#after the class cap stayed for a bit and discussed something with a group of students and i keep some sort of hovering him lmao

[hecubus]

i dreamed about wanting to hug the captain but couldn't in the end because i was so shy and he's so elusive. 🥲

i did get to hug pat. it's nice. 💛

[midasinc]

canon era feuilly/enjolras

-feuilly comes to paris without a sous in his pocket and only the clothes on his back. he's worked little jobs here and there for his whole life and he's doing the same. at twenty-one, he's matured too much for his young age. when he secures an apprenticeship under a fanmaker, he's overwhelmed to find himself with a small room to stay in and a place to put his hat

-two years into his apprenticeship, he's given a real job under the fanmaker he's been spending most of his days with and it's the closest thing he has with a family, honestly. but now he can pay them for rent and has a real job and the first day he can afford something real, he buys himself this shiny, shiny green cravat and it looks incredibly tacky with his worker's clothing, all worn and yellowed with age and sweat and stain, but he loves it and he wears it all the time

-one day in the winter, he's walking home from a delivery and it's too fucking cold and he can't feel his fingers or his toes and his skin burns from how frozen he is because feuilly can't afford a coat, and he has to stop inside a cafe to ensure that he makes it home alive and there's this couple of rich-looking students whispering about a meeting as they head into a back room and feuilly is curious by nature, so he follows

-turns out, it's a super politically charged group with lots of talking over each other and speeches and arguing and he sits back and listens and he slips back out after an hour. at home, he thinks about it in bed. feuilly's been in many different places, he's seen so many people in pain. he's been in so much pain- starvation, loneliness, oppression, he's seen it all and he's felt it all

-he spends his free time reading books from the fanmaker's collection: his atlas, his novels, and more. mixed with both his opinions and his experiences, feuilly writes his ideas on government and politics and society on the back scrap of an old list of paints he'd been sent out to buy and he ties his green cravat as nicely as he can and he returns to the cafe

-there's no one there

-and he goes again

-and there's no one there

-and feuilly gives up for a few more days before getting up on a sunday and going once more- cravat tied and list in his hands- and there are students there. the same ones as before, maybe. maybe they aren't, he can't remember. but he's there and for a moment his hands are shaking and he's afraid that these rich students are going to make fun of him, but something possesses him to stand and-

-enjolras is twenty years old. he's studying law and dawns his hat and coat the same as he does every sunday. he's got a particularly long spiel planned about workers' rights and he completely ignores the women passing by and whispering about him because he always does

-enjolras has never been interested in a woman and he does not intend to be- the only thing he truly loves is his country

-he greets combeferre at the door and apologizes for running a bit late, but he sets his things down and momentarily notices a new face in the corner. enjolras thought he mightve seen him at the last meeting, but doesn't recognize him from school, or the area, or anything. the only noticeable thing about him is the incredibly tacky green cravat tied around his neck, shining in the candlelight.

-enjolras asks courfeyrac to greet him and starts the meeting

-he begins to talk about the situation of lower class working peoples and the life of factory workers and low-paid artisans and he's cut off. the man from the corner stands abruptly

-"have you ever worked?"

-for a moment, enjolras is like (oh my fucking god we have another grantaire) but answers truthfully that no, he's never worked. he's never had to

-the young man doesn't berate him, however, but he corrects him in explaining in more detail what people go through and the limbs they lose and the sores on their fingers and the soot that stains their skin all for what? hardly anything. he's surprisingly knowledgeable about lower classes, more than anyone else. courfeyrac returns to enjolras's side and murmurs into his ear that he's actually working class and actually their first member who isn't a student himself

-enj gets stars in his eyes because this is the actually the opening they needed- they need more of this demographic

-after the meeting, he stops the young man with the cravat and asks him for his name. the man is hesitant to shake his hand but does so anyway and introduces himself as feuilly. enjolras takes the time to ask him about himself and his relations to the working community and that's how feuilly gets his first task of asking around for new members

-once again, he's hesitant, but he says okay. enjolras gets starry-eyed again and shakes his hands and thanks him very much and leaves

-feuilly sneaks back into his apartment and loosens his tie and lays in bed, drumming his fingers and unable to sleep. his hand still feels warm from enjolras's firm handshake. he's probably the luckiest guy alive- enjolras is. he's rich, handsome, smart. he's sure to marry well and be successful and have sons who will be the same as he was. feuilly can't really think straight, so he blows out the candle in his room and forces his body to fall asleep

-for the first time in his life, he dreams of having friends and having people his age look at him like a person, and not just a face in the crowd

-come the next week, he's got another couple workers in tow and enjolras greets them just as enthusiastically as he did feuilly. his heart sinks in his chest, thinking that enjolras might not want to be his friend at all. feuilly sits next to the workers and listens through the meeting and tries not to feel melancholy about still being alone

-after the meeting, a hand catches his arm. enjolras is asking if he could stay, maybe, and talk with him about politics. it seems like a loaded statement, but feuilly agrees

-they discuss governments in other countries and political theories and he learns that enjolras is very politically charged for a young man with his status- more than any other possible person. when he talks, his brow furrows and his eyes refuse to stray from the person he speaks with and he talks with his hands. oh he talks with his hands. feuilly can't possibly look away. listening to enjolras talk is like getting drunk off absinthe.

-it's just as addicting to talk back. feuilly wants to debate with him and correct him when he's wrong and say everything he thinks. sometimes, enjolras agrees. sometimes, he catches enjolras by surprise by what he knows. he taught himself to read and write and he isn't stupid. feuilly's intelligent, even if he hasn't been fortunate enough to afford a real education for himself

-simple post-meeting conversations turn to other nightly conversations, ones at enjolras's student lodgings and at cafes with combeferre and courfeyrac and feuilly finds himself excited to see him. as he's painting throughout the day, he thinks about what he wants to talk about with enjolras the next time he sees him

-one day, the madame of the house asks him which grisette has him with such a smile on his face and feuilly laughs it off

-but that cannot defy the fact that he's thinking about that serious look on enjolras's face and the smile that curls the corners of his mouths when feuilly says something smart and he's reaching a hand into his sleep pants and screwing his eyes shut and

-ah. that's it.

-enjolras doesn't notice when feuilly gets a bit more reserved around him. he still pulls him aside and asks him for his input and gives him looks, prompting him to speak when somebody says something he knows feuilly could refute. feuilly is a bit more quiet, however, and it's only after a week that enjolras thinks something might be off

-finding out where he works, enjolras walks downtown to the fanmaker's shop and steps inside. he sees feuilly with his cap and his sleeves pushed up as he details a flower on a fan, hand steady and strokes delicate. he bites his lip when he's focused, enjolras notices

-"feuilly"

-feuilly startles, thankfully not messing up his fan. he glances over at him with wide eyes and then back at his work and then back at enjolras.

-"enj...olras." -enjolras steps up to the counter and asks him if he's feeling ill or if he's working too hard. he says that he's been quiet and off and wants to know if something is wrong

-feuilly pauses and shakes his head. he apologizes for being that way and invites enjolras to talk like they normally should. he says his lodgings are here and if enjolras wanted he could come over. his face is pink, when he says it and enjolras really does worry that he might be ill

-nonetheless, enjolras says he'll come over

-feuilly is fucking sweating bullets. he's worried that he'll say something awful and enjolras will find him to be a degenerate and throw him out of their socialist club

-he's still unsure of how to go about this situation and puts on his green cravat for when enjolras is over and neatens up his apartment as much as he can and by the time enjolras is there, he's apologizing for it not being much and probably being worse than enjolras expected

-enjolras is nice about it, though, and has his notes and books as per usual and doesn't seem to think any differently of him. they talk like usual and after a while, enjolras asks him about his work. he knows feuilly has no family and worked under this man for a while, but he's never seen him at work. he talks a bit about his painting and his commissions with fans and offers to show enjolras what painting a fan is like, but he doesn't have any good fans or paper and he doesn't want to ruin enjolras's notes. enj sticks out his arm, though, and says he could always paint on him

-once again- sweating bullets

-enjolras is glad when feuilly wants to show him his talents. with small pots of paints and a delicate brush, he murmurs to himself about styles and paints an example of popular designs with flowers and more

-feuilly's fingers are rough and warm against his arm and enjolras watches the tip of his nose as he paints, the flutter of his lashes and the splatter of freckles across his face. he finds himself very fortunate to have a friend like feuilly: one who's intelligent, credible where he stands on his opinions, and so very talented.

-hm

-after a moment, feuilly finishes an orchid and he sets down his brush, admiring the pale flower on enjolras's forearm. he doesn't mean to, but his hand lags behind on enj's arm, thumb gently stroking against the skin

-enjolras is watching him very carefully, he notices and thinks that he should probably let go and apologize at this point, but enjolras's feet are pointed towards him and his finger curls inward to brush against feuilly's other hand and his eyes flicker down to the area above his chin

-it's the same at that meeting, when something possessed feuilly to stand up and address an unfamiliar crowd. he leans forward in his seat and presses a very, very careful kiss to enjolras's lips. when he gets nothing in return, he momentarily considers hurling himself into the seine, but then enjolras pushes back forward and kisses him back and it's clunky and their teeth clink together for a moment before they figure each other out

-enjolras doesn't like women or men, he likes feuilly and he loves his country. he spends the night in his apartment- and they don't do much else but kiss. enjolras listens to feuilly talks about poland and germany and presses gentle kisses to his temples and the side of his mouth and his jaw because feuilly is intelligent, overwhelmingly so, and enjolras finds it very attractive

[link4eva]

Kiro’s S2 Growing Troubles Company Project Translation [CN]

Hey! This is a continuation of Kiro’s Season 2 Campus Youth Company project which you can read here!

This translation was done through the power of Google Translate.

This translation contains spoilers for content that has not yet been released to the ENG. If you wish to not be spoiled then please don’t look below the cut.

Enjoy~

*Spoilers below for future content!*

[Stage 1]

Kiro: MC, did you see the notice that Teacher Huang posted in Moments? 

MC: What notice?

Kiro: Summer camp, the whole class together…. I really want to go. 

MC: I also want to go…. Sketching in the village at the foot of the mountain to escape the summer heat sounds very pleasant.

The director who came to participate in the pre-launch preparations of the film just stepped into the conference room and undoubtedly overheard our conversation.

Director: Do you mean the class that you re-lived high school with before?

MC: Well, Teacher Huang was the headteacher at the time, and we were just discussing their summer camp.

Director: Summer camp? It sounds too student-like.

Director: Anyway, there is still a while before that happens, so go if you want and take advantage of the time off to rest as soon as possible. And….

She thought about it for a moment and then gave us a smile.

Director: If this summer camp experience can be filmed, it will be good promotional material after the movie airs.

I met Kiro’s eyes and have already made a decision.

Kiro: Let me ask Teacher Huang first if we can participate. 

Kiro fiddled with his phone, typing and sending messages. I didn’t know how long he was going to be typing for so I leaned in to take a look….

It takes up more than a dozen lines of the text box.

After a while, Teacher Huang sent a voice message.

Teacher Huang: Of course, you’re very welcome to join us. Although you and MC spent only a short amount of time with us, you are still members of the class.

Teacher Huang: I will send you a registration form in a moment, you just have to fill it out and give it to me. The students would be very happy if they heard the news.

Kiro looked at me with a “yeah”, sent a thank-you reply, and when he raised his head again, he had a bright smile on his face.

On the day of departure, Kiro and I arrived at the designated place early to wait for the bus to arrive. *Changed some wording*

The departure time was set at 7 o’clock in the morning, but even still with it being midsummer, the sun was so fierce that people couldn’t open their eyes.

As I looked at the road, I put my hand on my forehead to block the sun. Kiro opened up his suitcase and put his fisherman’s hat on top of my head.

I turned my head and was about to talk to him when a blue and white bus had approached us and was slowing down.

Kiro greeted him as soon as he saw the bus number!

Kiro: 8516, it’s this one! 

When the bus stopped, he immediately took my suitcase and walked to the outside of the bus, put both suitcases into the storage, and stepped onto the bus.

Kiro: S-urprise! 

The students inside saw us getting on the bus, and at first, there was no reaction, and then burst into applause and cheers-- *Changed some wording*

Classmates: Kiro!

Classmates: Oh my God, are you coming?!

Kiro: Hey, long time no see~ Happy summer everyone~

Kiro: Teacher Huang said that this summer camp is a group activity that the whole class must participate in, and I can’t be absent of course.

Mr. Huang, who was sitting at the front, stood up and dragged Kiro and me onto the bus.

Teacher Huang: Kiro and MC, find a place to sit down and fasten your seatbelts.

Teacher Huang: Okay students,  now the whole class is here. I announce the official opening of the 3rd summer camp. *I think it was supposed to be “3rd” but I’m not entirely sure*

[Stage 2]

The itinerary of the summer camp is quite packed.

Occasionally, we would go up the mountain to sketch and take pictures with our classmates. We would also occasionally go to town to shoot some material for the film advertisements. 

By the third day, Kiro and I had collected a whole 5G’s worth of vlog material. Kiro was very satisfied with the results of this trip.

Kiro: After the fifteen-day summer camp is over, maybe I can go back to sort out the material and edit. *Changed some wording*

Kiro: By the way, are there any arrangements for the afternoon, or are we going up the mountain with them? 

Kiro and I were talking and walking to the door of the homestay. We ran into a few classmates, who we were closer to, sitting in the corner and whispering amongst each other. *Changed some wording*

Kiro glanced at me and leaned forward curiously.

Kiro: What cake? Are you talking about who has a birthday?

Classmate A: Hush! I’m staying in the same room with Shu Shu, and I happened to see her birthday when I checked it, which is today.

Classmate A: And it’s her eighteenth birthday this year, which is very important. We just want to give her a simple celebration.

Classmate B: We just took a look and there isn’t a store that delivers. So, we want to take a taxi into town and order the cake there.

MC: ….But if you leave now, you will definitely be late. Teacher Huang also arranged for the seniors in the village to tell you about folk tales.

Kiro took on this task, almost without thinking.

Kiro: It’s okay, the two of us can go buy cakes. 

Kiro: We visited the town a couple of days ago so we’re familiar with the route. Just leave it to us, you can go to class with peace of mind.

I also nodded and quickly agreed.

MC: We can also buy some decorative ribbons and balloons so that it will have a somewhat celebratory atmosphere.

Before they could say anything, we waved to them.

MC: Leave it to us~ Let’s keep in touch and call me if you need anything! 

(At the Cake Shop)

Shopkeeper: Our cake bases are all freshly made so you two will have to wait a while.

Shopkeeper: The cake you order is relatively big. In addition to writing “Happy Birthday” on it, you can also write 1-2 blessings.

As the shopkeeper said this, he took out a pen and paper and gave it to us.

Shopkeeper: Write the blessing on the paper and then I’ll take it to the pastry chef.

Kiro: Okay~ Let’s think about it first.

Kiro took the pen and paper and sat down with me in the corner of the cake shop by the window.

Kiro: What would be the best blessing to write to an eighteen-year-old birthday star….

MC: It’s a bit difficult, so let’s change our mindset. What did you want most when you were eighteen?

Kiro put the pen cap on his forehead and thought about it for a while.

Kiro: I didn’t think too much about what I wanted “most”. There were already a lot of things going on at the time, and there was no time to stop and think about it. 

Kiro: What about you, what did you want when you were eighteen?

MC: I didn’t really have anything specific either, it’s just that there is a feeling that it’s important to get through each day one by one.

MC: Hope that from this day on, life will change something. I hope that from this day on, nothing will change in my life. *Changed some wording*

Kiro: That’s it.

Kiro looked at the crowd coming and going outside the window. After a while, he took off the pen cap and seemed to have an idea. 

[Stage 3]

That night, when they came back from the mountain, Kiro and I had already decorated the living room with balloons and flowers.

The owner of the hotel kindly gave us several large boxes of Coke. The red cans filled the long table and made up the words “Happy Birthday”.

Shu Shu’s eyes were covered by someone from behind as she was led step by step.

When everyone arrived, the student who was covering her eyes, released his hand. She opened her eyes bit by bit and saw the lively surprise in front of her.

She was at a loss for a while as she covered her eyes in surprise and laughed twice, her eyes welled up as if she was holding back tears.

Shu Shu: Haha I knew it!

Shu Shu: Damn, you secretly planned a surprise birthday party…. Originally, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to cause you trouble.

Kiro took out the cake from the refrigerator and put it on the table carefully.

Kiro: The eighteenth birthday is very important, so it should be celebrated! 

I drew two tissues from the tissue box on the table and wiped her tears.

MC: The birthday star can’t shed tears today, wipe them quickly and prepare to blow out the candles to make a wish.

When Shu Shu took the tissue, she smiled at me with tears in her eyes and took my hand. *Changed some wording*

Shu Shu: I’m overwhelmed with emotions right now. *Changed some wording*

Shu Shu: I actually didn’t plan to celebrate my eighteenth birthday. Growing up is a very important thing. Am I not ready yet?....

Shu Shu: Say it out, don’t laugh at me. *Changed some wording*

I couldn’t help touching her head and using the remaining tissue in my hand to wipe off the two teardrops on her face.

MC: You don’t have to think so seriously….

I winked at Kiro, and he quickly leaned over, putting on a brilliant smile to comfort Shu Shu.

Kiro: It doesn’t matter, it’s normal to have such thoughts.

Kiro: I have had similar thoughts before. I think it must be very hard to grow up. It is necessary to face all kinds of challenges in this world alone…. 

Kiro: No longer can I be carefree like a child.

Shu Shu was obviously touched by Kiro’s words. She nodded to Kiro with affirmation in her eyes, waiting for him to continue.

Kiro: But actually, did you know that growing up is more fun than being a child?

The dozen or so pairs of eyes in the living room were all looking at Kiro. It seemed that they were all confused, but they didn’t say the same as Shu Shu. 

They all seemed to want to hear the answer to the question from Kiro’s mouth.

Kiro: No matter how carefree life was when I was young, I always lived within the limits of freedom given by adults. 

Kiro: Only when we take that step into adulthood, the door to exploring the world is officially opened to us. The most intuitive is the freedom to control time and money. 

Kiro: You can book plane tickets at any time for an impromptu trip, and you can lie down on a comfortable bed for a whole day.

Kiro: You can earn money to buy things you like, and fill the refrigerator with your favourite drinks and snacks.

While talking, Kiro and I looked at each other.

Kiro: You can also confess openly to the person you like, and walk openly while holding hands on the street. 

I nodded my head, knowingly. Instead, he patted Shu Shu on the shoulder and continued to encourage her with a smile. 

Kiro: So don’t worry, if you blow out the eighteenth birthday candle, you won’t become a boring adult in an instant.

Kiro: Look at me, I have liked playing music and games since I was a child. Even now, I still play music and games in the same way.

Kiro: Believe me, you can freely choose your lifestyle and like it too.

[Stage 4]

Seeing the thoughtful expressions of my classmates, I couldn’t help but blend into the atmosphere.

MC: Do you have plans for what you want to do in adulthood?

MC: When I was a child, I always thought that I must go to an idol concert after work and buy tickets for the first row.

There was a burst of laughter from all around, and the students chimed in one by one.

Classmate A: I just want to have the freedom to drink milk tea. My mother said that milk tea is junk food and never allows me to drink it. I want to drink milk tea in my dreams. *This kid’s a big mood lol*

Classmate B: I want to own a cat. My parents don’t like pets, especially my mother, who dislikes cats that shed hair. I said I would clean up after them myself, but she still refuses.

Classmate B: Once I start working, I will move out and adopt a stray cat.

Classmate C: My parents are very supportive of me. They agree on whatever I want, so I want to be independent early on, find a better job, and earn money to be filial to them.

They talked enthusiastically, drawing up a blueprint to be fulfilled in the future.

In the middle of the conversations, the stars in the mountains are all bright, vying to flash the most dazzling light in the Milky Way.

I quietly approached Kiro and sighed softly.

MC: Eighteen is a very beautiful age.

MC: It’s great to have hopes and dreams in my heart.

Kiro smiled at me with his arms folded and his head tilted happily.

Kiro: What are you talking about, MC? Every age is like this, and the age with hopes and dreams is not only eighteen. 

I accepted his smile knowingly, opened the cake box with him, and put Shu Shu’s birthday candles on top.

Kiro: Come on, let’s get back to the task at hand. Turn off the lights--

As I lighted the candles, the classmates also stopped talking and sang a happy birthday song in unison.

Classmates: Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you….

MC: Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you~

Kiro: Come and make a wish.

Shu Shu was pushed to the front by everyone, there were tears in her eyes and an uncontrollable smile, her hands were folded to her chest.

Shu Shu: Shall we make a wish together?

This proposal was approved by everyone, Kiro and I were also pushed towards the cake.

The light of the candles flickered in the darkness, reflected in everyone’s eyes, and then slowly, they closed their eyes one after another.

I secretly looked at Kiro, and under the dim light, he opened his eyes and stared seriously at every face present.

Perhaps the subject of “youth” and “growth” has a new meaning in his mind.

After some exploration, it will become his superb performance in the movie.

Kiro: Shu Shu, can you blow the candles? 

Kiro asked softly, his eyes fell on a line of blessings on the cake-- Listen to the inner voice and move forward freely.

[Stage 5]

The night before we left the town, Kiro took me to take a walk outside as a final farewell to this summer camp.

Involuntarily, we talked about the confusion of the students about “growth”.

Kiro: In fact, growing up is not terrible, but the journey of facing the unknown is terrifying. 

Kiro: When I first made a movie, I was also very nervous. Everyone on the set seemed to be very experienced and skilled. Only I was a novice.

Kiro: I often couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night, and I kept thinking about what to do the next day in my head-- not deliberately, but uncontrollable.

Kiro: Every time that I feel I can’t do it, I just bite the bullet and move forward.

He raised his head, letting the evening breeze in the mountains ruffle his bangs, his eyes looking towards the night were clearer than the blue in the sky.

Kiro: Haha, if you tell the kids this kind of thing, they might feel more scared. 

Kiro: But the process is not scary at all.

Kiro: When I look back, I will only find it difficult, but it’s nothing.

He said, turning his head to see the road we have travelled.

Kiro: As it is now, I walked a long way without knowing it.

My heart was filled with the tranquillity of the night, I breathed in the fresh air and stretched out my arms.

MC: And-- There are always beautiful scenes along the road, which makes people forget the tediousness of going forward.

I lowered my eyes and looked at him with a chuckle.

MC: Maybe there will be a very interesting person who can walk with him.

I stopped and stretched out my hand to hold Kiro’s sleeve.

MC: I’ve been thinking these two days, there really isn’t a single moment when we will suddenly change from children to adults….

MC: Like me, I often forget that I am already an adult, and people around me often complain about me, just like a small child. 

MC: Maybe it’s because someone has been tolerating me….

MC: No matter what wild ideas I have, he will agree with me, understand me, and support me unconditionally.

MC: Surrounded by this kind of love, I may never be able to become an adult.

Kiro was taken aback and then curled the corners of his mouth, smiling gently at me in the quiet summer night.

Kiro: Who said so? *This line came out kinda wonky so I hope this is right*

Kiro: I have the people who support me the most, understand me the best, and tolerate me in every possible way, making me feel that I can do whatever I want. 

Kiro: Often more capricious than children, and often makes me feel lucky.

Kiro: --The world of an adult is wonderful, and the world of a child is very happy.

He stepped forward and I saw the stars, the moon, and the mountains reflected in his eyes as well as myself in between.

Kiro: And I can have two worlds at the same time. 

End

[morningfears]

Hiking

Rating: PG-13 (Language, mostly)

Summary: College!Luke and hiking for the 10k celebration. 

Word Count: 2.1k (...this was supposed to be a drabble, whoops)

“Tell me why we’re doing this again.”

You listened to the crunch of gravel beneath Luke’s feet, a signal that he was rounding the car to meet you at the trunk, and bit back a laugh as you reached for the extra water bottle you’d packed because you knew that he was going to forget his own. He’d been whining since you picked him up, a pout on his lips and sunglasses perched on his nose, and you knew that he’d stop the moment you truly got annoyed with him.

For now, though, you were enjoying making fun of him just as much as he was whining.

“It was my turn to pick our activity. I like to hike.” You pressed the bottle into his hands, a saccharine smile on your lips, before you closed the trunk and shrugged. “I also like to see you miserable.”

He turned his head toward you, bright blue eyes hidden by the sunglasses he’d snagged from you years ago, and scowled. “You owe me pancakes for this. It’s so early.”

“It’s nearly ten, Luke.” He waved a hand dismissively when you scoffed, unashamed of his status as the late riser in your friendship, and leaned against the car to take a sip of his water. “Don’t drink too much. If you puke on me, I will murder you. No one will find your body up here.”

Luke snorted at that, his hands moving to tighten the cap on his water bottle before he waved them at the nearly full parking area. “There are literally fifty other people on this trail right now. Someone would find me.”

“Shut up and start moving, yeah?”

Luke breathed an exaggerated sigh and made a show of dragging his feet, sending dust and rocks flying in his wake, but followed you toward the trail. He was joking - that much he made clear when he cracked a grin at your laughter - and you knew that he had no intentions of making the hike miserable for either of you. He was annoyed to be awake so early on his only day off but there was no one he’d rather spend the day with.

And, besides, it wasn’t the first time he’d gone hiking with you.

The first time Luke went hiking with you, you were both freshmen in college and equally shy. You were a friend of a friend of a friend - Ashton was dating your roommate’s older sister - and had somehow gotten roped into going hiking with the group of them. It was Ashton’s idea, to drag all of you out to the middle of nowhere right before fall break, and Luke had only tagged along because Calum and Michael dragged him.

While you weren’t exactly the most social of the bunch, it was clear that you and Ashton were the only ones who’d actually hiked before. Whereas everyone else showed up in black, wearing various old band t-shirts and, in Michael’s bad judgement and mildly hungover case, jeans, the two of you wore actual gym gear and appropriate shoes. 

Luke quickly fell to the back of the pack, happy to be away from the chatter and the attention as he struggled up the mountain, and somewhere along the trip, you fell back with him. He knew that you were capable of beating them all up the mountain - and probably back down, if he had to wager a guess - but you kept pace with him and never even made a face at the sweat that made his t-shirt stick to his skin.

You were halfway up the mountain before either of you spoke - to everyone’s surprise, it was him; he complimented the All Time Low sticker on your water bottle - but it seemed as if neither of you knew how to shut up after that moment.

Your friendship formed quickly, bolstered by your commonalities and strengthened by your differences. If you weren’t in class or at work, you were at Luke’s. And if you weren’t there, the pair of you could usually be found elsewhere together.

When he moved into a frat house and you moved into an apartment, nothing changed. The brothers knew you, just as your roommates knew him, but your nearly nightly outings - to diners, to the movies, to the mall, to the park near campus - shifted to once a week activities that you took turns planning once you both delved deeper into your respective majors.

Luke was your best friend, just as you were his, and you were grateful for the strange hike that brought him into your life. That was, however, to everyone’s surprise, all that you were.

You had a small crush on Luke when you met - even drenched in sweat and struggling to keep himself upright, trudging up the side of a mountain he was cute - but the more you got to know him, the greater your crush grew. He was everything you’d always wanted, all wrapped in an adorable package, but you told yourself early on that you weren’t going to push; whatever happened with Luke, happened.

You knew, deep down, that Luke felt the same. You saw the way that he looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking. You saw the way he blushed when you complimented him or the way he grew flustered whenever anyone pointed out how cute the two of you would be together. Neither of you hid your feelings well but you were content to see where things went.

You always said that you’d rather have him in your life as just a friend than not at all.

Your line of thinking had recently undergone a bit of a shift. You were both approaching your senior year; two semesters away from the great unknown. Luke had plans to stay in the city and work for a record company. You were weighing your options to continue your education and considering leaving to give life elsewhere a shot.

It hurt, thinking that you’d be separated from Luke after so long of him being your only constant, but you knew that you either needed to make a move or move on.

“Alright, you haven’t said a word in almost a mile. Stop thinking, start talking.”

Luke’s words, said through huffs of air forced past his lips, broke you from your thoughts and you blinked when you noticed just how far down the trail you’d made it. You were glad you’d chosen one so familiar - the one you hiked the first time you met and found yourself returning to, time and time again - as you’d mostly relied on muscle memory to make it this far.

“Nothing to talk about. Just stressing over that Media Law final. Baker’s a dickhead and is going to make it unnecessarily difficult.” You knew that you should tell Luke the truth, spill your worries as you normally did, but you couldn’t force the words out.

It was easier this way, to continue on as you had for the past few years, and pretend that the heartache blossoming in your chest wasn’t real.

“Bullshit.” Luke stopped, nudged you to the side of the trail to let others pass, and met your eyes to search them. “That was your sad face. Baker gets the mad face. What’s up? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Of course I do, Luke.” The words fell past your lips readily, confident and clear, because you knew that. You knew that you could talk to Luke about absolutely anything and he would be there to listen. You knew that he’d never judge or laugh, not if it was a serious discussion, and that helped calm the raging sea of emotions in the pit of your stomach.

But nothing could quell the ache that settled in your bones when he looked at you the way he was.

He had a habit of looking at you like you were the one who hung the stars and moon. His eyes, usually unfocused as he zoned out, were clear and bright and shining with an admiration that rolled off him in waves. Whenever he looked at you like that, right in the eye, he always had a hand on you in some way. This time, he had one hand on your shoulder and the other cupping your cheek.

“What happens next May?”

Luke blinked, confused by the question. “Next May? After graduation?” When you nodded, your eyes flicking between his own and the sand beneath your feet, he shifted his weight and nodded slowly. “I’m staying here and you… You’re going to do something amazing. You might stay here, you might move to fucking Siberia. But whatever you do, you’re going to do it well because that’s just the kind of person you are, honey. You can’t half-ass anything, even if you try.”

Luke grinned when that got a small laugh but it was quickly replaced with a frown when you shook your head. “That’s not what I meant.” You trailed off, almost embarrassed to ask, before the words escaped your lips in a near whisper. “What happens to us?”

That was a question Luke had long considered. He, too, wondered what would happen to you both as you moved into the working world and farther away from one another. He wondered what would happen if you left the city. He wondered how he would continue on without seeing you every day.

And he realized that he didn’t want that.

“We’ll still be us,” he answered finally, his voice just as quiet as yours had been. “We’ll see each other every minute we can and if you decide to go somewhere else, we’ll FaceTime so much that we might as well just livestream our lives to each other. If you leave, I’ll come visit whenever I can and you know you’ll always have a place to stay with me if you want to come back. Nothing will change for us after graduation because I love you and I won’t let it.”

Before you could speak, before you could ask him if he really believed that was possible, Luke continued speaking.

“You know that I mean that in every sense of the word. You’re my best friend and I love you but you know that I also love you with a  capital ‘L’. Being friends with you is something I’d never change but I don’t want to spend our last guaranteed year together wondering what could be. I don’t want to just dream about kissing you, I want to actually kiss you. I want to wake up to you asking me to go hiking and kiss you to convince you to stay in bed. I want to hold your hand and wake up beside you every morning. I want to be the annoying couple everyone already thinks we are because it’s us. And it always has been.”

It felt as if a weight was lifted from your chest as Luke rambled, words spilling past his lips in a rush. He was passionate, certain, and braver than you ever could be. He took the first step, just when you were beginning to think neither of you would ever make it there, and the only way you could think to respond was with a kiss.

Pressing your lips to Luke’s didn’t send fireworks erupting across the sky nor did it feel as if the earth was going to shatter at your feet. It did, however, feel as if you were exactly where you were meant to be. You were wrapped in his arms, hands tangled in his curls, and nothing had ever felt more right.

You were upset that you’d wasted so much time, waiting for life to just happen. But, as you pulled away and rested your forehead against Luke’s, you decided that nothing else mattered anymore. The future, the one where you and Luke existed and everything else came as it would, was all that mattered.

Luke, with his bright grin and flushed cheeks, grabbed your hand and began tugging you back the way you’d come. With a laugh, you dug your heels into the ground and shook your head. “Nope. Finish hike first. Then, we go to my place and shower.”

“You’re going to make your boyfriend hike two more miles?”

“For every half mile you finish, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Make it every quarter and I get to touch your butt.”

“Shut up and start hiking, Hemmings.”

With another grin in your direction, Luke returned his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose and kept his hand in yours as he tugged you along down the path. In the future, there would be more hikes and more kisses.

And neither of you could wait.

___________________________________

Author’s Note: ....there’s not as much hiking in this as I wanted but I got started and it, uh, had a mind of its own. Anyway, two fics in like a week? Who am I?

[foreverydinger]

Graduation Flashbacks 2k21

Tony reminisces on graduations past while sitting in the ceremony.

Featuring: @tallulahrobinson @notmuchofatail @notbad-justsungthatway @oh-phineas @devyn-morey (lol)

Tony was in his stupid hat and gown again. It was the same one he’d had for years, only updating it when the school decided to change the style of cap and gown they’d want their students to wear. He glanced to the side, daring a look at his ex-boyfriend Haechan Roberts that he was assigned to sit beside. They had both been ignoring the other since being told that they would be sitting in alphabetical order. Tony had known it was coming, had known the moment he found out the other’s surname. This wasn’t his first rodeo, he’d done this sixty times before. Though Haechan reminded him of a few other R-named exes he’d been with many years ago.

“Promise you’ll write to me,” Tally had insisted when they’d discussed the breakup. Tony blinked at her, his heart aching as he realized what he’d have to do. He didn’t want to lie to her but what was one to do when the great and powerful Tallulah Robinson asked something of you?

“I promise, Tally. You go off and get your degree, see the world, send me postcards. I’ll be here, in Swynlake. It’s not like you’ll never see me again, your family’s here after all.” He chuckled through the pain, eyes beginning to water.

Sitting in the ceremony didn’t feel cold, instead they held hands side by side. Squeezing whenever something particularly emotional started to be said. ‘Goodbyes are hard,’ Tony thought as he stared not at the presenters but at her face. ‘She’ll be alright, though. She’s a force.’

“Congratulations, Class of 2010,” came the headmaster’s voice booming over the speakers. “You did it!”

As a roar rang out over the crowd Tony felt that same tingling, saw those same sparkles only he ever seemed to notice as the ceremony came to a conclusion. Despite his desire to hang on, to cling to Tallulah’s hand for dear life, he felt her grip slacken until she had completely dropped Tony. She had no reason to hold the hand of the boy beside her, she didn’t know him despite how small the school was.

She had places to be and a small town to forget.

The speakers were giving some emotional speech and Tony swiped at his eyes in frustration. Most people, if they saw him, might think he was just getting emotional about leaving Swynlake. The rumors had swirled around him about whether he was staying in the small town or leaving them for MIT. It was stupid, he regretted even posting the fake acceptance nowadays, but he supposed it wouldn’t matter shortly. He’d have to just fake a Pride U acceptance instead, as he usually did.

He looked around the expanse of graduates, spotting Phineas Flynn across the room. One of the few people whose relationships had transformed the most. Tony had barely considered the kid back when he had moved to their peculiar little town which had transformed drastically to incensed rage and been doused much like the flames he’d been spared from with, of all things, the power of music. Tony nearly rolled his eyes at the memory now if he ignored the very real damage that had been done to his person at the time.

The evolution of their friendship caused him to reminisce upon another relationship of his that had changed drastically since their first meeting: Gregory Eeyore.

He thought about Greg whom he had been texting constantly the past few days. They were best friends now, Greg had even believed Ian and Tony about the curse, even if the recollection of memories hadn’t been made possible unlike Ian. Honestly, the teenager wasn’t sure whether or not that was such a bad thing given their rocky past.

Tony scanned the sea of people who were all about to leave him behind. He spotted the likes of Devyn Morey—’Good for them, making it this far!’—before his eyes landed upon one Gregory Eeyore. It wasn’t as though Tony had been friends with Gregory by any stretch of the imagination. On the contrary, Tony was convinced that Greg hated him by association with his friends who had done little more than torment the quieter student.

Over the last few years Tony had dissuaded his friends from torturing their classmate, though the attempts were quieter than Tony knew he should have been and filled with the fear of being socially ejected. It seemed silly, sometimes, thinking about his fear of being rejected from a social group given he had a built-in redo in a way but recovering from that and climbing back up the social ladder even with the help of his curse’s bonus popularity air still took time and effort that he didn’t always want to do.

So Greg had suffered for it.

As Tony watched the other he made a silent wish—something that he should have stopped doing long ago after having his wish granted to never leave secondary—that Greg would find his niche out in the world now that secondary would be left behind him. Tony wanted nothing more than for Greg to find the peace he deserved.

“Congratulations, Class of 2017,” came the headmaster’s voice booming over the speakers. “You did it!”

As the announcement was made and caps were thrown into the air in celebration Tony felt that familiar tingle and sparkle surround him. He hoped that perhaps a part of that magical seal would grant this new wish.

Focusing on what friendships would prevail, Tony had to focus on the positives.

He would still have Pip, feisty and loyal Pip, to keep his feet on the ground and yet also keep him on his toes. There was never a dull moment in their friendship and he couldn’t wait for long nights with him listening to musicals or any of the other interests that the younger boy held to his chest.

Tony could hold onto the friendship he’d newly cultivated with Mim Ambrosius who was a brushfire. Chaotic and terrifying in the danger she could create while also being capable of cultivating a sort of refreshment on life much like the sorts of plants that had to burn to spread their seeds and flourish elsewhere.

He scanned the crowd to see if he could spot any particular faces turned toward himself. He caught a glimpse of someone’s profile for a moment and mistook them for the one and only Jessica Rabbit.

“We’re still friends,” Jessica whispered as she sat beside him.

“What?” He tore his eyes from the headmaster manning the ceremony to look her way. They had determined this when Jess had broken up with him a couple weeks prior, Tony had almost been relieved he wouldn’t have to break her heart. Jessica was of a rare breed; kind to a fault and sharp as a tack. Tony hadn’t wanted to live on in her heart as any form of regret.

“We’re still friends, Tony.”

“‘Course we are, Bun,” he teased, the old nickname slipping into the sentence without his permission. “‘Til the very end.” It wasn’t a lie at least, not really. He didn’t want to lie to her, not ever.

“If you’re not leaving Swynlake then—”

“Don’t worry about it, Jess,” Tony cut her off, not wanting to know where that sentence was going. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out.” Just because she was figuring it out without him didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to assuage her fears. He reached over to give her hand a short squeeze before returning it to his own lap.

They had been each other’s support system over this short time together. The long nights at work and the longer nights in his flat reading comic books while a record spun in the background. The hushed and reverent voices mingling in the dark as the two tired teens just allowed themselves to unwind from the pressures that threatened to break down their doors.

“Love you, Bun,” he admitted, glancing at her face for a fraction of a second. He tried not to seek what emotion was shining there before turning his attention back to the headmaster.

“Congratulations, Class of 2003,” came the headmaster’s voice booming over the speakers. “You did it!”

He’d see her again, just under different circumstances.

Ah, there were the tears once again and Tony chuckled at his sappy self. Haechan turned their face to raise a brow at him but he ignored their questioning expression. It would be alright, Tony told himself. He wasn’t alone, he was determined to believe it. He thought about Ian at home, the journals placed out upon the table ready to inform him of Tony’s existence once again. If it had worked once it had to work again... right?

When his row’s time came, Tony stood from his seat, walking across the stage as he always did. He knew every step, knew every creak in the stage floor that the attendant eyes of the crowd wouldn’t hear but still brought a bit of cringe to him so he avoided it easily. It wasn’t long, then, for when his name would be called. He walked across the stage, hearing a couple cheers for him despite the announcer saying not to cheer until the very end. No one ever listened to that announcement when their kid got called.

After being handed another diploma Tony thanked the headmaster as he always did and retreated back to his seat. This diploma was one of many and he just sighed as he realized it would go into that box beneath his bed like all of the others where it would collect dust unless—until—Tony and Ian broke the curse.

“Congratulations, Class of 2021,” came the headmaster’s voice booming over the speakers. This time breaking him of his reverie. “You did it!”

‘Maybe this time,’ Tony thought with a hint of optimism in his heart. ‘I don’t think that I’ve broken the curse, not by a long shot, but maybe... just maybe... I’ve actually managed to accomplish something. A family. A life.’

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Can you write a todomomo oneshot where Momo uses a bunch of cliche pick up lines on Todo because of her new found confidence thanks to him and he's all 😳

Do you realize how WEAK I am for when the girl does the wooing? Because I am INCREDIBLY WEAK FOR IT!!

The first time it happened, he didn't notice it. Todoroki Shoto was an intelligent guy when it came to a good many things, but relationships with other people? Not so much. His social graces were far and few between. He sometimes felt his only saving grace was that two-thirds of the three classmates he associated with as friends were just as socially inept as he was, and Uraraka was too polite to tell him outright he was making an ass of himself.

He was sitting at the kitchen table with Uraraka, Sero and Ojiro, working on a group presentation for their Modern Hero Art History class. It had been a long day for them all so Uraraka had suggested they have some coffee - which he was pretty sure Kaminari had pilfered from the teacher’s lounge - to help them stay perked up. He was preparing his own cup by dumping a few small creamer cups and packets into it. Momo, who was walking past them with a cup of tea, stopped to set a small packet down in front of Shoto. “Here, Todoroki-San, you dropped your name tag," she said with a little giggle and then flitted off before he could point out he didn't have a nametag.

Uraraka and Sero both let out noises of delight while Ojiro paused in stirring his own cup to watch. “Oh, my gosh!” Uraraka squealed quietly once Momo was gone. She grabbed Shoto’s shoulders and shook them excitedly. “Todoroki! Yaomomo is totally into you!”

“What?” he asked, blinking slowly.

“She’s flirting with you, dude!” Sero agreed, clapping him on the back.

“How did she do that?” he asked, cocking his head at them. The pair of them stared at him before looking at each other. “I mean… She just gave me a sugar packet.”

Uraraka released his shoulders and clasped her hands together in front of her, taking in a breath in preparation. “Todoroki,” she said, bringing her hands down in a chopping motion with each syllable of his name.

“Oh, no,” Ojiro trailed quietly as he picked up his mug, “Uraraka is about to break it down.”

“Todoroki, my friend. My buddy. She was using a line on you,” the brunette said with a small huffed laugh. The dual-user looked at her as she moved to sit down next to him, still moving her hands as she spoke.

When he only stared, Ojiro chuckled and set his cup back down. “You've seen what Kaminari does when he sees someone he thinks is cute, right? How he’ll say silly things?” he prompted. Todoroki paused to think about it before nodding. “That’s kinda what Yaomomo was doing. She’s trying to use pick-up lines to flirt with you.”

“I appreciate your insights,” he said, opening the sugar packet and pouring it into his drink, “but I think you’re misunderstanding her intentions. Yaoyorozu would never be interested in me like that.”

The other three exchanged unconvinced looks before falling back into focusing on their assignment.

The next time it happened, he was much more aware of it. It was during a group student session. Since moving into the dorms, it was often for the students of Class 1-A to try and work on class assignments together. There were the obvious outliers that couldn’t be coaxed to join - Bakugo and his group were more times than not holed up in his room while he berated them - and then there were those that were outright banned - Mineta - but for the most part… It was typically nice. The session this time consisted of himself, Momo, Midoriya, Iida, Uraraka, Jirou and Hagakure.

Momo had leaned a bit closer as he explained how he got the answer he did for the math problem they were discussing and nodded. “You must be a bank loan, Todoroki-Kun, because you have my interest,” she hummed before moving to stand. Everyone else at the table gawked at her, though Hagakure was also letting out quiet little squeals, before she indicated the kitchen. “I’m going to make some tea for everyone. I’ll be right back.”

The second she was gone, everyone was staring at the still befuddled Shoto. Uraraka dropped her chin into her palm and sneered at him in amusement. “Still think we’re reading too much into it?” she drawled.

“Yes,” he huffed.

“Wait, has Yaoyorozu done something like this before?” Midoriya asked, turning his wide-eyed gaze to her. She let out a small hum and nodded slowly, gaze never leaving Shoto. “Wha-! Isn’t that flirting? What she’s doing?”

“Wait, is there even a question of what it is?” Jirou asked with a laugh.

“It is! It totally is!” Hagakure agreed excitedly, flailing her arms excitedly. Based on how the sleeves of her shirt were moving, anyway, he assumed that was what she was going.

“It’s not,” Shoto insisted with a glare. The others flinched back a bit while Uraraka continued to sport that look of smug satisfaction. “I am not a fool. I would be well aware if Yaoyorozu was flirting with me or not. And I know that she is not. Now drop it.”

But then it kept happening and suddenly Todoroki was aware that he may have miscalculated a bit.

One morning, after going out for a morning jog with Midoriya and Iida, Momo had commented, “You must be tired from running through my mind all morning.” As to whether or not a few flickers of flame jumped off his shoulder when he excused himself to the elevator and was by himself, he couldn’t say.

And few days after that they were doing some minor Quirk assessment training. As he walked to join her in the group of completed student to observe their peers, she smiled at him. “You were incredible, Todoroki-Kun!”

“Thank you,” he said, plucking his water bottle up and taking a quick chug. When he tilted his head back down to screw the cap back on he noticed she was still watching him. He cocked his head at her, causing her to blink and a faint pink tint to come to her cheeks.

“Ah, my apologies! There must be something wrong with my eyes!” she said quickly, but didn’t tear her gaze away.

“Oh?” he asked.

“Yes, because I can’t seem to take them off of you,”

He had stared with wide eyes for a second before a huge icicle peaked on his shoulder, causing them both to startle and jump apart. He muttered a small apology for startling her, which she politely waved off. As he turned to take another sip from his drink, he noticed the ever-smug Uraraka sitting across from them and watching. He’d never seen someone who could be the living embodiment of those smug cat memes Kaminari liked to show him, but he felt that was the best way to explain her expression.

And so, in need of insights on how to properly address his mutual interest, he asked her about it in private. And Uraraka had given him the advice of “Play her game with her.” And then, seeing he was still confused, she’d told him exactly what to say once the opportunity presented itself.

It came a week and a half later, during a minor training session. He and Momo were paired up to go against Monoma and Kendo from Class 1-B in an obstacle course of sorts. Each team had to traverse through the mangled remnants of a city one at a time and locate flashing beacons throughout the wreckage that represented civilians. They were being tested on their ability to work together and organize rescue efforts, wanting to see how well they’d improved since their provisional licensing exams. The only catch was that the opposing classes team would be working against them. While Shoto himself and Momo took their turns as the Hero Team, Monoma and Kendo were taking their turn as the Villain Team.

There had been a beacon on top of a bent and twisted lamppost, hanging over the edge of a ravine of debris, that Shoto had gone for using an ice platform. As he moved to get off, though, he spotted Kendo and Monoma from the corner of his eye. Kendo enlarged one of her hands before punching it into the portion of broken building propping up the lamppost and nearly sending Todoroki toppling over into the ravine.

“Todoroki-Kun!” Momo shouted before conjuring up a whip and thrusting it out towards him. He caught it with one hand, the rest of it wrapping around his wrist, and she gave a harsh tug. He was airborne for a moment before he felt arms settle under his thighs and back, pulling him flush against a warm, soft body. His mind jumped back into gear and, while peering over Momo’s shoulder as she moved to retreat, he conjured up an ice wall to give them some extra coverage.

Once they were a good ways away, Shoto remembered himself and glanced up at Yaoyorozu. “Are you okay, Todoroki-Kun? You aren’t hurt or anything, are you?” she fretted, pulling him a bit closer to her so as to get a better look at him.

This was it. This was his chance!

“I suppose I am a snowflake,” he began, watching the confusion flit across Momo’s face, “because I am falling for you.”

And then she let out an adorable squeaky sound and dropped him. It was great.

[et-lesailes]

safe place

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 3500 waow

summary: while clubbing in boston, you happen to see your favorite actor, none other than chris evans himself. unfortunately, his anxiety seems to be acting up again, and you can tell. you have a plan to help him out, and even though you know fully well you could embarrass yourself, you’ve gotta try it for him.

themes: this is just pretty chill n fluffy, highlights struggles with anxiety as well!

taglist: @viarogers , @evanstush , @chibi-crazy , @chalamet-evans , @world-of-losers , @songforhema, @sebabestianstan101 , @tanyam93 , @bval-1, @wonderwinchester , @little-miss-exo, @poerebel , @pining-and-tired , @gogomez-509 , @patzammit, @a-distantdreamer, @malthestorytellerblog, @rainbowkisses31, @jbug491writinghelp, @quaiderade

note: yeah kinda had sudden muse for this out of nowhere hence the longer word count, and i really luv discussing mental health so i thought it could be kind of interesting to talk about anxiety in this one. tbh i feel like it’s a lot of rambling so i apologize in advance! hope you all like it though!

It had been a while since you had been out with your girlfriends, but now that everyone was back home in Boston for at least some of the summer, it was a good chance to catch up with the friends you had made back in high school and reminisce on all of the good times. You had remained in Boston for work along with a couple of others, but everyone else had moved to all different parts of the country-- it seemed like a miracle in itself that everyone was able to make it back at the same time, but you had also all planned for this. To take the same week off from work, summer classes, whatever it was everyone was doing-- all to go back home and reconvene as one big group.

It was Friday night, and you were ready to hit the clubs. You inspected yourself in the mirror of your apartment where everyone had decided to gather to get ready, smiling satisfied at what you saw. A typical LBD was perfect for a night like this-- yes, it was cliche, but you didn’t care. You looked good. It was just the right amount of revealing, showcasing cleavage and legs that managed to look slightly lengthier thanks to the shoes you had picked for the night, and you had actually decided to do your hair for once. “Whew! You look sexy!” your friend Delia complimented, and you shot her a little grin. “Thanks, Del. So do you, red is really your color.”

After taking at least a couple more shots, you were all ready to go. Piling into an UberXL, you made your way deeper into the city where the best nightlife was, reveling in just the perfect amount of buzz and feeling ready for anything. You had been planning on dancing with a few guys tonight, maybe getting a little action in, but nothing serious. You definitely had not been expecting on meeting him.

_____________

As a group of young women, it was rather easy to get access to VIP. Besides, a majority of you had been brought up in Boston; by now, you knew people, had connections. You were currently lounging on a plush leather couch with a fifteen dollar drink in your hand, deciding to worry about the consequences the next day. Most of your friends were off dancing with other people they had befriended in the club, so it was just you and a couple others chilling, drinking, and talking-- and then you suddenly felt a rough nudge to your arm. “Ouch. Gabby, what the hell?” You wrinkled your nose though you were mostly exaggerating, looking to her with more amusement than anything. “What?” However, you were far more intrigued upon seeing the shock upon her face as she was staring at something a little further away. You followed her gaze, only seeing a crowd of people and iPhone camera flashes in the next couch area a few feet away. “What?” you repeated yourself, craning your neck trying to see what the big deal was. You could see a Red Sox cap sticking out from the center, but that was not anything interesting considering you were literally 3 miles away from Fenway.

And then the figure with the cap moved slightly, and you almost spit out your drink.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Gabby seemed to have found her voice again, her eyes widening. “That’s Chris fuckin’ Evans. Oh my God, should we go say hi?” You still had your eyes on him, unable to help it-- God, he was even more gorgeous in person. You were about to agree instantly, the awe practically taking over your inebriated mind. Of course you wanted to say hi. You had loved Marvel for years now, and Captain America was your favorite Avenger. Not only that, but you had taken a liking to Chris’ acting because of his Marvel movies, which had encouraged you to watch several others. Living in Boston, it had always been a hope of yours that you would somehow run into him, but you never imagined it would actually happen. And now here he was, standing about five feet away from you-- sure, he was surrounded by girls, but you and Gabby could totally squeeze through.

But then you stopped to actually look at him. Not in the fangirling, celebrity idolizing way, but just to actually look at him. You could see on his face that he looked a little tired. Like his smile was forced. It did not seem disrespectful to you, but more so that he was… overwhelmed. He was still taking pictures with every single girl around him, even making effort in having conversation, but you caught every single sign. The frequent looking around, eyes not focused on one thing or one person. How he’d take off his hat and run his hand through his hair, but practically every ten seconds. The slight inward tug of his bottom lip, and while he made it look sexy, it was obvious he was not doing it to be seductive. You had listened to interviews of Chris speaking of his anxiety, and considering you had faced it before and had friends who did as well, it was hard not to see the signs. Now, if anything, you were getting a little pissed at these clubbers surrounding him, even though you were almost quite literally going to be one yourself.

“He seems a little on edge right now,” you noted, frowning slightly. “Maybe we should wait a bit, yeah? It’s not like VIP’s that crowded anyways, so hopefully once those girls leave him alone we can have a chance to just say hi or something.” Gabby sighed loudly but nodded her head. “Okay, okay, fine. But I’m gonna head downstairs to tell the girls. You stay here and keep an eye on him!”

“Wait--” you started to say, not wanting her to spread the news, but she was already leaving in a tipsy fit of giggles and excitement. You sighed and looked back towards him. He seemed even worse than before, and it had only been five seconds.

And then an idea came to you, and you nibbled on your lower lip wondering if you could really be that drunk or if this was just actually a brilliant plan. No. No, no. It was crazy. Absolutely insane, really, and you would look like a total idiot if it didn’t work. Which it most likely wouldn’t.

And so you downed the rest of your drink, barely fazed by the bitter taste of alcohol at this point as you stood up, taking a deep breath. Walking right over, you called out as loudly and confidently as possible over the music. “Chris? Chris! Chris, is that you? Oh my God, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you last! I can’t believe you’re back in town, this is great!”

Everyone immediately turned around to look at you, and you prayed that your cheeks weren’t burning. God, what had you done? How drunk could you be? Part of you wanted to simply turn around and run away, it wasn’t like you’d ever see him again. But you watched his reaction, hoping your own expression was visible enough to him to show that you were very clearly hinting at him to go along with it. At least, if anything, this pressure was helping in somewhat distracting you from how damn handsome he looked up close. How was it possible that the camera didn’t do him justice when he looked so hot in all of his photos?

Yeah, maybe you still were a little caught up in how handsome he was.

He seemed a little confused for a second, but suddenly, the corner of his lips tugged upwards. Your heart raced faster. Was he about to laugh at you, humiliate you in front of his fangirls? Or was your plan working? “Holy shit,” he stated, lightly pushing himself through the small crowd to step closer to you. “I didn’t know you were still in town, that’s crazy! Fuck, how long has it been? A year? Two? I’m so happy to see you!” You could not believe it; there were at least a million thoughts running through your mind right now. He actually went along with it. He’s standing right in front of me now. He’s smiling at me, having a direct conversation with me. And he swore, oh God, he sounds so hot swearing…

You snapped yourself back to reality. This was not about meeting your idol at the moment, this was about helping someone with what could turn into a straight up panic attack if this kept on any longer. You smiled back at him brightly before looking around at everyone, clearing your throat. He might have had to be polite because he had an image to protect, but you did not. “Excuse me, can you please leave us alone? Chris is one of my friends and I’d like to be able to catch up with him. And I’m pretty sure half of you aren’t even supposed to be up here…” you commented with a raised eyebrow, eyes glancing towards the lack of VIP wristbands on their arms. There was a lot of scoffing, huffing, and bitchy glares, but they eventually turned away, all furiously typing away on their phones most likely posting photos on every social media site possible. 

You exhaled just as he did, looking up at him and clearing your throat. “I can, uh, leave you alone if you want. I swear I didn’t just do this to be able to talk to you too, I just noticed you looked a little… stressed.” You paused before quickly adding, “Not that I don’t want to talk to you. I mean, fuck, I love your shit, you know? I think you’re a great actor. But you shouldn’t be swarmed by fans or anything. So, yeah, I can leave.” After that word vomit, you decided the only proper way to do said leaving was flinging yourself off the balcony. But instead, he just smiled wider as he looked down at you, shaking his head. “No, no. Of course not. I really appreciate what you did for me back there, trust me.” He tilted his head, seeming curious. “Did I really look stressed?” You blinked but nodded truthfully, biting your lip. “It just looked like a typical bout of anxiety to me, if we’re being honest,” you told him, then wondered if that was somehow offensive. “I mean, I know just because you mentioned having it doesn’t mean you’re just always some anxious person, and I’m not trying to assume anything either but I’ve also had experiences with it too so it’s kind of easier to catch signs, you know? But if I was wrong then I’m really so-”

“You weren’t wrong,” he cut you off, but he was still smiling kindly at you. Damn, his eyes are beautiful. “Yeah, I was definitely feeling a little crowded back there. So thank you. Really. What’s your name? Can I buy you a drink?” You looked up at him somewhat shocked. “Me? Oh, please, you really don’t have to do that,” you shook your head, not wanting him to feel obliged to you in any means whatsoever, even though a drink would Chris Evans would probably be all you needed to die happy. “I’m sure you have friends waiting on you or something, really, it’s okay. I genuinely just wanted to help.” He raised an eyebrow, slightly stepping closer and it was taking you everything not to creepily deeply inhale from how good his cologne smelt. “And I genuinely want to buy you a drink,” he spoke with an amused grin, eyes twinkling even more than before. “Please. Or if you don’t drink, I can at least get you a--”

“Oh I drink.” You cut him off way too fast, then realized afterwards. “Okay, but like, I don’t mean I’m an alcoholic or anything, I just--” you finally just sighed loudly, looking down for a few seconds before looking up at him, silently cursing your brain for not allowing you to sober up at least a little. Despite the fact that it was solely your fault for having decided to chug a freaking vodka sour. “Okay, yes. Let’s do this. But-- unfortunately my friend is about to bring my entire horde of friends up here, so let’s try a different bar in this club.” He was laughing as he listened to you, but it did not feel mean or embarrassing; he simply seemed like he was actually having a fun time with you, almost as if he were a friend. He then blinked, curious and slightly confused. “In this club? Is there another one, besides the VIP one and the general one downstairs?” You laughed softly, nodding your head. “You gotta come back to Boston more! They just opened a rooftop one upstairs that’s way less crowded, but it’s pretty exclusive.” You raised a brow, continuing, “But I’m pretty sure we won’t have any problem getting in...” He chuckled and it was a deep rumble of heaven, but you forced yourself not to be annoying or even more triggering towards his anxiety. “Well, that would have been nice to know earlier, but I’m glad I at least get to know it from you. Lead the way….” he trailed off, waiting for a name to use. You giggled lightly at the slight flirtation, in disbelief that it was even happening but of course introduced yourself, lightly taking his outstretched arm and walking towards the staircase to the roof.

_____________

“Sebastian said that to you? Oh my God, that’s hilarious.” You laughed upon listening to a story he was telling you from a drunken night he, Sebastian Stan, and Anthony Mackie had shared in LA, a beam spread across your entire face. “You guys seem like such cute friends.” He laughed and nodded his head fondly, looking out towards the view. “Eh, they’re alright, I suppose,” he spoke playfully, and you giggled for the hundredth time within that hour, looking out towards the city lights yourself. 

The two of you had been chatting away, the peaceful nighttime air and breeze definitely helping you in sobering up a little more. Not that you had been absolutely trashed before, but you wanted to be as present in this moment as possible. You knew something like this would never happen again, but you were trying not to think about that. You loved that he was also asking you questions about yourself, and seemed sincerely interested, at that. He was so easy to converse with, so relaxed and thoughtful, you felt bad knowing what his anxiety could do to such a kindhearted person like him. You were sure he would have loved to be like this with all of his fans, but he had even explained to you himself that it was difficult for him to be in front of big crowds. “I know that seems kinda ridiculous coming from a Hollywood actor,” he said with a sigh, chuckling lightly, “but I can’t control it, ya know? I wish I could.” You nodded sympathetically, unable to even imagine what it would be like having to deal with such conflict in his current occupation. 

“But what about you?” he asked, surprising you again even though he had shown genuine interest in you and your life this entire time. “You said you’ve dealt with anxiety before, too?” You nodded with a sigh, taking a sip of your drink. “It used to be pretty bad for me in high school. I guess high school’s just a rough time in general, though,” you said with a laugh, shrugging your shoulders. “I still get attacks every now and then, but I’ve learned how to cope with it much better. Definitely better than hormonal, puberty ridden me, anyways,” you chuckled. He laughed too and you tried to ignore how adorable the sound as well as his face was when he did so. “Mm. Definitely don’t wanna reminisce on those days,” he playfully shuddered before tilting his head with interest. “How do you cope with it?” You could not believe Chris Evans was here asking you for advice, but you pondered this over. “I guess this is common sense and easier said than done, but I think I’m just a lot better at being able to mentally step back from a situation and think it through more logically when I’m feeling anxious. I just go through a rundown in my head and remind myself that it’s okay. It also helps distracting myself from it by talking to friends, like to call my best friend if I’m feeling down or weird about something.” You told him, barely biting your lip-- you had never really talked about such topics with any guys before, and it was crazy how it felt so comfortable with a celebrity. 

“Yeah? Well maybe next time you could call me, too?” he asked, and you were practically baffled. “Like, on my cell phone?” you asked rather dumbly, then closed your eyes as you rubbed your forehead. “Okay, yeah. Duh. My cell phone. It’s not like I own a landline. Who really does anymore, besides old people. But I mean--” you stopped and collected your thoughts briefly before looking up at him. “You’d really feel comfortable giving me your phone number? And you actually want to… talk?” He laughed again, even tilting his head back slightly before nodding with a wide smile. “Yeah. I mean, hell yeah, I do. I’ve had a lot of fun talking to you tonight.” He slid his phone out of his pocket, unlocking and handing it to you with a hopeful grin. You slowly smiled, nodding and taking it from him to input your number. Much to your delight, when handing it back he went straight to sending you a message, looking to you as he arched an eyebrow playfully. “You have my number now, right? You didn’t give me a fake one?” You blinked before laughing loudly, taking your phone out of your little crossbody bag. “Why the hell would I give you, of all people, a fake number?” You waved your phone at him to show him that the message had come up on the device, then looked down at it to save his number. You had assumed he just sent a “hi” or an emoji, something simple-- but you paused as your eyes scanned the words on your screen.

“Go on a date with me.”

You stared at it somewhat dumbfounded before looking up at him, knowing your cheeks were slightly red. “A-a date?” you asked; sure, the two of you had been hitting it off and flirting a little, but you had kept reminding yourself throughout the conversation that he was a celebrity. He probably had tons of girls in his life, you were someone who could just be an acquaintance. If that. But now he wanted to take you out on an actual date?

“I’m in Boston for the next few months. And I know that’s not permanent, but I really, really liked talking to you tonight, and.. I want to see if this works. Please.” You almost didn’t reply due to being too shocked that he was begging you to date him, but you quickly cleared your throat. “I’d… yeah, I’d really like that.” You admitted, feeling excited and terrified all at once. But that was how dating should feel, right? “But, um, how does this… work? Do you, like, not want me to tell anyone…? Do I not save your number at all, in case anyone hacks into my phone? Or should I just save you as a fake--”

“Okay, okay, don’t go all secret agent on me.” He interrupted you with a loud laugh, eyes twinkling fondly as he gazed down at you. “Honestly… I trust you. Call it a gut instinct, but I do. So tell whoever you’d like, or don’t. The only thing I’m more worried about is your own privacy, because it most likely won’t be respected if we’re not careful about this. But when it comes to people knowing about me taking you out, that’s fine with me. I’m allowed to have a love life, aren’t I?” he said with a smile, then glanced down at his phone. “Oh, shit. I need to go, my brother’s waiting for me. And I’m sure your friends are, too.” He looked at you and chuckled softly, probably at the disappointed face you wore. “Hey. Text me tonight, alright? Promise.” You smiled at that, arching an eyebrow playfully, teasing, “Wow, you’re already pretty needy, huh? Yikes, what am I agreeing to here?” He blinked before scoffing, though clearly amused. “You know what? Yeah, I am. And it’s your fault.” 

He suddenly took a light hold of your waist, gently pulling you closer to him and leaned down. You widened your eyes slightly but did not move away, looking up into his beautiful blue orbs instead silently confirming that you were alright with what was about to happen. 

You would remember that kiss for the rest of your damn life-- you were sure of it. 

[excelsi-or]

04/06/19 - love, in varying forms (woozi)

to a boy i love right now

w.c. 1.9k

A/N: When I wrote this piece, I had the idea of just recording the song myself. Now it’s like a year and something later since I wrote it and I spent 20 minutes recording this 1:30 clip. LISTEN AT YOUR OWN RISK lol. It’s not necessary to the story, just thought it’d be fun to push myself a little. Hope you all enjoy~~ Stay safe out there, friends~ xx

January 26, 2019

June 4, 2019

“Ji!” she shouts, running through the crowd. She easily bypasses people, slipping underneath arms and around bodies.

Jihoon turns just in time to catch her in his arms, stumbling back a few steps, her legs wrapping around his body. She quickly drops to the ground and stares up at him with the widest smile. She pushes the graduation tassel out of his face and pecks his nose.

“I’m so proud of you,” she murmurs, aware that there are other people around.

Jihoon smiles, his hands lingering at her waist a bit longer. “Thanks. You remember your graduation gift to me, right?” His hands are light, so that if anyone shows up, he can let go.

She rolls her eyes, but nods. “Yes, I remember.”

“And you remember you’re coming tonight, yes?”

She nods her head again. “Yes, Ji. When I asked what you wanted as a gift, I didn’t expect you to be so demanding.”

“It’s the only time you’ve ever offered me whatever I wanted,” Jihoon answers with a smirk. His grip tightens around her waist suddenly, his gaze sharpening. She tips her head before glancing over her shoulder. There are a few guys from one of her upper level biology classes staring at them. One of them, not terrified by Jihoon’s stare, smiles at her.

She smiles back. “I’m just going to say congratulations, okay?” She turns back to Jihoon. Tickling the back of his neck, she lifts an eyebrow. “Ji?”

“Okay.” Reluctantly, the grip on her waist loosens. She picks her way through the crowd and joins the circle. They all tackle her, demanding to know when she’s going to graduate.

“How will we know what to do without you telling us all the answers?” one of them demands.

She laughs, allowing herself to be back hugged by Hyunwoo. “You’re just gonna have to actually learn them on your own. Classes are going to be boring without all of you now.”

The boys toss jokes back and forth and she laughs heartily along with them.

Jeonghan, with his own graduation cap, steps into the circle. He smiles at everyone and takes her hand. “We’re going for dinner now; are you coming with us?”

Nodding, she steps away from Hyunwoo, patting his chest. “Good luck out there, you dopes.”

They wave her off, blowing kisses after her. Just as soon as she steps away from the group with Jeonghan, Jihoon’s at her side, an arm around her waist. She gives him an odd look, as he isn’t typically an arm-around-the-waist kinda guy. At most, she gets a hand hold; which is usually just his pinkie wrapped around hers, covered by his sweater paw so no one will know.

“Ji?”

“What the hell was that about?” Jihoon demands.

She gives him an odd look as they follow Jeonghan to the main lobby where they are supposed to return their robes. “What?”

“That guy. Hugging you?”

“Hyunwoo? He’s a friend,” she answers.

“He makes me uncomfortable.”

“You uncomfortable?” Before they can discuss it further, Seungcheol appears before them. “Hey, so Mingyu said that he’s ordered all the food so we better hurry before there’s nothing left.”

“You’d think for a graduation dinner they’d at least wait for the grads,” she chuckles. Out of the corner of her eye, she can still see Jihoon’s discomfort.

They don’t get any time to actually talk about it until they say their goodbyes after dinner and head to the studio. The boys quietly jeer about cleaning up after themselves, so that the parents can’t hear anything.

“So are you going to explain?” she asks.

“Explain what?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she sighs as she presses the elevator button. She holds their intertwined hands up. “This? The obvious displays of affection? Sorry, Ji, but in the seven months we’ve been together, you don’t do this. And definitely not when there are parents and other people around.”

“Maybe I want to be different.”

“Ji,” she whines as they step onto the elevator. “It’s nice. I’d like you to hold my hand more, but it’s weird.”

“That I want to hold my girlfriend’s hand?”

“That you’re holding it in public,” she answers.

Jihoon makes a point of looking around the empty elevator and she sighs in annoyance. They don’t say anything until they’re tucked away in the studio twenty minutes later. The hoodie she borrowed is a little too warm now that they’re in the studio, so she rolls the sleeves. Then she sits in her usual seat next to him.

“Are you jealous again?” she finally asks.

He tends to be more honest in the studio. Jihoon begins clicking through his files, also intending to delete any trace of himself on the computer. “I… I don’t know. It’s different from that time with Taehyung.”

“Because…?”

“Because I know Taehyung.”

“Yeah, now.”

“But he seemed harmless then too. That guy…” Jihoon shakes his head. “He was… he was handsy and touching you too much.”

“I let all your friends hug me like that.”

“But I know them,” Jihoon argues. “I know they won’t try to hurt me or steal you away from me.”

“Ji.” Her hand rests overtop of his, stopping him from typing. “Ji.”

Jihoon turns in his chair. She pulls him closer, his rolling chair moving with him, until his knee is between her legs. She tips his chin up so that they’re eye to eye. “I choose to be with you, Ji. No one’s just going to steal me away.” She waits for him to nod before releasing him. Then she turns back to the screen. “Besides, I’d at least give you a few hours notice.”

Jihoon snorts, smacking her forearm. “This is the song, you brat.”

She smiles, resting her head on his bicep so she can see better.

“Oh. I know this song.”

“It’s not something I wrote,” he says. “It felt like too much power getting you to sing words I wrote.”

She lifts a suggestive eyebrow. “So instead… John Legend and Wendy’s song?”

Jihoon nods his head, tearing his eyes away from hers. “No one’s going to hear this anyway. So I’m good with a cover.”

She gives his bare arm a kiss and stands. “Let’s go then.”

Jihoon gets up and leads her by the shoulders towards the recording studio. She stands by the door as he moves the equipment around. “Do you know the words, jagi?” he asks as he debates with the stands.

She nods her head. “Yeah, ‘cause you’ve been playing it non stop the past week.”

So he foregoes the stands and sets up two microphones. She stands across from him and takes a pair of headphones. Once she puts them on, she can hear her own breathing. Her eyes widen at the weird sensation and Jihoon smiles at her adorable expression.

He holds two thumbs up and she nods.

The guitar strings start, a few clicks.

Seems like we’ve been here before, your eyes are seeing straight right through my core.

Who knew that harmonizing could be so fun? Every time Jihoon steps in with a harmony over her voice, a chill goes up her spine. It’s also interesting to see Jihoon’s adoration in his eyes in this way. It’s the same gaze when they’re cooking (she’s cooking) and she asks him for something. Or when she catches him watching her across the room when they’re hanging out with their friends. They’re the same eyes during quiet moments in the bedroom when he’s hovering over her. But here in the familiar soft orange glow of the lamps of the music building, it’s softer, more vulnerable. No one gets to see Jihoon like this.

It’s so different from the dark eyes of his stare at Hyunwoo or the bright eyes when he laughs with his friends. She desperately tries to memorize his expression, because she has no intention of ever recording another song in her life.

Jihoon tilts his head in that cute way of his, questioning her expression as he sings. She shakes her head, her eyes falling closed as she listens to Jihoon’s sweet voice.

Don’t tell me you don’t feel what I feel right now, it’s written all over you.

After the song, he catches her around the waist causing her to squeal. “Ji!” she laughs. She tugs the headphones off before the wire can come undone. She passes them to him and he smiles, satisfied.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sing more songs with me?”

“When it’s not being recorded, of course, my love.”

Jihoon’s smile widens at the nickname. She’d dropped it once and his reaction was everything she didn’t know she needed. So every once in a while, she’ll sprinkle it in. Usually when they’re alone.

“Come on; let’s listen to it.”

“Someone’s eager tonight,�� she teases as she trails after him. Her eyes go up and down the hallways. The music building is similar to the other school buildings, but the feel is different. Warmth fills the hallways and she’s always assumed that it was from all the emotion and honesty pulsing through its walls.

In the studio, Jihoon has already fallen into his chair and has the audio recording up. They listen to the song through and she’s surprised at how professional it sounds. Jihoon plays around with the volume, amplifying the treble since they both tend to sing a bit higher. And he leaves the part at the end when he tackles her.

“Ji, cut that out,” she laughs.

“No, I like it,” Jihoon says. He saves it into his USB drive and quickly goes around deleting any of his extra files on the computer. She stands and looks around the room. It’s the last time she’ll be here with Jihoon. He seems to be thinking the same thing when he turns slowly in his chair to face her.

“What?” she asks when he’s quiet for too long.

“I love you.”

She blinks in surprise at the confession. “Ji?”

He shrugs. “You knew already, didn’t you? You probably knew I was too scared to tell you.”

She nods her head, a small smile playing on her lips. She crosses the room to sit on his lap. Her legs drape over the armrest, her head against the back of the chair. “I love you too, you know.”

He leans his head back and turns to look at her. His breath fans over her face, warm and all Jihoon. “Are you mad it took me so long to say it?”

“I don’t know how I feel around you sometimes,” she admits. Their fingers are tangled together over her knees. “I want to love you senseless, but also just cuddle you, and feed you and scold you and then let you hold me.”

The lamp reflects in his eyes, turning them caramel. He always says the same of hers, but this is the first time she’s really seeing what he’s seeing. The light makes his eyes soft and they match his gaze.

“Are we always this mushy?” she laughs, burying her face into his neck.

Jihoon rests his head on top of hers. “No, I think just in here.”

She straightens again and he waits for her next question. “Are you going to miss it?”

“I think I’m going to miss having you here with me,” he says, looking around the room. “This is my favourite space, but it’s always better when you’re with me.”

“But now you have that big boy professional studio waiting for you at that company,” she chuckles. “We have plenty more nights to spend in your studios.”

Jihoon kisses the back of her hand. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “that’s true.”

“Ready to go?”

Jihoon shakes his head, closing his eyes. “No, let’s stay a little while.”

Next: July 24, 2019

[camillemontespan]

ten years from now [AU. drake walker x camille montespan] [part fifteen: clover]

M A S T E R  L I S T

Warnings: None. 

A/N: This is a slow one. I guess I wanted to add some more of Camille’s backstory into this and explore more of Drake and Camille’s childhood together. 

@moonlightgem7​​​​​​​​​​​​ @jovialyouthmusic​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mskaneko​​​​​​​​​​​​ @ibldw-main​​​​​​​​​​​​ @katedrakeohd​​​​​​​​​​​​ @pug-bitch​​​​​​​​​​​​ @gooddaykate​​​​​​​​​​​​ @princessleac1​​​​​​​​​​​​ @burnsoslow​​​​​​​​​​​​  @loveellamae​​​​​​​​​​​​  @pedudley​​​​​​​​​​​​ @oofchoices​​​​​​​​​​​​ @emichelle​​​​​​​​​​​​ @simplymissjulia​​​​​​​​​​​​ @dcbbw​​​​​​​​​​​​ @sirbeepsalot​​​​​​​​​​​​ @rainbowsinthestorm​​​​​​​​​​​​ @notoriouscs​​​​​​​​​​​​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​​​​​​​​​​​​ @axwalker​​​​​​​​​​​​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​​​​​​​​​​​​ @nomadics-stuff​​​​​​​​​​  @gardeningourmet​​​​​​​​ @marshmallowsandfire​​​​ @kingliam2019​ **********************************

Drake had deliberately not seen Camille for a week. After her drunken antics, he felt it was only right to give her the space she so clearly needed. It was a blow for him as he had been hoping to work on building something with her now that she was in Texas, but he knew that if he pushed too hard, he risked losing her for good. So, he stayed off her radar and went about his days as normal. 

When he did see her, such as at the farmers market or walking up the road to her grandmother’s house, he would give her a brief wave. She would wave back and go about her business. For Drake, it was an exercise in restraint. 

One Sunday afternoon, he sat outside the ranch by the apple tree with a bottle of beer in his hand. The apple tree was old, having been planted by Bianca when Drake was born, and it was the marker of the resting place of his old dog, Clover. 

Clover had been a golden labrador and was the most loyal and friendly dog in the state, according to Drake’s dad. She had died of old age and Drake had been by her side when she breathed her last. Clover had been the best dog and had followed Drake around all the time; which meant she also followed Camille around too.

Drake smiled at the thought of Clover.

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

Drake aged six, Camille aged five

Drake and Camille had met when they were five and six. While Bianca had been friends with Gisele for years, the Walkers were yet to meet Gisele’s granddaughter. That all changed one summer when a little girl with curly dark hair holding a battered suitcase clambered out of her grandfather Franklin’s car to be greeted by Gisele, who covered her with kisses.

Drake had seen her when he was out for a walk with his dad. He had looked at the girl curiously; Jackson had chuckled and teased, ‘Not until you’re older, son.’

Drake caught her eye. She looked at him warily before quickly looking away to scuff her sandals on the dirt road. Jackson waved at Gisele and Franklin. ‘Alright there, folks?’ he called.

Franklin smiled and took the little girl’s hand to guide her across to Jackson and Drake. 

‘Hey there, Mr Walker,’ he said warmly. He looked down at Drake and reached into his pocket. Drake held out his hand automatically; as usual, Franklin deposited a candy into his hand with a wink. 

Franklin was a gentleman in every sense of the word. He dressed impeccably every day, always with flair. Today, he was wearing a canary yellow suit jacket paired with tartan trousers and a navy cap on his head. Franklin and Gisele always looked like they were off to dinner somewhere fancy instead of just staying in their little house tending to their flowers.

‘Who’s this beauty?’ Jackson asked, gesturing to the girl. 

‘My granddaughter, Camille,’ Franklin said softly. ‘Say hi, honey.’

Camille looked up at Jackson, this 6’4 giant, with her huge brown eyes. She stayed painfully silent.

‘She’s a little shy..’ Franklin murmured. He leaned closer to Jackson to whisper; Drake only caught some words, not that he was listening in. 

‘Her parents.. Staying with us now.. Devastated..’ 

Drake looked at Camille. He saw with a start that she was staring at him curiously, as if trying to work him out.

‘I’m Drake,’ he said, raising his hand. 

She retreated behind her grandfather’s legs, much to Drake’s disappointment.

‘Baby!’

Drake turned to see Bianca walking down the road with Clover. Drake grinned and ran to his mother, barrelling into her. ‘Ooof, watch the baby!’ Bianca laughed, placing her hands on her growing bump. She waved at Gisele before her eyes settled on Camille.

‘Who is this gorgeous little thing?’ she asked, joining the group. 

‘My granddaughter, Camille,’ Franklin said. ‘Camille, this is our friend Bianca.’

Camille wasn’t listening. Her attention was captured by Clover, who was making it her mission to sniff Camille’s fingers and turn her into her new human friend. Camille was inching back, terrified. 

Drake felt like he needed to show her how good Clover was. Who couldn’t love Clover?

‘This is my dog, Clover!’ he told her. ‘She’s real friendly.’

Camille was staring at the dog; her chest was rising rapidly and her eyes were filled with panic. Drake gently pulled Clover back, realising Camille was scared. 

‘She’s two,’ Drake continued, focusing on stroking Clover who was now looking at Drake with a look of adoration on her face. ‘She loves people and she loves food! Look, she doesn’t bite.’

He stroked the dog some more, showing Camille that she was a good dog. Camille bit her lip but inched forward slowly towards the dog. 

‘If you crouch down a little, she can reach you better,’ Jackson said from above in a gentle voice, watching the children. 

Camille crouched down, keeping her eyes on Clover. The dog eyed Camille, her tail wagging, as the little girl got closer. Drake placed his hand around Clover’s collar; she wouldn’t jump but just in case..

Camille’s hand stroked the top of Clover’s head. 

‘See!’ Drake cried. ‘She’s nice!’

Clover licked Camille’s finger, making her giggle. Drake grinned at the tinkly sound; it suited her.

‘Why is she called Clover?’ Camille asked in a small voice, surprising Drake. He was beginning to think she couldn’t speak.

‘Oh, well, she was the runt of the litter,’ he told her. ‘Nobody wanted her but I did, so she’s a lucky dog because she got picked! Clovers are lucky.’

Camille smiled as Clover licked her fingers some more.

‘I like her,’ she said simply. 

Drake felt a burst of pride; Clover had done it! She had a new human friend!

‘She likes you too,’ Drake said. ‘Wanna play fetch with her?’

As Drake and Camille played fetch with clover, the adults discussed Camille’s situation in hushed tones. With her parents dead, she was now adopted by Gisele and Franklin. She was to start school next week and be in Drake’s class, which seemed a little brighter now that the two children were playing together. She was very shy, thanks to a short life of being neglected by her parents, but Gisele and Franklin were determined to bring her out of her shell. 

They felt hope as they watched Camille laugh out loud as Clover caught a stick and brought it back to her. Drake jumped up and down with excitement, prompting Camille to join in with him. 

Camille would be okay.

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

The sun was hot on Drake’s skin. He unbuttoned his shirt so he was now only wearing his white vest. Much better. He sipped his beer and thought about nothing. Or at least, tried to. 

‘Hey Drake.’

Drake jumped at the sound of Camille’s voice. She was coming up the road carrying a glass dish in her hands. 

‘Hey,’ he greeted her. ‘You okay?’

She got closer. She was dressed all summery today, wearing a red sundress, woven sandals and a white fedora on her head. ‘I hope you don’t mind me dropping by,’ she said. ‘But I was making casserole and made too much.. Do you guys want some?’

Drake smiled. ‘Always. We Walkers like to eat.’

Camille grinned and placed it down on the porch behind Drake. She eyed his beer. ‘Having a nice day?’

‘Yup,’ he said. ‘Just hangin’ out with Clover.’

Camille frowned. ‘Clover? I thought she..’

Drake patted the ground under the apple tree. ‘She’s lying under there.’

Camille’s eyes widened. She looked down at the ground and smiled sadly. ‘Hey, Clover.’

Drake gestured for Camille to sit beside him. ‘Beer?’ he asked.

‘Sure.’

He opened a bottle of her and clinked his against hers. ‘To Clover,’ he toasted. Camille grinned. ‘To Clover.’

They sat in silence for a moment until Camille broke it, needing to clear the air. ‘I’m sorry about getting drunk last week,’ she said, her voice filled with nerves. ‘I was an idiot. I’m sorry you had to deal with it.’

‘Hey, happens to all of us,’ Drake assured her. ‘Trust me, Savannah’s had to haul me up the stairs after one too many and given that she’s a foot shorter than me, that’s quite a challenge.’ 

Camille giggled and sipped her beer. ‘Well, I just wanted to apologise.’

She didn’t say anything else. Clearly, she didn’t remember telling Drake she loved him. Drake swallowed; baby steps, he reminded himself. Baby steps. 

‘Clover was a good dog..’ Camille murmured. ‘She was always there.’

‘She was so loyal,’ Drake agreed. ‘I miss her.’

Camille nudged her shoulder against his, making Drake feel his heart flutter. 

‘She was there for me that day you beat up Dylan Montgomery,’ Camille told him after taking another sip of beer. ‘I was crying and she came up to me and rested her head on my lap.’

Drake frowned. ‘I didn’t beat up Dylan Montgomery-’

‘You broke his nose, Drake,’ Camille interrupted, rolling her eyes. Drake chuckled. ‘That’s not beating someone up. If i had it my way, he’d have been in a lot more pain. Bastard deserved it.’

Camille shrugged. ‘He didn’t know, he was only seven.’

‘Still, you don’t speak to a girl that way.’

The ferocity in Drake’s voice was clear. Camille smiled softly at how protective Drake could be. He always had her back. 

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

Drake aged eight, Camille aged seven

‘I want to be Britney this time!’ Camille protested, clenching her fists. ‘I’ve never been her!’

Madeleine laughed harshly. ‘You can be Beyonce, she’s just as good.’

‘I don’t like Beyonce!’ Camille shouted. ‘I like Britney!’

Madeleine rolled her eyes and continued to practice her dance moves with the other girls, Sophie and Amber. Camille tried to will away the tears forming in her eyes but she couldn’t; she adored Britney Spears. All she wanted was to be given the role of Britney so she could show off her dance routine to Overprotected. 

But Madeleine never let her. Madeleine, Sophie and Amber took it in turns to be Britney every lunch break while Camille was always told to be Beyonce or Kelly Rowland or that other one from Destiny’s Child. 

Camille had Britney’s CD. She had the doll. She danced to her songs all the time, putting on shows for her grandparents who would give her praise. She had even once managed to persuade Drake to join in with her routine to Oops! I Did It Again, much to her delight and Drake’s horror. 

All she wanted was one lunch break where she could be Britney Spears. But it wasn’t allowed. 

‘I want to be Britney!’ she shouted again, refusing to give up. ‘I love her! I know her dance routines!’

As she shouted, the kids in the playground were pausing in their activities and watching this drama unfold. Drake was one of them. He had been playing basketball with Rashad and Thomas, but he had stopped when he heard the girls shouting at each other. Abandoning the basketball, Drake wandered over to where Camille was standing, ready to jump in. 

‘You can’t be Britney!’ Madeleine shouted back. ‘You don’t look like her!’

‘So?!’ Camille cried. ‘I know the dances!’

The other boys were watching this, some laughing, some feeling bad for Camille. She was a nice girl, always friendly to everyone; she wasn’t popular by any means but she was well liked by some of the children. 

Dylan Montgomery was one of the boys laughing. He stepped forward to wade in with his unwanted opinion. 

‘You can’t be Britney because you’re not blonde,’ he told her in a patronising tone that went way beyond his seven years. ‘You can’t be her.’

‘Yes I can!’ Camille said, her voice cracking. ‘I can be Britney!’

‘Let her be Britney,’ Drake joined in. ‘She’s really good.’

Madeleine rolled her eyes, as did Dylan. The two of them were the popular boy and girl in the class and they loved to flaunt it. 

‘She doesn’t go to dance classes like me,’ Madeleine said. ‘So how can she be really good?’

‘I am really good!’ Camille burst out, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘I am!’

‘You’re nothing like Britney!’ Dylan told her loudly. ‘She’s blonde and you’re not. You don’t look like her! She’s pretty, you’re not-’

Drake’s fist connected with Dylan Montgomery’s nose. 

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

‘I swear to God, if we were allowed to use corporal punishment, I would do it!’ Jackson blazed furiously, pacing up and down the living room. ‘Jesus, Drake! Why are you beating up a kid?!’

‘He said she wasn’t pretty!’ Drake shouted, pointing at Camille who was sat on the sofa with her legs up to her chest, crying softly. Clover was beside her, resting her head on Camille’s lap, trying to soothe her. 

‘Well, he is clearly blind!’ Jackson shouted. ‘But that gives you no right to hit him!’

‘They wouldn’t let her be Britney!’ Drake protested. ‘They all get to be Britney except for her! They tell her to be Beyonce!’

Bianca frowned. ‘What’s wrong with Beyonce? Why wouldn’t Camille want to be Beyonce?’

Franklin and Gisele were looking down at the floor, wringing their hands together. Bianca’s question went unanswered. 

‘You burst his nose!’ Jackson yelled. ‘Drake, you can’t afford to have detention! Your report cards aren’t the best, you don’t pay attention in class-’

‘He deserved it!’ Drake burst out. ‘She’s my best friend and he hurt her feelings!’

Jackson pinched the sides of his nose in frustration. ‘I know, son. But that doesn’t mean you can go around hitting people.’

Drake went quiet. He cast his eyes over to Camille who was rubbing her eyes harshly. Feeling his heart tug, he sidled over to her and Clover, sitting up beside her. Camille leaned her head on his shoulder, her fingers still stroking the dog. 

‘You two are thick as thieves,’ Jackson said quietly. ‘I get it. You act like it’s you guys against the world. But you gotta learn how to handle all the other kids otherwise it really will be you two against the world.’

Drake felt Camille take his hand. Drake squeezed hers reassuringly. Of course it was Drake and Camille against the world. It always would be. 

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

‘I should go,’ Camille said after finishing her beer. ‘Thanks for the drink. Good to hang with Clover too.’

Drake smiled. ‘Any time, Montespan. She’s always gonna be here.’

‘Do you hang out with her a lot?’

Drake considered the question. ‘Basically every day at this time,’ he told her. Camille looked down at her hands, as if trying to pick her next words carefully.

‘Can I join you tomorrow?’ she asked.

Drake’s eyebrows went up. ‘But you said you needed space and I’m giving you space-’

‘I know,’ she interrupted. ‘But this was.. Nice.’

Drake bit his lip. ‘Camille.. What do you want from me here? You keep going back and forth..’

Camille scuffed her sandal against the ground. ‘I said I wanted us to take baby steps,’ she told him. ‘Hanging out with you, having beer, sitting with Clover.. This is what I wanted. No confusion, no drama. Just us, being easy together. Is that so wrong?’

It wasn’t wrong. It was confusing but it wasn’t wrong. But at least now he knew what she meant by baby steps. She meant easy summer afternoons, hanging out, laughing, remincising. No kissing, no touching, nothing more. She wanted to get to know Drake again. 

‘Tomorrow afternoon then,’ Drake agreed. ‘Clover and I will be here.’

Camille smiled, relief flooding her face. ‘See you then,’ she said. Turning on her heel, she started to make her way back down the road before she turned to shout back at him.

‘What happened to Dylan Montgomery anyway?’

Drake laughed. ‘He’s married with five kids now.’

‘Five kids?!’ Camille shrieked. ‘Who would want to have babies with him?!’

Drake shrugged. ‘The nose surgeon’s daughter.’

Camille stared at him. ‘You’re kidding. He got a new nose?’

Drake chuckled. ‘What can I say? I ruined his face.’

[lady-of-the-imagines]

Bitten Pt. 2

Summary: Ivy Stark met Peter Parker the day he became Spiderman

Word Count: 2,017

Warnings: None

Part 1

“So, do you live in the tower with all the avengers?”

Ivy nodded in response, having taken a too-big bite of pizza moments before.

“That’s so cool,” He stated “What’s it like? Does your dad let you go on missions and stuff? Oh, were you here when the aliens invaded?”

She laughed and held up a finger, chewing quickly before attempting to respond. In all honesty she usually hated when people asked her about the Avengers. Most of their questions were invasive, and it always felt like she was nothing more than a gateway for inside information. But Peter had seemed so excited just to be in her presence that she couldn’t bring yourself to feel annoyed with him.

“Four years ago I was on a tour of this boarding school in Massachusetts to see if I wanted to attend alter on, so I was away when the house blew up and my dad moved here. I wasn't here when everything went down with the aliens either, I’d moved in with my mom in San Francisco after the whole house thing so I pretty much missed everything interesting.”

“I completely forgot your house blew up. I’m really sorry I shouldn’t have even asked, I-.”

“Don’t be, my dad quite literally asked for it; Unless you fired a missile, then you should definitely be sorry.”

He chuckled at that and took another bite of his pizza.

“How long have you lived in New York?” she asked.

He shrugged, “My whole life.”

“A born and raised New Yorker,” she stated, more to yourself than to him.

“So, do you go on missions?”

“Oh crap, we gotta go the group should be done with the tour in like ten minutes.”

Ivy shoved her bag over her shoulder and grabbed their pizza. Pulling Peter’s arm they hurried out of the pizzeria, shooting a grateful smile toward the staff on your way out. Conversation was stalled as they hurriedly ate the rest of their slices and rushed toward Oscorp.

“Wait,” she held an arm out to Peter to keep him from going in. Pulling out the napkins she’d left in her pocket, she handed some to him and they wiped the grease from their mouths. Now looking clean and very unlike two students who’d abandoned their tour group, they walked inside.

“I’ll text MJ to find out where everyone is.”

“I’ll text Ned.”

MJ responded first. They were heading toward the entrance where Mr. Osborn would lead the class to a demonstration on the control of radioactive rays in the lab. This was new, they’d never offered this on any of your prior visits.

“They’re headed toward us, so let’s just stand off to the side and join them in the back of the group.”

“Ya know you still haven’t answered my question, right?” He asked.

“What question?”

“If you go on missions with the Avengers.”

She winked, “Classified information Parker. So classified that even my dad wouldn’t tell you.”

“But you-“

He was cut off as their guide entered the lobby.

“And here we are, back where we started. I can wait with you until Mr. Osborn gets in and then you’ll witness our demonstration.”

You slipped in beside MJ quietly, giving her shoulder a gentle nudge. She placed a bookmark between the pages and slipped her book into her bag.

“How was pizza?”

You shrugged, “Pretty good, lots of superhero questions.”

“So nothing new,” she nodded “Did you know about the demo?”

“No I think it’s new, what’s it all about?”

“Basically it’s some old machine they used to use in like the 50s to control ‘radioactive rays’ in the lab. Should be interesting enough.”

Ivy nodded, “Cool.”

Peter and Ned moved to stand with the two of you, both boys peppering her with questions once again. Peter wanted to know if she’d ever tried holding Thor’s hammer. Ned wanted to know if she’d ever held Cap’s shield. Peter asked how many suits your father had built, and Ned wanted to know if she got to work closely with Bruce in his lab.

She answered their questions, avoiding any that were a bit too invasive so as to not give too much away. Peter checked in to make sure they weren’t bothering you, and for once she could honestly say the questions didn’t bother her. The look of joy on their faces outweighed any grievances she might have. By the time Mr. Osborn arrived, they’d finally exhausted all the questions they’d thought of on the spot and moved on to regular conversation.

“Hello children,” He smiled “I hope you all enjoyed your tour around my facility. I’m sure you’re all good and bored now so let’s get to the fun part, shall we?”

The group followed Mr. Osborn to the display room where a young intern was waiting, handing each of you goggles. They stood behind a panel of glass so as to distance themselves from the rays as much as possible; though she did take note of the fact that there was a gap between the glass and ceiling. Ivy leaned over toward Mr. Osborn.

“You’re sure this is safe?”

“I’m surprised at you Ms. Stark,” he stated “with all the things your family does I wouldn’t have thought you to be scared of a scientific display.”

“Well Norman, in my experience things never go as planned, so I try to be as safe as possible.” She pointed toward the gap.

He simply waved her off and pulled his goggles on. She was worried, but there wasn’t much she could do about it, so she simply put on her own goggles and moved to stand with her friends.

The contraption before them was like nothing they’d ever seen (mostly because it was absolutely ancient). Two red orbs were held up by by machinery. The body reminded her of a spotlight, a metal rod protruding from the center. The rods connected into the orbs with two little ‘arms’ connecting on either side of the orb and passing through. Each machine was placed opposite the other and they were facing it from the side.

“Everybody got their goggles on?” Mr. Osborn asked. When he received a sufficient answer he gave a thumbs up to one of the men in the room and the display began.

Ivy heard a gasp from a few of her classmates as the machine sparked to life. It shot into gear with a loud whirring sound and the visual was bright to say the least. She was impressed by the sight and made a note to ask Mr. Osborn and her father about this when she got the chance. As the display wound down and the bright light faded, she removed her goggles and looked to the others.

MJ nodded, eyebrows raised and it was she was just as impressed. Ned’s mouth was still hanging open as he moved to say something to Peter who looked distressed. His brows were knotted together as he rubbed his hand, mouthing the word ‘ow’.

“You okay?” She questioned.

“Yea, I’m fine. Just a bug bite or something.” He stated, letting go of his hands and shoving them into his pockets.

“Dude, that was awesome!” Ned exclaimed. This seemed to snap Peter back into the moment and he pulled off his goggles, the pair now speaking animatedly about the demo.

Ivy walked alongside Mj as the class headed back to the main lobby. Mr. Osborn thanked the class for coming and sent you all on your way back to school. Peter and Ned sat across the isle from them now, still speaking among one another.

“That was cool.’ She commented to her friend.

“Cool because the display was awesome? Or cool because you got to skip out on the tour and get pizza?”

“Why not both?” She grinned. MJ rolled her eyes and Ivy stuck out her tongue.

The bus ride home was even louder than the bus ride there. Everyone was freshly energized and discussing in detail the purpose of the machine, and how exactly it worked. Even Mj was up for conversation, tucking her book into her bag to give Ivy her full attention.

When the bus pulled to a stop in front of their school, Mr. Harrington stood up so everyone could see him. He read out the current time and instructed everyone to head to study hall to wait out the end of this period.

“Do we have to go to our next class?” Harry groaned “It’s the last period, we might as well go home.”

“Yes Mr. Osborn, field trips aren’t an excuse to skip class.” Judging by the look Flash shot Harry, they still wouldn’t be attending.

“You guys wanna skip last period?” Ivy asked MJ, Peter, and Ned in a soft whisper.

“Where’re we going?” MJ questioned.

“We could head to my place.” She shrugged.

“I don’t know,” Peter said “they could call our houses and my aunt and uncle would kill me if they found out.”

“Dude,” Ned pulled Peter into a quiet conversation facing away from you. You held back a laugh, looking to MJ. She seemed confused and simply shrugged, unsure of what to say. They boys finally pulled back and Ned frowned.

“I think we’re gonna stay here, sorry.” Peter stated.

“Don’t worry about it.” she shrugged “Give me your phone for a sec?”

“Why?” He questioned, handing it over anyway.

“I’m gonna put my number in just in case you change your mind.”

She typed away, adding an emoji of the iron man mask next to her name for good measure. As she handed him back his phone Mr. Harrington instructed everyone to head inside. The four shuffled down the aisle with the rest of the class and made the short journey to study hall.

On your way there, Ivy sent a text to her dad’s driver to come get herself and MJ in about fifteen minutes. He replied quickly, simply sending a thumbs up, and she put her phone away.

“Hey,” Ned called to Ivy once they’d all sat down “I meant to ask you about the Iron man suits.”

“I can’t tell you much about those, my dad wants to keep most things about them a secret. That way nobody can successfully recreate them.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” He nodded “Is it okay if I ask some basic questions? Like about how long it takes to make them and stuff like that.”

“Fire away.”

When the bell rang Peter and Ned walked Ivy and MJ out to the front of the school.  A sleek black car waited patiently for the pair, and Happy Hogan rolled down his window so they could see it was him.

“Ready?” He asked. She nodded, holding up a finger to tell him they just needed a minute. When Ivy turned back to her friends she could see Ned staring wistfully at the car. Peter, though he was trying his best to hide it, also seemed to be battling with himself over wether to stay or go.

“You sure you guys don’t want to come?” She asked.

Ned looked to Peter who locked eyes with her, lips pressed tightly together. He didn’t say anything for a moment, likely weighing pros and cons in his head. Finally, he shook his head.

“No, I think I’ll stay behind, I’m not feeling that good anyway.” he turned to his friend “If you wanna go Ned, you can.”

“No that’s alright,” He sighed “we had plans after school anyway, I’ll stick with you.”

“Okay, well you’ve got my number if you change your minds.” She started moving toward the awaiting car “See you guys tomorrow.”

Ivy slid into the back seat of the car beside MJ, smiling at Happy.

“Who were they?” He asked as he began driving.

“Peter Parker and Ned Leeds,” MJ responded “they’re on the debate team with me.”

“We met them on the trip today.” Ivy chimed in.

“Huh, alright. So how was the trip?”

“Really boring but Norman showed us this machine from the 50s that was pretty amazing.” Ivy stated excitedly.

“It was awesome!” MJ exclaimed, the pair launching into detail about the demonstration.

Tags:

@eridanuswave @crumpets-are-better-with-jam @lilithmouse

[katoninefandoms]

I wanna share something about Endgame, friends. This is what Quarantine is leaving for me to think about.

First, I need to tell you a li’l bit about me. My parents have done community theatre for years and even met because of our local community theatre, so I have been involved in theatre basically from birth. For a long time, I thought I wanted to be a professional actress. I worked hard in my theatre classes in high school to understand how to get into a character’s head and how to analyse a scene or a whole play. My senior year of high school, I got the chance to student direct and stage manage and TA for my theatre teacher. So as I got into college, I realized that maybe acting wasn’t the way I wanted to go. I did some soul-searching, and decided that, instead, I wanted to teach theatre. I’ve been taking classes that are all about analyzing plays, and I’ve been in acting and directing classes at the collegiate level.  All this is to say, I’m at a point where I cannot watch a play or movie or TV show without analyzing the piece as I watch. Sometimes it’s annoying, but sometimes I love it because I feel like I have a better understanding of what is going on. This has been especially fun the last couple of years watching Marvel movies. A couple of my friends in my university’s theatre program who are also nerds had a conversation with me about Infinity War. We talked about how a lot of the movie is just suspense and buildup until the final battle in Wakanda, and at the end, there is no pay off because we don’t win. The heroes don’t accomplish their goal. This is when my good friend, Nor, pointed out that sure, from the hero perspective, it’s a lot of buildup for no payoff and therefore unsatisfying, but from Thanos’ perspective, it’s a totally satisfying narrative. If you analyse the movie with Thanos as the protagonist, then there is a clear, complete narrative structure. We have a Stasis A where he is without the stones, an Inciting Incident where he collects the first couple stones, the Rising Actions are him collecting the rest of the stones, right before the climax there is the Crisis (the moment where the protagonist is at their absolute lowest) where Thanos has to sacrifice Gamora for the soul stone, he snaps his fingers as the Climax, and then the Resolution and payoff is that the snap works and Thanos can retire to “the Garden” satisfied. Bam! Full narrative structure.  So as you can see, I have a good time analyzing works that I love. I did this with Endgame, too. For the record, there were things I was unhappy with, but overall, I think the endings all made sense in some way. Were they perfect? No, but that’s always the case. Someone will always be unhappy and present reasons why something doesn’t make sense with franchises like the MCU. But my favorite scenes to analyse in Endgame were Tony giving Steve back the shield in conjunction with Tony ripping Steve a new one at the beginning and their discussion at Tony’s house. I thought I really had their little arc in this film together figured out. 

That is, until this week. Robert Downey Jr. did this live stream thing with Joe Russo, and said of the Endgame scene where he gives the shield back to Chris Evans, “it was about him [Steve] forgiving me [Tony] for not forgiving him... burying the hatchet and taking up the cross together.”

I had not considered this before. In the beginning, when Tony yells at Steve, Steve doesn’t argue with him much at all. He takes Tony’s frustration in stride and for the rest of the film doesn’t seem to begrudge it at all. He even shows up to Tony’s house years later to ask him for help, and he may not be happy with Tony’s answer, but he doesn’t bother him with it or push him too hard once Tony says no and changes the subject. I interpreted this as a sign that he had already forgiven Tony. Tony then investigates time travel of his own volition, and then arrives at the compound, telling Steve, “Turns out resentment is corrosive and I hate it.” I saw this as Tony letting Steve know, in true Tony fashion, that he had finally forgiven him. He gives back the shield, and they can move forward. 

RDJ was in the scene, he and Evans and the directors did their own analysis of the scene and filmed it with that analysis in mind. So while I, a viewer, might see something different, it doesn’t mean than either of us are right or wrong, it just means that I missed something that they were trying to show the audience. This piece of information really does change how I interpret this scene. 

As a character, Steve Rogers has an incredible capacity for forgiveness. This is reflected in every official piece of media I’ve seen his character in; movies, television, and the few comics I’ve had the chance to read. Still, just because someone has a the capacity to forgive and move one doesn’t mean that it’s automatic for them. RDJ made an interesting point in saying, “forgiving [Tony] for not forgiving [Steve].” While I may have been correct in interpreting Steve as having forgiven Tony for their disagreements in Civil War (and perhaps all those before that), he had no way of knowing if Tony would have the same forgiveness for him. 

As it turns out, Tony doesn’t. He accuses Steve, yells at him, tells him he doesn’t trust him, and labels him “Liar.” Steve looks incredibly pained by Tony’s outburst at the end of that scene, and he even begins to look a little... well, angry isn’t the right word, and neither is defensive. But he’s definitely upset. I’m looking at the scene now, I have is paused. Credit where credit it due, Chris Evans plays Steve very well, and keeps him consistent. In this moment, after Tony says, “Liar,” Steve'a expression is very close to that “eyebrows of disappointment” face that we see in previous films. He also looks guarded, like he’s putting up mental walls against Tony’s onslaught. When Tony thrusts the arc reactor into Steve’s hand, his fingers don’t close around it, and his arm tenses. Tony’s upset him, hurt him again. Somehow, I overlooked this as something new that Steve would have to forgive Tony for. 

It seems that they may be on a little better terms when Steve, Natasha, and Scott show up to Tony’s house to ask him for help. However, Tony looks apprehensive when Steve gets out of the car and only relaxes a little once he takes a cue from Natasha. Steve does ask him about helping, but then Tony spends most of their conversation talking to Scott and Natasha. Not that Steve really attempts to interject in the conversation until the end. He makes it clear that this isn’t a personal request (entirely), and that it could be helpful to a lot of people. Tony maintains that it is personal to him. He invites them to stay for lunch if they don’t “talk shop” and the next shot is of Steve, Nat, and Scott getting back in the car. We can’t know for sure they didn’t stay for lunch, but it seems obvious to assume so. Either they are very eager to find a time travel solution, or there are people in the group who are not yet comfortable being around the Starks in a friendly capacity yet. (Steve. I’m implying that it’s Steve.)

So then Tony does some of his own research about time travel. He figures it out in one night, and Pepper convinces him that he should use it to help people that are less fortunate than him. He drives up to the compound and sees Steve standing outside. He stops, a little past Steve. And Steve? Doesn’t bother to walk up level with the driver’s side door, something that I could otherwise imagine him doing. Tony has to back up to talk to him, and Steve asks, “What are you doing here?” He previously said he wasn’t going to help, and Steve doesn’t sound all to pleased to see Tony. Why is that? Well, in the next few lines, it seems to give us the answer. “Somebody could’ve cautioned you against it,” Tony says. Steve, having heard that kind of remark from Tony before, is apparently no longer willing to argue with him about it and says, “You did.” “I did? Oh, well, thank God I’m here.”

I had a director tell me once, as another actor and I were practicing an argument, that you don’t argue with someone unless you care. That’s where the passion in the argument comes from. So far in this scene, Steve doesn’t look too happy to see Tony, and I didn’t really pay attention to that before. He’s been let down by Tony before like this, and that pattern hasn’t changed yet. He has no reason to expect Tony to do anything but tell him he’s doing it wrong and then maybe take Natasha out to lunch (or something). That seems like a relatively Tony Stark think to do. 

But then Tony reveals that he fixed it. He figured it out. That makes Steve smile. Honestly, Steve looks relieved. His walls come down a little. He can let himself believe that Tony is there to help, as opposed to, “I got nothin’ for you Cap. I got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options, zero, zip, nada. No trust. Liar!” In fact, this time, Tony admits, “Turns out, resentment is corrosive, and I hate it.” Tony’s forgiven Steve, and that’s his way of saying, in his own way. I find that a lot with Tony’s dialogue, which is cool, because RDJ plays him so well and you can always tell what he means. To that, Steve says, “Me, too.” 

However, the way he says it doesn’t sound like forgiveness just yet. I think it’s his inflection, or the way he says it with a blank face, still, but it sounds more like he’s letting Tony know that he’d already come to that conclusion. Remember, before, at the beginning of the movie, Steve is trying to work with Tony and gets upset when he goes off. He’d already forgiven Tony for things that Tony hadn’t yet. Steve had already let go of a lot of that resentment. He’s got a huge capacity for forgiveness. But even those of us who can forgive easily can also hold back when we’re hurt one too many times. Steve is still not quite ready, or not quite convinced. 

I notice that Steve doesn’t move at all during this scene. He’s planted. Tony is the one to bridge the gap and approach Steve as he agrees to join them, saying he needs to keep what he’s found. Steve shakes his hand, saying that is a “deal.” That’s business, not friendship. He’s still not smiling or relaxed with Tony, and simply shakes his hand. Tony is no idiot, he can tell he doesn’t fully have Steve’s confidence yet. He goes around to the back of the car, and Steve follows a little. He’s warming up, there’s at least some of the damage healed. 

Tony takes the shield out of the trunk and holds it out to Steve. “Tony, I don’t know.” His voice thins, breaks off a little at the end. This is more than just getting the shield back. The last time they spoke to each other before Endgame, Tony was screaming at Steve that he didn’t deserve the shield, that it didn’t belong to him. Steve, in Civil War, drops the shield, and, effectively, drops Tony. Taking the shield back will mean, symbolically, accepting Tony’s apology and forgiving him, taking him back as a friend. The shield is Tony’s olive branch, but Steve “[doesn’t] know” if he can accept it. 

“Why? He made it for you.” Tony holds out the olive branch a little further. Saying that, he’s taking back what he said before. He knows he was wrong, and he’s admitting that to Steve -- which is something he hardly ever seems to do. He turns it over so that he can fit it on Steve’s arm, and Steve lets him. “Thank you, Tony,” Steve says. His voice is still low, soft, but it’s warmer. He’s forgiven Tony again. He’s accepted the olive branch, the shield, and they are now on even ground once more. Tony asks if they’re getting the team together, and Steve immediately answers, starting to get Tony filled in on their progress. 

I didn’t think I could love this scene between the two of them more, but I do. It’s so easy to forget sometimes that Steve can be hurt by people, too. He forgives so easily and takes the high road so often that even when someone he obviously cares about, like Tony, hurts him in a way that isn’t physical, I think the viewers tend to miss it. We like to put Steve up on a pedestal and act like he would never hold something like that against a person, never not forgive them for it. Seeing this scene, Steve and Tony’s relationship like this, I think we can realize that Steve isn’t as perfect as people like to believe he is. He can be hurt and upset when people don’t treat him with respect and fairness. 

Anyways, if you stuck around long enough to get to the bottom of this: Thank you for taking the time to read this. I love being able to share analysis about these babies. <3 

[tslasvegas]

Episode 3: “UGH just rename Luxor to Loser” - Xavier

Well... that takes care of the Timmy problem... Love Timmy... Just didn’t know how our dynamic would be cus he was runner-up to the last survivor game I played which I won. Hm... Well...

That went well. There's nothing like a live video tribal to get people together. and stephen didn't react too badly. but i know now he won't work with me moving forward

I’m sorry I’m terrible at confessionals... So things are going well, I think we have a decent tribe but it is too soon to tell. I’m not a huge fan of creative challenges, at least from my previous game, I guess we will see how that goes. Most of the guys seem nice, still trying to feel everyone out.`

A 4-2 vote off is interesting. Someone is on the bottom for sure. Also, this next challenge is a creative challenge and when I do these solo I usually do really well. Hopefully I can channel that energy into a win for us here because two tribes are going to tribal. We’ll be down to 17 after this, so I’m not sure if we’d go into a tribe swap yet? Maybe 2 tribes of 8 with one person sitting out? 

Oh hot dang, two tribes are going to tribal next time. Probably going to be us :( now it is time to make alliance chats!

....five seconds later

I suspect that after this double vote out that there will be a tribe swap. I hope I end up with Mo and Jaiden at least.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/17NPxKO_TKgqjNqsaWlbmlL0jgU36Aygi/view?usp=drivesdk

I really like this challenge. I feel confident about it but at the same time nervous that 2 tribes will be going to tribal. I really hope my tribe wins this one since I still don't know how the tribe feels about me. Wish me luck guys!

My tribe is not going to win this immunity challenge. Our nightclub is due just hours away and we have little nothing done. I am going to have to scramble soon.....I did nothing to help my tribe with the challenge, so if it is me that goes, I would understand 

....five seconds later

Honestly, I want to keep Jaiden and Mo around because I feel closer with them than anyone else. I want to keep Kailyn around because she seems to make time for challenges. Everyone else I am okay with going home, Ben hasn't really done anything soooooo maybe him? Oof

If we lose, then it's 2/3rds my fault and 1/3 Stephen. We better not be on the chopping block if we do lose. This is a two person Tribe as of now. Bobby Jon and Stephenie.

...five seconds later

UGH just rename Luxor to Loser

Second we lose Ben finally responded to my pm’s..... hm..... alright....

Y’all rlly won with a PowerPoint SKDJDJSKLALALL

Some of these guys have an excuse for not giving input into the challenge. Some do not. If I go home because some americans could be bothered doing some base level discussion, ill be annoyed. If I go home because a tribe threw a challenge because they thought id be an easy vote, ill be pissed.

All that hard work that went into this challenge really paid off! We scored the best and don’t have to attend tribal!! Which is absolutely exciting! Andrew told me he wanted to work together which is rad. Livingston and I want to work together which is radder. And Joey and i want to work together which is raddest. I haven’t spoken too much with Jeff lately even though we talked quite a bit early on. Pat and I speak occasionally. Stephanie and I didn’t really speak at all until recently but we’ve gotten into a good groove the last few days. I’m feeling pretty good about this game so far. I hope there’s no tribal swap or anything right away.

So when I get my chip total I'm gonna update Keegan. He is currently at a soap making class but I want him to know I am serious about working with him in this game and I think this is a good gesture. - keegan has let me know he has 4 chips and is willing to pool them over to me when we have enough so that we can unlock the store. I let him know I am okay with doing the same thing to him, whichever. But yes this is looking HOT for me. - "what's in the store?" | all i can really assume is advantages. we need 10 chips to unlock it. This is very similar to the Unnamed Season but the betting cap gives us more control. At this point, I don't think anyone can mathematically unlock without pooling chips. Keegan and I just need 1 more chip between us. Let's just hope we aren't separated by a swap or some shit. I am hoping for a bit more time on this amazing tribe to get that set up so I have a good idea of what the store holds.

Some of these guys have an excuse for not giving input into the challenge. Some do not. If I go home because some americans could be bothered doing some base level discussion, ill be annoyed. If I go home because a tribe threw a challenge because they thought id be an easy vote, ill be pissed.

We lost again!?!?!?!?!??! I am so surprised? Nah I'm kidding, but I don't care. I don't blame our team for losing because 3/5 of us were panicking because our president could be a cheetoh. I'm voting Stephen tonight, I hope the others follow suit. It SHOULD be simple, but 9 hours is a long time for Survivor; and if he knows it's him then might run around and create some chaos - which would be funny.

Rachael (love her she’s probably who I’m closest with along with DeNara and Kailyn) is not being subtle about the fact that she either has a pre-existing friendship with Ben or is currently aligned with Ben. Because Ben, from my knowledge has not been social with anyone, nor has he been super active and in our alliance chat with Kailyn, Rachael seems uncomfortable with the fact that Ben is said to be the vote and is saying she would prefer someone else to go. But like c’mon you can’t deny he hasn’t been social, and even if I had a friendship with somebody before a game, if they aren’t active I’m voting them out. Also I lied to my tribe a couple times this round because I’m lazy.

UGH. We LOST the challenge!!! And it wasn't even close *grumbles angrily* But it's okay. I'm gonna have to work my pussy out to this entire tribe to make them keep me around! I feel pretty good about this, I believe the target is leaning towards Ben but we'll have to wait and see. I don't think it's possible rn but I'm hoping for a swap soon so I can feel a little more re-energized in this game because my tribe has been super quiet lately... I think people will try to move the vote around so I'm going to use my current lack of employment as an opportunity to make myself stay alive on this tribe lmao

These guys are being super boring and either Jake is dumber than i thought, or shadier than i gave him credit for. Xavier might be trying to play me but regardless its doubtful ill stay. John seems to have the most chance of winning out of these four as hes not overplaying. Kevin hasnt spoken to me since the colin vote and it pisses me off that I might be going home after being one of two people that worked on the challenge when kevin was taken off the chopping block immediately for playing jeopardy. i hate this tribe.

....five seconds later

Johns out, Jake too by the sound of it. Time for plan B, which never works but might as well try. Fake idol time.

Oof well the uhh, “obvious friend group” has picked their target and it just so happens to be the only person I’ve made an actual alliance with :/ Poor DeNara. I really didn’t want to have to vote her off this early if I didn’t have to and then the worst part is she didn’t even hear it from me. Nobody is even mentioning game right now and Rachael is acting legitimately surprised to me when I came to her saying “okay this is an easier vote than I thought”.. even tho Ben claimed he had already talked to her..?? Idk man I must’ve done something wrong along the way but these people LEGITIMATELY don’t talk to me. My instant reaction is leaning towards being bitter but bitterness doesn’t really get me anywhere :/ I feel kinda.. out of it rn emotionally just because of everything else I have going on so if I seem more reserved tonight at tribal than usual, that’s why. I just hope that I’m not still stuck on that damn mountain rolling my dumbass rock back up only to get knocked back down again. I’m remaining optimistic for the future.. let’s keep winning some challenges mmkay

Okay good news, I shouldn't be leaving. But that being said DeNara, you have goT TO PULL. YOURSELF. TOGETHER. She's packing her bags and from my knowledge she's going to be fine tonight. Hopefully it'll be Ben who's going but DeNara giving up like this isn't helPING. 

....five seconds later

Also I am in two alliances which is cool I guess.

Oops....... and now I'm controlling this vote I think :) It feels good. I don't know what my plan is !! I'm lying to everyone. I basically put myself in a position to be the 4th person in both votes and I love it so much. I keep telling ppl I'm an emotional mess and I think I'll milk that because SOMEONE is going to get betrayed tonight... love that for me. Rachael, Nik, and Ben want to vote out DeNara Mo, Kailyn, and DeNara want to vote out Ben And tbh I would prefer Rachael or Nik!! Since neither of those things are happening I guess it's up to me to decide which way I wanna swing... I hate/love myself for this. I think there are good cases for both people to leave, because I think that getting rid of DeNara strengthens bonds I never had with Rachael and co. while getting rid of Ben just makes me their enemy. Honestly I am starting to lean towards getting rid of DeNara for that sole purpose alone. It'll be messy for sure. Ben provides NOTHING to the game right now and I hate the fact that he announced in his intro that he's just here to backstab people... but villains don't win unless they're sitting next to another villain. He's the goat to me and Rachael right now, but pretty homos like me always win xx I might regret this decision down the road but HOPEFULLY whichever side I take will pay me back in protection down the line. I think I have the charm to smooth shit over w Kailyn and Mo but its up for determination. I think that I have the finesse to beat Rachael in a vote, too, but I don't want to put her back up against the wall just yet..... ;) Anyways... I hope this isn't my last confessional. I wasn't having fun until I found my place. Let's get it on.

It is me or Ben tonight. Guess we will find out who...

[ranwing]

Kadam Fic: Learning To Fly (18/?)

Title: Learning to Fly Series: A New Direction (was Season Four Remix) Pairing(s), Characters(s): Kadam, Kurt Hummel, Adam Crawford, Burt Hummel, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Carmen Tibideaux, Cassandra July, Artie Abrams, Tina Cohen-Chang, Elliot “Starchild” Gilbert, Dani, Adam’s Apples, Original Characters Rating: PG13 (rating may change) Genre(s): canon divergence. Parts: 18/?

Summary: As another school year starts at NYADA, Kurt seemed to have it all. The respect of his teachers, a group of wonderful friends and best of all, getting to live with the man that he’d come to love. So of course the universe would throw a few curve balls in his direction.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen

One AO3

A/N -  I'd like to both thank and apologize to all of my readers for the long delay in getting this chapter completed. I'd unfortunately been delayed by both a bout of writer's block and having surgery last month which set my plans to write back considerably. Thank you all for the wonderful comments and words of encouragement! I'm grateful to all of you for sticking with me.

Morning arrived with its usual clarion from Kurt’s cell phone alarm ringing at six, rousing him from sleep and reminding him that he had day filled with activities to get through awaiting him. Pushing off the sheets that had gotten wrapped about him during the night, Kurt sat at the edge of his bed and gave his body a long stretch to work out the sleep stiffness before getting to his feet.

With the semester starting to wind down, the students at NYADA were being put through the meat grinder by their instructors. Freshmen might have had the assumption that after all the work done on their spring musical that the professors might take it a bit easier on the upper classmen, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. The more that he and his classmates manage to prove themselves, the more their teachers demanded. Kurt figured that by the time he graduated, Madam Tibideaux would expect him to be able to climb to the top of Mount Everest while singing an aria from Rigoletto in full voice the whole way up.

Well, this was what he signed up for, he reminded himself with a self-administered mental slap upside the head. And if he didn’t dawdle too much, he had enough time to go for a run and burn off some of the cake that he and the Apples had gorged on the night before. That would leave him just enough time to shower before his morning classes. But first things first…

Kurt couldn’t help from smiling as he studied the map pinned over his desk, seeing the wave of blue pins stretching across the image of the United States. Each marked a city where Adam had performed; cities where his play had met with critical regard and where his reputation as an actor continued to grow. Kurt no longer looked at that map with dread, facing it as a reminder of just how long it would before Adam was returned to him. Now it was a confirmation of just how much his lover had been able to accomplish.

With only one lone red pin left, it was also a reminder that Adam would be home right around the time that Kurt was finishing his finals. The feeling of disassociation was being replaced by one of happy anticipation and now they both had plans for their shared future to look forward to.

Butcher’s Bill had just wrapped up its run in Seattle and Kurt had happily marked the occasion with a triumphant blue push pin. Now a solitary red pin marked the final city of the national tour and if they hadn’t run into any delays, Adam would be leaving Seattle for San Diego by midday. That would allow Kurt to exchange that last red pin for a green one, signaling that the tour was nearing its conclusion.

It felt oddly thrilling that he could now legitimately count down the days without being overwhelmed by their sheer number. That his perspective has shifted from only being able to see how long he would be apart from Adam to actively anticipating the day of their reunion. He could look at his calendar now and actually see the day that Adam would be returning to New York, just over four weeks away.

There was a lot that still needed to be ironed out for them. They didn’t have an apartment so finding a place to live was going to be first on their agenda. Kurt could stay in the dorms through the summer if necessary, and he would be spending a few weeks at Garrison during the festival. If he had to leave the dorms for some reason, he knew that could spend a few days at a hostel until he and Adam got an apartment lined up. After all, that’s what he did when he first arrived in New York with nothing more than his suitcases and his dreams. It hadn’t been so bad, and it would be a lot cheaper than a hotel until they got settled.

He was more concerned for Adam, who would be effectively homeless after the tour ended. If they didn’t have something lined up by the time Adam returned to New York, Kurt knew that Adam had friends with sofas that he could crash on until they signed a lease, and he also could room at a hostel for a few days if needed.

Still, finding a place would have to be a priority for them. They were in this together and would see it through.

For all his tendencies to try to control and micromanage every detail, he had his greatest successes when he threw caution to the wind. Whether it was his impromptu audition, challenging Rachel to Midnight Madness or letting himself accept the flirtatious overtures from a handsome Englishman, each time he’d let his carefully crafted defenses fall he’d been rewarded beyond anything he could have hoped for.

He would have faith that he and Adam would get their practical affairs sorted out relatively quickly. Kurt didn’t care if he and Adam found themselves living in another closet-sized apartment for a year or had to leave the neighborhood where he’d felt so at home in. He just wanted for them to be together.

After tying on his running shoes, Kurt plugged in his headphones and trotted downstairs to get in the exercise that his body very much was craving. By the time he returned a bit over an hour later, Kurt was feeling much refreshed with his head cleared of the usual morning cobwebs. He stopped by his room to grab his robe and toiletries and walked down the hall to the communal showers.

A half hour later found him in the dorm break room, reading through some notes he had jotted down for his stage movement class and eating his yogurt when he spotted one of Madam Tibideaux’s assistants enter the lounge and look about. This wasn’t unusual when the Dean wanted to catch a residential student before classes started, though he did feel a trace of concern when she approached him.

“Good morning Kurt,” she greeted pleasantly. “Sorry to disturb your breakfast, but the Dean would like for you to stop by her office this morning after your lesson with Professor Collins. There’s something that she needs to discuss with you.”

No, that didn’t sound good, Kurt thought though for the life of him he couldn’t think of anything that he might have done to warrant a call to the office. All of his classes were going well, and he’d been getting nothing more than positive feedback from Madam Tibideaux during his last few sessions with her.

“Is there something wrong?” he couldn’t help from asking. This wasn’t something he needed at this moment.

The assistant just smiled, clearly aware that most students naturally assumed that being summoned to the office didn’t mean anything good. “No, not at all,” she assured him. “The Dean has a guest coming in and she wants you to join them. It’s one of NYADA’s big sponsors and she likes to show off her favored talents.”

Kurt nodded, feeling a sense of relief that he wasn’t going to be called out on the carpet over something. But being invited to meet a sponsor could mean something serious for his career prospects and he needed to make a good impression. That meant a quick touch up to his post run grooming and a change of clothes to something a bit more polished.

His morning session with Professor Collins went well, the genial teacher putting him through his paces as he showed off the greater flexibility he’d been developing in his voice. He was smiling when he left the studio, his teacher’s praise raising his spirits and putting him in a good mind to meet this sponsor. If Madam Tibideaux wanted him there, he should be confident that it was something that he was up to.

Kurt paused at the bathroom, checking his appearance one last time before heading to the dean’s office. Madam Tibideaux’s assistant was seated at her desk outside and smiled and Kurt’s approach. “You’re just in time,” she greeted, rising from her chair to greet him. “Let me just poke my head inside to make sure they’re ready for you.”

Kurt smiled and nodded, waiting patiently for her to get permission for him to enter the office. He took the opportunity to smooth out any imaginary wrinkles on his shirt before he was granted admittance. He thanked Madam Tibideaux’s assistant politely as she ushered him in and closed the door behind him before facing his teacher.

“Good morning, Madam,” he greeted politely. “I hope that I’m not late.”

The Dean placed down the cup of tea she’d been daintily sipping from and offered him an encouraging smile. “Not at all, Mr. Hummel,” she assured him. “You’re right on time. How was your session with Professor Collins?”

Kurt couldn’t resist smiling. “It went well,” he insisted confidently. “I’m feeling much more confidence in transitioning through my entire range.”

“Excellent,” Madam Tibideaux said, looking quite pleased at his pronouncement. “I’m looking forward to testing that in our next lesson.

The person seated in the chair with it’s back to the office door turned in her seat and Kurt felt his breath seize at the sight of her cap of short red hair and a wryly arched eyebrow raised. June Dolloway looked him up and down as she had at the gala, her thin lips drawing into a smile that appeared far too predatory for comfort.

“Mr. Hummel,” she greeted, more than a trace of challenge in her voice as she held up a slender hand to him.

Kurt quickly forced himself to rally, pasting a pleasant if bland expression on his face and reaching out to gently shake the older woman’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again,” he claimed as sincerely as he could manage.

She just snorted, clearly not believing him. “No one is pleased to see me,” she admitted with a sharp grin, picking up her teacup. “But they act like they are because I have an obscene amount of money and I like to throw it at what suits my whims. That makes everyone polite.”

Kurt couldn’t help from admiring her honesty and lack of caring that she was more feared than admired. There was something refreshing about that kind of clear-eyed perspective. That didn’t mean that he was dropping his guard at all around her, because he suspected that she would happily eat him alive if he gave her the least opportunity.

“Have a seat, Mr. Hummel,” Madam Tibideaux offered, clearly set in her role of mediator. “Mrs. Dolloway wanted to meet you again. She was quite taken with your performance.”

Kurt smiled blandly as he settled into the offered chair. He remembered her comments at their first meeting and while they might have been compliments technically, he didn’t miss the insults that were barely hidden in her words. But he trusted Madam Tibideaux not to steer him into a situation that he would end up regretting.

Mrs. Dolloway’s expression was schooled into a neutral pleasantness, but Kurt could tell that she was watching and testing him. To see if her comments that could easily be interrupted as affronts got a response. Kurt was determined not to let her win this little meeting.

“I always do like to keep an eye on performers that interest me,” Mrs. Dolloway reminded him, the barest hint of threat in her tone. “I found you to be very intriguing. You have a unique presence on stage and I’m sure that you know how unusual your voice is.”

Kurt allowed himself to smile. “I’ve been told that once or twice,” he confirmed a bit ironically.

She pursed her lips thoughtfully at how he didn’t seem intimidated by her. “I find it utter fascinating to see someone who doesn’t seem to fit neatly in a conventional mold manage to play those parts so well. Normally they’re so focused on showing how unique they are that they make themselves unemployable.”

The warning in her tone was unmistakable and Kurt already knew exactly how to counter it. “Maybe. But I also feel that being so unique lets me stand out from everyone else,” he insisted confidently. “A countertenor whose range can cover traditional tenor roles is going to be remembered. And some composers and directors will get a chance to take advantage of what I’m able to do that others can’t.”

Mrs. Dolloway’s expression lightened a bit, as if pleased that he wasn’t cowed by her demeanor. Madam Tibideaux nodded in approval at her student and added, “One of the things that we’ve been working on is developing Mr. Hummel’s singular talents while still making him as marketable as possible. I think that going by his success in Les Misérables and his performances at the Garrison festival, we’re on the right track.”

“I haven’t been to Garrison in years,” Mrs. Dolloway mused. “Is that old coot, Tillman, still running things?”

Kurt managed not to laugh, thinking that Mrs. Dolloway should be the last person in the world to call someone old. “Yes, he’s still directing,” he confirmed. “We’re doing ‘A Midsummer Nights Dream’ and ‘Troilus and Cresida’ this season.”

Mrs. Dolloway looked at him pointedly. “And what were you cast as?” she asked pointedly, her tone clearly issuing a challenge.

Kurt smiled proudly. “Well, last season I played Don John which was really exciting as it was my first summer with the festival. This year I’m Puck and Patroclus,” he stated confidently. “I’m rather looking forward to doing another nice dramatic death and putting my stage combat to practical use.”

The sponsor seemed almost impressed. “Well, there certainly does seem to be a lot more to you than pretty hair and a flashy wardrobe,” she granted, a trifle reluctantly in Kurt’s opinion. “I suppose that you’re wondering why I wanted to meet you today.”

“The question did cross my mind,” Kurt answered back, allowing a bit of fight coming out in his voice. He wasn’t inclined to give an inch, no matter how influential Mrs. Dolloway could be.

She just smiled, amused by his show of spirit. “I mentioned a showcase that I’m organizing when we met at the gala,” she reminded him.

Kurt nodded, indicating that he’d remembered. “When I didn’t hear anything, I just thought you’d changed your mind about me participating,” he said blandly, making it clear that he hadn’t been bothered by being omitted.

If Mrs. Dolloway was offended by his lack of interest in her connections, she didn’t show it. “Well, to be honest, I was vacillating between inviting you or not,” she admitted without a trace of shame.

Kurt managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. Of course, she did.

“The showcase is scheduled next week to benefit scheduled for next week to support the Lexington Home for Retired Performers. It’s an old age home for film and stage actors,” she explained, her tone becoming more matter of fact. “I’d scheduled a number of top students from various theater programs to perform, but one of the Julliard seniors flacked out on me. Something about a nervous breakdown…”

Kurt couldn’t help from arching a brow in response.

Mrs. Dolloway looked at him pointedly. “So now I have a hole in our performance schedule that I need to fill,” she huffed. “I was thinking ‘why not give that high voiced kid a shot’.”

Kurt didn’t respond immediately, not quite sure how he wanted to take her invitation. It was hardly worded in a flattering way and while he wasn’t offended that he wasn’t among her first choices for the benefit, he wasn’t sure if the performer who dropped out really did have some kind of breakdown or if he just wanted to get away from this difficult patron.

He mentally sighed, wishing that he could beg off with rehearsals or work for the festival, but she would be able to ferret out pretty quickly what his rehearsal schedule was. Being caught in a lie would just reflect badly on him.

“This can be an interesting opportunity,” Madam Tibideaux advised, seeing his reluctance. “Many of the residents of the home were quite renowned performers in their day. You can learn a great deal by speaking with them.

“And the home really is a great asset to our community. Sadly, it’s not uncommon for actors to be left with little financial support as they age. This facility allows them a safe and dignified place during their golden years.”

Kurt didn’t doubt her, and it sounded like the exact sort of charity that he would want to support. It was indeed a worthy cause and might just be worth the effort of dealing with Mrs. Dolloway for one day.

He looked to the older woman, who was watching him with a cool, calculating stare. “I’d be happy to help,” he claimed, smiling with all the charm he could muster. “It does sound like a wonderful cause.”

Mrs. Dolloway genuinely seemed surprised that he agreed to the invitation and Kurt rather enjoyed putting her back on her expensive heels a bit. He didn’t get as far as he has by letting small minded fools stand in his way. Even if he gained nothing personally, he would be pleased to help the elderly actors have a comfortable retirement.

She finally nodded, looking a little impressed despite herself. “Good,” she granted with no trace of reluctance in her voice, and Kurt couldn’t help from thinking that he just won this little confrontation. “I’ll let Carmen know the details. I’m fairly certain that you’ll be able to come up with two numbers that would be appropriate for the occasion.”

“I will,” he assured her self-assuredly. He was already making a mental list of potential material.

“Then I will see you next week.”

Mrs. Dolloway turned back to Madam Tibideaux and placed her teacup on the desk. “Carmen, it’s been a pleasure, as always.”

When the Dean began to push her chair back to get up, Mrs. Dolloway raised her hand to stop her. “Oh, don’t bother… I can show myself out,” she insisted blandly. She turned one last look to Kurt and nodded in his direction before walking out and closing the door behind her.

Once she had left the room, Kurt allowed himself a sigh of relief and couldn’t help from wondering just what he was letting himself in for. His teacher seemed just as relieved to have her troublesome visitor leave and turned a satisfied smile to him.

“I know that she’s a bit of a character,” Madam Tibideaux granted. “But she really can be an excellent sponsor. She’s helped launch a number of careers and she’s been a tremendous financial support for our school.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Kurt insisted. “But I get the feeling that her favor can be a double-edged sword.”

Madam Tibideaux chuckled at his clear-eyed view of the matter. “I’m not going to disagree with you,” she confided. “The ones who often run our profession are the wealthy. Whether they invest in productions or patronize the ballet and opera, performers have to decide for themselves how to navigate their influence. I know this is difficult, but I think that you would gain a lot more from this experience than Mrs. Dolloway will get in bragging rights since you’ve already technically been discovered.”

Kurt knew that his teacher was taking pleasure in that respect and wouldn’t begrudge her the honors. “I just want to make sure that I perform at a level where I won’t stand out in a negative way,” he said. “It’s rather on short notice.”

“Mr. Hummel, in all the months that I’ve known you I’ve never seen you fail to rise to the occasion.If I might offer my suggestions,” she proposed with a reassuring smile, earning an enthusiastic nod from her student. “For this crowd, I would stick to something classic. Using a song from the era that many of the home’s residents were active would be well received. There are certainly enough songs that take advantage of your natural range and your unique vocal qualities.”

That made a lot of sense, Kurt thought. And he suspected that Mrs. Dolloway’s tastes would lean towards the classical. He could work with that.

“I would also like to offer some advice,” Madam Tibideaux said carefully, and Kurt looked up at his teacher intently because he trusted her judgment.

“I know that June Dolloway can be difficult to deal with, and you shouldn’t feel obligated to accept her as a sponsor just because you agreed to perform at the benefit. Even if she offers,” the dean advised. “She does have a certain amount of influence. She built up a substantial bit of wealth from her various marriages and she has a lot of connections in the business, though how seriously she can be taken seriously is open to debate.”

“Then why is she one of NYADA’s biggest donors?” Kurt asked curiously. “If she’s that out there?”

The Dean offered him a confiding smile. “Because she is willing to help support our school financially. It’s sometimes worth it for me to humor her if it opens up her checkbook, but I know what I can and should expect from her. I always warn my students who catch her eye to be very cautious in how they deal with her. Yes, she can open a lot of doors for you. But she also can be very fickle, and I’ve seen her drop proteges as abruptly as she picks them up.”

Kurt nodded in understanding, recognizing that he would need to manage this opportunity with the same care that he did the options that Coach Sylvester presented. If he could gain Mrs. Dolloway’s respect, he might be able to take advantage of her connections while not putting himself in her debt. He knew that he had enough challenges in his path without having his career controlled by someone who looked down on him in any way.

He met up with Rachel and their friends for lunch, needing their support and feedback. “I want to do this,” Kurt insisted over pizza. “It’s a really good cause, but I really don’t want anything to do with that Dolloway woman. I think that I’d just be setting myself up for trouble.”

Rachel reached out and grasped his hand in solidarity. “I think you could handle her,” she claimed, having seen her friend outsmart and manipulate people to his own ends many times before.

“Kurt, you always could just do the show and call it quits,” Analisa reminded her friend. “There’s no law that says just because you’ve agreed to perform one time that you owe her anything more. Just take advantage of getting seen a bit more.”

Kurt nodded but insisted, “I just don’t want to make any enemy of her. I get the feeling that she can really go out of her way to screw me over if I offend her in some way.”

Jamie took a big bite of his pepperoni and mushroom slice and chewed thoughtfully. “She reminds of a director I had at arts camp when I was a kid. It was obvious to everyone that she had her favorites and would go to the ends of the earth for you. Until you weren’t one of her favorites anymore. Then you might as well not exist.”

“Is everyone in our industry crazy?” Katya asked. “I mean, it would be nice just perform and not have to deal with people in charge with attitudes like that.”

“I feel like it’s some kind of test,” Kurt bemoaned. “Like Mrs. Dolloway is setting me up to fail.”

“So, don’t fail,” Rachal said logically, as if it were truly that simple. “Kurt, you don’t need us to tell you how good you are. Just treat this as a chance to perform and do what you know you can do. You don’t owe her anything more than that.”

Kurt looked to his group, yet again grateful that he’d managed to find such a wonderful collection of supportive friends.

Analisa looked to her favorite duet partner and offered a bright smile. “Mind if we tag along for moral support?” she asked.

Mrs. Dolloway hadn’t mentioned anything about him bringing guests, but Kurt didn’t see the harm. He’d feel a lot better having a few friendly faces in the audience.

“I’d love you guys to be there,” he said. “I’m not going to hoard the chance to mingle and network.”

Kayta reached out to pinch his cheek. “So generous,” she praised.

Kurt playfully swatted her hand away, earning a round of laughter from his friends. Relieved that he wouldn’t be facing Mrs. Dolloway without some reinforcements at his back, he looked thankfully at his friends.

“I really appreciate this, guys,” he said sincerely. “But let’s dig in… this pizza isn’t going to eat itself.”

* * *

Adam looked at the theater marquee, feeling both a great sense of pride and a tremendous wash of relief. Their final opening for the national tour was just a few short days away. After this, it would be a countdown until they all were able to return home.

He hadn’t quite known what to expect from this job, but it had been both tremendously fulfilling and harder than he could have ever imagined. Still, despite how painful as his separation from Kurt had been, he honestly wouldn’t trade the experience he’d gained. He was learning a great deal more about himself as an actor and Adam knew that the connections he’d made and the regard he’d earned would serve him well in the future.

He walked over to the stage door, greeting the security guard pleasantly before being admitted and directed towards the dressing rooms. This was probably the largest venue that they’d performed in to date and with the relatively small cast, he’d only be sharing the dressing room with Niall. The racks with their costumes were already in place, the costumes wrapped neatly in plastic to protect them during the shipping process.

It would be nice to have the extra space and a bit of relative privacy, Adam considered as he set down his makeup kit and began to organize the dressing table to his liking. He pulled out a folder containing the photos that he would want to have close at hand. Some of them were getting a little battered from their months long journey around the country but were all the more precious to him as a result. There were his parents, who had never failed to support his aspirations and one with his big sister posing with a shaggy rescue pony. He had a photo of his Apples, taken as their last get together before he left on the tour and most importantly, one of his Kurt to be placed in a spot of honor so that Adam could see him at all times.

Adam smiled and couldn’t resist tracing the outline of Kurt’s features with his fingertip. He missed his lovely boy so much and couldn’t wait to see him again. So much had happened for the both of them and he was eager to see his young man having grown into the potential that Adam knew that Kurt possessed from the start. He had always known that Kurt was an exceptional being, both as a performer and as a man and now it appeared that the rest of the world was starting to catch on as well. He was looking forward to seeing how Kurt was handling the real recognition of his worth.

These final weeks of Butcher’s Bill was setting Adam on the course for his career and he knew that Kurt was likewise taking concrete steps towards his own. All of this was worthwhile, Adam told himself. They had so much to look forward to and Adam was never more confident that they would be facing their future together.

He had a few hours before their director would be arriving for their afternoon run-through. That should leave him a bit of time to relax and maybe do a bit of sightseeing with his friends. Now that the end of the road was clearly within sight, he found his normal optimism and good spirits returning in full.

Making one last check that he had everything that he needed, he stepped out of the theater into the bright sunlight. The anxiety that he’d felt for so long was finally easing and he looked forward to the challenges that these final weeks of the tour would present. For once, he felt more than ready.

* * *

“You look fantastic,” Rachel assured him as Kurt checked the lay of his tie for what was likely the nineteenth time in her estimation. She gently took his hands and forced them down to halt his fussing.

“Are you sure?” he asked, checking his outfit once again to make sure that the creases on his designer slacks were pressed straight and his shoes were polished to a gleaming finish. Rather than giving into his first instinct to wear one of his more conservative outfits, he’d decided to go with something that was truer to his personality. The bold herringbone pattern of his dress pants tailored to fit the line of his body perfectly and drew attention to his best assets while the button-down shirt had just enough stretch that he could wear it tight enough to take advantage of his shoulders. His hair had been freshly cut and styled, the sides neat and the top combed into a tall crest.

“It’s fine,” she promised with a warm smile. “You’re not nervous, are you? This kind of performance is right up your alley.”

Kurt sighed, knowing that he was being silly. Maybe his choice of material was a little ambitious, but he was confident in his abilities to handle it.

He knew what the issue was, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Mrs. Dolloway’s opinion of him still rankled. He didn’t know if she was actually homophobic or just enjoyed needling people where they might be vulnerable, but he was really put off by her attitude. If it hadn’t been for the cause that this showcase would be benefiting and Madam Tibideaux’s show of support, he didn’t know if it was worthwhile to put himself through this.

There were eight students performing, and he was one of three representing NYADA. Most of the others were from Julliard, and he could certainly admire their talents. These were students primarily focused on classical technique, with a good number of them on track for professional opera or recording artist careers. He was suddenly quite grateful for Madam Tibideaux insisting on him focusing on classical technique in his own development. He should be able to hold his own with a group like this.

He also couldn’t argue that Mrs. Dolloway wasn’t throwing a lot of money at this event. She’d rented out the Studio 54 theater space, setting it up like a nightclub venue with tables and seats arranged about the stage. There was plenty of room for the various guests and donors attending, but tables situated closest to the stage were dedicated to the residents of the actor’s home. The elderly performers had turned out in their best clothing, apparently eager for the outing and looking forward to seeing what the younger generation had to offer.

Kurt’s own friends were seated towards the back, and he was grateful for their presence. He hadn’t expected to find so many good friends at NYADA but felt very privileged to have done so. Between his classmates and the Apples, he had a solid base of support in New York. That his relationships didn’t boil down to nothing but rivals that would cheerfully kneecap him any chance they got had come as a deep relief for him.

Deep inside, Kurt felt a bit of a thrill that he would be standing on a Broadway stage, even if it wasn’t an actual Broadway production. Not that it looked much like a proper theater, but he knew the names of the famous actors who’d performed in that venue. Knowing that his small contribution to the history of this newer theater filled him with a sense of pride.

Rachel leaned up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, careful not to get any lipstick on him. “I’m going to go join the others,” she said, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “I’ll see you when you’re done.”

He nodded and offered his friend a thankful smile. “Rachel… thanks for coming today.”

She just grinned back. “Did you ever think that I would miss this?” she chuckled. “Break a leg!”

Left alone, Kurt moved to join the other performers, grateful that for once he didn’t feel completely out of his element. The two NYADA students were performers that he’d become very familiar with over the past months, having worked them during their run of Les Miserables. He wasn’t at all surprised that Mrs. Dolloway had invited Brett Sosa, given that he had the classic good looks and honey-smooth tenor that would appeal to a broad audience. He was a bit surprised that she’d invited the young woman who’d played Cosette rather than the more dynamic singers for Eponine and Fantine. But Abigail Thomas was gifted with one of the most gorgeous soprano voices that Kurt head ever heard, and he knew that she would make the audience very pleased.

He greeted them cheerfully, glad to have some familiar faces in the group. “I was wondering who Mrs. Dolloway would wrangle from NYADA,” he said confidingly. “I should have figured that you two would be her top picks.”

Brett gave him a warm pat on the back. “Good to see you, Kurt,” he greeted happily. “We were wondering ourselves since she was being so damned closed mouthed about things.

Abigail nodded in agreement. “I’m trying to figure out why I’m here since everyone knows she never sponsors women,” she complained lightly with a knowing smirk. “She likes to go after men who remind her of one of her husbands.”

Kurt couldn’t help from laughing. “I wonder which of them I remind her of,” he mused amusedly. “Because he must have really pissed her off at some point.”

Brett chuckled in response. “Madam Tibideaux did warn me that she was a character,” he advised. “But she can open doors and if she can get me in front of the right people, it might be worth it. I’ve been hitting auditions and I really need to nail down some work after graduation.”

“Me too,” Abigail sighed. “You’re lucky, Kurt. You probably aren’t facing the same kind of pressure just yet.”

No, he wasn’t, Kurt acknowledged to himself. But he had his own pressure to deal with. It didn’t pass his notice that, yet again, he was the least conventional performer in the room. Even so, he wasn’t going to allow that to bother him. He was looking forward to showing off his mettle against the kind of tenors and baritones that they audience expected to see and the song he’d chosen for the occasion would make the most of his full range as a singer.

Maybe it was petty and even a bit counterproductive, but he was looking forward to seeing Mrs. Dolloway’s self-satisfied smirk vanish when she realized that he wasn’t going to crumble in front of her. He wasn’t just going to match what the other students were able to do; he was going to be the best on that stage.

Mrs. Dolloway swept into the backstage area, dressed in a pale grey Chanel suit and Kurt judged that the jewelry she was sporting that looked like it could probably cover all the students’ rent for the next three years. She looked over the group and offered a smile that held nothing in the way of genuine warmth. Like all the interactions that Kurt had with her up until this point, her expression was predatory and slightly contemptuous of everyone she came across. He couldn’t help from wondering if she actually liked any of the prospects that she sponsored, of if she just enjoyed jerking their chains as she dangled prospects and possibilities  before them.

“I’m so glad to see you all,” she greeted benignly, if not with any great sincerity. “Before we get started, I wanted to thank you for supporting this very worthy cause. We’ve got a good-sized crowd and I’ve got them well primed for you. I certainly hope that that you all perform at the level I’ve come to expect from students of your caliber.”

None of the students missed the threat in her carefully chosen words, that whatever support they might hope for with this patron would evaporate if they didn’t perform at their best. Of what they could expect if their best was judged not good enough.

A few of the students looked genuinely nervous and Kurt suspected that at least a few of them sincerely wanted to gain Mrs. Dolloway’s support for their careers. He felt himself smile a little bit, relaxing when he realized that he honestly didn’t much care if the arrogant woman liked him at all. He just wanted to perform well for his audience, especially the elderly actors who deserved to have a pleasant afternoon. And for his friends who were so supportive of him. He didn’t want to disappoint them.

From their position offstage, he could hear Mrs. Dolloway greeting her audience and Kurt tuned her out. He didn’t care much about whatever spiel she pulled out of her finely dressed ass. He was sure that she would be able to coax some decent funds for the retirement home and his only purpose there was to perform to the best of his ability. Then he could hopefully put June Dolloway in his rear-view mirror.

One by one, the students were called out onto the stage and Kurt allowed himself to enjoy their performances. Mrs. Dolloway might be a total pill, but she did seem to have a real eye and ear for talent. Every one of the students she’d invited to perform were, to an individual, exceptional. He never had a problem admiring the talents of others and he felt rather privileged to be counted in a group like this.

There didn’t seem to be any set pattern to how they were called up, and he knew that he’d better be prepared at an instant’s notice. He’d done his warmups and just focused on keeping his vocal cords loosened and lubricated. Swishing some lukewarm water in his mouth before swallowing, he mentally ran through his performance notes, wanting to give his best effort.

Brett had just completed an absolutely stunning rendition of “Almost Like Being In Love” to great applause from their appreciate audience when Mrs. Dolloway stepped onto the stage, applauding him with a smile. Once the audience settled, she turned to them with a teasing smile.

“Well, now I think it’s time for something a little different,” she pronounced. “NYADA certainly has been generous with the talent we have this afternoon, so let me present Mr. Kurt Hummel.”

She looked to the stage wings and gave Kurt an appraising look, as if daring him to back out but he just smiled serenely. Not even taking a second to check his outfit one last time, Kurt stepped onto the stage and nodded his thanks to the prickly patron. Mrs. Dolloway just smiled and nodded a challenge to him before allowing him the stage.

Kurt turned his focus to the audience and the band began to play the opening strains to his first number. He wondered if anyone watching him would be surprised at his choice because this song had the potential to be a total train wreak if the melody got away from him at any point.

There was a gentle rhythm that felt almost like a heartbeat, and his voice rose out gently to match it. “Like the beat, beat beat of the tom tom,” he sang gently, each word falling neatly onto the percussion. “When the jungle shadows fall.”

His voice shifted octave just slightly, slipping into the next level of his range with smooth effortlessness, the words trailing elegantly. “Like the tick, tick, tock of the stately clock as it stands against the wall.”

The octave shifted again, and Kurt’s voice rose to meet it. “Like the drip, drip drip of the raindrops, when the summer shower is through,” he sang smoothly, his voice adjusting to the quick change from higher to low notes without any breaks. “So a voice within me keeps repeating you, you, you…”

The heartbeat rhythm was replaced by a warm jazzy tone and Kurt’s voice slipped easily into the new cadence. “Night and day, you are the one,” he sang passionately, allowing a faraway smile to touch his features as he thought about the man who was inspiring him. “Only you, beneath the moon and under the sun. Whether near to me or far… It’s no matter darling, where you are. I think of you…”

Kurt knew that technically had had it. His voice agilely danced through the various octaves and key changes without any hint of struggle. The song made use of nearly his entire range and required him to be able to bounce from octave to octave without hesitation or interruption.

But he was no mere technician. The warmth in his voice and the soul powering the words was what would set him apart. The singer was a man deeply, passionately in love and Kurt certainly had enough of those feelings to lend appropriate authenticity to his performance.

“Night and day,” he crooned, allowing all his feelings for Adam come out in his voice. “Day and night. Why is it so? This longing for you follows me wherever I go. In the roaring traffic’s boom. In the silence of my lonely room, I think of you.”

This separation had been one of the hardest things he’d endured, but his feelings for Adam had only grown. If absence did indeed make the heart grow fonder, then his heart was nearly overflowing with love for his absent partner. He could only express it now in his voice.

“Night and day. Night and day!” The key changed and Kurt voice rose elegantly as he slid into his upper range. “Under the hide of me. There’s an oh! Such a hungry yearning burning inside of me.”

He moved across the stage, doing a soft weave step that worked nicely with the flow of the music, letting himself get lost in the music and emotion. His voice slipped easily into his lower register, coiling like a spring.

“And its torment won’t be through, till you let me spend my life making love…” Kurt’s voice shot up to his upper register and he held the note for a long, dramatic second before letting it fall back into his middle range. “To you! Day and night! Night and day!”

He finished with a vocal flourish and couldn’t help from smiling when the audience applauded enthusiastically. Kurt thought that he’d sounded quite good but getting that kind of feedback from an artistically educated and appreciative audience… it would never get old.

Through the lights, he could see his audience. Mostly the seniors seated at the tables who seemed especially enthusiastic. One in particular caught his eye; a petite dumpling of a woman with short grey hair and grinning widely as she applauded. He smiled at her, nodding his thanks.

As for Mrs. Dolloway, standing in the wings… Kurt didn’t bother to look for her reaction, because it didn’t matter to him if she liked his performance or not. The band was already cuing up the music for his next number and he had an audience to focus on.

He was glad that he’d selected an upbeat number for his second performance, using songs from the same songwriter to tie his act together. He’d already proven that he was a singer. Now he could let them see just how much of a showman he could be.

He smiled beatifically looking out to the audience, using the older woman he’d spotted as a focus. “When the little blue bird who has never said a word, starts to sing, ‘Spring, spring’,” he trilled gently, letting his voice float on the music. “When the little blue bell in the bottom of the dell, starts to ring, ‘Ting, ting’.”

He did a little bit of dancing, moving across the stage as he sang. “When the little blue clock in the middle of his work, sings a song to the moon up above.” Kurt allowed a bit more power to come out in his voice but kept it carefully under control. “It is nature that's all, simply telling us to fall in love…”

He allowed a short pause to build up anticipation before continuing softly. “And that's why birds do it, bees do it,” he crooned delicately. “Even educated fleas do it. Let's do it! let's fall in love.”

Love might be the subject of ninety nine percent of songs written, he’d considered, but he didn’t know of many songs that so perfectly expressed the joy of discovering love. That one wasn’t above that heady emotion when sense could be tossed aside in favor of just feeling. Sometimes it would strike like a lightning bolt, but other times it came on more gradually. Like sinking into a perfectly warm bath. He’d been fortunate to have discovered love in both ways but having that moment when you truly fell was some of the most wondrous, terrifying moments of his life.

“In Spain, the best upper sets do it,” he confided playfully. “Lithuanians and Letts do it. Let's do it, let's fall in love.”

Kurt saw the plump little woman nodding approvingly, watching with the others seated at her table. An elegantly handsome black man leaned over to whisper something in her ear, his eyes focused on Kurt with the other man just watched with a slightly dazed smile on his face.

“Some Argentines without means, do it,” Kurt lilted, letting the best qualities of his voice shine. He knew that his voice was distinctive, and he wasn’t going to hide that fact no matter what Mrs. Dolloway thought. “People say in Boston even beans do it. Let’s do it! Let’s fall in love!”

Kurt had enough dance training under his belt that even though he hadn’t enough time to plan his choreography in advance, he could improvise and have it look thought out. He turned on one foot and danced across the stage as he sang, using the jazz technique that Ms. July had beaten into him and used the movement to accent his vocals. He could see the approval of the audience as they clapped in time to the music and cheered him on.

He gave a final spin, coming to stop in front of the older woman’s table and offered her and her friends a charming smile. “The world admits bears in pits do it,” he sang, letting more power come into his voice and giving the woman a sly smile and a little shimmy of his shoulders, causing her to giggle in response. “Even Pekingeses at the Ritz do it. Let’s do it! Let’s fall in love.

“The royal set sans regret did it, and they considered it fun. Marie Antoinette did it, with or with about Napoleon!” Kurt confided to his audience, glad that they were enjoying the bawdy nonsense. “Parliament pleasure bent did it. Mam’selles every time they’re short of rent did it.

“Let’s do it,” he belted, winding up for the conclusion and letting his voice soar. “Let’s fall in love!”

It might not have been the same thrill that he got from performing Les Misérables, but the audience was applauding and cheering, and Kurt couldn’t be more pleased. He gave a brief bow and waved to the crowd before stepping off stage.

Mrs. Dolloway was giving him an odd, appraising look but didn’t have the opportunity to speak with him right away. She stepped out to introduce the next performer and Kurt took the opportunity to make a quick escape.

He stopped by Abigail and Brett, the three of them quietly congratulating one another for their fine performances before Kurt made his way to where they audience was seated. Taking care not to draw attention to himself and detract from the young woman singing a glorious aria, he stealthily made his way to the table at the back where his friends were seated. They were all smiles and while they couldn’t immediately express what they thought without disturbing others seated around them, Kurt knew that he had done what he’d set out to do.

Rachel smiled at him warmly, her dark eyes clearly communicating how well she thought he’d done and reached out to grasp his hand. He returned the loving squeeze and allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder while they watched the remaining performers.

Once all the students were finished, Mrs. Dolloway took the stage again bask in the admiration of the audience, nodding her thanks at their applause. With practiced graciousness, she thanked all the performers and sponsors of the retirement home, urging everyone to stay for the reception. The house lights came on to illuminate the room and the band began to play a pleasant jazz set so that everyone could mingle and talk.

Now that the hard part was over, Kurt turned to his friends with a satisfied smile. “Thanks for being here, guys,” he said sincerely. “It was really reassuring, knowing that you were out here.”

Analisa got up to hug her favorite duet partner about his shoulders. “Don’t be silly,” she admonished playfully. “Did you really think we would miss it? We’re all in this together.”

Jamie clapped Kurt on the arm fondly. “Why don’t we go see what kind of food they’ve got,” he suggested.

Kurt smiled and nodded, offering his arms to both Analisa and Rachel, while Jamie happily escorted Katya. There was an open bar which provided Kurt with a very well-deserved glass of white wine while waiters circulated through the crowd with trays of finger foods. Taking a fried nibble that turned out to be brie and fig preserves, Kurt mentally prepared himself to do the whole meet and greet thing. While he’d much rather hang out with his friends and enjoy the free food, he knew that it would be stupid to waste the opportunity to network on June Dolloway’s dime. Especially if he could share the wealth with his friends.

After making the rounds, accepting compliments on his performance and pocketing a few business cards from some professionals who wanted to keep Kurt on their radar, he decided that he now had full right to relax and enjoy the party. A plate of munchies and Kurt was happy to sit at a convenient table with his friends to talk. They didn’t often have the chance to enjoy outings like this and he certainly wasn’t going to pass on the opportunity.

“I could use another drink,” he pronounced after finishing off his first glass of wine. “Can I get anyone anything?”

“No, we’re good,” Jamie assured him.

Kurt got up from his seat and took his empty glass with him to head towards the bar. He’d already planned to cut himself off after two glasses of wine, knowing that this was not the kind of setting where getting sloppy would be appreciated. The crowd was a bit thick and he carefully waded his way through but couldn’t avoid being collided by someone who’d been nudged into his path. Kurt quickly caught her, helping her find her balance again.

“I’m so sorry!” the woman exclaimed, alarmed as the glass she held sloshed a bit. “Did I get anything on you?”

Even in the less than ideal light, Kurt could see that his outfit was free of liquid stains. “No, it’s fine,” he assured her, offering a smile.

She inhaled a deep sigh of relief. “Thank goodness! I would have hated to ruin your outfit after that wonderful performance you just gave us,” she admitted with a smile.

Kurt quickly recognized her as the older woman that he’d focused on during his performance and realized that she was even more adorable than he’d originally perceived from the stage. With her round face and neat cap of grey hair, she looked like she would be perfectly at home baking cookies for a score of grandchildren.

That was until he caught the mischievous glint in her eyes behind her glasses. That indicated less an inclination towards baking and a nature more inclined to being the source of trouble wherever she went.

“At least this gives me the chance to thank you,” she said with a warm smile. “You were absolutely wonderful.”

Kurt couldn’t help from smiling back. “Thank you very much,” he answered sincerely. I’m so happy that you enjoyed it.”

“Well, it’s such a pleasure to meet you in person,” she said sweetly. “I’m Maggie.”

Kurt took her hand and shook it gently, amazing at how soft her skin was over joints that were clearly showing signs of advanced arthritis. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Maggie. I’m Kurt.”

The handsome black man that Maggie had been seated with hurried over, trailed by another man with a perpetually dazed smile on his face. “Maggie, here you are,” he exclaimed, a hint or reprimand in his voice. “We were looking all over for you.”

“Oh hush… I was just talking to my new friend here,” Maggie explained. “This is Kurt and he just saved me from being knocked to the floor.”

She sighed happily. “It’ been so long since I’ve had a handsome young man to take care of me,” she teased with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Despite how she overstated his rescue of her, Kurt couldn’t help from smiling back, flattered by her compliment.

“Oh, come on,” the handsome black man reprimanded playfully. “My grandson visited just last week. He did your hair for you!”

Maggie blushed and laughed, hand-waving away her friend’s protestations. She turned a teasing smile to Kurt. “Don’t listen to him,” she insisted, patting his hand. “He always tries to spoil my fun.”

She looked to her friend and explained, “This is that lovely young man that we saw in Les Misérables. Remember?”

The man’s eyes widened slightly in recognition. “I should have remembered that,” he said ruefully. “A voice like that, you don’t forget too quickly.

“I’m Andy and this here is Marty,” he introduced, shaking Kurt’s hand warmly. “It’s so nice to meet such a talented young man.”

“Thank you,” Kurt said sincerely. “I wasn’t sure if anyone here saw our show.”

Andy couldn’t help from laughing loudly at that bit of absurdity. “Son, I don’t think there’s anyone in this room that didn’t see that show,” he insisted with a broad smile that looked far too sexy on a man his age. “It was a nice surprise to see some of the performers from it here today.”

Kurt couldn’t help from laughing at their antics. “Madam Tibideaux told me a bit about your retirement home and I couldn’t resist wanting to help,” he said with a smile. “It sounds like a really nice place.”

Andy nodded, taking a sip of his drink that appeared to be scotch and water. “It is,” he assured the younger man. “Especially when you consider that all of the residents have a lot of shared life and career experiences. Gives us plenty to talk about.”

Maggie nodded in agreement. “They have a lot of activities for old actors like us. We get to see most of the new Broadway shows, and we go to a lot of school and local productions,” she explained. “There was no way that we would miss that one.”

Her smile turned a bit mischievous as she appraised him. “I recognized you the instant you came on the stage.”

Kurt couldn’t help from laughing a bit. “I’m flattered,” he said sincerely.

“It’s a lot of fun, watching all you youngsters,” Andy complimented. “Reminds me of our glory days. I probably wasn’t much older than you when I made my big debut.”

“Oh hush, Andy,” Maggie reprimanded playfully. “He doesn’t want to hear our old stories. And we’re being so rude, taking him away from his friends like this.”

“It’s okay,” Kurt promised with a chuckle. He glanced over at the table where his friends were seated and caught Rachel’s questioning gesture at what was keeping him. He nodded his head towards his current companions and Rachel smiled knowingly, rolling her eyes playfully. “I see them all the time at school.”

Before he could say anything more, he saw Mrs. Dolloway approaching them. Her face was set in a smile, but Kurt could easily see that it was just a front for the guests. The look in her pale eyes was positively steely and whatever hope he had of finishing the day without an uncomfortable confrontation with her was totally extinguished.

“I hate to rush away,” he said was honest regret, because he would much rather hear their stories about the old days than deal with the unpredictable sponsor. “But I see Mrs. Dolloway and it look like she wants to speak with me.”

“Well, it’s been a pleasure, Kurt,” Andy said graciously, offering another brilliant smile. “You were excellent today and we’re all looking forward to seeing more from you.”

Maggie leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks for rescuing me,” she said sincerely. “I hope that we see more of you soon.”

He smiled back, giving her hand a fond squeeze. “It was wonderful to meet you,” he said graciously before turning to face the difficult sponsor. He was mentally steeling himself when he jumped in surprise because someone just pinched his ass. He turned in shock to see Maggie strolling away with her friends to find new entertainments but not without turning a mischievous smile in his direction and giving him a quick wave. Almost before he had a chance to mentally regroup, he was faced with his biggest challenge of the day.

“Well, Mr. Hummel,” Mrs.Dolloway pronounced with obviously false sweetness. “That performance was certainly not what I would have expected from you.”

Kurt let himself smile, detecting the bare trace of hard-won respect in her tone. “I’m pleased that I was able to surpass your expectations,” he allowed himself to respond with carefully politeness.

Her mouth pursed thoughtfully. “Well, it certainly wasn’t anything I would have expected,” she granted. “And I’ve gotten some decent feedback from some of our donors on your performance.”

Kurt had the feeling that getting an actual compliment from this woman would be like trying to extract state secrets from James Bond. Nor did he think that it would be worth the effort. He knew how well he’d done and didn’t need the confirmation from someone that evidently didn’t respect him.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he granted with a smile, pouring on the sugar. “Especially since it’s going to benefit the retirement home residents.”

Something seemed to soften in Mrs. Dolloway’s eyes at his disinterest in trying to reap glory for his own benefit. He would have every right to be proud of what he’d brought to that stage but had the grace to recognize that this day wasn’t about him in the end. It was about those lovely old actors getting support and respect from a younger generation.

She quickly regained her mental equilibrium, pasting a tolerant expression on her face as if trying to reason with an unruly child. Gazing at him appraisingly, she stated “I have other performance opportunities over the next few weeks that might interest you. Perhaps we could set up a time to discuss the options.”

Kurt’s eyebrow arched in surprise at the offer. He would have thought that he would be the last person she would invite back to another of her showcases.

Trying to look apologetic and not sure if he was being totally convincing, Kurt gave a regretful sigh. “I wish that I could,” he said with as much sincerity as he could force into his voice without sounding saccharine. “But we’re getting to the end of the semester and I’ve got all my finals and critiques to get through. Then right after that, I start rehearsals for the Garrison festival and that will tie me up all summer. I’m afraid that I’m just not going to have any free time to take on any more committments.”

At least not any where Mrs. Dolloway was concerned, he said to himself with an internal smirk.

His excuse was plausible enough given the time of the year and not something that she could actually protest since he still had two years of school to go. “I suppose that your semester is winding down,” she granted with a huff. “And I doubt that Carmen would be forgiving if I distracted you from your studies.”

Kurt nodded, glad that she was buying it. To be honest, if he really wanted to, he probably could have found time to manage another showcase. He’d become very adept at juggling an overloaded schedule, but Mrs. Dolloway made it difficult for him to justify putting himself out in any way.

Still, she didn’t appear to be trying to be deliberately awful at the moment and he was glad to have helped support the retirement home. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make nice to the old harridan.

“Maybe once school starts again,” he offered, wanting to end this on a positive note so that he at least didn’t have to worry about an enemy. While it would be idiotic for Mrs. Dolloway to try to hamstring his prospects, it would be equally stupid on his part to antagonize her unnecessarily.

“Especially if your showcase benefits a cause like this,” he added with genuine sincerity. “I was very happy to give my support today. Anything for old folks or animals… I’m pretty much a sucker for those.”

That got a genuine laugh from the cantankerous woman, and Kurt thought that just maybe he might get out of this with his professional reputation intact.

Mrs. Dolloway offered a brief nod, accepting both his refusal and the offered olive branch with a lot more grace that he would have expected. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind if the opportunity comes up,” she assured him with a sharp-toothed grin. “Even if it doesn’t, I’ll be keeping my eye on you. I’m curious enough to see how you develop going forward. You’re an interesting young man, Mr. Hummel.”

There was just enough warning in her tone to imply that she was being entirely truthful, and Kurt knew well enough not to poke a snarling cat with a stick. He reached out to take her hand, as if to shake it, but surprised her by pressing a feather-light kiss to her thin fingers.

“I’ll try to keep surprising you,” he assured her, offering a bit of a saucy wink that got another laugh from Mrs. Dolloway. She shook her head bemusedly as she walked off to find someone else to torture.

Walking back to his friends, Kurt allowed himself a sigh of relief at having managed to escape what could have been a very painful entanglement. He knew that he had handled things as well as he possibly could have managed and all things considered, it hadn’t been a terrible way to spend an afternoon. He got to offer support to a worthy cause, performed well before and appreciative audience and apparently had managed to avoid being mauled by a difficult patron.

All in all, he was rather pleased with himself. And he’d have some interesting stories to tell Adam when he returned home.

* * *

At one point, having a day off meant that Adam could rest. Being on the road and performing on tour was draining and he knew that if he intended to survive with his sanity intact, that he needed to take the opportunity to relax when presented with it. Certainly, he and his friends did sightseeing and took advantage of the various cities that they performed in. He was glad to have the opportunity to see so much of the country that he had made his home in.

But this day off would allow little time for decompressing or taking a long nap to recharge. Not when he had just a few weeks left of work and no flat to return to. He wanted to review the listings and narrow down some options before asking Kurt to take time from his studies to see them in person. Adam knew that Kurt would have his finals soon and had precious little time to go looking at apartments when he should be focused on his studies.

While staying in their old neighborhood would have been ideal for Kurt, as he could walk to school when the weather permitted and they were familiar with the area, he knew that they should also branch out a bit. Being closer to the theater district might work out and put him closer to work and auditions. And while he had a very nice chuck of his pay stashed in the bank, he knew that it needed to last until Butcher’s Bill started up in New York. Something that they could afford would be critical.

Adam had lived in New York long enough to know that the real estate market was cutthroat and apartments that seemed ideally suited to their needs would vanish from the market in an instant. It was frustrating to compile a list of prospects, only to have them snapped up before he could ask Kurt to see them in person.

Niall watched his increasing vexation with amusement, rolling his eyes as Adam ranted at another possible flat was rented before they could even check the apartment out.

“Mate, why are you driving yourself barmy like this?” he asked, watching from his bed as Adam was reviewing yet another group of listings.

Adam turned an irritated look to his friend. “Because NYADA isn’t going to let me move into Kurt’s dorm room when we get back to New York,” he snapped, aggravated by the lack of progress in finding himself a home. “I’m not fancying being homeless.”

Niall shook his head in amusement. “Just call an agent,” he suggested, as if the solution was so plainly obvious and Adam was three kinds of idiot for not noticing it sooner. “Let them do all the leg work. Just tell them when you’ll need your place by.”

Adam looked at the other Englishman, mentally kicking himself for not thinking of that sooner. Exasperated with his own stubbornness, he did a quick internet search and found an agent had very positive reviews from past clients. Speaking to her, he learned that her fee was paid by the landlords after the lease was signed, as they were saved time and work by having their prospective tenants cleared by someone else and Adam explained what he and Kurt were looking for.

A one bedroom at least, so that he and Kurt would have some wiggle room and not be living in one another’s pockets the whole time. Two bedrooms would be even better, letting one room stand as a study/guest room but he knew that would probably be out of their budgets. A decent kitchen with a dishwasher. They didn’t mind a walk up, but if the flat was more than three stories up they were prefer a building with a lift. He explained that while he wouldn’t be back in New York to sign the lease for a few weeks, they could put a deposit down to secure the flat until he returned.

She expressed confidence that she’d be able to find something for him that would be available when he returned to New York and that it would be no problem for Kurt to see the apartments in his stead. Within three days, Adam had a group of listings to review. He picked out the ones that he thought suited best and forwarded them to Kurt to look over.

“The Chelsea apartment is awfully expensive,” Kurt mused on their afternoon call. “And it’s pretty far from the subway.”

“I was thinking that myself,” Adam said regretfully. It was the largest of the flats they were considering and ticked off most of the boxes, but it was at the high end of their budget. Being comfortable didn’t matter much if they were left starving in order to cover the rent. “We can cross that one off our list. What about the one in Hell’s Kitchen? I know it’s a walk-up, but it’s only the second floor. And it’s a few blocks from the subway and the bus going downtown.”

The agent had been especially pleased to find that apartment and it would become available right around the time Adam was finishing in California. Newly renovated and in an area that she assured him had plenty of good restaurants and shopping and was very friendly to same-sex couples, it sounded like a fine place for Adam to land in.

Kurt took a moment and looked over the listing. “I like this one,” he decided. “I won’t be able to walk to school, but it shouldn’t take me too long to get there. And there’s a laundromat right down the block, so we won’t have to go too far for clean underwear.”

“And it’s not at all far from the theater district,” Adam noted. “It’s only one bedroom, but I think that it’ll be large enough for us to be comfortable. Maybe look at this one and two flats in the West Village.”

“Sounds good,” Kurt agreed. “I’ll make arrangements to see them and we’ll make a final choice. That is, if you trust me.”

Adam couldn’t help from laughing at the absurd nothing. “Of course I do, love,” he assured Kurt lovingly. “I have no doubt that you’ll pick the right home for us.”

Kurt fell silent for a moment and Adam couldn’t help from prodding, “Sweetheart?”

“It’s okay,” Kurt assured him. “It’s just… it feels like you’ve been away for so long. This just makes you coming home real.”

Adam smiled at the longing in his lover’s voice. He’d missed Kurt so badly the past few months and finding a new flat was the confirmation that their time apart was coming to an end.

“And this will be our place,” he reminded Kurt. “Not one of us moving into a space where the other had already set down roots. We’ll make it our home, together.”

He heard Kurt sniffle over the line and wished that he could be there to take his beautiful lad into his arms. Just a few short weeks, he told himself.

“I can’t wait,” Kurt insisted. “I just want to hold you and never let go.”

Hearing Kurt’s longing expressed so plainly caused Adam’s heart to tighten within his chest. They’d survived this trial and very soon would be reaping the rewards for everything that they’d gone through.

It would only be a few more weeks, he told himself.

* * *

Kurt looked about the empty apartment, glad that he’d brought Rachel along for both company and to offer an unbiased opinion. After sleeping in a dorm room, however comfortable, Kurt was desperate for some real privacy and his own shower. While Adam trusted him to make a good choice that suited both of them, Kurt worried that he’d take whatever apartment he was shown first. Having one of his closest friends who knew his tastes so well would help him to make a more reasoned decision.

He'd already decided that one of the West Village apartments might be a contender, having enough space for them to live in comfortably. The other was too small despite technically being a one bedroom and the bathroom was sorely out of date despite the high rent the landlord was requesting. Climbing up the steps to an old pre-war brownstone on the west side, he hoped that this apartment might suit them better.

“The apartment gets a lot of good natural light,” the broker, Monica, explained as she guided them around. “The windows are new and will muffle out a lot of the street noise.”

Kurt nodded as he checked out the kitchen that had clearly been recently renovated. While like most kitchens in New York apartments it was on the small side, there was more space than in Adam’s old place and he was confident that both he and Adam could be cooking together without tripping over one another. It had more than enough cabinet and counter space for their needs and all the appliances were brand new, including the coveted dishwasher.

The living area was decent sized, and Kurt thought that they could fit in an actual dining table that could accommodate more than just the two of them, as well as a sofa and loveseat so they could entertain guests. He loved the exposed brick wall and the honey-warm hardwood floors, listening to his shoes clicking as he walked through the place.

“Does the fireplace work?” Rachel asked, eyeing the space in the brick wall and the small mantle accenting it enviously. Kurt didn’t blame her, as he was already envisioning hanging up their stockings during the winter holidays and setting up an elegantly decorated tree or curling up on the floor together in front of a roaring fire.

Monica shook her head. “I’m afraid not,” she clarified. “The shaft is sealed off. But you can put in an electric log heater. I have one in my own place and it gives the feel of having a real fire. It’s also a lot safer.”

Kurt nodded absently, making a note of that to relay to Adam. A functioning fireplace was on neither of their “must have” lists and it certainly wouldn’t be something that would remove this apartment from consideration. They could still have romantic evenings together, even if their fire was electrical. Having a fireplace, even a non-functional one was a definite bonus.

The bathroom had also undergone recent renovations, with a cleanly tiled shower that looked like he and Adam could share if they didn’t mind being in very close quarters he noted with a pleased smirk. There was a linen closet right opposite the bathroom, giving them additional storage space. And the bedroom…

Kurt took measure of the size, seeing that they could easily fit in a large bed and a dresser for each of them. A peek in the closet confirmed that there was enough space so that they wouldn’t be fighting over every square inch. The room had been painted recently a pale beige that invited him to imagine their pictures on the wall and white blinds on the windows that would give the space a refined but homey feel.

He thought back to the day that he and Rachel first saw the Bushwick loft and that instant that they both realized that they could make that big empty space a home. That they were able to look past the bare walls and cheerless interior and see where they could build their lives in New York. The other apartments he’d been looking at were nice, but this was the first apartment where Kurt could actually see himself and Adam living.

If he gave the word, Adam would go along with his opinion. They would pay the deposit and sign the lease as soon as Adam was back in New York. Adam could get moved in and start setting up while Kurt was finishing his classes for the year. It was a huge responsibility that his partner had placed on his shoulders and Kurt didn’t wand to make the wrong choice. He took a few pictures on his phone to send to Adam so they could discuss their options.

Letting Monica know that he and Adam would think about things and let her know which apartment they’d choose, he and Rachel walked down the stairs and out into the lively neighborhood that surrounded the pretty ivy-covered building. The street was tree-lined and surprisingly quiet despite being the middle of a weekday. Just down the block was an appealing looking coffee shop and several interesting bars and restaurants.

It was the kind of area that he could see them building a life together. He could pick at the negatives, such as having to commute to school and not living close by their friends. But those were minor complaints when he could envision their lives there. Both of them had been flying on their own for too long, learning what the strength of their wings were capable of. Now it was time to build a nest of their own.

“So, what do you think?” Rachel asked as they explored the neighborhood around the building a bit. “You’ve got a lot of nice restaurants around here.”

Kurt took in the lively atmosphere, liking the feel of the area. He appreciated how the building was down a side street and insulated from the worst of the city noise, but a quick walk would get them to all of the amenities. The Clinton Gardens were just a few short blocks away, giving them a bit of green space to enjoy during the nice weather. Walking east would take them right into the heart of the theater district. It was as if this neighborhood were all but designed for their needs.

“I think I like it here,” he pronounced, allowing himself to smile. He spotted a bakery that the real estate agent had recommended and grasped Rachel’s hand. “Come on… I owe you a treat after all your help today. Then we’ll do a test drive to see how long it takes the bus to get me to school.”

They returned to Kurt’s dorm room forty minutes later with a box of assorted cookies to share. “Well, that wasn’t bad,” Rachel decided as she sat down on Kurt’s bed. “It’s a lot easier than coming from Bushwick.”

“Yeah, I think it’ll be okay,” Kurt agreed, sitting down at his desk chair and opening the box. “I hope you know that you’re taking most of these home… Ms. July will decapitate me if she sees me eating these.”

Still, the threat of bodily harm from his dance instructor didn’t stop him from picking out a large cookie studded liberally with chucks of chocolate.

Rachel laughed, picking out a carrot cake cookie for herself. “I’m sure that between Artie and Santana, I won’t have too much trouble finding anyone to take these off my hands,” she said good naturedly. After taking a bite of her snack, she looked to her best friend.

“You look like you’re thinking awfully hard,” she prodded gently, knowing that her friend had a huge decision to make.

“I am,” Kurt admitted. “I just don’t want to make the wrong choice.”

She nodded and nibbled at her cookie. “I don’t think you can really make a bad choice,” she pointed out. “All of the apartments were nice.”

“I was a little torn between the last one we saw and the one in the Village,” Kurt admitted. “But I really like the one in Hell’s Kitchen. Even if it is farther away from school. I think that the quality of life we can have there would be worth the commute.”

She nodded in agreement. “I knew that one was your favorite. From the moment you stepped through the door,” she advised thoughtfully. “So, you’ll take it?”

Kurt considered their options again, mentally weighing out the pros and cons of each place before nodding. “I’ll call Adam and talk it over, but I think that one is it.”

Rachel smiled at her friend. “I’m glad,” she admitted. “And we all can’t wait to throw you two a housewarming party. Don’t forget to tell us when you move in. You’ve got plenty of friends to help move things.”

That was a fact that Kurt was absolutely certain of. Between the group from Lima based out in Bushwick, the Apples and the group he’d found in NYADA, he and Adam wouldn’t be alone to break their backs moving furniture. Promising beer and pizza, they would have plenty of willing helpers.

That evening, he and Adam reviewed their options and made their final choice. Adam would be contacting their agent in the morning and would transfer the deposit to secure their new home. After speaking with his lover for what seemed like hours, Kurt rolled over in bed, clutching a pillow to him.

Only a few more weeks, he told himself.

* * *

The final performance of Butcher’s Bill went off splendidly, with the entire cast giving everything they had for that performance. Standing on stage and accepting the ovation of the audience filled Adam with a tremendous sense of pride. It had been a tremendous challenge, being on the road for so long and then performing to the best of his ability every night but he had succeeded beyond anything he could have hoped to accomplish.

Of course, his time with Butcher’s Bill wasn’t done just yet, with runs in London and New York to look forward to. But he would have time to rest, recalibrate and focus on getting his life in New York sorted out again.

The cast and crew celebrated their accomplishment late into the night. There was much in the way of congratulations and commiserations, not to mention numerous celebratory toasts. Adam awoke in his shared hotel room with Niall snoring nosily in the next bed and his own head feeling like it wasn’t quite attached to his neck.

Packing his bags for the final time felt odd in a manner that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He was, of course, delighted to be going home and could not wait to see Kurt. But after zipping up his suitcase, he felt a little lost as bereft. The pressure of his job was over for the time being, and he wasn’t quite sure what awaited him. He’d managed to find something of a routine that had kept him sane over the past few months and now would have to develop a new one going forward.

There would certainly be enough for him to do, he considered. Reconnecting with Kurt was first and foremost on his list, and there was their new flat to set up. He had his internship with the Garrison festival that would keep him busy over the summer, as well as allow him more time to spend with Kurt while they worked. He’d find a small job to keep the bills paid and himself busy until rehearsals started for their London run.

But for now… it was the malaise that came with the end of a production. The down that came after the incredible high of performing before an appreciative audience every night and doing what he’d spent his life training to do. Having the production end, even for just a few months, took a lot of the steam right out of him. It was a vastly different from his past experience with school productions and festivals. This felt much larger… more intense.

It was something that he would have to become accustomed to, Adam told himself as he checked about the hotel room to make sure that he hadn’t forgotten anything. His life would be a cycle of shows beginning and ending. Of hard work and downtime when he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. But for his first true foray into the world of being a professional actor, he was well satisfied with what he and his castmates had accomplished.

Niall pulled him into a tight embrace as they left the last cast luncheon where they’d celebrated having survived the experience. Adam found himself clinging back to the man who’d become such a close friend over the past few months.

“Now don’t forget,” Niall warned with a grin. “Cynth and I are claiming first rights for a couple’s night out once you’re settled in your place. No trying to wriggle out of that.”

Adam couldn’t help from laughing. “I won’t,” he assured his friend. “Kurt will have my guts for garters if I tried to bail on you.”

The other Englishman gave Adam another squeeze, as if reluctant to let him go. “Take care of yourself, you silly tosser. Safe travels,” he urged.

“You too, mate,” Adam returned, blinking away the tears that he swore weren’t there just a second ago. “Give Cynthia a hug for me.”

Adam was grateful to have made such a good friend on this tour, and that the whole case got along so well. It would have made for a miserable experience to live that closely with a group that he didn’t get along with for an extended period. Not that he expected that he would always bond so closely with castmates, and Adam had worked with actors that he didn’t like on a personal level, but the pressures of a tour magnified the dynamics of any cast. He was indeed fortunate to have his first experience be such a positive one.

The flight back to New York was uneventful, but as the miles of American landscape passed beneath him, Adam felt his excitement begin to swell. He watched out the plane window as mountains and grasslands passed by, speeding past cities and long stretches of road that etched their way through the landscapes. He would never cease to be amazed at just how big this country was, or how varied it was. He was wise enough to recognize what a treat he’d had, getting a chance to see more of the country than most people who’d lived their wholes lives there had.

He felt himself smiling as the pilot announced their approach to Newark Airport, knowing that it would only be a little bit longer before he was home. Or at least, in the hotel room that he’d reserved until their lease was signed and he could get into their new flat. When the jets wheels finally touched onto solid ground, he knew that he’d finally made it.

It seemed to take forever for his bags to appear on the carousal, but he soon enough had them in hand and was walking to the arrivals area. It would be just a short train ride into Manhattan, and hopefully into Kurt’s waiting arms.

After stepping through the last set of doors that let him out into the greeting area, he looked for the sign that would direct him to the train when he heard a familiar voice call out, “Adam!”

Adam looked at the crowd gathered to greet the arriving passengers and sat him standing at the front, waving to get his attention. What the hell..?

He hurried over and dropped the handle for his suitcase, catching up Kurt in a tight hug and not caring who was around to see them. Adam’s senses were suddenly flooded with all the familiar characteristics that he knew so well from Kurt and had missed so much these past months. The feel of his body, the scent of his skin and the cologne that he favored, the slight hitch in his breathing that sometimes happened when he was overcome with emotion.

Home wasn’t New York or their little flat. Home was Kurt.

He was finally home, and he never wanted to leave again.

* * *

Kurt's solos: "Night and Day" and "Let's Fall In Love" - Cole Porter

[katecarteir]

ask me to stay. | chapter one | 6k.  

“Your lip is all busted,” Eddie said, as though pointing out that Richie’s lips were injured would somehow make it okay that Eddie was paying attention to them. Richie’s hand came up, long fingers wrapping around Eddie’s tiny wrist, and he gently guided Eddie’s touch away.

Eddie finally wrenched his eyes away from Richie’s lips and met his best friend’s gaze. There was a softness there that he rarely got to see, not even the smallest hint of teasing or joking there. It was just Richie, just Richie looking at him and Eddie looking back. For a single moment, it was just Richie and Eddie alone in the world. Nothing to bother them, nothing to live up to.

[or: the year is 1994, and Eddie Kaspbrak is in love.]

chapter warnings: minor depictions of violence, gay slurs. it’s the 90s man.

click title to read on AO3! 

The final bell rang through the class, and it took every inch of self control that Eddie Kaspbrak had not to toss the papers on his desk up in the air and cry out with joy. Richie Tozier, it seemed, had much less self control than Eddie did- and Eddie had Richie’s papers landing on his desk and Richie’s shouts in his ears.

“ Mr Tozier,” Ms Campbell, their junior AP English teacher, gave him a long withering look but Eddie could see her fighting off a smile. Richie seemed to be the only person in the world who’d mastered annoying and amusing somebody at the same time. “I can still give you detention for this afternoon.”

Richie gave her a small half smile. “But I’m pretty sure that you’re just as excited as I am to get out of here, so you probably won’t.”

Richie Tozier was all things that a good girls’ daddy would warn them about. His hair never laid flat on his head, and his clothes were always rumbled with wild patterns and mix-matched styles. He still forced his feet into the same pair of Dock Martens from freshman year, even after growing up them back at the beginning of the year, and it gave him a permanent skip in his step. He wore braces on his teeth even at sixteen years old, and the grudging white women down at the salon always seemed to have something bad to say about the Tozier family.

Eddie wasn’t like Richie. It sometimes felt like Eddie’s mother still dressed him, even if he technically chose out his own outfits every morning. Eddie Kaspbrak was similar to Richie in one way; he was also the kind of boy that men didn’t want around their daughters. No man wanted their daughter running around with a boy who dressed like a faggot. Eddie may not choose his clothes, but that didn’t make all of their claims untrue.

Ms Campbell shook her head, fully smiling now. “Get out of here, Richard.”

Richie let out another excited noise, slightly quieter this time, and grabbed hold of Eddie’s hand. Eddie barely had enough time to grab up his own things before Richie was dragging him from the building. He seemed to not have any regard for his own belongings that were scattered all over the classroom. Eddie had known Richie Tozier for pretty much as long as he could remember. A real sandbox love, and Richie had been this obnoxious ever since Eddie could remember. Richie had been a messy child, loud, and Eddie’s mother had forbid him at four years old to ever see the boy again. Being friends with Richie Tozier had been the first time Eddie had ever disobeyed his mother, and every time since had been Richie inspired.

Richie openly pranced into the hallway, slipping and high fiving some random person that Eddie barely recognized. He looked ridiculous in his too small boots, and jean overall matched with a Hawaiian print shirt that lost what little fashion cred it had back in the early 80s. Richie quickly returned to Eddie’s side, tossing an arm around his friend shoulder and pulling Eddie into his side. “Eds, my love, I have a feeling that this is going to be the best  summer of our lives. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Don’t call me that, dick,” Eddie shoved at Richie, but not enough that they actually broke contact or that Richie would pull away. Richie just grinned down at him. “You say that about last summer and then I spent the whole six weeks with a  cast on my wrist. Thanks to you, I might add. So, sorry if I maybe don’t take your word for it.”

“Eds…” Richie sighed, shaking his head. “I’m telling you. This is the summer of Losers.”

Richie dropped his arm from around Eddie’s shoulder and skipped towards the doors to freedom. Eddie slowed his steps and watch Richie move, a small smile growing on his cheeks.

→  → →

Beverly Marsh tucked her hands into the pockets of the much oversized jean jacket that she’d stolen from Richie, and watched Bill Denbrough upend his pack into the green garbage can outside the school. She was pretty sure at least three calculators and an actual full-sized novel fell out and into the garbage, but she didn’t make a peep.

“Don’t you think you’re going to need those things?” Ben Hanscom asked as he approached. Ben had always been a cute kid, Beverly remembered when they first met in the seventh grade. He had been, for a lack of better word, fat. He’d hit a good growth spurt the year before, and gone out for the football team with Mike Hanlon in sophomore year and it had slimmed him out a little bit. His sandy brown hair still flopped all over his face, and his cheeks still pushed out with chub, and Beverly wouldn’t have had any other way. She would never tell anybody, but she thought that out of all her friends Ben Hanscom was her favourite.

Bill Denbrough looked up and smiled. This past year, Bill had started letting his hair grow out and it now tickled at the back of his neck, and fell well into his eyes. Richie hadn’t yet managed to convince Bill to tuck it back into a ponytail, and Beverly often wondered how Bill even saw. He glanced down at the bag, seeming to think about it for a moment, then tossed the whole bag into the garbage behind his belongings.

Mike walked up to them, still wearing his red-and-white letterman jacket that Ben would never be seen wearing outside of game days, and grinned. Mike Hanlon was definitely the nicest jock that Beverly had ever met in her life. The Hanlons were on the of only black families in the very town of Derry, Maine and they lived out of the outskirts on a beautiful farm. Beverly practically lived out there when she could. Mike had been homeschooled through their elementary school days, and she’d only known him through reputation until then. He’d fit right in their little group of Losers immediately, and they’d all been inseparable since.

“That was overkill, Billy, don’t you think?” Beverly asked, pulling out the package of cigarettes from the pocket of the jacket and lighting one up. She supposed technically they were Richie’s, but she told herself that Richie would never have started smoking if it hadn’t been for her, so that made them partly hers. “You really didn’t need to throw out the whole bag, dude.”

“I don’t want to th-th-think about school for the next s-s-six weeks!” Bill announced, cheeks turning pink the way they always did when his stutter came through. It was remarkably better than it was when they were children- the speech therapy his parents had been taking him to Portland was working wonders- but it seemed to slip through just often enough that he couldn’t quite live down the nickname of “Mush Mouth.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not going to need that stuff next year, man,” Ben said with a laugh. In the past few months, it had seemed that Ben Hanscom had been trying pretty hard to give himself a newer image. His sentences got shorter, he’s words got rougher, and his little black notebooks stopped appearing in his hands. Beverly figured that he was still writing poetry- or at least, she hoped he was- but Ben had effectively been shutting himself out the last few weeks.

“What are we talking about?” Richie’s voice carried over to them, wrapping an arm around Beverly and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Junior year had done wonders to Richie’s height factor, springing him up almost a foot and prompting him to finally catch up to the other boys in their grade.

“Bill here thinks that because the school year is over that he can just throw out all of this stuff from this year- backpack included.” Ben informed Richie, reaching into his own bag and tossing the curly-haired boy a PEZ dispenser that had Daffy Duck from the Loonie Toons on it.

Richie caught it without concern, grinning a little sheepishly as Eddie Kaspbrak came up to them. He was a little wheezy from trying to keep up to Richie’s larger steps, but had that same mischievous grin on his face that he always did. “That’s nothing,” Eddie said with a cocky wiggle of his eyebrows. “ Richard here tossed all his shit up into he air once the bell rang like they were graduation caps, and then left them laying around the classroom.”

Beverly and Mike burst out laughing in the same moment, turning Richie’s slightly embarrassed grin to the genuine smile that always came out his friends laughing. Eddie looked at Richie’s smile, and the sound of Bev and Mike’s laughing sort of dimmed in his ears.

“Where the hell is Stanley?” Bill finally asked, looking around as the court yard quickly emptied around them. Most days the courtyard would be filled for hours after school let out, with clubs and teams all loitering around for meetings, but nobody wanted to stand around on school property once summer had officially started. “It’s not like him to be late.”

“He had a meeting with the counsellor after school, said it wouldn’t take long.” Richie said, popping out three of candies and popping them into his mouth.

“Probably discussing a way to get Stan valedictorian over you,” Mike said with a smirk. Richie clicked his tongue and winked at him.

Eddie’s gaze moved towards the loud rumbling of a certain Chevy truck that was moving down the road towards the school and his chest hitched. “Oh, shit. Incoming.”

Beverly groaned, quickly reaching down to tighten the laces on her combat boots. “Don’t they ever get tired of harassing innocents?”

“Nah,” Richie said, looking towards the truck with the few expression of true disgust that he owned. “People never get tired of the things that get them off. Why did you think I spend so much of my time picking fights with Eddie’s mom?”

“Oh my GOD!” Eddie squeaked, whacking Richie on the air. “You’re so fucking gross, Tozier, I swear-“

“Okay, we gotta move,” Mike said suddenly, reaching out and taking hold of Bill’s arm. Bill had already squared his shoulders, readying up for the fight as he always did at the sight of Henry Bowers and his gang. It was sometimes like there was a tiny part of Bill’s soul that burned for getting his ass handed to him by bullies twice his weight.

“What about Stan?” Eddie asked hesitantly, glancing back at the building. The last thing Eddie wanted was to be caught in any sort of altercation with the Bowers gang that he’d so carefully avoided since they’d graduated from Derry High the year before but he also wasn’t the type to leave a man behind.

“Don’t worry about it,” Richie said, patting Beverly between her shoulder blade and ushering her towards Ben. “Patty boy and I have an understanding. You guys just get out of here.”

Eddie’s chest clenched slightly, and he noticed the same panic settled over Beverly’s face. “Babe, we can all go. We don’t even know how long Stan is going to be in there, we don’t know that they’ll even still be around when he’s done.”

“I don’t know,” Richie said in a voice sung with false confidence. “I’ve sort of missed them. It would nice to have a reunion with our old pals.”

“You’re on your own feeling that way,” Mike said with a nervous laugh. The truck was approaching rather quickly, and he pressed an arm around Beverly’s shoulder. She ushered her away, Ben right on their heels. The truck started to honk, and Eddie squeezed Richie’s wrist before taking off after the others. Richie turned slightly, making eye contact with Bill, who grinned back at him. Richie lowered his hand slightly, and Bill met it with a low five.

Patrick Hockstetter was jumping out the passenger door before the truck had even skidded to a stop. His black hair was longer and greasier than Richie remembered it being, and his clothes looked like they hadn’t been washed since the last time they’d seen him. His boots were caked in mud, and it was definitely the same flannel that had once been oversized. He grinned at them wolfishly, actually going as far as to lick his lips. “Well, well,” Patrick said with a chirp. “If it isn’t my two favourite Losers. Where are the rest of your gang?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Richie asked, raising his brow and matching Patrick smirk for smirk. “Seems the end of days has finally come. Everybody else was raptured up to Gods playground and we’re the only poor bastards left on Earth.”

Bill snorted and tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. As Patrick limbered closer, Richie realized that he was actually the same height now and he couldn’t control the pride that settled in his chest.

Henry and the other two minions that mattered a whole lot less all came strutting out of the truck and towards them. “Huh-huh-huh-huh-hey buh-buh-buh-Billy,” Henry Bowers exaggerated stuttered as he approached. It was weak and overused means of teasing, but it still made Bill clenched his fist and grind his jaw. “You guys all alone here?”

Richie exhaled hard, with an overdramatic roll of his eyes. “We’ve been over this. If you’re going to show up late, at least have the courtesy to be quiet.”

“Oh, Trashmouth Tozier is telling me to be quiet? That’s rich.” Henry stepped towards Richie, a good several inches shorter now. For the first time in his life, Richie Tozier felt he might have the upper hand in a situation. Until Patrick opened his mouth again.

“Hey, Tozier, where’s you’re little fairy friend?” Patrick slurred over to him. Richie’s posture stiffened and he heard Bill let in a small inhale behind him. “I wanted to give him a special hello if you catch my drift.”

Richie saw Patrick grabbing at his crotch from the corner of his eye, and forced a smile onto his face. “You know what I love about bigots.” Richie said, forcing laughter into his voice. He could practically feel Bill vibrating behind him. Richie turned quickly from Henry to Patrick, socking the bully directly in the nose. “Nothing.”

“OH SHIT!” Bill shouted behind Richie, grabbing at his friend’s arm and pulling. Richie stumbled slightly as they took off in the opposite direction of the school.

I picked the wrong day to wear shoes that don’t fit, Richie thought to himself. He could hear the angry shouts of Patrick and his buddies as they chased the two of them through the crowded Derry Park. Richie took a running jump over the park bench, and laughed breathlessly when he heard the distinct thud of Belch Huggins running into it.

Bill took a sharp left and slid underneath the singing out legs of a child on the swing, and nearly fell when he heard Vic Criss shout when the girls feet landed directly in his face. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Hockstetter mad dive forward and tackle Richie into the sandbox. Wincing, Bill turned away as Patrick began to rub Richie’s face into the sand.

“You ever going to learn to watch that fucking trashmouth of yours?” Patrick growled at him, pressing his face angrily against the dirt. Richie flailed, but he knew it was no use. He and Patrick may be nearing each other in height these days, but Patrick had always had superiority upper body strength. Or really, all types of strength except possibility intelligential but given his recent actions- maybe even there. “Always been a problem for you, hasn’t it, Tozier? Never, never learn.”

Richie could dimly hear how Henry and the rest of the goons were cheering Patrick on, but he was pretty sure he was getting sand in his eyes at the moment so he couldn’t make out any words. Patrick’s words, he could still hear nearly clear as day. “Are you really this stupid? Is that what this is? Or is it because I made fun of your fairy friend there? You protective of little Kaspbrak?” Richie thrashed all the harder, even though he knew that it was only going to make things worse for him in the end. “Oh, ho ho! Did I hit a nerve, Tozier? Should I go find him, maybe? Do you think that you could save him from me?”

Richie managed to push himself onto his back, fighting at Patrick’s chest and trying to blink through the sand that had settled all of his over face. Patrick was grinning down at him and there was something hard that was not a knee pressing into Richie’s side, but he couldn’t think about that right now. It seemed like Henry was gone- bad news for Billy – but Richie had to focus on Patrick right now. He’d take the most brutal beating Patrick Hockstetter had in him if it meant that he’d leave Eddie alone.

Patrick was practically drooling, so if that was any sign to what Richie was in for then this was going to be a long couple minutes. Richie spit out a mouthful of playground- possibly peed in, oh god, was there pee in this? – at Patrick and scowled up at him. “Why don’t fucking pick on somebody your own size, Hockstetter? Afraid to loose?”

“Last I saw, Tozier.” Patrick’s breath smelled like the worst kind of mixture of marijuana and the Orangesicile smoothie down at the Prince’s on main. Richie’s stomach churned, and he had to fight not to turn his face away. “We are the same size.”

Richie’s last thought before Patrick’s fist came falling towards his face was- predictably- fuck. He didn’t know how long it went on, could have only been a few minutes but it easily could have been hours. But the next thing he knew, Patrick was pulling back and kicking at Richie’s side. Richie groaned and curled into himself.

“Be seeing you, Tozier.”

Richie laid there for a short moment before Bill seemed to appear from thin air and help him up to his feet. “You’re a piece of shit friend, you know that, right?” Richie groaned, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt to wipe at the blood underneath his nose. “Just let ‘em beat me.”

He wasn’t serious, and Bill’s laugh sounded that he knew it. “Hey. N-not all of us are guh-g-gonna go Huh-huh-Hulk to defend suh-suh-somebody who isn’t even h-h-here.” Bill said, letting Richie move to stand on his own. “P-p-pick your b-b-battles, Rich.”

“I pick plenty of battles,” Richie shot back, winking at Bill even thought it definitely hurt his rapidly bruising eye. Bill rolled his eyes.

“Pick fewer battles, Richie.”

→  → →

Eddie rubbed his hands together, and looked up out the window of the Denbrough’s kitchen. Eddie had always thought it was weird how Bill’s kitchen faced out onto the street, growing up neither his, Richie nor Stan’s had been placed that way, but he was thankful for it right now. Every year on the last day of school, starting way back in the second grade, they had always had a sleepover at Denbrough’s house to celebrate the start of summer. Throughout the years, the sleepover had gotten larger, then smaller again last year when Bev’s aunt had deemed it inappropriate for her to be sleeping over with so many boys.

Eddie was fretting, and he knew it. Bill and Richie weren’t back yet, and it had caused a deep anxiety to settle itself in his gut. It had been nearly a year since Eddie Kaspbrak had needed to use his inhaler, and it had been three years since he- with the help of Richie’s overly enthusiastic support – had started weening himself off it. At thirteen, Mr Keene down at the pharmacy had told him that all of his medication were actually falsehoods brought up by his mother. Misted water and sugar pills, all of them. It had broken Eddie, for a long time. He was sure that he’d never be the same person again, that he would never trust the same way again. He was better now, stronger he believed, but if Richie and Bill didn’t show up soon- Eddie might regret not bringing his inhaler.

"Why don’t you wake outside, Eddie?” Georgie Denbrough asked from he kitchen table where he seemed to be doing some sort of homework despite school being over for the term. “It’s the perfect kind of summer night you love. The kind where you have to wear a sweater.”

Eddie smiled softly. Bill had been complaining for the last few months that Georgie had become a pain in the ass, going through some sort of angst-y teenager phase that was annoying to Bill and his parents alike, but Eddie had never seen that sort of behaviour from him. Anytime Eddie was around, Georgie seemed like the same sweet child to Eddie.

Eddie picked up his hoodie from the couch on his way outside, nodding at Stan and Ben who were sitting on the couch. He walked out the front door and hummed to himself as the soft summer wind hit his face. There was a chill to it, but Eddie sort of like the sting it brought to his skin.

He walked across the Denbrough’s lawn, that was sort of getting a little overgrown and no doubt Bill would be roped into mowing in within the next few days. He looked up to the big maple tree on the front of the lawn, and grinned to himself. A good hundred times a year, Eddie could have to yell at Richie to get out of it before he’d hurt himself. Last summer, he’d finally let Richie convinced him to go tree climbing with him- and it hadn’t been a normal sized maple in their friend’s front yard.

“I made soup.” Bev and Mike both startled and looked down at Eddie.

“What did you make soup for?” Beverly asked, still giggling slightly and Eddie shook his head. Richie and Beverly had been together so long that Eddie could barely remember that days before their relationship. Dim memories of believing that Bev and Ben were going to be together, even dimer ones of the days when Bev and Bill were childhood sweethearts. Yet, sometimes Eddie believed that he knew Richie better than Beverly ever even tried. But maybe that was just wishfully thinking.

So Eddie just shrugged, and contemplated it for only a second before scaling up the tree himself. He wiggled himself in between Mike and the trunk, looking down at the ground a little nervously.

“It’s not that high,” Mike said with a small smile. “Don’t worry.”

Eddie cast him a dark look, frowning deeply. “Last time somebody said that to me, I broke my fucking arm.”

“I…” Mike cleared his throat then nodded. “Okay, yeah. That definitely happened.”

“Why are you guys in the tree?” Stan called up to them, Ben standing beside him. Stan had shown up at the Denbrough’s house not long after the rest of the Losers had gotten there. He’d been quiet since he’d gotten there, more so than usually, and kept worrying his bottom lip. He hadn’t given up any sort of information about his meeting with the guidance counsellor, and Stanley Uris wasn’t the kind of person you pushed. (Unless you were Richie Tozier, who pushed everybody.)

“We’re waiting for Bill and Richie,” Eddie and Beverly answered in unison. They quickly pointed at each other and shouted “JINX!” and then burst out laughing. Mike smiled and looked back out to the street, tuning out Eddie and Bev’s continue attempt at jinx through their giggles. He saw Bill and Richie making their ways down the street before anybody else, and Richie wasted no time coming forward and slapping Stan on the shoulder.

The boy looked a little worse for wear, dirt and blood streaked on his cheeks, eye already seeming to be bruising. But he was smiling none the less, a regular old Tozier grin, and he looked up at his friends in the tree. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!”

Beverly giggled but Eddie jumped out the tree as though he had some sort of Spider Man powers and hadn’t just been fretting about the height. Mike crinkled his brow, as Beverly jumped down from his other side.

Eddie touched the cuts on Richie’s cheeks and his lips tugged down in a worried frown. “What the hell happened to you?” He asked in harsh words that didn’t match the concerned tone of voice.

“Patrick beat him up in the sandbox.” Bill came practically skipping up onto the lawn. “It was like being seven again, which i-i-isn’t something I thought I n-n-n-needed but I really enjoyed.”

Richie scoffed and rolled his eyes. “The only thing you enjoyed, Denbrough, was chatting up that weird newspaper girl in the park.”

“That’s n-n-not true,” Bill challenged, but the flushing of his cheeks implied that it was at least a little bit true. “I also enjoyed you p-p-p-punching P-P-Patrick.”

Richie grinned and nodded but Eddie let out a horrified squeak. “You punched Patrick? Have you lost your absolute goddamn mind, Richard? What could be possibly say that would make you do something so stupid?”

Richie and Bill exchanged a quick look between the two of them, almost a silent conversation, before Richie was reaching out and ruffling up Eddie’s meticulously styled hair. “Awe, don’t you worry about it, Eds. Just trust that he deserved it.”

“Of course he deserves it,” Eddie snapped but he was starting to smile. “Doesn’t mean you should be stupid enough to actually do it. Now, come on. Let’s get those scratches cleaned before you get an infection and they have to cut your dumbass head off.”

Richie wrapped an arm around Beverly and grinned as Eddie pulled him towards the house by his hand. “Did you at least make soup? You know I love soup after getting my ass handed to me.”

→  → →

Richie was rested on the Denbroughs kitchen counter, as Eddie rummaged through the cupboards and complained about how ill stalked it was. Mike chuckled into his bowl of soup, knowing that all Richie really needed was a some soap and hot water. Toss the lanky boy into the shower, and he’d be good as new.

He turned to where Ben and Beverly were both sitting, talking quietly to each other and seemingly blind to Eddie’s frantics not three feet away from them. They all snapped to attention as Bill and Stan came into the room. They both seemed a little knocked off kilter and Mike felt concern settle into his gut at the sight of them.

He didn’t seem to be the only one, Richie shifting to sit up straighter on counter. “What happened, dudes?”

“Somebody is m-m-m-moving into the old Gr-gr-Gray house.” Bill stumbled through his words. “A f-f-family, I guess. There was a g-g-girl…”

Richie waggled his eyebrows and grinned deeply. “A girl, yeah? Is she hot?”

Beverly grabbed one of the bread rolls off the dining room table and wiped at Richie, nailing right in the head, at the same time that Eddie whipped him with the dish cloth in his heads. Richie yelped, rubbing at his arm and pouting. “DAMN! Forgive a man for asking a damn question.”

“You’re not a man,” Stan told him dryly. “You’re an extremely tall, skinny infant that was somehow cursed with the ability to speak.”

Richie blew him a kiss, and Stan rolled his eyes with the tiniest hint of a smile playing on his lips. Stan moved over to reached past Eddie to the rubbing alcohol that was on a shelf just out of Eddie’s tiptoe’d reach. Eddie tried to force himself to sound grateful as he accepted it.

He moved back to Richie and took his chin between his hands. Looking the marks over. It wasn’t as bad as it had looked outside, a singular black eye and some scraping on the side of his cheek. Richie had winced when he’d jumped onto the counter, which likely meant his ribs were bruised but Eddie saw no point in fussing with them just now. Richie had been walking fine, so they weren’t broken.

He still couldn’t help but frown as he dabbed Richie’s cuts with the rubbing alcohol. Richie let out a louder cry than was necessary, and Eddie gave him an unimpressed look. “Aren’t you getting a little old to be running around getting into fights?”

“Aren’t they a little old to still be beating up kids?” Richie challenged with a smirk that quickly turned into a wince as Eddie dabbed at his slit lip.

“Your lip is all busted,” Eddie said, as though pointing out that Richie’s lips were injured would somehow make it okay that Eddie was paying attention to them. Richie’s hand came up, long fingers wrapping around Eddie’s tiny wrist, and he gently guided Eddie’s touch away.

Eddie finally wrenched his eyes away from Richie’s lips and met his best friend’s gaze. There was a softness there that he rarely got to see, not even the smallest hint of teasing or joking there. It was just Richie, just Richie looking at him and Eddie looking back. For a single moment, it was just Richie and Eddie alone in the world. Nothing to bother them, nothing to live up to.

Then Bill’s voice broke through and shattered the moment, and Eddie tried not to be annoyed. As soon as the moment was over, Eddie had to question if there had even been a moment at all. “Did you m-m-manage to convinced your aunt to let you stay, Bev?” Bill asked, no doubt knowing what the answer would be. Almost immediately after Beverly’s fifteenth birthday, sleepover with the boys permission had been yanked. Eddie wasn’t sure what her aunt been trying to stop from occurring, as Beverly already been dating Richie for years. It certainly wasn’t stopping her from having sex, if Richie’s jokes were anything to go by, and Eddie knew from personal experience that if Richie wanted into somebody’s house… he got in.

“Nah,” Beverly responded with an eye roll. “Got her to let up and extend my curfew. 12:30. Which means if I’m not home by 1, I’m dead meat.”

“I’ll walk you home, babe.” Richie said, popping his lips. He dropped his hand, letting Eddie’s wrist fall from his grip and down to Eddie’s side. His skin was cold where Richie’s touch had just been and it felt him feeling unsettled.

Stan scoffed from where he was leaning against the counter at Richie’s side. “Please, Tozier. We’d have to be way more concerned about you out in the night than Bev.”

Richie pouted for a moment before breaking into a large grin. “Okay, then Eddie and I will both walk Bev, and my Eds will make sure we both make it back here to Billy’s safe and sound.”

“Don’t call me Eds!” Eddie snapped, ignoring just all too many things lately. “And who the fuck said I agreed to that? Why would I leave a perfectly comfortable house to go baby-sit your ass in the middle of the night?”

“Because you love me?” Richie suggested with a toothy grin. Eddie pursed his lips together to keep back his smile. There had never really been any doubt that Eddie was going to walk with Richie and Bev, and he tried to ignore the little thrill it gave them that Richie was inviting him along when he easily could have been using it as an excuse to be alone with his girlfriend. He cursed himself for being so weak.

“Oh, Eddie, don’t bother pretending.” Stan said, waggling his eyes at Eddie from Richie’s other side. “We know you’re going to do it.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out at his friend and tried to ignore how he was flushing right down the back of his neck. Richie squeezed his eyes shut and leaned closer so that Eddie could resume wiping at his face.

It didn’t help Eddie’s whole blushing issue.

→  → →

The dark streets were a comfort to Richie. He’d always preferred night over day, it made him free in a way that he could never been when the sun brought light down on all of his actions. He could more himself at night. He could put down his walls, remove his false face and be just a little bit more true.

Not very many got to see how Richie got under the darkness of Derry’s street. Derry felt endlessly safer at night, when the peering and judgment eyes of his snobby neighbours had gone to bed. Sure, he had to worry about Henry and his goons but he had to worry about them just as much in the light of the day so it couldn’t be a bother to him.

He looped an arm around Eddie’s shoulder as he guided him down and away from Beverly’s house. It wasn’t the best part of town to be hanging around in, he knew that, and it was far from where you wanted to get yourself stranded or cornered. And even so…

“I don’t want to go back yet,” Richie said, quieter than he would usually speak. It just felt a little wrong to be breaking the soft stillness of the night. He felt Eddie stiffen for a moment, before he learned into Richie’s touch. “Let’s go to the Quarry.”

“I am not swimming in the middle of night!” Eddie squawked, a little predictably. Richie chuckled, squeezing Eddie’s shoulder to keep him from pulling away when he felt his friend start to squirm. ”Don’t laugh at me, jackass! Even if it’s kind of warm out, you can still get pneumonia! And die! Do you want to die?”

Richie pursed his lips, shaking his head a little bit. “Can’t say I want to die right at this moment. Ask me again tomorrow, maybe.” He could feel Eddie’s startled and concerned expression pouring into them and Richie wanted to shut this possible emotional moment down before it started. “I didn’t mean swimming, Eds. Let’s just go and... sit at the end of the world for a while.”

Richie glanced down at Eddie, finally, and found his best friend looking back up at him with an expression that Richie couldn’t read. Eddie seemed to realize that Richie was trying to get inside his head, because he wiped the look from his face and replaced it with a soft smile. “That’s pretty profound, Richard. What are you thinking?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? What was Richie thinking? God, wouldn’t it be so much easier if he knew. As it was, Richie was more confused now than when they first introduced Algebra into his life. Sighing, he kept his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and guided him to walk towards the Quarry in the opposite direction of Bill’s house. Eddie slipped away from Richie’s hold, and they walked side-by-side, not touching, the rest of the way. Richie supposed that it should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. It was never awkward with Eddie, always comfortable.

They hiked up the cliff and moved to sit with their legs dangling over the edge. Richie tilted his head back to stare up at the stars- always more visible out here than anywhere within town. He wanted to put his arm back around Eddie, missing the warm weight under him. He’d learned better, though, in the past few years. He’d stopped chasing Eddie after the boy pulled away, knowing it often only lead to a fight. There was only a few times that Eddie would pull back but want back under Richie’s touch- and he always made it clear.

Like now, when he pressed up against Richie’s side when they were settled and seated. Richie pressed his lips together sharply to hold back his smile, and let his arm drop around Eddie’s shoulders once more. “I’m thinking of breaking up with Beverly,” Richie blurted out in a typical-Tozier fashion. Eddie blinked at him, tilting his head back.

“What? Why?” Eddie didn’t sound as though he felt one way or another about it. Or maybe he did, and he wasn’t letting it show. Didn’t make Richie feel any better, and it sure as hell didn’t give him an answer to Eddie’s question.

“Why?” Richie asked with a bit of a nervous chuckle. Then he hummed, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. “Why… I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, I guess? I’ve been with Beverly so long, and I never really… planned on it at all. We just kissed at that party, and suddenly- you know? Bev and Rich. Rich and Bev. And it’s been… years, yeah? And I just… I don’t know if I see myself being with Beverly for the rest of my life.”

Eddie was looking at Richie very seriously, a little softly, and Richie could get lost his Eddie’s eyes in this moment. And he felt a little guilty about it, and he had to look away. “Like, I love her. Obviously. But I don’t know if I’m… actually in love with her. You know? Sometimes it just feels wrong.”

Eddie swallowed loudly enough that Richie could hear him. For a long moment, it was just the two of them breathing. So close together that they shared air, and Richie’s heart was thrumming with anxiety. “You need to do whatever makes you happy, Rich.”

Rich just hummed, and dropped his head down on top of Eddie’s and stared back out to the endless water.

[izumitate]

don’t linger

So, I was trying to write something sad, but jury’s out on whether it worked, haha. This one is for my favorite angst queen @audriel89 !

Content warnings: this one’s about ghosts, so there’s referenced character death.

“Hey, Kuroo. Nice hat,” Sawamura says, wearing the same beautifully wry smile as he did when he was still alive.

“Thanks, it was a gift,” Kuroo replies numbly, reaching up to grip the brim of his hideous tiger stripe cap. Yamamoto had given it to him as a present a couple of years ago, and now he wears it when he ducks out of the apartment on rainy days for a short errand and doesn’t want to carry an umbrella. It protects his head well enough, but he can still feel the light patter of rain on his shoulders. The sound of droplets rustling against the plastic bag in his hand reminds him that he only stepped out to grab a bottled milk tea and box lunch for tomorrow, because he knows he won’t have the time to stop by during his rush for the train. There weren’t supposed to be any ghosts included in this little excursion.

“It keeps your hair in check, in any case,” Sawamura says. He gestures with one pale, translucent hand at Kuroo’s forehead. It’s dark all along this road, but for the beaming lights of the konbini storefront and Sawamura, glowing like moonlight. Still as young and handsome as Kuroo remembered, just a bit more ethereal now. A bit less grounded.

“Yeah, but it makes the cowlicks worse when I take it off.” Kuroo’s voice is steady, to his surprise.

“I didn’t think that was possible.”

“A limitation of your imagination, Sa’amura-san.”

“I suppose so.”

“So,” Kuroo says, dragging out the word. “This is new! Taking a little postmortem stroll around Japan? Where have you been so far? See anything good?”

Maybe if he acts like this is normal, things will make sense again and his brain won’t shatter. Or he’ll just go insane that much faster.

Sawamura shakes his head, amused by Kuroo’s valiant attempt at nonchalance. He floats a little closer; Kuroo wants to reach out and touch him. “Not really. You were my first stop; I thought it might be fun to visit you.”

Kuroo blinks. “At two in the morning?”

“Sorry, is this an inconvenient time for you? Should we reschedule this haunting for a little later?”

Kuroo laughs at the unimpressed look Sawamura sends his way. Still so sassy, even as a ghost.

God, what are they doing here? Is this even real? Or did Kuroo trip on his way down the stairs and fall into a coma without knowing it? Is there any explanation more logical than the conclusions he’s jumping to?

“Is that what’s happening? You’re haunting me? That’s a bit unfair. What’d I ever do to you, Sawamura?”

Sawamura grins back, floating all the way over to hover by Kuroo’s side as he begins walking back to his apartment. If they’re going to have a conversation, might as well do it somewhere warm and comfortable. Kuroo doesn’t explain where they’re headed, but Sawamura doesn’t ask, content to just go along with it. Even in the past it had always felt natural to fall into step with one another. No need to waste words when they somehow knew how to read each other’s body language fluently enough to translate without thinking.

“What didn’t you do to me, is the real question. I have a whole list of complaints, Kuroo. It’s why I came so early in the morning; it’s gonna take me until at least breakfast to get through all of them.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to cook for you, too. I only have one egg.”

“And you’re not offering it to your guest? I didn’t take you for the stingy type.”

“Take pity on me,” Kuroo whines. “I’ve got tests to grade and and club activities tomorrow. I need the energy. Which reminds me, I’m also hoping you don’t expect me to stay up all night. I have to wake up in a few hours.”

“You’re so high-maintenance,” Sawamura jokes as they ascend the stairs to Kuroo’s place. “I should’ve chosen an easier target. But seriously, you can sleep first if you want. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Kuroo gets to putting his purchases away once he lets himself inside, while Sawamura peeks curiously around his not-very-interesting apartment. Sawamura seems preoccupied with the photographs on Kuroo’s wall, so Kuroo leaves him be for a moment to go change back into his pajamas.

“Are you saying you’re going to watch me sleep?” Kuroo asks while Sawamura scans his bookshelf. Sawamura turns to see Kuroo vigorously brushing his teeth, and shakes his head.

“Not unless you want me to,” he says with a laugh, and then floats over to the window. “Go to sleep, Kuroo. I’ll be back tomorrow; we’ll talk then.” His form grows thin as he passes through the glass and then Kuroo is left standing alone in his apartment with toothpaste froth on his mouth, wondering if he just had a really weird fever dream. Because, what? Just happened?

Kuroo shuffles blankly back to bed and slides under the covers. There are too many words forming into too many half-woven questions; they tumble around his brain without direction. For some time he just lies there, staring at the ceiling and the dark, until an uneasy sleep overtakes him.

--

True to his word, Sawamura is back five hours later when Kuroo is packing up his bag for the day.

“You came back,” Kuroo says as he watches Sawamura fall back into place beside him, like it’s natural to belong there. It doesn’t feel as wrong as it should. Kuroo may have grown too accepting in recent years.

“Of course I did; what kind of ghost haunts someone for just twenty minutes?”

“I did think it was kind of a letdown, but it felt rude to mention it.”

“And everyone knows that you’re never rude, right?” Sawamura teases as they walk to the train. Kuroo has headphones in – the kind that also function as a microphone, so that he at least looks like he could be talking to someone on the phone. The train is crowded this morning, so Sawamura floats up to sit atop the baggage rack, to avoid phasing through anyone. Kuroo stands facing up toward him, gripping a hand strap and pretending to look at the screen announcing the next stop, but their eyes keep catching on one another’s, and they exchange sheepish smiles.

When most of the morning crowd clears out, they move over to an empty corner so Sawamura can stop perching like a cat about to strike.

“So, are you back on unfinished business?” Kuroo asks, like they’re discussing weekend plans. He’s seated, looking up toward Sawamura, who shifts out of people’s way as if he still has solid mass. He still smiles at children and the elderly like they can see him. But sometimes Kuroo catches him watching people with a certain intensity that feels unfamiliar. Maybe being dead makes the world look a little different.

Sawamura returns his attention to Kuroo. His hand is resting against the wall as if to brace himself and Kuroo has to wonder absently about how the laws of physics apply to spirits. “Mm, I wouldn’t quite put it that way. I’m just here to hang out for the day.”

“Did- um. Did you want to see something in particular? I have work today, but we could go somewhere afterwards.”

“No, I didn’t come expecting you to provide entertainment. I just thought I’d drop in and see what you get up to these days. If that’s okay?” He looks momentarily lost, and Kuroo quickly shakes his head.

“Yeah, you know I’m always up for fun. I gotta tell you, it’ll probably be kinda boring for you, but if you don’t mind chilling out and making fun of my students, then let’s do it.”

“Let’s do it,” Sawamura echoes, with the same brightness in his eyes Kuroo remembers from across the court. Phoenix fire and marble.

Behind and through him, the world blurs green and powder blue outside the train window. It’s a beautiful day.

--

Kuroo’s homeroom class is rowdy and clever and terribly annoying this morning. It takes a while to get them settled, and by the time he leaves them for his first class, Sawamura already knows them too well.

“You knew what you were signing up for when you became a teacher, right? Was corralling your team not enough for you?” Sawamura asks during his free period. Kuroo just spent the last hour going over last week’s test and listening to a whole lot of groaning. He’s marking more exams now as he sips his milk tea; Sawamura leans against his desk and looks around at the other teachers too busy to pay mind to Kuroo basically talking to himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about; Nekoma was team of pure, good-hearted angels. Now, if I’d been in your shoes, then I probably wouldn’t have wound up here.”

“Oh, you would’ve gotten a handle on them eventually. Just like you’ve got these ones under your wing. I have to say, you’re a lot better at this than I expected.”

“Thank you a million times over for your faith in me,” Kuroo says dryly. “What do you think Amagi wrote here? An eight? An ugly five?”

“Looks like a five to me,” Sawamura says. “Give her the full points.”

“You’re too soft,” Kuroo tsks, and they finish grading in this same manner for the rest of the period.

Kuroo doesn’t wonder at the fact that no one else in the school can see Sawamura. He assumes it’s because Sawamura has no ties to anyone else here, or that it’s because of some other ghost business that Kuroo doesn’t understand. Sawamura does accidentally float through another teacher at one point, and she sneezes right afterward.

They spend lunch outside, watching students milling around in little clusters. Somehow it feels easy to be together like this, despite all the oddities of the situation. Sawamura asks after all the old group, and Kuroo tells him everything he knows, though he has to apologize for not keeping up as much with all the ex-Karasuno members. Sawamura just laughs, telling him that knowing anything at all is more than he really expected.

“Do you have any good tricks?” They’re watching a crowd of kids exchanging flirtatious banter, and it makes Kuroo want to play a prank on them.

“What am I, a dog?”

“I’m just saying, ghosts usually have some fun powers. Like telekinesis.”

“Nope, I’ve got nothing.”

“Boring,” Kuroo says with a pout, and Sawamura rolls his eyes, floating backwards until he’s hanging upside next to Kuroo’s head.

“Yeah. I went to the afterlife and all I got was this lousy intangibility,” he says, and Kuroo feels suddenly guilty. Sawamura is literally dead and here Kuroo is, making a stupid joke about it.

“Shit, that was insensitive. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’ve gotten pretty used to being dead. Don’t feel too bad. C’mon, tell me which of your kids is the most likely to embarrass themself in the next five minutes.”

Kuroo gladly latches on to the change in subject. “Oh, definitely Sakurai. Watch, when he goes over to Kanda…”

The day is uneventful as far as school days go, but Sawamura never seems bored, even when he keeps relearning the same math lesson over and over. By club time he seems even livelier, floating around in amusement as Kuroo oversees the Exercise Club. The small group of students are doing stretches and jumping rope in the yard.

“Before you ask, yes, we do play volleyball sometimes. I put up a net outside when the weather is good.”

“Do you ever play?”

“Yeah, but not for long because they start complaining about uneven teams,” Kuroo says, keeping an eye on a girl chasing her friend around with her jump rope.

“Play six on two. That would even things out.”

“Too much, maybe. I’m not that fit anymore.”

“You still look pretty good to me,” Sawamura says with straight-forward honesty. Kuroo’s heart skips a beat until he follows it up with, “I mean, your face is what it is, can’t do anything about that, but the rest isn’t bad.” He gestures broadly at Kuroo’s body.

“I see you haven’t gotten any more charming since I last saw you,” Kuroo snarks back, and Sawamura laughs. He looks like he wants to bump his shoulder against Kuroo’s, but they both know it’ll just be a reminder that this can’t last.

“It’s hard enough for people to change as it is; us dead guys are totally stuck in our ways.”

--

After club wraps up, Kuroo returns to his desk to send out a few emails before calling it a day. They’re standing at the train station again, waiting to return home when Kuroo thinks to ask, “Are you sure you don’t want to go do something? Normally I just go home and crash on my couch after dinner, but it’s Friday evening, and you’re in town.”

“Are you saying you wanna go out?”

“I mean, it seems like a waste for you to come all this way just to watch dumb reality tv with me while we eat takeout. Uh- while I eat takeout.”

Sawamura shrugs. “To be honest, that plan sounds just fine to me. But maybe you’re right. I only have twenty-four hours. I should probably make them count.”

Twenty-four hours? Kuroo wasn’t aware of this.

“Is that when you have to go back? To the, uh,” he makes a sweeping motion with his arm and probably makes everyone in the vicinity want to avoid him, “the great beyond?”

“Yeah, I could only afford a one day pass,” Sawamura says like he’s joking, but Kuroo’s chest seizes painfully anyway. If he had known, he wouldn’t have kept Sawamura here, hanging around aimlessly instead of using his time for better things. Before he can get all tangled up in guilt, Sawamura puts his hands in his pockets and asks, “So what should we go do?”

Kuroo had found it a not-unwelcome change to return to the countryside once he graduated from college. The slower pace of life, the abundance of nature everywhere, the wide open spaces and quaint houses tucked among the foliage. He kept his house closer to the town center, preferring to commute over to his school, and it’s worked out well enough for him so far. The downside is most places of interest are at least a few train stops away. He thinks for a moment about where they could go on such short notice, where Sawamura might actually enjoy himself.

“We’re close to the water,” Kuroo finally offers. “It’s a little cold this time of year, but the shore is pretty nice.”

Sawamura doesn’t take more than a second to think about it. “The beach? Sure, why not. Take me to the beach.”

They have to ride into the main station before changing lines, and by the time they make it to the ocean, it’s early evening and the sun is starting its descent. There are few people around; the April weather is pleasant but growing rapidly cool now that the day is coming to a close. It leaves Kuroo space to openly talk to Sawamura without looking too strange – insofar as a man alone at a beach is ever strange.

“Do you swim?” Sawamura asks as they walk along the shoreline. His not-quite-there feet swish through the water that crashes gently against the white sand. The foam tickles at Kuroo’s bare feet, and he hops a step further from the water. It’s a touch too cool for his skin.

“Yeah, though it’s been a while. I used to go on beach trips with Kenma’s family all the time when we were kids. We’d have matching floaties,” he says with a laugh as he remembers the time Kenma got a sunburn on his shoulders and was cranky for weeks.

“I can see that. You used to splash him while he was huddling on the beach, I bet.”

“You know it. Were you a swimmer?”

“Not really, but now that I can’t do it, I feel like I miss it? That’s how it goes, I guess.”

“Well, I’ll swim twice as hard next time; you can live vicariously through me.”

Sawamura shakes his head with a smile. “Sure, you do that.”

After walking to the cliffside, Kuroo jogs back the way they came, trying to beat Sawamura back to his shoes, but ghosts can fly surprisingly fast. He collapses into the sand afterward, wheezing as Sawamura laughs at him. Since neither of them are equipped to go swimming today, Kuroo settles for making a damp, slouchy sandcastle as they talk about the current Nekoma team under Coach Naoi’s instruction.

The sun is near the horizon now, a deep molten core streaking the indigo waves with gold. Sawamura sits across from Kuroo so that the sunset shines through him, and Kuroo’s words stick in his throat for a moment when he notices.

He’d never gone to the beach with Sawamura while he was alive. There was never time, just like there was never time for any of the other thousand things Kuroo regrets not taking a chance on. Taking that art class in university. Going skydiving with Bokuto. Asking Sawamura out for a drink.

It isn’t like Kuroo had burned for Sawamura. Or tore up flowers and sheet music and journal pages trying to capture some fraction of the feelings he felt for him. Nothing ever so far-reaching or soul-wrenching.

But he had always thought that perhaps there was a greater than zero chance they might someday find their way to each other. Two lines not quite parallel, that might meet somewhere down the road, once they’d stretched far enough in the same direction. Sawamura had occupied a place in Kuroo’s life that no one else could fill – some cross of friend, rival, and if-only.

It was fondness folded into a summer daydream: wispy and weightless, with no expectations, but a whole quiet world of possibilities. And then all those possibilities came to an abrupt halt, and that was that.

Sawamura had never been his to lose. But Kuroo had hurt, nonetheless.

“Kuroo, help me dig up that little thing right there,” Sawamura says, interrupting Kuroo’s spiraling thoughts. His translucent hands comb against a shining patch of sand.

“Here?” Kuroo crouches down and scrapes his fingers through the spot Sawamura was just touching. He unearths a chunk of green sea glass the size of a stamp, and rubs it clean of sand. “Oh, nice find!”

It’s a lovely mossy color, frosted and worn soft to the touch. Sawamura runs a pale fingertip over the surface and then withdraws, floating a few feet into the air.

“Sorry, I can’t buy you anything, so that’ll have to do for a souvenir of our trip.”

“That’s more than good enough for me,” Kuroo says, finding himself stricken by the expression on Sawamura’s face.

He looks like he’s at peace, smiling at Kuroo with the same fondness he’s seen directed at Hinata or Suga or Tsukki. The sea glimmers dark like gold-embroidered velvet through him, but he looks and sounds so heartbreakingly familiar in this moment that Kuroo thinks he could forget about the last five years if he were to close his eyes.

Forget the way his heart stopped cold when he first heard the news. Forget how serious and still Sawamura’s face had looked in his memorial portrait. Forget how he had ached, sitting there with Kenma as they watched Hinata on the international court, knowing that there was someone who would never get to feel that pride when looking down at the court.

It’s past six p.m. now. Kuroo only has Sawamura again for today. This short, unsatisfactory slice of time. Eight hours left, and Kuroo doesn’t know how he’s going to say goodbye at the end of it.

--

It’s a quiet ride home, and then Kuroo brings them to a hole-in-the-wall yakitori place where he likes to grab a bite to eat after long days at work. They get a tiny booth to themselves, and Sawamura watches with patient amusement as Kuroo eats.

“What food do you miss most?” Kuroo asks, because he always loses track of his tact when he’s tipsy, and because Sawamura has proven to be awfully nonchalant about no longer existing.

“Actually, I think it might be yakiniku. Part of it probably has to do with the atmosphere; y’know, sitting around a table with your friends, fighting over the last piece of beef.”

Kuroo can see it, especially after that last day of training camp. God, they’d been so young then. Even now, he can imagine how it would be: Sawamura, crowded in his seat up between Azumane and Suga, arguing with Bokuto over the next piece of meat, making sure the pork is cooked just the way Kuroo likes it.

Kuroo waves his skewer in the air like an addled conductor. “Next time…the next time we do yakiniku, I’ll put a plate aside for you. I’ll even buy you a drink,” he promises drunkenly. “Come back and join us.”

“Well, I can’t say no if you’re going to be so generous.” Sawamura rests his chin in his hand, watching Kuroo with undivided attention. With the smoke in the air and the lights gleaming dimly against the wooden walls, the space feels suddenly intimate, and Kuroo takes another deep swig from his beer.

What if he had asked, one of those dozens of times he wanted to? Would they be sitting in a restaurant together on a night much like this one, laughing at each other’s jokes and flirting lightly as they wait for the check? Would Kuroo finally know more of Sawamura’s touch, beside those fleeting handshakes and hugs shared over the years?

Could Kuroo have changed the path of Sawamura’s life? Or do all roads lead to the same destination – with Kuroo mourning Sawamura as a lover instead of a friend?

There are no answers at the bottom of his bottle, but he drinks as if there are. Sawamura doesn’t comment, but he does pull the conversation back toward easier matters: Kenma’s promotion, Kai’s wedding, Yaku’s visit last month. Kuroo focuses on telling the best stories he can, because he thinks that if his mouth stops moving he’ll fixate on how Sawamura’s hand always rests close enough to touch, but never close enough to feel.

It’s approaching midnight when they leave the restaurant, and Kuroo takes Sawamura on the meandering path home. There’s a small park near his apartment block, and Sawamura insists that he take a seat on the bench for a moment to find his balance when he almost trips on the sidewalk.

“C’mon, I thought you could hold your liquor better than that.”

“ ‘m not even drunk anymore,” Kuroo grumbles. He slumps down, legs outstretched, and lets his head loll back. “I just get a little clumsy when I’m tired these days.”

“I don’t believe it,” Sawamura says brightly. “Not with those reflexes of yours.”

“Hey, lay off, I’m getting old!”

“You’re still in your twenties; don’t act like such a geezer.”

Kuroo pulls a face. “Not for long, I’m not. I’ll be using a cane soon. You’ll see.”

“Don’t be in such a rush to grow old. You’ll get there eventually.” Sawamura, seated on the bench beside him, floats up a few inches so he can reach out as if to brush Kuroo’s fringe out of his eyes. Of course, he only passes through Kuroo’s face like a winter breeze, but Kuroo gives him a watery smile back anyway. This is a tenderness neither of them is used to, but it feels like it’s been overdue. If only for tonight.

“Yeah, I’ll sit outside my house and yell at my grandkids’ friends when they come around.”

“At least offer them some snacks, you jerk.”

Above, the stars are brighter than they ever were in Tokyo, and Kuroo wonders if this is the sky that Sawamura used to see, looking out his window as they reached for the same dream. It’s easy to waste another hour just talking to Sawamura like this, because this is the relationship they always had, in those scant moments they shared together over the course of their friendship. Sawamura wasn’t lying when he said he just wanted to visit: it’s like he’s been dropped back into Kuroo’s life after a long trip abroad. If Kuroo were a little more idealistic, he would hope for another day like this, another chance to catch up a few years down the line.

But something in the core of his heart tells him this isn’t an ordinary occasion.

It’s a quarter to two when they finally reach the main street that leads back to his apartment. They pass by the konbini silently, and then the criss-crossing little residential streets until they’re standing only meters away from Kuroo’s building. Kuroo’s never been an expert on the supernatural, but he can feel the space around Sawamura growing blurred, like it wants to pull him back across the veil. He’s about to make an ill-timed joke about it when Sawamura stops them in their tracks and turns to look Kuroo in the eyes.

“Thanks for spending the day with me, Kuroo. I had a lot of fun.”

There’s a heavy finality in his voice. It fills Kuroo’s lungs with lead.

The alcohol is wearing off, but enough of that liquid bravery, like magma in Kuroo’s stomach, remains that he wants to say something stupid in response.

I mourned you.

I grieved for something I wasn’t even sure I understood. A lingering promise, a missed chance. A dream that faded before I could wake.

...I think I could have loved you.

But there are only a few fleeting minutes until Sawamura has to depart, so Kuroo will be civil. Kuroo will be kind, to both Sawamura and himself.

He intends to just accept Sawamura’s gratitude, but one question sticks in his mind so persistently that he’s asking before he can find the self-restraint to stop.

“Sawamura. Why did you- why come and see me? I know there are so many people who would’ve given- who would be delighted to see you one last time. So why choose me?”

Sawamura pauses, his mouth slightly parted as if to speak, before his expression shifts.

Years ago, lifetimes ago, there had been a morning in Tokyo, misty and gray, when Sawamura had stumbled into Kuroo’s corner of town and they spent a handful of hours together before he was expected at the airport. They’d done nothing exciting, but Kuroo will never forget it, if only because of the expression that Sawamura wore while they were waiting for the bus as the fog lay thick around them, blocking out the rest of the world.

Kuroo had long gotten used to being admired, or glared at, or sized up as an opponent. He’d seen all three cross Sawamura’s face in the past, though usually he met Kuroo with either amusement or teasing exasperation. In that moment, however, it had been something wholly new. Something Kuroo wasn’t sure he was reading correctly.

Sawamura was watching Kuroo like he wasn’t sure he was real, those dark eyes wide and wondrous. As if Kuroo was something special to behold, something not quite within reach. It only lasted a second, before Sawamura shook himself out of it and gave Kuroo that sly grin that he knew so well. But Kuroo could never get that sight out his head, letting it haunt him in sleepless hours.

It’s how Sawamura looks at him now.

“I just wanted to see you, I guess,” Sawamura says, eyes soft. After a second, he laughs quietly and ducks his head, in a gesture that feels painfully true to life. When he looks up again, his gaze is clear and focused, the way it always was on court. The way Kuroo remembers him best. “I wanted to catch up with an old friend. So, thank you. Maybe we can do this again sometime.”

They both know that they can’t.

Kuroo swallows, and it hurts his dry throat. “Y-yeah, of course. Just, uh, drop by or whatever. You know where to find me.”

“I do,” Sawamura says, laughing once more. Kuroo’s heart aches.

He wants to say something to prolong the moment, but if there’s anything he’s learned over the last day, it’s that any chance they had has long since been lost. Regret lies heavy in his bloodstream and his breath comes short when he inhales. Kuroo is pushing thirty now, settled in his life and happy about where he’s headed, and Sawamura?

Sawamura will never look a day past twenty-four.

Kuroo clenches his right hand, trying to remember how Sawamura’s palm felt against his, calloused and strong and searing. But nothing remains except the faintest sense memory.

He extends his hand regardless, knowing it can’t be the same.

“Goodnight, Sawamura.”

When Sawamura’s fingers brush against Kuroo’s palm, a chill runs through his skin and he tries to close his hand around the flesh that isn’t there. He gets a rueful look in return as the other man withdraws.

“This is where I tell you I won’t lose again, isn’t it?”

“And where I tell you we’d be happy to take you on again any time,” Kuroo agrees quietly.

“I think that rematch will have to wait.” And Kuroo can see his outline going threadbare.

Sawamura lifts his hand back into a wave, slipping backwards toward the light of the street lamp. The honey glow of the lamp intersects briefly with Sawamura’s own light, painting him angelic gold for a second, and for just this moment, with the veil of reality pulled thin, Kuroo can see the yearning clear as daybreak written in Sawamura’s eyes. Like a perfect mirror image to Kuroo’s own.

It’s instinct to step forward, reaching out toward Sawamura to try and touch him, to catch him before Kuroo can lose him, yet again, but already the distance is too wide. Sawamura smiles, even as he fades.

“Goodbye, Kuroo.”

And he’s gone.

Kuroo stares for a minute longer, willing the streetlight to shimmer and reveal Sawamura’s ghostly form again, but there’s nobody here on this road except Kuroo and a few sedate cars passing through. The whole world is quiet, giving him a moment of silence to find his breath, steady his heart.

The spring air embraces Kuroo with cold familiarity as he begins slowly walking up the stairs home, alone again. Above as below, the world spins on, once more without Sawamura. Kuroo unlocks his door, but stands there in the threshold for a long moment, just looking in. Finally, he takes a deep breath and steps inside.

It’s late. He should go to sleep, and wake early to greet the new day. Maybe tomorrow he’ll go for a swim.

[atinyidea]

Magic Is In The Heart | Ravenclaw Hongjoong | 2

→ ml!

→ note! in this fic, Hongjoong’s reader (Sunshine) is a male

→ 223 bullet points!

→ Half-Blood.

→ Sixth Year.

→ Prefect.

→ Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain.

→ Best Class: Transfiguration

→ Worst Class: Arithmancy

→ Favourite Class: Defence Against The Dark Arts

→ Least Favourite Class: Arithmancy

he classifies himself as a half-blood even though three-quarter blood is more accurate

“just doesn’t sound nice”

he would say

his mother came from a long line of pureblood wizards

while his father was a half-blood wizard born to a wizard and a muggle

it’s all very complicated

so Hongjoong simply says “half-blood” affectionately

his father was in Ravenclaw

his mothers family seem to mainly be in Gryffindor

although his mother was in Hufflepuff

his family didn’t particularly care which house he was placed in

but they were proud of him nonetheless

he is an only child

only has one cousin

he’s seven years younger than him though

Hongjoong was sad

finding out that he’d only be coming to Hogwarts

just as Hongjoong was leaving

he made it a point to ask one of his younger friends to keep an eye out for him when he came up

natural leader

became a prefect in the fifth year

so it was natural for him to become Ravenclaw’s Quidditch Captain in his sixth year

first year

one thing to note about his parents was that they were quite strict 

and because they lived in a muggle town

they were accustomed to muggle technology

like phones and game stations and televisions

but

Hongjoong wasn’t allowed a smartphone

or a phone in general

until he was an official teenager

(he got an iPhone for his thirteenth birthday)

so as an eleven-year-old

not knowing anyone because all his friends seemed to be younger than him

he took a Nintendo DS on the train with him

because he could get bored easily

sadly for him

his father had pulled a small prank on him and switched out the DS card that held at least ten different games on it

for a card

with one game on it

called 

‘Lateral Puzzles’

more than half of which

Hongjoong had already completed

so that was something to look forward to

when he found a compartment

there was a boy in there already

dressed in colourless robes already

it was safe to assume the boy was a first year like him

sure enough

the two of them became friends

after the boy introduced himself as Seonghwa

Seonghwa had taken an interest in Hongjoong’s DS the second he took it out

asking all sorts of questions

which Hongjoong was more than happy to answer

the two of them talked for a long time 

before Hongjoong decided he’d taught Seonghwa enough about the DS

for him to play with it while he changed into his robes

when he returned

the discussion of houses

Hongjoong, coming from a family so diverse in their Hogwarts houses, didn’t have a house in mind

and the two of them bonded over the fact they really couldn’t care less

sticking together, talking the whole way

shared a boat with two new people, ‘Mimi’ and ‘Jisoo’

who he instantly got on well with

sat there grinning

talking quietly with Jisoo

watching Seonghwa and Mimi bicker all the way to the great hall

before they had to split up

since Seonghwa had to move away

Hongjoong grabbed him

“we’ll stay friends no matter our house, yeah?”

he was strangely protective over his new found friendship

was a bit nervous

shy lil bub

“of course”

Hongjoon’s heart: uwu

the sorting hat put him in Ravenclaw

because the sorting hat saw his potential in creative thinking and with the guide of Ravenclaw house he would be able to bounce off other creative minds to think better

because he was already friendly and hardworking and daring and ambitious

and he would grow and flourish better in Ravenclaw

Hongjoon didn’t mind though, already planning out his letter back home to his father

he made friends easily on the table and with his roommates

but stuck with Seonghwa like they promised

(as well as Mimi and Jisoo)

classes

was good at flying lessons straight away

having flown before with his parents and cousin

very good at quidditch

but due to the rule

was only allowed to try out for quidditch during the second year

became captain in his sixth year

Hongjoong is good at the core subjects

he always gets good grades

especially excels in Transfiguration

enjoys Defence Against the Dark Arts the most

Professor McGonagall is his favourite teacher

don’t tell Madam Hooch

actually struggled with potions in the beginning

but Seonghwa helped him a lot during first year

Hongjoong is very grateful

when it came to picking the additional subjects

with his Ravenclaw Cap™️ on 

he decided he was going to pick four of the five options

Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Ancient Runes and

...

Arithmancy

bad decision there Hongjoong

he 

hates

Arithmancy

a set of confusing number systems, different to any of the number systems e grew up with

(he still has no idea how there could be different number systems,,,, they're all the name numbers!!!)

he gets through it on his proficiency in Divination

Arithmancy is still his worst subject

Professor Vector is cool though

third and fourth year

second year? uneventful

third year? moderately eventful

Hongjoong made new friends with the boys who crashed into their train compartment

(Wooyoung, San and Yunho)

(They pulled a prank on Jungho and his friend)

(Jongho’s friend lovingly dubbed ‘Sunshine’ by San as childhood nickname)

San grinned

“Do you mind if we stay here? We decided to prank my brother but we forgot his friend, Sunshine, was in there too and now we’re running form two very angry firstys”

Hongjoong shook his head in disbelief

a smile on his lips

but let them stay anyway

back in the Ravenclaw tower

Hongjoong finally met Yeosang

Hongjoong hadn’t spent much time in Ravenclaw tower during his second year

meaning there weren’t many chances for him to meet anyone new

but he and his friends (the new ones too) had stayed in the great hall longer than they normally would

so he was heading to the common room a little later than everyone else

which he didn’t mind

meant it was quiet for once

Hongjoong didn’t think anyone would be down in the common room

seeing as it was almost midnight now

(too much fun in the great hall + the east courtyard = almost midnight)

but lo and behold

Yeosang!!

sat in one of the comfy chairs

near the bookshelf alcove

Hongjoong, being Hongjoong

tripped over a book on the floor

making noise

bringing attention to himself as well as scaring the living daylights out of Yeosang

Yeosang let out an actual shriek

so did Hongjoong

“sorry! I was trying to be quiet”

“looks like it.”

Hongjoong only grinned

he got up and made his way over to Yeosang, sitting on a chair opposite him

“I’m Hongjoong”

“Yeosang”

“What are you reading?”

they spent a good hour talking about the book

heading down the spiral staircase in the middle of the common room towards their dorms

making a deal to sit together at breakfast the next morning

new friend: achieved

of course.

this confused their friends the next morning

but they did sit with each other!

at the Ravenclaw table!

Hongjoong and his friends usually congregated at the Slytherin table, since the majority of them were in Slytherin

(And Yeosang usually sat with his Hufflepuff friend Mingi)

but that morning they sat together

talking about books

and classes

then the topic of friends came up

and Hongjoong invited Yeosang to sit with him and his group from then on

“you can sit with us, you know, from now on. we’re friends now”

“can I bring a couple of friends?”

“yeah! you can never have too many friends”

so yeah third year! big friend group!

in fourth year however

Hongjoong officially met Jongjo’s best friend

(and Jongho started sitting with them properly)

Sunshine was, well,

very fiery

funny

and also very cute

in comparison to Jongho

Sunshine was tall

he was taller than Hongjoong too

like Yunho tall

did he mention cute?

Hongjoong doesn’t recall when his crush on Sunshine was a thing

but he spent his fourth year trying to get everyone in their new group to stop trying to kill each other

and only really admired from afar

Seonghwa: just talk to him

Hongjoong: yall hear summ?

fifth year

was made male Ravenclaw Prefect

super proud beb

his father teared up when the letter came

shined the badge every night coming up to the new term

Hongjoong: Dad? TF?

Hongjoong’d Mum: S t o p

amazing family

never a dull moment

tried not to looked shocked when Seonghwa boarded the train with a prefects badge

it’s okay Joong

Seonghwa was shocked too

made friends with the female Slytherin Prefect too

“Pepy”

she’s cool

doesn’t stand for Wooyoung’s, or San’s, shit

mad respect

shares grins with her when they witness Seonghwa and Mimi try to talk without blushing

the teasing between Hongjoong and Seonghwa can get annoying

Pepy usually just leaves when they go at it

Seonghwa: Sunshine!

Hongjoong: Mimi!!

He finally works up the courage to actually talk to Sunshine in fifth year

awkward lil beb is still awkward though

O.W.L.s

Charms: [O]utstanding

Transfiguration: [O]utstanding

Herbology: [O]utstanding

Defence Against the Dark Arts: [O]utstanding

Potions: [E]xceeds [E]xpectations

Care Of Magical Creatures: [E]xceeds [E]xpectations

Astronomy: [A]cceptable

Divination: [O]utstanding

Ancient Runes: [O]utstanding

Arithmancy: [P]oor

poor Joong cried when he saw the Poor

still doesn’t know if they were sad tears or tears of relief because he no longer was obligated to take Arithmancy

sixth year (current)

in sixth year he elected to take Alchemy

with Seonghwa and Mimi

and Pepy!

and Sunshine made it a thing™️ to support Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin during their quidditch match

cocky Hongjoong after Ravenclaw wins the match

“are you my lucky charm?” 

it’s going to be interesting