens & Son?”

Harry stays quiet and instead pulls his car out of its parking spot. Lorelai sighs when Harry continues to be silent and she knows she won’t get an answer.

“You’ve ruined me, did you know that?” Lorelai looks over to him, and the frown on his face looks different than it normally does. It’s not laced with annoyance or stress, but with sadness. But Lorelai also thinks that it might just look that way by the lack of lighting surrounding them, because she’s pretty sure that Harry Styles can’t feel any normal emotions other than anger.

“I don’t like myself when I’m with you. You turn my into someone I don’t like. And then I think of you when I’m by myself and all the awful things you make me feel, and I feel terrible about myself even when you’re not around. I never used to feel like this, ever.”

Harry still doesn’t go to speak, and this frustrates Lorelai even more. She wants to hit him, push him around until he makes a noise, because she wants some sort of acknowledgement from him. Some way to know that he’s listening to her and properly taking in the words she’s saying.

“Pull the car over, I want to get out. I can get myself home,” Lorelai demands of him when she’s finally tired of his silence.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s freezing outside and with the rain you’ll get sick.” He finally responds, barely taking a moment to glance at her before looking back towards the road.

“I’d rather catch the flu than spend another minute with you. It’s not like you care about what happens to me anyways, so just let me get out.”

Harry laughs now, but it’s not one of amusement. The sound causes Lorelai to freeze in her seat and it sends chills down her spine. “You don’t think I fucking care?” He does pull the car over, but he keeps the doors locked so that Lorelai can’t escape. He turns towards her then in his seat, and Lorelai leans against the window of her door.

“I know you don’t,” Lorelai responds quickly.

“I wasn’t talking about you on my first day. It was that woman who worked downstairs, Martha, Margaret, whatever the fuck her name was. She got fired the week after I started working there. Sure I wasn’t the nicest to you on my first day, and maybe I should’ve made those comments about what’s her name in a more professional fashion, but I had a bit of an ego-complex back then that made me think I was the best fucking thing that happened to that office ever. And then you argued with me on everything I did every single day, and I’ll admit you knocked me down a couple pegs. Also I’ve only just recently come to terms with this, but no matter how hard I tried to be the best worker at Clemens & Son, no matter how much work I put into my job, you were always fucking better.

“I’ve been trying to get you a raise from Bertram for almost three months before you brought the idea up to me. I spent countless hours trying to convince Bertram to let us have Christmas off just so you could go see your family. I ordered you a teapot for your collection for Christ’s sake, and don’t ask me why because I genuinely do not know why. The amount of times I told Bertram to stop staring at you like… like… well you know what I mean. It was endless, and I did it because I knew how uncomfortable it would make you feel. So don’t say that I don’t care, because I bent over backwards to get my uncle to even consider hiring an assistant. And I don’t bend for anyone.”

Lorelai sits there in shock, Harry’s words entering her system and her body wanted to immediately reject them. They didn’t sound right, the things Harry was saying, they didn’t sound like him. But if what he was saying was true, then she didn’t really know him at all, not really.

“I’ve been horrible to you to your face, I know that. I didn’t think… I don’t want you to not like yourself.”

“I… I want to go home,” Lorelai finally responds, crossing her arms over her chest as if hugging herself. “Just take me home.” She would have demanded she be let out, let her find her own way home, but she didn’t think she could get her legs to work properly in this moment.

So Harry pulls away from the curb, both of their confessions thick in the air, but nobody speaks. Not one word for the entire ride, and Lorelai doesn’t wish him any goodbyes as she steps out of the car. She barely even waited for him to come to a full stop before throwing her door open.

Lorelai's only two feet away from the car when Harry rolls the window down.

“I’m sorry, Lorelai. I really am.”

Lorelai turns towards him, her mouth open to say something even though no words were coming to her mind, but Harry drove off before he could face her reaction.

[arysafics]

Now I’m Addicted

Chapter Eight

Normally, Clarke really looks forward to getting away to the beach for a weekend, just her and Wells. This year, the thought makes her queasy.

Clarke had been partly relieved to move make home with Wells. Living in a hotel had kind of sucked, and living alone was even worse. She still doesn’t know if she made the right decision. But she promised him she’d try, so she’s going to try.

And yes, it’s Bellamy she really wants, and not Wells. But she can’t have Bellamy. Bellamy doesn’t want her, and Wells does. So maybe she’s settling for second best, but it’s better than being alone for the rest of her life.

Despite her best intentions, and the fact that she really is trying, she’s not ready to go away with Wells alone. She’s worried the trip will just magnify all the holes in their relationship, before they’ve had a chance to really fix them. She doesn’t want to cancel the trip completely, so she suggests inviting a few other people to join them. Wells agrees surprisingly easily. Actually, he’s been very accommodating the past couple of weeks, almost like he’s walking on eggshells around her, afraid she’ll up and run again. But the truth is he doesn’t really have anything to worry about. Now that Clarke knows she has no shot with Bellamy, she has no reason to leave him. She wishes there was some way to prove that to him, so they can get start getting back to normal.

The beach house is huge, and Clarke thinks it’s probably worth a hell of a lot of money if Wells ever decides to sell it. Thelonius Jaha had left most of his money to charity when he died, but he left Wells the beach house. Not to sound selfish, but if Clarke’s mom does that, she’s going to be super pissed.

Clarke invites Octavia and Raven, and they both decide they’re bringing their partners. Monty and Harper can’t make it, and Jasper and Miller don’t want to hang around a bunch of couples for the whole weekend. So Clarke figures it’s going to be six people in the five bedroom house, with each couple getting their own bathroom. She’s actually looking forward to it.

But then she gets a call from Bellamy. She’s on the train home from work, and she almost drops her phone when she sees his name pop up. She dithers for a moment, her heart pounding, before she finally decides to answer.

“Hi,” she says, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Clarke,” he says, and the sound of her name on his tongue makes her knees go weak.

“What’s up?” she asks him. He’s obviously calling for a reason. And that reason is probably not to tell her how madly in love with her he is, however many times she’s envisioned that scenario in her mind’s eye.

“Uh, well…” he starts. “Octavia asked me if I wanted to come to the beach with you guys this weekend.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I figured I should check if it was okay with you first.”

“You really want to come?” Clarke asks. She kind of figured he was avoiding her.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” Bellamy says. “I could really do with a vacation,” he laughs. Clarke squeezes her eyes shut, her stomach twisting at the familiar sound of his laugh. How had she not figured out sooner that she was in love with him?

“Of course it’s fine,” Clarke says, because why wouldn’t it be? They aren’t sleeping together anymore, so they don’t have to worry about Wells. As far as either of them are concerned, they’re just distant friends. Or acquaintances maybe.

“Great,” Bellamy says. “Is it okay if I bring someone?”

Clarke hesitates, probably too long. “Sure,” she says quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed her hesitation. No, she doesn’t want him to bring his girlfriend, and no, she doesn’t want to think about what it means that he’s only been dating Echo barely a month and yet he’s bringing her on a weekend away with all their friends.

“Okay. I guess I’ll see you Friday.”

“Okay,” Clarke swallows. “See you then.”

  The prospect of seeing Bellamy scares Clarke to death. She hasn’t seen him since A: she realised she was in love with him, and B: he broke her fucking heart. So yeah, she’s a little nervous to say the least.  

Wells doesn’t seem to notice, though she’s mostly silent on the drive to the beach house. Or perhaps he’s just letting her have her space. Either way, she’s glad he’s not questioning her about it. There’s only so many times a person can use the excuse I’m just tired before it starts to seem like a lie.

Clarke and Wells get there first and claim the master bedroom. Clarke unpacks her suitcase into the wardrobe, to keep herself busy. The task doesn’t really keep her mind off Bellamy though, and she keeps listening for a car in the driveway, her heart pounding rapidly.

Octavia, Niylah, Raven, and Shaw arrive together, and Clarke finally has a suitable distraction from her thoughts, as she’d introduced properly to Niylah for the first time, and Raven and Octavia start telling a story about The Worst Driver in the World they encountered on their way here.

She’s so caught up in Octavia’s theatrics, she doesn’t even notice at first when Bellamy and Echo walk in the front door. That is until Octavia cuts herself off midsentence to greet her brother.

“Hey, you made it!” she says, walking over and giving him a hug. Clarke freezes, her heart suddenly lodged in her throat. Bellamy’s eyes seem to scan over the group until they land on Clarke. She smiles weakly, feeling like a nervous wreck. Fucking hell, he looks so good. And if in the back of her mind she’d harboured some doubt about whether or not she’s actually in love with him, that vanishes when he smiles back at her, and her heart squeezes itself so tight she can’t breathe. Not only that, but he pussy starts to throb, as if it can sense he’s close. Yeah, letting him come here was a huge mistake.

“Bellamy,” Wells says, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Oops. She may have forgotten to tell Wells. Or rather, purposefully not told him because it was too hard to even say Bellamy’s name out loud.

“I did ask Clarke if it was okay,” he mentions.

“He did,” Clarke manages, finding her voice. “I guess I forgot to tell you.”

“All good, I guess. You’re here now. And who is this?” Wells nods to the tall brunette standing next to Bellamy. Clarke hates her on sight. With one glance at Octavia, Clarke can tell she isn’t impressed with the arrival of Echo either.

“Ah, this is my girlfriend, Echo,” Bellamy introduces. “Echo, this is… everyone.”

Hearing Bellamy call Echo his girlfriend sends a dagger through Clarke’s heart. And it’s not like she hadn’t known she was his girlfriend. But hearing him actually say it out loud is something else entirely.

“Girlfriend, huh, Blake?” Raven teases. “Seems like someone is finally settling down.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Give it a rest, Raven. We’ve only been dating a month.”

“Only a month and she’s already your girlfriend though,” Raven continues. She turns to Echo. “I guess you’re the one to finally tame the wild beast,” she winks.

Echo smirks. “We’ll see,” she says, glancing at Bellamy flirtatiously. Bellamy looks a little uncomfortable by the whole exchange. Clarke wants to throw up.

“Who wants alcohol?” she announces, heading for the kitchen where Wells had stocked the fridge with beer and cider earlier.

They all end up in the outdoor area out the back of the house, drinks in hand and an array of finger foods on the table in front of them. Echo is sitting in Bellamy’s lap, playing with his hair, laughing too hard at his jokes. Clarke tries to keep her eyes averted, but she burns with jealousy. She wants to be the one sitting in his lap and playing with his hair, feeling his hard cock pressing into her, teasing him until he can’t think straight. She also wants to kick Echo in the face. Instead, she tightens her grip on her bottle of cider and snuggles into Wells’ side. It’s not because she’s trying to make Bellamy jealous. She’s not dumb enough to think he would even care. But she doesn’t want him to know how much she’s affected by his new relationship. So she’s a little more affectionate with Wells than she normally is. The alcohol probably helps.

“Who wants to play a drinking game?” Octavia asks.

“I’m in,” Raven says. “What are we playing?”

“You know, I think I’m a little old for drinking games,” Bellamy grimaces. He looks to Echo. “You want to go to bed?”

“You know I do,” Echo says, leaning in to kiss him.

“Gross,” Octavia says, voicing Clarke’s thoughts for her. “We won’t miss you.”

“Hey, you invited me,” Bellamy reminds her as he and Echo stand up. Clarke watches them head inside, hand in hand. To her surprise, Bellamy glances back for a moment and meets her eyes. She quickly looks away, pressing a kiss to Wells’ cheek. Overcompensating maybe. When she looks back to Bellamy, he’s gone.

“Clarke? Wells? You want to play?” Octavia asks.

“I actually think maybe we should go to bed too,” Clarke says. Somehow the thought of Bellamy and Echo alone in their room is worse than actually being able to see them together, and Clarke feels totally sober all of a sudden.

“Sounds good to me,” Wells grins. “See you guys in the morning.”

“Party poopers!” Raven calls after them as they go back inside.

Despite what Wells might think, Clarke’s intentions are just to go straight to sleep. Only, once she’s in her pyjamas, and under the covers, she begins to hear… noises through the wall. More specifically, the sound of Echo moaning like a mad woman.

Clarke groans, putting her pillow over her face as Wells gets into bed beside her.

“God, I hope we don’t have to listen to that all night,” he says. “Surely he can’t be that good in bed?”

Clarke knows for a fact that he is that good. Although Echo does sound completely ridiculous moaning like that. Clarke likes to think her own moans are much sexier. She does realise that even though she can hear Echo quite clearly, she can’t really hear Bellamy at all. She takes some satisfaction in the notion that maybe he’s not having as much fun with Echo as he did with Clarke.

Clarke turns over on her side to face Wells. “Fuck me,” she commands him.

“Huh?”

“You heard me.”

“Are you actually turned on by that?” Wells snorts.

“I just think we can outdo them.”

“Clarke, you’re not that loud in bed. I don’t think you can outdo Echo,” Wells rolls his eyes. “You know, that name actually suits her come to think of it.”

Clarke snorts. As much as she’d like to hang shit on Echo and her ridiculous name for the rest of the night, what she really wants is to get fucked. “I can be loud,” Clarke tells him. “Watch me.”

Wells doesn’t need to be told twice. And okay, pretty much all of Clarke’s noises are fake. But she’s pretty sure a lot of Echo’s are too. Sure, Bellamy is great in bed, but Echo sounds like she’s literally being murdered in the next room.

Clarke pretends to come when Wells comes, but even then, they can still hear Echo through the walls.

“How are they still going?” Wells asks incredulously. Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Let’s just go to sleep now, okay?” she huffs. She squeezes her eyes shut tight and tries to drown out the sounds of Echo.

  Clarke is awake early the next morning, long before anyone else will be up. Wells is still snoring softly next to her. It’s already warming up outside, and Clarke decides to take advantage of the solitude and go for a walk along the beach. She dresses in a pair of short shorts and a tank top and heads downstairs, stopping in the kitchen to grab a glass of water before she goes.

As she fills her glass at the sink, she looks out the kitchen window to see Bellamy lounging in the hammock on the front porch, reading, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts that Clarke swears are almost as tiny as her own. God, he’s so fucking sexy.

She lets herself watch him, his brow furrowed in concentration as he reads. She smiles to herself, her heart soft for him. So he has a girlfriend. She can still be in love with him and be his friend, right? It’s totally possible.

She puts down her glass and walks out onto the front porch. Bellamy looks up as the door slams behind her. He sits up, closing his book. His eyes rake over her body, lingering on her tits. She feels her clit twinge. So it’s not that he’s not attracted to her then.

“Hey,” she says. “I’m just going for a walk along the beach. Do you want to come?”

Bellamy considers. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. He swings himself off the hammock, more gracefully than what Clarke would ever be able to manage, and follows her down the front steps.

They walk in silence towards the beach, Clarke with her hands in her back pockets for lack of something better to do with them. Because what she really wants to do is slip her hand into his. Or maybe just grab his face and kiss him.

It’s a five-minute walk until they reach the ocean, and it’s cooler out in the open air, and a little windy. The breeze blows through Bellamy’s already tousled locks, making him look like he’s in a beach themed photoshoot.

“So, uh, you and Echo, huh?” Clarke says. Why, she has no idea. She does not want to hear Bellamy gush about his girlfriend. “Seems like things are going well. If what I heard last night is anything to go by.”

Bellamy snorts. “You heard that, huh?”

“How could I not?”

“I will admit she’s a little over the top. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was faking it sometimes,” Bellamy admits.

“And how do you know better?”

Bellamy smirks. “Come on, Clarke. Don’t pretend like I didn’t make you come over and over and over.”

Clarke shivers. Fucking hell, does he have to make her want him so bad? “So we’re talking about that are we?”

Bellamy shrugs. “We don’t have to. How are things going with Wells, now that you’re…?”

“Back together?” Clarke finishes for him. Bellamy stops, staring at her. His jaw ticks.

“Back together?” he repeats. Clarke’s eyes widen as she realises what she’s said. “I was going to say monogamous.” Bellamy swallows. “You and Wells broke up? When? I mean… Octavia never said—”

“She doesn’t know,” Clarke says quickly. Her face burns. “I didn’t tell anyone. So please don’t mention it. No one knows.”

“Okay,” Bellamy nods. He seems unable to look at her now. They continue walking.

“It was right after… you ended things with me. And it was only for like a week. I guess I just wanted to see if being with Wells was what I really wanted,” Clarke shrugs.

Bellamy turns his head towards her sharply, his eyes piercing into her. “And it is, then?”

Clarke swallows. “Yes.”

An uncomfortable silence follows. Clarke isn’t sure why. All she knows is she’s completely on edge, half of her desperate to confess everything to him, the other half desperate to hold onto her pride. The prideful side of her wins out.

“You want to go swimming?” she says. Anything to break the silence.

“What?”

“The water looks so nice,” Clarke continues. She tilts her head at him, waiting to see if he’s coming.

“I think I’ll pass,” he says. Clarke shrugs, as if to say suit yourself, and then she pulls her tank top over her head and her shorts over her ass. She can feel him watching her strip down to her underwear, and she’s totally not doing this to get a reaction from him, but if it turns him on too then she’s not complaining.

She looks back over her shoulder as she heads towards the water. He’s still watching her. She can’t help a smirk from spreading across her face.

The water is freezing, but Clarke forces herself to wade in anyway. She reaches her waist then dives under the water. She breaks the surface again, gasping from the cold, flicking her hair out of her eyes. She stands up, the water just reaching her breasts.  

“Come on!” she yells to Bellamy. “It’s not cold, I swear!”

“You’re lying!” he yells back, but he’s very clearly smiling.

“Don’t be such a chicken!”

Bellamy shakes his head, laughing. But then he’s walking towards her and into the water.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bellamy swears as he gets deeper. “It’s fucking freezing, Clarke!”

“It’s not that bad!”

He dives under the water and surfaces half a metre from her. “You’re insane,” he tells her.

“Yet you followed me anyway.”

“You’re too persuasive.”

Clarke pokes her tongue out, and then splashes him. Bellamy raises an eyebrow, smirking.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Griffin,” he challenges, stepping towards her.

“Oh, what are you going to do?” she teases. He lunges for her and she turns away, trying to escape his grasp half-heartedly, but he grabs her around the waist, pulling her back flush against his chest.

“No, don’t!” she squeals, laughing.

“Do you surrender?” he asks, lips against her ear. Clarke squirms, trying not to think about his wet skin against hers. But it feels like he’s touching her everywhere, and her head swims and her cunt pulses with need. She wonders if he’s hard right now, but she doesn’t dare make a move to find out.

“I surrender,” she tells him, and he lets her go. She turns around, but she doesn’t put any distance between them. His eyes flick to her lips and she wills him to kiss her.

“Clarke,” he says hoarsely. “I really want to kiss you.”

“So kiss me,” she murmurs.

Bellamy shakes his head. “I have a girlfriend, Clarke. I’m not going to cheat on her.” Right, Echo. “We should head back,” Bellamy sighs, stepping away from her. Disappointed, but knowing it’s better this way, Clarke follows him back up to the sand. She grabs her clothes from the ground but doesn’t put them back on yet.

“We should wash the salt and sand off before we go,” Clarke says, nodding her head towards the public bathroom by the carpark. There’s an outdoor shower around the side of the brick building. Clarke gets under first, and the water is cold but not as cold as the ocean. She closes her eyes to let the water fall over her face, and opens them to find Bellamy looking at her strangely.

“What?” she asks.

“You know your underwear is totally see-through right now, right?”

Clarke had not known, but when she looks down now, she can see that he’s right. The white material of her bra and panties clings to her, the water having turned them so transparent it’s like she isn’t wearing anything at all.

“Oh,” she says. “You’re right.” She looks back up at him. “You waited a long time to tell me that,” she points out. He must have noticed as soon as they got out of the water. And he definitely hasn’t been not looking at her.

Bellamy flushes. “Clarke—”

“I guess there’s no point in wearing them at all then,” Clarke shrugs. She reaches behind her to unclasp her bra and lets it fall from her chest. Then she peels off her panties and throws them to the side where her shorts and tank top sit.

“Fucking hell, Clarke,” Bellamy groans, shaking his head.

“We’re wasting water,” Clarke says, she reaches out and grabs his arm, tugging him into the shower with her. He’s stronger than her, he could resist easily, if he wanted to. He doesn’t.

He doesn’t move to touch her, but he’s so close that her nipples brush his chest, and he’s looking down at her with dark eyes, filled with want.

“Why are you like this?” he asks. Is that an insult or a compliment?

“Like what?”

“Irresistible,” he murmurs. His hands come to rest of her waist, and then he leans down, capturing her lips between his. Clarke whimpers as she closes her eyes, her arms circling around his neck. The water shuts off automatically, but Clarke barely notices. Bellamy presses her against the brick wall behind her, crushing her tits against his chest. He’s kissing her like his life depends on it, desperate and messy, like he’s trying to remind her she’s alive. She’d almost forgotten what it’s like to be kissed by him, and now that she remembers she doesn’t ever want him to stop again. She needs him to remind her how it feels to be fucked, really fucked. She wants him to fill her throbbing cunt with his cock, and come with him deep inside her.

“Bell, fuck me,” she moans. “I need you, I need you.”

“You need me, huh?” he says. “You need your pussy filled? You need my cock inside you?”

“Yes. Please. Please.”

“Of course you do, baby,” he murmurs, slipping a hand between her legs. “Bet you missed being fucked properly, didn’t you?”

“Uh huh,” Clarke nods as Bellamy plays with her clit. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed me? Or missed my cock?” He pushes two fingers inside her and she gasps.

“Both,” she moans. She tugs at his shorts, and he helps her pull them down to free his cock. “Oh god,” she groans. “I forgot how big it is. I need it inside me.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Bellamy coos. He kisses her again, gripping her ass, hoisting her up so she can wrap her legs around him.  He presses the bulging head of his cock against her entrance, and then he’s pushing inside her, stretching her pussy good and wide. Clarke almost comes right then.

Her back is against the bricks, and she clutches his back as he thrusts into her.

“Yes,” she gasps. “Fuck me, baby. Fuck me, fuck me.”

Bellamy moans and the sound sends shockwaves through her. He drives into her over and over, the pressure building inside her. She needs to come so bad, and she’s right there on the edge. I love you, she thinks. I love you, I love you. And it would be so easy to let it slip off her tongue right now, in this moment of bliss. But instead she just cries his name as she comes, her walls clenching around him as she comes all over his cock.

“Come inside me,” Clarke moans as he continues fucking her against the wall. “I need your come in me.”

“Anything you want,” Bellamy groans, letting his seed spill inside her, filling her up with his come. It leaks out of her as he pulls his cock out of her and lets her back onto the ground. Bellamy steps back, pulling his shorts back up, not bothering to clean himself up. She wonders if he’s feeling guilty. He grabs her clothes and hands them to her, and Clarke quickly puts her wet underwear back on and then her shorts and top. Bellamy looks away, as if he hadn’t just had his hands all over her naked body.

“Are you okay?” Clarke asks.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Bellamy nods.

“What about Echo?”

Bellamy considers. “She doesn’t have to know.”

[wittdyer89-blog]

Retro Physics Platformer Towers Provides A Cat A Jetpack

http://supliment-alimentar.info has just released Iced Free-Fall for iOS and we are here that will help you get yourself a step forward with a few Freezing Free-Fall tricks - a series of recommendations and hints that will help you get the absolute most out of the recreation and in the same period case as numerous threestar rewards as you can. This type of Sonic CD will even function the original Japanese soundtrack and not the different US soundtrack As The members of the Sonic community who understand that there was a difference usually fall in support of Japan soundtrack, the American soundtrack can be a timeless part of my youth, so ideally it is added as DLC in the future; right now it's not inside the recreation as a result of accreditation concerns. The gameplay in Tribloos 2 is easy to acquire a handle on, but trust me - it is a tough game to put down. 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However, to advance more to the sport you must arrange these suites in a way that allows one to continue along this trip. Very Stickman Golf 2is ancestor may be but Noodlecake's subject will be a lot more enjoyable than catapulting birds around. Part of that's to do with the fact that the game is remarkably popular, with tens of thousands of people shelling $4.99 out to obtain the game's iPad and iPhone types. Inside the movie, supra, Cisco affirms that Cius will use the Android industry, plus one of Google?s contractual specifications for the market is the fact that you have to mount Android with Googleis providers that operate in accordance with Googleis disclosure policy, which can be also called its Privacy. If you should be in the feeling to get a more exciting form of puzzle game that employs proper factors make sure slip on to Slider and Play. Although I didn't have a particular tactic, the game premiums the gamer at the conclusion, thus apparently, it's not enough to just create the people flee all, nevertheless, you need to spook them proper before each of them run away. Possibly these are simply healthy remarks which might be soooo hardtofind in sites that are related nowadays and the open-minded. Additionally you will discover some of the best portable artwork we've seen sofar, over 50 tools, and there are several online multiplayer features for the sport too. For the reason that moment, of course, I have also enjoyed with games which can be clunky and tough to the stage to be unfun. If you prefer test games but not this 1, we have a complete lost of (mostly) free quiz and trivia games for you yourself to attempt! I'm not going to conquer around the bush here - and sorry enthusiasts but a bit might sting.

[virmillion]

Waves

alternatively, i dont know how to title this but hey @leesacrakon remember that nerd anon who said they wanted to write stuff after reading your story? i was the nerd oops  // i dont love this one ive definitely done better and had a different angle at first but i think it turned out ok  // its kind of angsty? definitely more so at the end just fyi

Words: 4.2k

Song: Waves by Dean Lewis

Pairings: platonic moxiety, morality (it might be romantic? idk i dont know how to write romance)

Warnings: smoking, let me know if there’s more

There is a swelling storm And I’m caught up in the middle of it all And it takes control Of the person that I thought I was The boy I used to know

The moon rises proudly in the sky, shining against the dark night and illuminating a pair of brown eyes. Patton grips the edge of his windowsill, gritting his teeth sharply as the sound of a pen pressed too hard pounds through his ears. Logan, scribbling away with his research. Again. What he wouldn’t give for Virgil’s headphones right now. Rather than mourn the loss of peace in his room, Patton slips across the hall to Logan’s room, knocking softly on the door.

    “Enter,” Logan calls back, his writing not pausing for one second. The handle, cool to the touch, turns easily as the door swings open in silence, as if Logan oils it every day to avoid creaking. Frankly, Patton wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. The room beyond is jarring in its contrasts—a perfectly made bed beside a fully stocked wardrobe, out of which no rumpled clothes are hanging. Against this pristine organization is a scene of utter chaos, crushed papers strewn across the floor between dozens of pencils split down the middle, twins to the dismantled pens with their ink sprayed everywhere. Wading through the sea of trash, Patton arrives at the black desk chair in the corner, above which a tuft of purple hair peeks out. Scattered around the desk are more crumpled papers and broken pens, along with several burn marks on the wooden desk, as well as more than a few cigarette butts.

    “I thought we talked about this,” Patton murmurs, picking one up and rubbing it between his fingers. Logan doesn’t seem to hear, one hand buried in his hair while the other is poised with a black pen over a piece of paper, which is covered in scratched-out words. Ink stains his skin everywhere, and creates splotchy patterns on the desk where it bled through the papers, intermingling with the burn marks. Some even reached his tie, staining the blue irreparably. With a nudge, Patton tries again for Logan’s attention.

    Logan mutters a string of curse words before slamming the pen down on his desk, balling up the paper and chucking it across the room. More ink gets on his hands, and as he turns around to face Patton, his face turns out to have even more from running a hand over it in distress. “What? What is it? I’m busy.”

    “Whatcha workin’ on?” Patton scrapes a few of the cigarette remnants into a garbage can, then sets about fixing up the rest of the room’s mess.

    “Thomas has this big presentation in a week, and no idea how to do it,” Logan sighs, watching Patton putter about like a Roomba. “Virgil’s in overdrive, detailing every last thing that can go wrong, and Roman’s absolutely no help at all. He won’t stop insisting that I add some sort of dramatic flair, to make it seem more impressive.” Logan rubs his temples gently, smudging more ink across his face.

    “Well, what’s it on?” Patton conjures up a paper towel to pick up all the pens, a practical foresight to avoid being covered in ink.

    “Nothing you’d understand,” Logan says. He turns back to his work, pulling a fresh sheet of paper from a stack on the floor. Conversation over, apparently. The angle he grabs the paper at is too sharp, ripping it down the middle as it comes free of the pages above it. An infuriated Logan tears the remainder to shreds, feeding his anger even more. As the bits rain down like confetti, he snaps his head back to Patton, who’s still cleaning up after his research problems. “What are you still doing in here? Get out!” Quite unaccustomed to ever hearing Logan raise his voice unless a falsehood was uttered, Patton freezes, splintered pen in hand. “Are you waiting for a formal letter? I said get out!” Patton scurries out the door, tugging it shut behind him. He couldn’t have moved any faster if you had told him there was a puppy on the other side. The sound of viciously scrawling pens resumes in full force, even angrier.

    Back in his own room, chased by the sounds of Logan’s furious writing, Patton sits on the edge of his bed with a box. A box of old memories, a box of what used to be, a box of before. He rifles through pictures, trinkets, collectible nothings that should have been thrown away years ago, before he grew an attachment to them. When he calls them memories, he isn’t kidding—each individual object is reminiscent of the moment it came from, cherished times for Patton to look back on and smile. A star sticker from when Logan helped Thomas get his first perfect score on a test. The certificate from when Thomas bought and named a star on Logan’s behalf. A conch shell from when Logan argued with Patton over whether the roaring was the ocean calling, or just the blood roaring in his ears. What happened to the Logan that argued in good fun, instead of yelling at Patton? This Logan, the angry one, he has no place in this box. Not until Patton adds in the cigarette butt, cementing the time that Logan yelled at Patton. Actually yelled, not just pretending for fun. A cold shiver, like icy fingers, skitters across Patton’s skin as the memory gets locked down in the box, and locked down in his mind. He can’t say he likes the bad times, but bad times are better than no times at all. Usually.

But there, is a light In the dark, and I feel its warmth In my hands, and my heart Why can’t I hold on?

    A week comes and goes, Thomas survives his presentation, Virgil takes a much-needed break, and Logan cleans his room up. Everything should be fine now. Everything should be solved, just a little bump in the road. Nothing Patton can’t handle. Nothing at all. Not entirely nothing, but mostly. Just one thing. One little something that he can’t ignore. Those burn marks on Logan’s tie, the tie he refuses to change or replace, emitting a heavy smell of smoke that grows stronger by the day.

    “Again?” Patton asks, grabbing Logan by the wrist after recording a long video. He plucks the small white cylinder from between Logan’s fingers before it can be hidden away. “I am bently jegging you, Logan, please drop this habit before it starts hurting Thomas.”

    “Bently jegging?” Logan remarks, avoiding the question.

    “Gently begging, same difference,” Patton says with a wave of his hand. “Just, can you try? For me?” Logan gnaws on the corner of his lip, considering for a moment. One look in Patton’s eyes, and he’s pretty much sold.

    “I’ll try,” he relents, relaxing into a slouch. “I suppose it isn’t the best habit to indulge in. For Thomas’ sake.” The cigarette is passed between hands, after which Patton promptly tosses it in the garbage. Sure, he knows Logan has more, and can always conjure extras, but it’s a step forward.

    “Maybe a hug?” Patton asks, opening his arms. Logan curls his lip slightly before embracing Patton loosely. The same can’t be said of the latter, who squeezes his arms together like a boa constrictor. Through the thick sweater, Patton feels something flicker, a little bit of warmth melting Logan’s cold shell. Progress.

    They only break apart as Virgil passes, giving a weird look at the logical side willingly hugging someone. Logan pushes Patton away quickly, straightening his shirt and mumbling something about getting back to work. Patton gives a soft smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, where the hurt resides. With a matching smile at Virgil, Patton returns to his room.

    Hours later, Patton will sneak out of his room to peek into Logan’s, to which the door is left open. He will peer inside at the clean space and feel relief, but only for a second. He will look closer and see the tiny plume of smoke over the desk and gasp. Logan will hear, and snap a finger to close the door in Patton’s face. Logan will not turn around to watch. Patton will sit in his room with a single light on, and he will wonder what happened to the nice, curious kid from when they were younger. And Patton will be alone.

It comes and goes in waves It always does, it always does We watch as our young hearts fade Into the flood, into the flood

    The clinking of glass is what wakes Patton a few nights later. He hasn’t asked about the smoking, and Logan hasn’t offered anything. Maybe a good sign, since he at least isn’t doing it so openly now, but Patton isn’t so sure. At least a little suspicious, he eases open his door to glance across the hall—lights out in Logan’s room. The other two doors are dark as well, not unusual at—a check of the watch—three in the morning. Patton leaves the lights off and heads for the kitchen by the light of his phone screen, feet padding softly on the carpeted floor. The only bright spot in the house is the bare lightbulbs in the kitchen, made ever brighter as they bounce off of the coffee mugs on the table. Behind those mugs are Logan, Roman, and Virgil, all of whom look like little kids that got caught swiping candy before dinner.

    “Are you kidding me?” Patton asks, his voice cracking.

    “Hey, it’s not what it looks like,” Roman says. “We were just talking, and—”

    “And what?” Patton whispers. “And you didn’t want me here to talk?” He tosses this out like a joke, as if there’s no way that could be the case, but his eyes fill with horror when none of the other three meet his imploring gaze. “Seriously?”

    Logan opens his mouth, certainly about to offer some excuse or another, something completely empty and intended to mollify, not soothe, but Patton isn’t having any of it. He turns on his heel and walks out, leaving silence behind him as the door to his room slams shut. The sound of his memory box crashing to the ground is echoed by the soft noises of clinking coffee mugs down the hall.

    In the dark of his room, Patton smiles to himself. At least they’re bonding, right? Even if it’s not with you, they’re having fun, and that’s the important part. He wipes his cheek, and his fingers come away wet. Funny, he didn’t remember turning on a humidifier.

    That night, Patton does not dream.

    The next morning, Roman does not apologize.

    The next day, Virgil does not look at him.

    The next week, Logan does not care.

    Patton corners the logical side one morning, cutting him off before he can escape to his room for research or something.

    “I just want you to explain one thing,” Patton pleads. “Why are you cutting me off?”

    Logan is quiet for a moment, cleaning his glasses off on his shirt. “It’s not that I want to,” he sighs, pressing his glasses up his nose. “Thomas is just growing up, and we need to grow with him. I’ve moved past the whole childish thing, and it’s high time you do as well.” Leaving Patton stunned, Logan slips away to his room, locking the door behind him.

    He never used to lock the door.

The freedom, of falling A feeling I thought was set in stone It slips through, my fingers I’m trying hard to let go It comes and goes in waves

    It would be so easy to stop caring.

    It would be so easy to let Logan’s friendship slip away.

    It would be so easy to stop trying to hold everything together.

    But that’s not what Patton is about.

    Instead, Patton sticks to Logan’s side like glue, there for every possible memory he could make. Despite all of Logan’s protests, Patton can feel him wearing down, can feel at Logan’s core that the childlike curiosity that once blossomed in Thomas is still there somewhere, still fighting to reach the surface. That’s the Logan Patton remembers, and that’s the Logan Patton intends to bring out. Not this new one, acting as if nothing is important and he doesn’t have feelings. Patton was there for the late night talks, and he knows how Logan really feels about emotions, how the logical side actually gets hurt when people think of him as cold and unfeeling. Shutting down is the worst plan, but evidently it’s the one Logan is going with. Giving up on Logan is the second worst plan, and you can bet your bottom dollar that Patton will not go that direction if he can help it. Of course, that always leaves the lingering fear that he won’t be able to help it, and Logan will outgrow him without a second thought.

It comes and goes in waves And carries us away Through the wind Down to the place we used to lay when we were kids

    “Come on, I wanna show you something,” Patton insists, tugging on Logan’s arm. Fast enough to make his tie flutter, the moral side pulls his friend into his room, not waiting for the door to close.

    “What is it? I have very—” Logan begins, immediately cut off by Patton.

    “Very important research, I know, I know.” Patton waves his free hand, sitting on the edge of his bed and leaning down to grab something from underneath it. As Logan carefully arranges himself for optimal comfort, Patton sits back up, memory box in hand. “I just really want you to see this.” He plucks out a yellow flower petal, smiling at Logan’s comments about attracting bugs and interrupting the flow of nature and all that stuff Patton doesn’t need to know but loves to hear. “I’ve never tried this before, but I took some liberties from Roman’s room, so just hold the petal and shut your eyes.” A bit dubious, Logan complies, nearly brushing Patton’s finger on the tiny petal.

    When the pair open their eyes, they’re back in a big green meadow, dotted with daisies and sprawling under a softly clouded blue sky. “How did you—” Logan starts, running a hand over the grass.

    “Like I said, liberties from Roman,” Patton replies. “Not as good, since I’m not exactly the creative one, so everything is gonna feel a little artificial. Still, do you remember it?” Logan glances around the memory carefully, taking in all of the fake sights.

    “Yeah, I think I lectured you on cloud types while you just pointed out what shapes they looked like,” Logan says. “Why did you need to show me this?”

    “Thomas was only twelve when we were here. Don’t you remember how fun it was, to sit and talk and share our thoughts without all the stress of being an adult with responsibilities?”

    “Hm.” Logan shrugs noncommittally, rubbing the flower petal between his fingers.

    “I just miss when we had fun. We didn’t have pressure or isolate ourselves in our rooms or yell at our friends instead of asking for their help.” Patton looks down at the same petal, the petal touching a hand connected to an arm attached to a shoulder growing off of Logan. “Can’t we go back to that?”

    Logan looks up at Patton, something blossoming in his eyes. It fills Patton with hope, maybe they can really go back, maybe they don’t have to grow apart, maybe Patton doesn’t have to be alone anymore, but Logan speaks and the hope shatters. “No. We can’t.” He releases the petal, disappearing from the memory and leaving Patton by himself. The racing grass blades and vibrant flowers and dashing clouds seem more like taunts at what Patton once had than the peace they used to represent. He drops the flower petal on the fake dirt, opening his eyes back up to his room, Logan gone and the petal on the bed. It goes in the trash.

Memories, of a stolen place Caught in the silence An echo lost in space It comes and goes in waves

    Patton only goes back to the flower field once, but the grass is all overgrown, interspersed with weeds, the flower petals all blown away with forceful wind gusts. Even the clouds are no longer a puffy white, instead turning into an overcast grey sky, angry and heavy. One of his happiest memories, with Logan of all people, and it’s been snatched away from him. This time, Patton throws the flower in the sink’s garbage disposal before heading to the far end of the bedroom hall that he normally leaves alone.

    “Hey kiddo,” he calls with a knock on the door. The light is out on the other side, but the music playing is loud enough that the room shouldn’t be empty. The door creaks open a bit, enough for Patton to slip inside, pulling the door quietly shut behind him.

    “Hey,” Virgil says from the floor beside his bed, headphones on and loud. His legs are bent at the knee, calves and feet resting on the mattress.

    “What’re you doing on the floor?” As Virgil mutters something about falling off and being lazy and comfortable, Patton plops down on his rear to join him.

    “Why are you in here?” Virgil asks. “You never really hang out in my room anymore. You’ve always been busy with Logan lately.”

    “You’re not wrong,” Patton sighs. “But he’s kind of the problem, and I don’t know what to do.”

    “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not the feelings department of this mindscape.”

    “I know, and that’s not why I’m here. I just didn’t want to be alone.” The pair sits in silence, the only sound in the room coming from the heavy bass in Virgil’s headphones that he’s pulled down from his ears to his neck.

    “I get it. I’m here for you.” Virgil’s hand trails along the carpet, finding and linking with Patton’s. He squeezes back, staring at the ceiling and enjoying the escape. His other hand finds a scrap of paper on the ground, stashing it in his pocket for the memory box. Patton shuts his eyes, thankful for the chance to let his mind wander, and not worry about what’s happening outside of the room.

I watched my wild youth Disappear in front of my eyes Moments of magic and wonder It seems so hard to find

    When Patton later returns to his room to put the paper scrap in his box, it’s substantially lighter than it used to be. Peering inside, he finds several trinkets slowly vanishing before his eyes, just becoming less opaque until they aren’t there at all. As Patton rifles through the box in horror, he compartmentalizes each memory in his head—all of Virgil’s are still there, along with the new one, all of Roman’s are still there, and only Logan’s are going. Not even all of his, just the old ones, from when they could enjoy each other’s company without the strain of Thomas having an adult life looming over them. All the happy times of the pair in their youth, disappearing into the wind. He runs a hand across some of the keepsakes as they fade, recalling them with a weak smile. A pop bottle lid from the time they pulled an all-nighter simply because they could, going on a wiki walk to learn a bunch of nonsense about bees and flowers. A small books from when they decided they would take up bullet journaling, then promptly abandoned it for more exciting pastimes. The SD card from when Logan wanted to learn computer programming. So many good things, just dissipating to make space for new ones. The crumb that caught in his sock when he saw his three closest friends talking without him. A shard of a splintered pen from when Logan had to prepare for that presentation. A cigarette butt from when Patton caught him again.

    Patton swivels in place, stretching for his mini trash can, and holds the box over it, ready to dump all of the contents and forget about them forever. Something stops him. Maybe a spark of hope that it can still work, maybe an inner recognition of the fact that he’ll regret it later in a moment of self-pity.

    The box is returned to its place on a high shelf, and Patton falls back on his bed. That little voice that doesn’t want him to give up? It’s fading with the memories.

Is it ever coming back again? Is it ever coming back again? Take me back to the feeling when Everything was left to find It comes and goes in waves

    “You’re being unreasonable!”

    “And you’re being unsympathetic!”

    “I’m being rational and giving Thomas the explanations and solutions he needs!”

    “Well I’m the one considering how all of your plans are making him feel! Did you ever wonder if all of these schedules and decisions are overwhelming him? Have you even looked at Virgil lately?”

    “Does it look like I have the time to check in on our resident whistleblower?”

    “How. Dare. You.”

    “Okay, wait, that wasn’t—”

    “How dare you? You know how Roman’s jabs affect him, and now you’re adding your own in? Insult to injury, is that it?”

    “It isn’t my fault he’s always overreacting to everything!”

    “And it isn’t my fault that you’re being an inconsiderate jerk, yet here we are, me trying to fix your problems so this whole family doesn’t fall apart!”

    A slamming door.

    Angry footsteps.

    Loud pen scribbling.

    Cursing.

    Patton turns and heads for Roman’s door, knocking a few times to get the fanciful side out of whatever fantasy his room might have concocted at the moment. Roman pulls the door open after a few seconds, only a few stray hairs out of place. He pulls them back up on top of his head and steps back, allowing Patton to come in.

    “What can I help you with?” Roman asks, straightening his red sash.

    “I need a memory.”

    “Didn’t I teach you how to keep those? The whole keepsake thing?”

    “You did, but that’s not it. The trinkets, well, not important. I need you to bring up a specific memory, and I don’t have a thing to commemorate it.”

    “Alright, no problem. Just think of the memory, and I’ll be over here in the corner by myself, not intruding on your memory at all.” A blatant lie, but Patton doesn’t care if Roman sees this. He’d prefer it, actually, so he won’t be alone in remembering.

    “Can you do it in the removed sense?” Patton asks. Roman flashes a thumbs up, and Patton closes his eyes, not wanting to ruin for himself the magic behind how Roman works. When he opens his eyes, he’s in Logan’s room, looking down at himself and Logan on the floor, leaning against the bed.

    “You can tell me, it’s okay,” Patton says, taking Logan’s hand. He flinches, but doesn’t let go.

    “It’s just the robot thing. I don’t get it. I don’t get you. Why do your feelings rule over everything?”

    “That’s just what I came to represent, you know? I’m Morality, so I’m his sense of right and wrong, too. I’m more than just emotions, and you’re more than just an unfeeling robot.”

    “How can you know that?” Logan sniffles, wiping a hand under his nose before it can start dripping.

    “Because I know you. You’re important to me, and I know that on the inside, you care about all of us, and about Thomas. Even if you mock us for wearing our hearts on our sleeves, there’s still a part of you that wants to join in. If that ever happens, I swear that I’ll support you.”

    Logan turns his head to look at Patton, an earnest look in his eyes. “Thank you.”

    “Don’t sweat it.”

    “No, really. Thank you.”

    “Roman, I think I’d like to leave now, please.” Patton shuts his eyes, waiting until he’s absolutely certain the memory has vanished.

    “You okay?” Roman asks, taking a step toward Patton.

    “I’m fine,” he mumbles, tearing out the door for his own room. He doesn’t stop to explain to Roman why he needed that memory, or why he left. Patton doesn’t want to tell Roman that the old Logan is gone. He’s not coming back.

I’m trying hard to let go It comes and goes in waves It comes and goes in waves And carries us away

    Patton stands before the fireplace in the commons that night, watching the flames lick the iron frame. His memory box is in his hands, still emptying itself of the happy things. It’s easily late enough for everyone else to be asleep, or at least hanging out without Patton somewhere. He doesn’t really care.

    Patton upends the box over the fire, its contents spilling out and curling in on themselves, melting and mixing and falling apart, their particles drifting up with the flames to the fake chimney and through the room, scattering across the commons for anyone to happen upon, an old memory that might make them smile.

    The box emptied, Patton lets the heat warm his face, soaking in the past one last time, before it’s out of his reach.

    Then he tosses in the box.

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