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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years ago

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Eccentricity [Chapter 11: You Don’t Come Around No More]

A/N: I apologize profusely for the long wait. Thank you all so, so, so much for your support. Every single reblog, message, comment, emotional rant, and/or screech of despair makes my day, and I couldn’t do this without you. 💜 Only THREE more chapters left!!!

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “More To Life Than Baseball” by Petey.

Chapter Warnings: Language, angsttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt.

Word Count: 7.5k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk

The Rain

I wish I felt empty.

I’m supposed to feel empty, right? I’m supposed to feel steeped in grey, oceanic misery; I’m supposed to dip in and out of depressive naps all day and sob delicately over creased photos and fading, wistful memories. I always envisioned heartbreak as a soft and inherently feminine sort of affliction: the hems of nightgowns and bathrobes sweeping along hardwood floors, Kleenex boxes and concave couch cushions, weepy phone calls to friends and aunts and mothers, Queen Victoria wearing black for the rest of her life after Prince Albert’s death, Mary Todd Lincoln sinking into dark and hushed obscurity. Women, hollowed out by despair, cross the history of the earth like lines of latitude.

I don’t feel empty at all. I don’t even feel sad. I feel razored by sharp, red, ceaseless anxiety. I am consumed by thoughts of what I did wrong, what I said that started the wheels of doubt spinning in his mind, if he had known how it would end from the start. I dream of white, clawed hands dragging me down through cold waves. I hear words scream to me as I toss at night in my suddenly too-spacious bed, words that now hit me like knuckles to the gut: Shhh, hey, it’s just me, don’t get up, as Joe slipped beneath the Arizonan blankets, wrapped an arm around my waist, kissed my collarbone as I tumbled back into sleep; I love you to death, as his Subaru idled in Charlie’s driveway; Baby Swan, listen to me, nothing is supposed to hurt, okay, so if anything hurts, ever, at all, you tell me and we stop, deal? as we stood in the doorway of our hotel room at the Four Seasons in Chicago. And now...and now...

And now everything fucking hurts.

It doesn’t make any sense; and yet it does. Look at him. Look at me.

The Polaroid photo from Homecoming was still taped to the top of my full-length mirror. I peeled it free like a layer of translucent, friable reptilian skin, tore it straight down the center, burned both halves over a brand new three-wicked, lemon-scented Bath And Body Works candle—a gift from Renee and Paul—and closed my eyes like a child casting a wish over her birthday cake like a spell. I wished for my memories to vanish with the photograph. I wished to get hit by a truck and wake up in the hospital with no recollection of the past two and a half months. I wanted the Lees to dissolve into distant, enigmatic mystery; I wanted to join the rest of Forks in believing that they were nothing more than bewildering and yet harmless freaks, barely worth noticing, one of those glitches of the matrix that were better off ignored like liminal seconds of déjà vu. I wished to carve out every part of myself that they had ever touched.

And Joe’s voice came rushing back from where we stood by that star-lit fountain outside the Church of Saint Lawrence, accompanied by falling raindrops and a crooked grin: I can make wishes come true.

The three tiny flames flickered in the breeze that sighed through my open window. The bright, citrusy scent of the candle reminded me of Lucy. I couldn’t fucking win. What else is new?

I turned back to the mirror. I flinched when my gaze snagged on my reflection: bloodshot-eyed, swollen-faced, utterly unbeautiful, restless like a caged animal. Look at him. Look at me.

I ripped the last memento off the mirror—Official Citation!! No More Sad Spaghetti!!—and watched the yellow square of paper catch fire, curl up around the edges, become unrecognizable, turn to ash. And I wished over and over again, like a poem, like a prayer: Let me forget, oh god please let me forget.

Charlie keeps asking if I’m okay. The answer, of course, is no; but I can’t tell him that. So I wear a serene smile like clip-on fangs, a cheap polyester cloak, crimson smudges of lipstick like trails of spilled blood down the side of my neck. Every day is Halloween for me now. I dress up as someone who isn’t haunted, who hasn’t become a ghost.

And when Charlie turns up the World Series or I’d Do Anything For Love on his geriatric, staticky kitchen radio—the same radio he’s had since my mother was the one joining him for daybreak coffee and Pop-Tarts—I choke back tears like dragonfire.

Missing In Action (Revisited)

Joe wasn’t here. Neither was Ben.

Lucy, Rami, and Scarlett were sipping cups of tea at the Lees’ usual table, their eyes downcast, their voices low and murmuring, their pristine lunches neglected. Lucy and Rami were dressed in matching charcoal grey turtleneck sweaters; Scarlett had come from Fencing Club and was wearing royal purple yoga pants and a black tank top, her duffle bag of gear on the floor by her sneakered feet. Her hair was in a long fishtail braid. Archer hadn’t mentioned her since Joe broke up with me. That either meant that it was going blissfully and he didn’t want to injure me further, or that Scarlett had ended things as well.

Since Joe broke up with me. That sounds so fucking pedestrian.

I stared at the three present Lees, almost leered, commanding them to see me, to acknowledge me, to admit that I had once meant something to them, that this hadn’t all been some transitory delusion to fill the cavernous void of losing my home, my life as I knew it in Arizona. They took no notice whatsoever.

Jess kicked me beneath the lunch table. My attention snapped back to her.

“Sorry, what?”

“You want to go shopping with me and Angela tonight?” Jessica’s hands were folded just beneath her chin, her voice gentle, her eyes large and sympathetic and watery. This was her version of being supportive. I appreciated it...in a perpetually tormented and preoccupied sort of way.

“No thanks.” I forked my cold, sauceless spaghetti listlessly. I’d forgotten to pack a lunch. I didn’t have an appetite anyway. I had deleted the GrubHub app from my iPhone and had no intention of using it ever again in my comparatively short and calamitous human life.

“You could come to temple this weekend,” Jessica pressed.

“Uh.” Mingling with a churchful of sociable, wholesome, marriage-obsessed adolescent Mormons sounded like the absolute last thing I’d want to spend my evening doing. “That’s a really generous offer, but I’ll pass.”

“Well you have to do something,” Angela said. “You can’t just sit in your bedroom alone all weekend and stare at the wall and wallow in self-pity.”

We’ll see about that. I turned to Jess. “How’s Vodka Boy from your Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class? Did he ever reappear? What’s his name again, Elmo? Ellington? El Chapo?”

“Ellsworth.” She frowned as she slurped her patron-drink-of-Mormons Sprite. “And no, he definitely failed out or overdosed or something, because he never came back.”

“Tragic,” I noted.

“But I’m pretty sure Mike’s coming over this weekend, so we’ll see if I can get some Netflix and chill action going.”

“Jess,” Angela chastised, widening her eyes and nodding to me subtly (but not quite subtly enough). No talking about getting lucky in front of the heartbroken single loser, that look said.

“I think I can be emotionally supportive without taking a goddamn vow of chastity, Angela!” Jessica hurled back.

“I gotta go.” I stood, threw on my backpack, discarded my nearly untouched lunch.

“You’ve barely eaten anything!” Angela protested. “You’ve barely eaten for a week!”

“I’ll live.” I picked my umbrella up off the slippery tile floor—peppered with muddy shoeprints and pearlescent drops of water fallen from coats and limp, sopping locks of hair—and headed out into the pouring rain. I hated the rain. I hated it. Maybe I had forgotten that for a while, but it all came hurtling back now like a hurricane, like a hand cracking across my face. I ached for the desert, for blatant and unapologetic heat, for palm trees and cacti and naked stars in the night sky. I had been researching marine biology graduate programs in the Southwest. There were good ones at UC San Diego, UC Santa Barbara, Texas A&M, the University of Southern California, UCLA. I would miss Charlie and Archer—and maybe Jessica and Angela on occasion—and absolutely nothing else about Forks. At least, that’s what I promised myself.

This is a no-giving-a-fuck-about-Lee-boys zone, I thought morosely.

Ben was brooding at our table in Professor Belvin’s classroom. It was the first time he’d shown up to Chemistry since that day Joe met me on the beach at La Push, since the place I’d once occupied in his universe had closed like a wound. I took my seat beside Ben. The window was shut today, the downpour outside torrential. Ben recoiled, just enough for me to notice; he was wearing his oversized black hoodie and practicing his Welsh, his handwriting messy and unbalanced.

“You could have warned me,” I said.

Ben didn’t glance up from his notebook. “Would that have made it any easier?”

“No,” I realized in defeat. I guess it wouldn’t have. I pulled my own notebook, my favorite pen, and a can of Diet Coke out of my backpack.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ben said. “You really need to know that. It had nothing to do with you. And none of us are happy with the current situation. None of us.”

None of them. That included Joe. “Interestingly, that didn’t stop him from creating it.”

Ben was thoughtful, debating his next words. “We’re probably going to be moving soon.”

“What?” I startled; my turquoise blue pen dropped out of my grasp and rolled across the table. Ben snatched it up and returned it to me. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“And what, just redo this whole college thing?”

Ben shrugged. “We’ll probably start our junior years over again. Gwil will say there was some horrible family tragedy and we needed a few semesters off. I could use the extra time to figure out Calc anyway. Parametric equations make me want to kill myself.”

I just stared at him. It didn’t make any sense. “But...why would the whole family leave Forks? Because of me? One pathetic, aggrieved human? Do you all pack up and relocate every time Joe fucks and dumps someone? That must be exhausting.”

“It’s better for everyone if we get some distance. Put more space between our world and yours.”

“But...” I tried to imagine never seeing any of them again: no Mercy humming merrily as she tossed handfuls of homegrown carrots to the alpacas, no Dr. Lee dabbing away my blood with an ageless sort of patience, no Scarlett or Lucy or Rami, no brief glimpses of Joe as he avoided me in the campus library. It’s exactly what I wanted; and yet it wasn’t. It so, so, so, so wasn’t. It keeps getting worse. How is that possible? My voice was flimsy and quivering, absolutely pitiful. Disgustingly pitiful. “Who will be my lab partner?”

Ben peered over at me with wide, confused green eyes. And then—gingerly, awkwardly, like holding an acquaintance’s baby for the first time—he laid his hand over mine. “I’ll miss you too.”

Professor Belvin lectured about coordinate covalent bonds. I didn’t absorb a word. I conjugated Italian verbs with my turquoise blue pen, sketched disordered whirlpools of ink, tried not to think about whether this was my last-ever Chemistry class with Ben, whether it was my last-ever weekend sharing Forks with the Lees. Those rageful, frantic thoughts were back. What did I do wrong? What didn’t I do right? Why did he have to leave?

My nomadic gaze caught on a flier on the wall next to our misted window. I had assumed it was a leaflet for some club or protest or seasonal dance that I would definitely not attend, but it wasn’t. It was a missing poster.

Have you seen this student? the flier asked in bold, businesslike black font. It was urgent, but not quite despairing; not yet, anyway. I could hear a Dean of Student Affairs cajoling some affluent, strings-of-pearls-adorned mother over the phone: Yes ma’am, you have my full attention and I can assure you that we’re very concerned, but I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding...he’s probably gone backpacking or sailing with some friends and forgotten to call home. You know how college students can be. Beneath a large photo of a grinning blond kid—pink polo, flushed cheeks, clever crop job to nix a can of Natty Light clutched in one fist—was a name: Ellsworth Jonathan Griffin.

Ellsworth, I thought, my stomach plummeting. The guy from Jessica’s Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class. He hadn’t failed out. He was missing. Missing like a 20/20 episode or a true crime podcast, missing like the pregnant stillness before a murder is confessed in some glaringly florescent-lit interrogation room, before a distended and bloodless corpse washes up on shore.

I turned to Ben. He noticed me eventually, crinkled his brow, shrugged in that way that seemed so petulant if you didn’t know him well enough to not be offended.

I pointed to the flier and raised my eyebrows. Ben twisted around in his chair to look. Then he sighed, scribbled a sentence in the corner of a piece of notebook paper, tore it free, and slid it across the table.

Ben’s note read, in atrocious penmanship: Are you seriously asking me if I ate that guy?

Maybe, I wrote back after a moment’s hesitation. Maybe that wasn’t exactly what I was asking; maybe I just wondered if he knew anything about it.

In either case, Ben’s reply was swift and resounding, and underlined three times: No.

Sorry, I wrote, abruptly remorseful. I am a jerk. And I added a frowny face for good measure. Ben chuckled when he saw it, shook his head, gave me a drawn little smirk. His words tiptoed around in my skull, leaving searing imprints like footprints in the sand. I’ll miss you too.

I have to forget about them. I drummed my turquoise blue pen against my notebook as Professor Belvin drew families of molecules on the whiteboard with squealing dry erase markers. I have to find a way to make myself forget.

Jessica was waiting for me in the hallway after class. It was part of her convince-Baby-Swan-not-to-jump-off-a-cliff initiative. “Hey.”

“Okay,” I told her with steely resolve. “I’m ready for you to set me up with one of those guys from your church or temple or whatever. I’m ready to be a nice wholesome wife, pop out like six kids, learn how to scrapbook, give up caffeine and horror movies, do the whole white picket fence thing. Sign me up.”

Jessica blinked at me. There were flecks of fallen mascara on her cheekbones like ashes. “What?”

“You’re a Mormon, right?”

“Girl, I’m not a Mormon,” Jessica said, puzzled. “I’m a witch.”

Lucille

I found Joe where he usually was these days: sprawled on the sofa, engulfed in the same blue Snuggie he’d been wearing for thirty-six uninterrupted hours, gazing catatonically at the big-screen tv. A 90 Day Fiancé marathon was on. Some rodentish guy named Colt was apologizing to his gorgeous, aspiring-green-card-holding Brazilian love interest for calling the cops on her during their last screaming match. He was also apologizing for the fact that they lived in a two-bedroom apartment with his mother. I didn’t need clairvoyance to see where their future was headed.

“Hey,” Ben said when he spotted me. He was sitting next to Joe and occasionally tried to shove pieces of popcorn into his mouth, which Joe accepted passively like coins plinked into a gumball machine. Ben had been his shadow for the past week; he was perhaps the best equipped of us to understand this degree of melancholy, of hopelessness.

“Ciao.” And then, to Joe: “How are you?”

“Terrible,” he replied, not tearing his eyes from the tv.

“I figured.” I squeezed between them on the couch, curled up next to Joe, rested my chin on his shoulder. He ignored me completely. I could hear Mercy tapping at her laptop keyboard out in the dining room; she was browsing through Zillow listings in Portland, Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Cleveland. Dear god, please don’t let us end up in fucking Cleveland. “Guess what.”

Joe stared at the tv for a long time before he answered. “What.”

“I had a vision of you. Just now, as I was doing laundry. Crystal clear and very scenic too, I might add.”

“Fascinating,” Joe said flatly.

“What happened in this vision?” Ben asked, far more invested, which I was thankful for.

“It was pretty far away, maybe a year from now. I saw you in the desert at night, under a full moon. There were cacti everywhere. The shadow of the Milky Way was threaded through the sky, and the stars were very bright. I could make out the constellations Pegasus and Cassiopeia. You were filling up a tiny glass bottle with dirt.”

“That’s remarkably helpful,” Joe said.

“It is, a little bit,” I insisted. “It means you get through this. That you have a future. I get nervous when I go too long without a vision of someone in the family. But now I know you’re going to be okay.”

The reflections of the feuding 90 Day Fiancé couples danced in his glassy eyes. “Being alive doesn’t mean you’re okay.”

“That’s dark,” Ben said. “Even I think that’s too dark.” He pushed a handful of popcorn into Joe’s mouth. “Are you gonna hunt at some point or what?”

“No.”

“You’re just gonna sit on this couch and waste away?”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to bring you anything? Grizzly bear? Brown bear? Fuck it, I’ll get you a polar bear if that’s what you want. There’s probably some on the black market. Rami would know.”

“He what?” Mercy called from the kitchen. Her typing had stopped.

“Nothing, Mom!” I shot back.

“I don’t want anything,” Joe said. That was a lie, of course. We all knew what he wanted. Rami couldn’t stand to be around him; the thoughts were relentless, smothering.

I linked my arms around Joe’s neck, laid my head against his chest, sighed deeply and mournfully. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I know that doesn’t fix anything. But I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll help however I can. We all will.”

And I had accepted that Joe wasn’t going to respond at all when he finally whispered: “I just wish I could forget.”

Cato

My rolling suitcase snagged on the cobblestone driveway. The tiny spinning wheels bashed against concrete as I scaled the front steps. As the taxi pulled away, I dug around in my suit pocket for my keys, found them, unlocked the enormous front door, stepped inside the palace as my suitcase trolled along the marble floor.

“Cato’s back!” Charity announced as she breezed down the nearest staircase, beaming and embracing me. She was a lovely, innately warm woman from Pointe-Noire, Congo; she still wore the silver cross necklace her mother had once given her around her neck. “Did you have a nice flight? Wait, let me check.” She pressed the fingertips of her right hand to my cheek. I felt the memories rush up like blood to a flushed face: the bite of sipped champagne against my tongue, the thin semi-transparent newspaper pages gliding between my fingers, the husky voice of the bearded, bearish naval officer who sat in the seat beside me, the misted silhouette of Vladivostok as it rose up out of the Pacific Ocean. “Uneventful, but pleasant enough. You flew commercial?”

“The jets were otherwise occupied, apparently.” Charity could see things with the predictability and precision that Lucy so often lacked, but only the past. I pushed her hand away. “Was that really necessary?”

“You’re not mad,” Charity declared, confident, impish, helping me shed my suit jacket and draping it over her arm. “You’re never mad.”

She was very nearly correct. “Where are the rest of the kids?”

“In the kitchen. Go say hello, they’ve missed you dreadfully.”

“I know the feeling.” I kicked off my Berlutis, ran a palm over the wiry fur of the Irish Wolfhounds that appeared to greet me before they resumed padding watchfully around the palace, and went to the kitchen, my black socks slipping a bit on the marble floors.

I could hear their voices before I reached the door: laughter, teasing, complaints, requests. The scents of pancakes and cold butter and maple syrup were thick in the air. Charity was one of our four newest recruits, and they all still had that energetic lightness of being human, a youthful enthusiasm, a relative normalness. I spent quite a lot of time with them. It was my job—to help with the transition, to keep them happy, to facilitate the welding of their individual parts into the beastly machine that was the Draghi—but oftentimes it felt more like a reprieve. Some would stay close to me as they matured, others would grow in different directions, like ambitious vines climbing the skeleton of a garden trellis. I usually missed them when they ‘grew up,’ so to speak...although there were exceptions. I had never liked Liesl. I had always liked Ben. I opened the door.

“Ah, you are home!” Ksenia cried from where she stood over the stove, a spatula in her right hand, bouncing excitedly in place on her small bare feet.

“Hey!” Max and Austin called together. They were both sitting with their shoes propped up on the unglamorous kitchen table. There was a massive formal dining room that could accommodate up to twenty-five guests, but we rarely used it.

“Good morning,” I said, aware that I was smiling for the first time in days.

Max groaned as he scrolled through his Google search results on a burner phone. “What the fuck. My name is one of the top five dog names again. I think I’m gonna have to change it.”

I ruffled his long blond hair, stealing a piece of bacon from his plate. Max had grown up a trust fund kid in Perth, Australia. His mother was old money; his father was a professional surfer. “Your name is fine.”

“Really, Kato Kaelin? Is it really? How am I supposed to intimidate people when I have a fucking dog name?”

“So make them call you Maximilian,” offered Ksenia in a heavy Ukrainian accent. She’d only been with us for eight months, but her English was coming along swimmingly. She flipped a massive A-shaped pancake on the sizzling griddle. That one was for Austin.

“Seriously?” Max said. “That is just way too many syllables. They’ll be halfway down the block by the time I’m done introducing myself. ‘Hey, come back mate, I haven’t killed ya yet.’”

“At least you aren’t stuck with a basic-white-boy-circa-1992 name for all of eternity,” said Austin Tyler McInerny, originally of Sheboygan, Wisconsin. He was chomping on a multicolored Fruit Roll-Up, which swung from his mouth like a lizard’s tongue. He’d been working at an ailing skatepark when Larkin found him. He still enjoyed showing off his kickflips, and kept insisting that he was going to teach me how to ollie. I didn’t have the faintest idea what an ollie was.

“Do you want a pancake, Cato?” Ksenia asked, passing Austin his plate and wiping her hands on her pink apron. Her black hair was tied in a high ponytail with a matching rose-colored ribbon. She looked so young. She was so young, actually. Nineteen. And she would be forever.

“No, thank you dear. I’m alright.”

“I like Alaric,” Max decided. “First king of the Visigoths. Alaric is a name fit for a vampire. Creepy, yet dignified. Or maybe Silas. Or Draco.”

Austin shook his head as he swirled a river of viscous maple syrup over his A-shaped pancake. “Definitely not Draco.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the Harry Potter connection is unfortunate. People will hear Draco and think of that obnoxious white-haired kid from the evil snake-people house or whatever.”

“Oh, right,” Max sighed. “Like I said. Alaric would work.”

“So many A-shaped pancakes!” Ksenia poured a K on the griddle for herself.

“It’s good for you,” Austin replied, pointing at her with his fork. “We’re practicing English.”

“Alaric Luther,” Max mused, scrolling through his phone. I didn’t think he’d find that on any list of trendy dog names. “Alaric Lothaire...Alaric Lucian...”

“I like your name, Max,” Larkin said from the doorway. None of us had heard him arrive. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, wearing a deep maroon suit and a ring on every finger, grinning hugely. He was exactly as I remembered him: stunning, captivating, terrifying. The kitchen fell quiet. I could smell Ksenia’s pancake beginning to burn.

At last Max chuckled nervously, pushing soggy pancake hunks around on his plate with his fork, averting his gaze. “Guess I’ll keep it then.”

“I thought I heard you come in,” Larkin told me.

“It’s always a pleasure to be home.”

He nodded out towards the hallway. “Come. Regale me with the stories of your travels.” Then his eyes flicked down to my socks, and he grimaced—slightly, briefly—before turning away. “And find your shoes.”

I followed him through the hallway, the living room, the grand front foyer with the crystal chandelier, into the elevator. Larkin did not speak, but he hummed as we ascended: House Of The Rising Sun.

It hadn’t always been like this. It was difficult for me to pick out the details of what had changed—the tone of his voice, the proportion of wonder and gratitude I associated with him versus fear, the way this palace (or the one in Reykjavik, or Juneau, or Ivalo, or Murmansk, or any of the others) felt when I stepped inside it—but I knew something had. It had begun before Ben left. It was much worse now. Older vampires, in my fairly learned opinion, are something like the stars. They mellow as they age, temper their character flaws, grow wise and patient like Nikolai or Honora or Gwilym Lee; or they rage until they burn away every last atom of humanity, until they destroy themselves and take entire solar systems down with them. Increasingly, I harbored fears that Larkin was a vampire of the latter variety. And we were all his planets.

In his study, Larkin dropped into the chair behind his desk, brought a hand to his forehead, surveyed a disarrayed flurry of papers: letters, notices, deeds and titles, meticulously managed accounts of finances and disciplinary actions. Larkin had a laptop and burner phone, of course, as we all did; but he liked to work in paper as much as possible. That’s how he’d done things for centuries, since long before the name of the inventor of the internet (or harnessed electricity, for that matter) was a whisper on his parents’ lips. The sky outside was clouded and seeping soft rain.

“Things have been busy?” I ventured.

He frowned, gesturing to the cluttered desk. “I’m in purgatory.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Can I help?”

“The Lancaster coven says they’ll need an extension for their dues. That’s the second year in a row, now it’s not just an exception, it’s a precedent. If you let one coven bend the rules, others will follow. So something will have to be done. Then there’s Stockholm. Anders’ coven has eaten a few too many locals—including the mayor’s favorite niece—and now the city is launching an investigation. Fucking idiots. They’ll probably all have to relocate. There’s some new territory dispute in Lima between Alejandro’s coven and a group of strangers that just came out of the Andes. We’ll have to make their acquaintance, of course. And as if all that weren’t enough, Rigel accidentally fed on a heroin addict and he’s currently detoxing in a cell in the basement. Would you check on him for me? I’m sure your presence will be a...” He waved his hand distractedly, almost dismissively, searching for the words. “A comfort to him.”

“Of course.”

“How are the Lees?”

“Fine. Typical. Gwil’s putting in a lot of hours at the hospital. Rami’s planning to get another law degree. Ben is, uh, adjusting. Slowly, very slowly. He’s not particularly content. But he hasn’t murdered anyone that I’m aware of.”

“How nice.” Now his eyes darted up to catch mine: focused, luminous, unreadable. “Nothing new at all?”

And instantly, I wanted to tell him everything. I forgot why I had ever planned to blunt the girl’s existence, to conceal her talent entirely; I felt her name rising in my throat. And then I remembered again. I’m doing this for Gwil, for Ben.

I pretended to ponder Larkin’s question, as if it was so difficult to remember, as if there was nothing left to sift through but a trunkful of mundane details from the trip like a grandfather’s tattered correspondence and tarnished war relics. That was something an average family might have squirreled away in their attic, I assumed; I’d never met my own grandfather, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have had anything to leave me if I had. “Joe’s got some new girlfriend, but I don’t think it’s serious. I doubt she’ll be around long. You know how Joe is. Scarlett’s seeing someone too, actually. A Quileute kid.”

“Poor boy.” And Larkin grinned like a shark beneath burning eyes. “He’s in for a lifetime of disappointment. Who will ever be able to hold a candle to those memories?”

Larkin had a moderate preoccupation with Scarlett’s beauty, her...tenacity. Her lack of talent was a great disappointment to him, a somehow more egregious fault than Joe or Gwil or Mercy’s. What a shame, Larkin often said. And I believed I knew what came after in his mind, although never aloud: What a partner she could have been.

He was still grinning at me. His expression was hollow, vacuous. A shiver clawed down my spine. He was waiting for something. No, he was searching. I stared back, and I willed for that intangible, contagious harmony I carried around like a wedding ring to hit him like carbon monoxide or bromine: undetected and yet inexorable, knocking him off his path of inquisition.

What does he suspect? What does he already know?

“Anyway,” Larkin continued abruptly, turning his attention back to his paperwork. “I’m glad there’s nothing to worry about in Forks. Liesl will be back in the next few days, Rigel will be ready to work again, I’ll come up with a plan to handle all this and my mood will improve tremendously.”

And where has Liesl been? I almost asked; and then I didn’t. It was a good sign that she was coming home. I had looked for her once while I was in Forks. When I made up my mind to find someone—when that switch flipped in my skull or in the tangle of nerves of my solar plexus or wherever it lived—it wasn’t like poking around on Google Earth: zooming in here, scrolling over there. A goldish trail lit up on the floor, a ‘Yellow Brick Road’ Honora and I sometimes joked, and I followed it. And I had no way of knowing how far that trail might lead. A route heading dead east from the palace might stop in the next town over or continue across the Pacific Ocean; my search might last one day or a hundred. In Forks—as I perched in a soaring western hemlock tree in the forest outside the Lee residence on a cool October evening—Liesl’s trail had led north. North to Vancouver, to Victoria, to Dawson, to Alaska? Who the fuck knew. I was just relieved it hadn’t led to the tree next to mine.

“Well, as always, I’m happy to assist however I can,” I told Larkin. “Just let me know and I’ll be on the next flight out of Vladivostok.”

“I appreciate that, Cato.” He smiled, paternally this time. And then he spun his chair around to peer out the window into the episodic flares of lightning that illuminated great dark clouds like neurons in a celestial brain. I hate thunderstorms. They remind me of South Carolina. “But I think you’ve earned a rest.”

After checking in on Rigel—irritable, frenetic, pacing, and yet predictably pacified somewhat by my visit—I trotted up the main staircase to the second floor of the palace. I found her in our bedroom: sitting at her easel, a paintbrush held in one graceful hand, an image like a photograph on the canvas. I promptly pried off my Berlutis for the second time today and tossed them into the closet.

“Ciao, amore,” I said.

“Ciao!” Honora replied, beaming. Her curly brunette hair was pinned up and away from her face; wayward tendrils spiraled down to brush her bare shoulder blades, the back of her neck. “Just give me five minutes...I have to finish the shadow of this tree...”

There weren’t many in the Draghi who survived the transition from Nikolai’s leadership to Larkin’s, but Honora had. She was gentle to a fault, a hopeless warrior, turned into an immortal on her forty-fourth birthday when Rome was still an empire; and she was without any talents whatsoever, except for one which was useless in combat. Her paintings, drawings, and sculptures adorned every palace the Draghi owned. Each year, Larkin would ask her to paint all of us together, incorporating any new faces, erasing the memories of those who had proven themselves unworthy. One such portrait, I knew, hung in Gwilym Lee’s home office.

I went to the woman I called my wife, laid my palms on her shoulders, leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Take your time, love.”

“Everything’s alright?” Honora asked, looking hopefully up at me with large, wide-set jade eyes. No, not just hopefully. Trustingly.

“Everything’s alright,” I agreed, not knowing if I believed it.

Shadows And Spells

“He just...just...disappeared?!” Jessica sputtered, scandalized, gaping at me as she held a Styrofoam cup of spiked apple cider in her clasped hands.

We were on a quilt near the outskirts of the sea of beach towels and blankets that circled the bonfire. Women—wearing flowing dresses or robes or tunics or not very much at all—flounced around the flames banging tambourines and reciting chants that I didn’t know the words to. Some carried torches, beacons of heat and light in the darkness. Jessica was wearing a short black shirt, fishnet tights, and a black crop-top turtleneck sweater; I had opted for a bohemian blue dress patterned with stars, an old thrift shop find and the closest thing I owned to Wiccan festivities apparel. I had a cup of hot apple cider as well, enhanced with a generous splash of Captain Morgan, but hadn’t quite conjured up the rebelliousness to drink it yet.

I suddenly recalled Mercy bringing me an endless supply of virgin autumnal sangrias as Joe and I swam in the hot tub on the Lees’ back porch. As soon as you turn twenty-one, you can have the real thing. I frowned, shuddered, took a bitter and burning sip.

“Yeah,” I replied. “He told his roommate he was going to a frat party or something and never showed up and never made it back home either. The parents are blaming the university, the university is insisting he must be off with a girlfriend or on some hipster soul-searching nature adventure or whatever, it’s a mess.”

“Jesus,” she murmured. “What does your dad say?”

“He’s been helping the state police with the investigation. There’s really no evidence of anything. No witnesses, no footprints, no surveillance footage, no handy anonymous tips...”

“No body,” Jessica finished.

“That’s morbid.” I downed the rest of my cider. Was the world already beginning to list like a ship on choppy waves, or was that just my imagination? I guess it would be possible. I’d barely eaten all day.

“You were thinking it.”

“Well, one’s mind does tend to wander towards homicide under such circumstances.”

“It is the season of the dead.” She grinned wickedly, then took my empty cup. “He’s probably fine. I bet he wants to drop out to become a weed farmer and hasn’t worked up the guts to tell his parents yet. You want another?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. I’ll be right back.” Jess rose to balance on black boots with five-inch heels and staggered off to the foldable table piled high with cans and bottles and snacks. I was getting the impression that her Wiccanism was more of a novelty than a spiritual commitment.

The season of the dead. Now that’s VERY morbid.

There were some guys laughing, smoking home-rolled cigarettes, and toasting glasses of red wine on a nearby mandala blanket, bespectacled intellectual types who were probably getting PhDs in Anthropology or Medieval Studies at the University of Washington. One of them—curly-haired, pale-eyed, wearing a sweater vest and a cautious smile—raised his wine glass in my direction. I waved back without much enthusiasm.

“He’s cute, right?” Jessica asked, plopping back down onto our quilt and shoving a full cup of spiked cider into my grasp. She motioned for me to drink. I did. “That’s Sebastian, but he likes to be called Bash. He’s twenty-three and speaks fluent German.”

“Charming.”

“He’s very...uh...gifted. I’m not saying I know from personal experience, but I’ve heard it from a very reliable source. And his parents own a beach house in Monterey. You could go skinny-dipping.”

“In the ocean?” The world was definitely wobbling now. I was warm all over, numbed, fuzzy; it was becoming difficult to picture Joe’s face, to hear his voice. This was good. I kept drinking. “No thanks. Too many sharks. They have great whites down there.”

Jess tossed her long, loose hair and sighed impatiently. “I’m just saying that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. So you should pursue that.”

“I’ll totally consider it.” I lied. I would not consider it.

She smiled, sympathetically, fondly. “I can’t believe you thought I was a Mormon.”

“I can’t believe I’m out in the Washington wilderness commemorating the Gaelic festival of Samhain, but here we all are.”

Jess glanced over my shoulder. “Oh my god. He’s coming over here.”

“Ugh.” I craned my neck to see. Sebastian—whoops, my mistake, Bash—was approaching. “Please distract him. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Also I’m pretty sure I’m getting drunk and I don’t want to do anything humiliating, like sob uncontrollably about how much I miss my ex-boyfriend.”

“Don’t worry. I gotchu, Baby Swan.”

“Hey Jess,” Bash said, but he was looking at me. He pitched his cigarette off into the trees. What the fuck, who does that?

“Only you can prevent forest fires,” I told him in a woozy, mock-Smokey Bear voice.

“What?” he asked, baffled.

“Ignore her, she’s drunk,” Jess said quickly. “So what’s up? Come on, sit with me. Keep me toasty. Teach me some German...”

As they chatted and giggled and snuggled closer together—I’m starting to think that Jessica might have been her own reliable source—I studied the forest, watching to make sure the cigarette didn’t begin to smolder in the damp brush. The voices and crackling of the bonfire and sharp ringing of the tambourines faded into one muted, uniform drone. The trees reeled in the haze of the spiked cider; the cool wind moaned through them. And then, for only a second: a glimpse of something impossibly quick, something silvery and reedy and sunless.

What was that?

I blinked. It was gone. I blinked again, staring penetratingly. The swarming heat from the cider evaporated from my skin, my blood. There were goosebumps rising all over me.

What the hell was that?

I remembered how Calawah University students sometimes reacted to Ben: flinching, withdrawing, autonomically fearing him on some primal, evolutionary level. They knew he was a predator. They knew they were prey. It was chillingly similar to what I was feeling now.

I have to get out of here. I have to go home.

I shot to my feet. Oh, wrong move, that was too quick. I swayed, and Jessica reached up to steady me. “Are you—?!”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I gotta go home now.”

“What?! We just got here! Look, chill out, let me get you some vegan samosas or something—”

“No, seriously, I have to go.”

“Okay, okay,” Jessica conceded. “I’ll finish my drink and we’ll call an Uber, alright?”

“Really?” Bash asked, crestfallen.

“I’ll call an Uber,” I told Jess. “You stay, I’ll go.” Maybe she shouldn’t stay, I thought foggily, irrationally. Maybe it’s not safe.

“I can’t let you go alone. I got you drunk and now you’re a mess and if you end up murdered it would be my fault. There are unsolved mysteries going around, you know.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Girl, there’s no way I’m gonna—”

“I’ll call you as soon as I get in the Uber and I’ll stay on until I’m physically inside my house, okay?”

Jessica considered this. Bash leaned in to nibble her ear. I could smell the red wine and nicotine and animalistic lust sweating out of his pores. And unexpectedly, agonizingly: a biting flare, a muscle memory, Joe’s fingertips skimming down the small of my back and his scent like winter nights saturating the capillary beds of my lungs. Stop, stop, stop. “Okay,” Jess agreed at last.

“Awesome.” I was already opening the Uber app on my iPhone.

My driver was a Pacific Northwestern version of Santa Claus: wild grey beard, red flannel, L.L.Bean boots, rambling about his upcoming trip to hunt caribou in British Columbia. I honored my promise to Jessica and kept her on speakerphone for the duration of the twenty-minute drive. I rested my whirling head against the seat, let my eyes dip closed, watched the intermittent streetlights appear and disappear through my eyelids. I let myself into Charlie’s house when I arrived, wished Jessica goodnight (and reminded her not to get pregnant), and meandered clumsily into the kitchen for a glass of water and a cookie dough Pop-Tart to ward off a possible hangover. Charlie was snoring quietly on the living room couch. I watched him for a while, smiling and achingly grateful, before heading upstairs to my bedroom.

My window was wide open; that’s the first thing I noticed. I didn’t remember leaving it that way. I was always neglecting to lock the window, sure—I kept forgetting that there was no one to leave it unlocked for anymore—but I hadn’t left it open when I went to meet Jessica this evening. Icy night air flooded in. The stars were bright and furious in an uncommonly clear sky.

“You trying to give me pneumonia, old man?” I muttered, thinking of Charlie. I tossed my iPhone down onto my bed and crossed the room to close the window. And as it creaked and collided with the sill, I heard my closet door open behind me.

Someone’s here. Someone’s in this room with me.

I turned, very slowly; it felt like it took a lifetime. She was standing in the doorway of my closet, sinuous and white-haired, wearing black leather pants and stiletto heels and a long-sleeved lace blouse the color of blood, the color of her eyes. And she was harrowingly beautiful; not like Lucy or Mercy, not like Scarlett. She was beautiful like a prehistoric jawbone, like a serrated crescent moon, like a blade.

The owl. The goddamn albino owl.

I recognized her immediately. I heard Joe’s words as he introduced each vampire in the immense painting hanging in Dr. Lee’s upstairs office to me, though I desperately didn’t want to: She’s literally Satan, only blonder.

Her name tumbled from my trembling lips. “Liesl.”

“Wonderful, we can skip the introductions.” Her voice was like windchimes, cutting and brisk, with a hint of an Austrian accent like a shadow. Now she was at my bedside and picking up my phone, scrolling through it with lightning-quick and dexterous thumbs. “Hm. No texts from any of the Lees in the past week. So we don’t have to worry about them dropping by, I suppose. Joe got bored with you already, huh?”

“Evidently.” My own voice was brittle, anemic, weak; just like my ineffectual human body.

“That’s quick, even for him. How sad.” She sighed, tucking my iPhone into her red Chanel purse. “There’s a private jet waiting at the Forks Airport. Pack a bag. You have five minutes.”

“Please don’t hurt my dad,” I whispered, scalding tears brimming in my eyes.

“Of course not,” Liesl replied with a savage, saccharine smile. “Not yet, anyway.”

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livelivefastfree · 4 years ago

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Love your cyborg!Chuck fic!! Wondering about a thing that didn't get addressed much: Julie obviously knew? the whole time? and Chuck, presumably, also knew about her, and obviously they had a mutual secret-keeping pact...but is Mike ever going to wonder what was up with that? Or are we supposed to assume he's figured out, post-finale, that Julie is Kane's daughter? And any chance of a prologue of Kane presenting Chuck to Julie like (I imagine), "Happy birthday, Julie-bear! Have this cyborg"?

This has been in my inbox since I published my first cyborg Chuck fic ever, so like...(*checks the release date on Override 0*) four years, lord. And the drabble has been sitting in my documents for almost as long lol. Hopefully this gives some explanation as to how a valuable cyborg full of experimental KaneCo tech ended up slipping out from under Kane’s nose, lol.

"I got you something," says her dad, and Julie thinks--oh, another stuffed kitten plush, maybe, or maybe even another level of security clearance if she's lucky--

She's not lucky.

"Dad," she says, with brittle sweetness, because she really really hopes she's misunderstanding this situation. “What...exactly...is the present?"

Her dad snaps his fingers. The boy standing behind him jitters, tries to step forward, almost crumples over, stands again. He's twitching and shivering like he's got some kind of tic, but his eyes are the part that really freak Julie out. Lit up and flickering from the inside, but weirdly unfocused and too wide. He's staring into nothing, and he looks like he should be swaying, like he should be unsteady on his feet, but now that he's standing he's just...still. Barely breathing, hardly blinking.

"I've seen that you've been doing some programming," her dad starts, and Julie makes a tiny, involuntary noise, trying to hold in a slightly hysterical giggle. Her dad either doesn't hear or doesn't bother to be concerned. "--This was a failed experiment from research and development, but if you want to try to learn to code..."

"What do you mean, a 'failed experiment'?" says Julie. "Is he-- Are you--?"

The boy doesn't seem to hear her talking to him. Julie's dad laughs, indulgent. "A cyborg," he finishes for her. "A failed one. He's harmless." A wry twist of his lips and an edge to his voice--Julie can almost hear "...unfortunately". "...But his programming is extensive. Plenty to experiment with. He should be able to tell you what you're doing as you do it, he was a fairly acceptable technician before he fried his brain."

He gives the boy's shoulder a shove, and he staggers forward toward her, still staring at nothing. His lips are moving minutely, Julie can see now--he's murmuring almost silently.

"Transfer registration holder," says her dad, bored and authoritative, and for the first time the boy shudders and speaks.

"...Define registration holder," he says, in a high, young voice that almost makes Julie jump. Julie's dad looks at her expectantly. "Full name and credentials."

"Julie," says Julie numbly. "Julie...Kapulsky. Executive intern?" The old family name is a complete unknown in Deluxe at this point, and it's the one on Julie's citizenship record. It's the safer option, as strange as it feels to say the name out loud.

"Confirmed registration holder transfer," says the cyborg, "Julie Kapulsky." And then he goes silent and still again, staring dead-eyed into nothing.

Julie stands there for a second, and just kind of...internally screams. Okay. Okay. So...this is a cyborg, this is a human guy who looks not much older than Julie, with computer parts shoved in his skull, and her dad is...giving her this boy. To practice on.

"He should have enough brain left to take care of himself," her dad is saying, somewhere on the other end of a long tunnel, "If he's more trouble than he's worth, we can find...other uses for him."

On the one hand, if Julie accepts this, she's going to own another human being. Which is...wow, no. But on the other hand, if she doesn't, her dad is going to take him back, and find something else to do with him. And Julie doesn't honestly trust him not to do something awful and unconscionable with this guy, especially considering the way he sneered when he said "harmless".

He's smiling at her now. Horribly, Julie realizes he's waiting for Julie to thank him.

"Wow!" she says, and manages an almost convincing smile. "That's really something, d-- M-mister Kane!"

"You don't have to do that, Julie-bear," says her dad reassuringly, and gives the cyborg another push in her direction. "Your old man's not bad at coding, himself." He flashes her that strange, warm smile he does sometimes, so at odds with the words that come out of his mouth, the things he does. "...Anything he hears about who you are, he'll scrub out of his memory automatically. As far as he knows, you're just an exceptional intern."

"Thanks dad!" says Julie, with tight, manic brightness. "Cool! Really neat! I'll go and, and practice, now! Try him out!" She takes the boy's arm, pulling; he follows her lead, eyes still focused on nowhere and nothing. "Looks like a ton of fun, thanks!"

"You're welcome, sweetheart," says her dad, and pats her shoulder affectionately. "I'll see you for dinner tomorrow night. Don't be late."

"I won't!" says Julie, barely listening now. "I'll, yeah! See you! Thanks dad! Bye!"

She can't close the door fast enough.

"Can you hear me?"

It takes a second for him to respond; he stirs, blinking, and then his eyes re-focus just a little and he says "...Confirmed."

Geez, that's so weird. Julie holds his eyes for a brief second, looking for any sign of consciousness or comprehension--she doesn't see any. The cyborg stares at the floor for a second, then his eyes slowly slide out of focus again.

"Kane's gone," she tries, and she can't tell if the faint twitch of his features is recognition of what she said or just the automatic reaction to his registration holder speaking to him. "You can come back now."

"Invalid request," he murmurs.

"Do you..." Julie drags a hand through her hair, groans. She really doesn't want to dig into this guy's programming, doesn't want to have her hands on something that intimate when he hasn't given her permission--doesn't even seem to register she's there half the time, and can't imagine saying "no" to her when he does. "Do you have a rollback protocol?"

There's a moment of silence, and then the cyborg blinks. "...Confirmed," he says.

"Really?" Julie's heart leaps. "Okay, well--okay! Run rollback protocol!"

"One executive exception noted," he says, "Authorization; Abraham Kane."

"Can you roll back everything else?"

Blink. "Confirmed."

"Okay!" says Julie, with more confidence than she's really feeling right now. "So-- Do that."

"Confirmed." He looks around, eyes wandering, and then walks slowly to the nearest corner and leans against the wall. Slides down it, holding his knees, leans his head back against the wall and goes still. Occasionally, his eyes flicker again. Other than that, he's motionless.

He sits there for at least five minutes. Julie watches him for the first two or three, then goes and settles down on his bed, pulling up a screen and flicking cautiously through a few shopping catalogues. The flickering of his eyes catches her peripheral vision; first few and infrequent, then faster and faster until it's an almost-constant glow, dim through his eyelashes. And then he gives a sharp gasp, a jerk, and doubles forward, head resting on his pulled-up knees, making sharp little noises of unmistakable distress.

"Hey!" says Julie, and pushes herself up, hurrying across the room toward him. "Hey, are you okay?" And then, with a little more authority, "--you're okay. You're safe now, you're okay."

"Where--?!" The cyborg stares around, eyes round and panicky. "Kane, where-- They'll take, they'll make me-- Don't make me--"

"Whoa!" Julie says, and grabs his wrist, snags the other one, pulling his attention back to her. "Hey, look at me. You're safe.”

Slowly, he stops struggling, staring at her. His face is really pale, ashy with fear, and he's breathing too hard and too fast, like a cornered animal. "I'm," he says, and swallows hard, sniffs, turns his hands so he can grip her wrists. His hands are big and long-fingered, cold, trembling. "I, he said he'd-- They're not gonna?"

"No," says Julie, because god, she doesn't know what her dad said to this guy but thank god he handed him over to Julie instead. "No, nobody's going to hurt you or--or anything." It's dumb, it's--she doesn't own him, no matter what her dad says, but she still feels responsible, and he's huddling into the corner, he looks so scared. Julie reaches out, slow and careful as he flinches from her, and rubs his shoulders, squeezes his arms as he shakes. "He's gone," she says, slow and clear. "He's not going to hurt you, you're safe.”

The boy stares at her for another second, taking fast, panicky breaths, and then--oh, no. His chin crumples and his cheeks go red and blotchy and he just--collapses forward and clings to her, shaking all over, making awful little muffled noises into her shoulder. Julie holds him, dumbfounded and profoundly uncomfortable, and does her best to make comforting noises.

"Who?" he manages, finally, in a shaky little gasp, "Who, are, where am I? What happened?"

"I'm Julie," says Julie, and rubs one scarred forearm in a way she hopes is comforting.

"Chuck," says the cyborg, like a reflex, and scrubs at his nose with one hand, staring around her pod. "I'm, I'm Chuck? I'm Chuck." And then, wavering again, small with fear, "...why am I here? What's he gonna do with me?"

Oh. Shit. Well, it's a reasonable question, as much as she hates to give an answer. "He's not going to do anything with you," Julie says. "Kane uh. Gave you to me. Like, as a present? I'm sorry."

"Why would he give me...to you," says Chuck. There's a weird, focused look on his face, like he's struggling to work something out. "I'm, I, he trashed me, but, I'm a significant, I'm, expensive? Why you?"

Well, shit. Alright. There's no way Julie's going to keep him with her, up here, so she's going to have to pull some illegal stuff to get him free anyway... Julie licks her lips, hesitates, and then decides to take the plunge.

"My name is Julie...Kane," she says, and sees Chuck's eyes flash suddenly blazing blue, blinding. "I'm his daughter."

Chuck stares at her for a long, long second. Then a little longer, then, just, keeps staring.

"...Chuck?" says Julie.

"Huh?" says Chuck. "Sorry, I--uh, I, what did you say? I spaced out."

"I said, I'm Kane's daughter."

Again, a weird, silent moment. Then Chuck smiles vaguely and goes "Ha, sorry, what were we, uh..." foggy-eyed and distracted, and Julie's heart sinks. One executive exception noted. If her dad was going to make one thing permanent, of course it would be the protocol to keep Julie's identity secret. Chuck is starting to look pale, too, dizzy and bleary and strained. Julie shakes her head, shakes the thought off.

"You look like you could use some food," she says instead. "C’mon."

Chuck stares at her, blinking vaguely, and then nods a second late. "Sure," he says. "Yeah, uh...I...yeah. What were we...talking about?"

"It's not important," says Julie, and Chuck's eyes flash once, twice, and then go dim again. He nods.

"Okay," he says, and shakes his head, dismissing whatever he was thinking about. "Yeah. Yeah, I thought-- It's...not important."

#Writing Is Hard #He Scream At Own Car #The Princess #waited too long for this one and nobody remembers the fic it's for but here's this anyway lol #tanoraqui

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maybankiara · 5 years ago

Text

I’M GETTING LOST ON YOU (YOU GOT ME DOING THINGS I NEVER THOUGHT I’D DO)

summary: Neither of them says anything for a short while. JJ doesn’t know what’s going on, because she hasn’t really said anything, but he isn’t quite opposed to the situation.

They’ve been close before. Closer, even. But it has never felt like this – so intimate.

If either of them moved a few inches, their lips would be touching.

When she finally says something, it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear. ‘I thought you didn’t like me anymore.’

— in which jj finally grows a pair and asks kiara out.

pairing: JJ x Kiara

words: 2.2k

read on archive of our own

No Pogue-on-Pogue macking; that was the rule number one. It was a rule they’d established a long time ago, when they were just kids, and when Kiara had just joined. Crushes or love hadn’t been on any of their minds, but rules had to be set, so they set them.

Years went by, and somehow they all became entranced by Kiara. It wasn’t just that she was the only girl in their group of boys; it wasn’t just that she was forbidden; it wasn’t just that she didn’t want any of them.

Or at least for JJ, it wasn’t that.

She was the first girl he started flirting with. They were barely thirteen, and JJ liked it when she blushed and rolled her eyes at him, so he kept it going. He got better at it, to the point where he was better than most boys their age.

She was the first girl he kissed, too. It was a dare, and it was a horrible, awkward, flimsy and clumsy first kiss, but it was the one JJ had never forgotten. He got a lot better at kissing since then, but that was the only time he’d ever kissed her.

Kiara was always there. Kiara was someone he could always like at a safe distance, where lines between flirting and being overly friendly were blurred just enough.

But now it’s the summer before university, they are almost eighteen, and Kiara is going away sooner rather than later.

Her father opens the door. His eyes check JJ up and down, and he frowns. ‘Kiara! It’s for you!’

‘Thanks, Mr. C.’

Mike Carrera closes the door and JJ is left standing outside.

Panic washes over him. What if Kiara doesn’t like it? What if he’s about to screw everything up? Maybe he doesn’t look good enough, maybe she still has feelings for Pope, or John B, has she ever looked at him the way he looks at her?

He walks in the spot, fingers in his mouth and teeth tugging at the nail bed.

This was a big mistake.

The flowers are too much. Kiara doesn’t like people who aren’t environmentally friendly. Is picking flowers environmentally unfriendly? Is she going to get mad at him over this?

He doesn’t think he could stand her getting mad at him.

‘JJ! What’s happening?’

JJ stops in his tracks, and looks at the porch.

Kiara is standing there, wearing grey shorts and a plum tank top. Her hair is in a half-up do, and her skin is glistening with a sheer layer of sweat that’s a consequence of one of the hottest days Outer Banks has seen this summer. She’s half leaning out of the door, with one of her hands on the door frame, the other running through her hair.

It was enough to make him remember why he chose to take this shot.

‘JJ,’ she says, softly. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘What?’

‘You’re pacing like crazy. Did something happen? Are you okay? What’s with the flowers?’

It’s only now, standing five feet away from her, that JJ notices the worry in her face. It’s in the slight wrinkles on her forehead and the pout of her lips, and how she tilts her head and looks him up and down, in a way that he knows means she’s looking for any new bruises decorating his body.

JJ smiles. His shoulders relax and there’s a spring in his step when he comes closer.

‘Everything’s good,’ he says. She squints at him, so he adds, ‘I promise.’

‘Okay… What’s with the flowers, then?’

‘Oh!’ He stretches his arms towards her, the bouquet almost hitting her in the stomach. ‘These are for you.’

‘For me?’

‘Yeah,’ says JJ. ‘I got them for you.’

Kiara takes them and he sees the familiar redness across her cheeks, one that he hasn’t managed to achieve in longer than he’d like to admit. She smiles, sheepishly, and leans against the door frame.

Somewhere in the distance, crickets are chirping.

She thanks him quietly.

JJ sighs and takes a step closer, until they’re merely a feet apart. Kiara doesn’t flinch, as she’s used to him being in everyone’s personal space, but she looks a little surprised by the action.

A strand of her hair falls in front of her face and, without thinking, JJ’s finger tucks it behind her ear.

When his hand lingers on her neck, right below her ear, he wishes he could do more than just tuck her hair.

But he doesn’t. He isn’t being any more reckless tonight than he already is. Instead, he lets his hand fall back into his pocket, and gives Kiara a warm smile.

His eyes flicker to her lips, but that’s something he can’t control. He spent one too many night wondering if they would taste the same as they did all those years ago.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, ‘if this is too much.’

‘JJ—’

‘No, listen. I know there’s the rule about no Pogue-macking, and I know both you and I have been proud of how independent we are, and I respect that.’ His smile falters, but he looks at Kiara’s face, and lets himself not worry for a hot second. ‘I just wanted to tell you that I see you as more than just a friend, Kie. And obviously, I totally respect your feelings, whatever they are, because you know, bros before hos or whatever. I just wanted you to know. Before you leave. That I’m in love with you.’

JJ closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, already preparing for the inevitable rejection.

He wasn’t supposed to do this. He wasn’t supposed to spill his guts to her, because that could only freak her out.

When he starts shaking, he bits his lip. In his pockets, his fingers are fidgeting, and he starts finding the crickets a comic addition to the situation.

Well. He knew he’d fuck this up.

‘Open your eyes, JJ.’

He does.

Kiara is looking at him with a face that he can’t really read, but she’s holding the bouquet close to her chest, so maybe that’s a good sign. Her eyes are gazing into his and he begins to wonder what she’s searching for.

A soft breeze passes between them, and her hair sways on the wind a little. She looks so soft, so beautiful in that moment – all JJ wants her is to know that. To know how beautiful she is, both on the outside and the inside.

So he says it.

‘It’s not – It’s not just about the way you look, Kie, I hope you know that.’ His fingers tuck the wind-swept strands away, and this time, he lets his hand linger on her neck with no plans of moving it away. ‘You’ve been there for me when I needed you. You banter me like no one else does, and you call me out on my shit when John B and Pope can’t be bothered. I love riling you up because I love when you get protective of the world, when you talk about your ideas to save it. I just… I just wanted you to know that.’

She smiles, laughs a little, too, and JJ feels her breath hot against his own. He’s not sure if it’s the light, or if there’s a twinkle in her eyes.

‘I never took you for such a sap, JJ.’

He leans his head back and groans, but when he looks back, she’s smiling even wider. His eyes fall to the strap of her top and he plays with it, twirling it around his fingers, trying to keep his mind away from thinking about how easy it would be just to take it off.

Neither of them says anything for a short while. JJ doesn’t know what’s going on, because she hasn’t really said anything, but he isn’t quite opposed to the situation.

They’ve been close before. Closer, even. But it has never felt like this – so intimate.

If either of them moved a few inches, their lips would be touching.

When she finally says something, it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear. ‘I thought you didn’t like me anymore.’

JJ looks back at her, brows furrowed, head tilted. ‘What?’

‘When John B kissed me, and then everything with Pope happened.’ Kiara bites her lip and looks away, and JJ is now certain there’s a twinkle in her eyes. ‘I thought you moved on, and at first I was happy, but then I realised how much I miss you flirting with me and dancing with me and complimenting me and – and –’

‘I’m here, now,’ he says. ‘I never stopped liking you. I tried, but I couldn’t.’

She looks back at him, hopeful, and JJ can barely hold himself from kissing her full on the mouth, like he’s been dreaming of all these years. The realisation of the meaning of her words hits him like a truck and he steps back, almost, gasping.

Kiara’s hand catches his, the one that’s still on her neck. Her palm is warm and her fingers are tiny compared to his, and seeing them together like that is yet another blow.

‘JJ, are you okay?’

He clenches his teeth, and nods. If he opens his mouth, he’ll kiss her, and he doesn’t know if she wants it.

That’s when he realised that he didn’t actually believe this would go well, and it did, and he isn’t fucking prepared for this.

What do you do when you confess your feelings to someone and they love you back?

He laughs, a little, nervously. ‘I was actually supposed to just ask you out. Not confess my feelings.’

‘That’s okay. It’s not too late.’

‘For what?’

‘Asking me out,’ Kiara says, sheepishly, ‘if that’s what you want.’

‘Oh.’

For a brief moment, JJ’s brain just… freezes. He stares at Kie and there’s a lot of things he’s thinking of doing, but formulating a question that he never even gave a thought about (because he never even thought he’d get the chance to) is not one of them.

‘Um.’

Kiara laughs. ‘JJ, are you broken?’

‘Maybe,’ he says. ‘A little bit.’

‘Okay.’

Taking his hand in hers, she takes it off her neck as she crouches and places the bouquet on the floor. She straightens her back and closes the distance between them and oh no, JJ is definitely thinking all the wrong thoughts and wraps her arms around his neck, the way she never has.

The way he hasn’t even seen her do to Pope, for those brief three weeks they tried being a thing two years ago.

No, this is a different, this is for JJ only, it’s intimate and possessive at the same time, and her lips are so close that—

Kiara brushes her lips against his, so softly he barely feels it.

‘Kie,’ he whispers.

Her voice is just as quiet. ‘Yes?’

JJ’s hands wrap around her torso and press her against him. He leaves one hand at the small of her back, drawing circles with his thumb, and brings the other one to her ear, to get her hair out of the way for the third time in fifteen minutes. ‘You have hair all over your face.’

She laughs at that and buries her head in his chest. It’s so soft and natural and earnest that he almost melts into the touch, seen and felt and understood and accepted for the first time.

He places a finger under her chin and lifts it, gazing into her eyes with a little more adoration he think he should – but he can’t help it. Not anymore. Not when his world is in the palm of his hand.

So he says, quietly, ‘I love you.’

And then kisses her, softly. It’s a chaste kiss, and he sets rain to the flames within him, tells them to wait.

When they part, JJ sees the world in a new light.

Brighter, for starters, and maybe not out to get him.

‘Kiara Carrera,’ he begins, ‘do you want to go on a date with me?’

‘I would love to.’

Kiara leans in for a kiss but he pulls back, letting go of her instead. When she looks at him, puzzled, he walks off the porch backwards, grinning at her wider than he thinks he’s ever grinned.

‘That’s all you’re getting for now,’ he tells her. ‘I’m a reserved man.’

She flips him off and she laughs, and something makes him think that maybe this wasn’t a dumb idea. Maybe they were just the same, only better. Maybe he didn’t fuck everything up.

Maybe for the first time in his life, he did the right thing.

#outer banks #obx #jiara #jiara fanfic #outer banks fanfic #obx fanfic #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj x kiara #jj x reader #my fic #f: obx #obx fic #c: jj #c: kiara #s: jiara

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haileygarciasunshine · 5 years ago

Text

Rude Awakening

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader, Mentions of the Party

Warning: Violence, altered turn of events, swearing

(1/2) or (1/3)🧐🤔

You were currently, home studying when the phone rang, you knew it wouldn’t be your parents, since they only ever used your pager to contact you.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Do you want to come over?”

You sighed, while pinching the bridge of your nose.

the voice continued

“Come on Y/N/N! The Parties over, and they’ve been dying to meet you. Now is the perfect time. Besides, will really misses you.”

“Fine, I’ll be over in five.”

Hanging up the phone, you made your way into your car driving over to the byer’s hosuehold. You had barely made it to onto the front porch before the front door was flung open, and someone practically throwing themselves into you.

Chuckling and hugging the person back you greeted, “Hi, Miss Byers!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Y/N! Call me Joyce!”

She was happy to see you again. It had been awhile since, you were last over at the Byers house. She was seemingly, over joyed to have another female around, since she was always around males.

Joyce, grabbed your hand and lead you into the house. It wasn’t long before another body was flung onto yours. You knew it was Will, because he was around the same height as your upper stomach.

“Hi, Y/N! I’ve missed you! Never go that long without seeing us again, okay?”

You nodded in agreement, hugging him back and kissing the top of his head. He grabbed your hand and lead you over to where a group of kids were sitting in his living room. You had immediately, assumed that these were the kids in the “Party,” everyone had referred to.

“Guys, this is our friend, Y/N!”

“Y/N, this is Mike, Dustin, Eleve, Max and Lucas.” Max and Eleven, were so happy to have another girl around they ran over to you and gave you a hug.

Awhile passed since you were introduced to the party. Usually, they had gatherings at your house since you lived there alone. Tonight however, was a “Girls Only,” night.

“So who do you have a crush on, Y/N?” Max had started the cringe worthy conversation. Finding out, Eleven liked Mike, and Max liked Lucas.

“Uh, nobody at the moment.”

“Uh huh.”

“What do you mean, uh huh?”

“Oh nothing.”

You had chuckled, getting up and grabbing the empty bowl of popcorn. Eleven, had been looking at you weird all night. Almost like, she knew but that you had helped her escape from that night at the Lab, but couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“I’m going downstairs to get more, do you guys want anything?”

“Yeah! Let’s all go down.”

It was awkward silence, on the venture down to the kitchen.

Suddenly, eleven spoke, sitting on the stool of the breakfast nook.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

Max turned to face her a little, with a confused expression.

“You helped me escape, didnt you?”

You let out a sigh of defeat, letting your shoulders slump forward.

“Yes, but you can’t tell anyone okay? You too Max.”

“Wait, if you were at the same place as El, does that mean...”

She didn’t finish asking her question, as her faded trying to allow her thoughts to catch up.

You hummed in response.

Suddenly, two high pitched sequels sounded and you were being hugged.

“This is so cool! I have two super hero best friends!” Max exclaimed over joyed!

Accepting the hugs, you kissed the tops of their heads, feeling nothing but love for them.

Once the new mall opened, you and the girls had gone to shop. Seeing as you were the mom of the group, you tried to spoil them.

“Can we go get ice cream?” Max asked. She had a hint of something mischievous in her voice.

“Oka-“ you were suddenly, being pulled by both girls in the direction you could only assume was the ice cream shop.

Once you arrived in an ice cream parlor called ‘Scoops Ahoy’ you were surprised to see an attractive guy, who looked to be about your age.

“Ahoy Ladies,” he said. His name tag said Steve.

Both girls giggled, before ordering their ice creams, and running to a both in the store.

“What can I get you?” Steve asked

“Uh nothing, I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m not an ice cream for lunch kinda gal,” you replied tilting your head a little.

“Yeah,” he sighed “I get that...”

“Y/N!” A voice yelled excitedly

“Hey, Robbin!” You laughed happily excepting her hug.

“Oh no,” she groaned “not you too!” She said dramaticly.

Furrowing your eyebrows together, you exclaimed, “What!”

“You’re friends with, dingus, here’s children too!” Playful nudging Steve’s shoulder with her own.

Looking to him for answers, and him you.

“You’re friends with the party?” He asked intrigued

“Uh, yeah, I guess, I am-“ you had barely gotten out before, the two girls came bounding up to you.

“Can we go to shopping now?” Max asked. You nodded your head, reaching in the pocket of your shorts to pull out money.

Two voices in unison said, “it’s on the house.”

Giving them a confused look, you nodded in gratitude.

“I guess I’ll see you guys around. Bye robin, nice to meet you Steve!”

“Nice to meet you too ... “

“Y/N,” you called as the two girls hooked their arms in yours and pulled you backwards out of the parlor laughing.

“Y/N.” Steve happily to himself.

Robbin turned to him and said, “What the fuck was that dingus?”

You were currently shopping in the Gap, with Max and El. They were giving you a fashion show, of cute outfits each of you had picked.

The party, decided to hangout at your house this time. Max was currently, on high alert because her brother Billy, didn’t want her to see Lucas anymore, for whatever reason. It wasn’t long before everyone had shown up, including Steve.

The doorbell sounded, opening the door you were surprised to see Steve and Dustin standing at your front door. Stepping aside to let him in. He handed you a bouquet of fresh flowers. The gesture made you blush,

“I’m gonna go put these in a vase. Thank you, Steve.”

You moved to give him a hug. This time, it was your turn to make him blush. He followed you to the kitchen. As you were putting the flowers in a vase you said,

“You know you didn’t have to right?”

He shrugged leaning against the counter before adding, “I know, I just thought a pretty girl, deserved pretty flowers.” He said shyly.

“May, Steve Harrington, are you flirting with me?”

“That depends. Is it working?”

Before you could respond, you heard a chorus of “Shit!” Being yelled by your friends. Suddenly, they all flooded into the kitchen.

“Billy’s here! How did he find me! He’s going to kill me,” Max said nervously, as El was trying to comfort her.

You, Steve and Jonathon all exchanged glances. Rolling your eyes, you said “Don’t worry boys, I got this.”

Making your way, to where you kept your bat for instances like these, you threw open the front door, and waited for Billy to exist the car. You didn’t have to look to know that the party was pressed into the front window watching nervously. Both Steve, and Jonathon had joined you on the porch.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Queen, of the misfits herself,” his rough voice sounded as he put out his cigarette.

“Bite me,” you snarled

“Oh I dream of it, sweetheart,” Steve was about to move towards Billy, before you looked at him and wrapped a reassuring hand around his arm.

“Aw, look at that. King Steve, being a bitch,” he taunted.

“What do you want Hardgrove?” You asked darkly.

“Aside from you?” He asked, tilting his head, causing both Jonathan and Steve to step in front of you protectively, causing Billy to let out a hardy laugh, “ I came for Maxine.”

“Guys,” you whispered, “I don’t need you to protect me, I got this.” Hesitantly, they both stepped away from you, but not by much. You took a step forward closer to Billy.

“Leave her alone Billy.” You said confidently.

He chuckled in response, he moved closer to you, almost close enough to tower over you.

“Make me, Y/N, oh wait, you can’t, that’s why you have the goon squad protecting you.”

He was close enough that you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Are you drunk? Go, home Billy.”

You decided it wasn’t worth it, you moved to go back in the house, when a rough callused hand grabbed your wrist.

“You and Harrington huh? I could rock your world better than he -“ you didn’t give him a chance to finish, before you dropped the Bat, swinging around so your fist could meet the side of his jaw.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Billy boomed, letting go of your wrist to bring that hand up to his jaw, causing you to flinch.

Suddenly, both boys were beside you protectively.

“You’re dead Y/L/N,” Billy yelled angerly

“No, you are!”

And with that Steve began throwing punches at Billy gaining the upper hand, but not for long. Soon, Billy was on top of Steve, punching him. Deciding, you had nothing to lose, you turned around and lunged at Billy to get him off of Steve.

After, Billy left, you, Jonathan and Steve all went back into the house. Forgetting that the your friends were watching the whole thing unfold.

“Holy Shit you guys!”

“That was badass!”

Greeted you the minute you all walked back in the house. You brought Steve to the bathroom so you could fix his bruises.

“That was stupid, why’d you do that?” You questioned him. You were actually released that he had stepped up and covered you.

“I couldn’t let him hurt a pretty girl like you.”

“Even with a messed up face you’re still trying to flirt with me?” You questioned with raised eyebrows.

“Save it for later old man.”

“Hey! Who’re you calling old? I’m not that much older than you!” You chuckled at his defensiveness.

It was late, so everyone slept over at your place, since they were already there. Steve wasn’t laying far from you on the floor.

You couldn’t sleep, so you crawled over to where Steve was, gently shaking him awake.

“Steve?”

“Steve!”

You whisper yelled to wake him up

“I can’t sleep.”

He didn’t respond before lifting the blankets in front of him, silently inviting you in. Once you got comfortable, you realized how close you were to Steve, a fraction of an inch and you would be kissing his neck.

He was flirting with you all the time.. what harm could having a little fun with him do? You thought. You decided to lean up, that fraction of an inch and latch your lips onto his neck. Sucking and biting you made your way up to his jaw, leaving a trail of love bites on his neck.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He whisper groaned.

You didn’t respond, as you attached your lips onto his, placing chaste kisses. It wasn’t long before you, felt one of his hands, tangle in your hair holding you to him. Steve took control, and moved so your back was on the floor, with his upper half pressed to yours. The sudden movement enciting a gasp from you, allowing him to snake his tongue into your mouth. Closing your lips around his tongue, you began to lightly suck on it. Steve let out a low moan, causing you both to freeze your actions Incase you accidentally woke someone up. He placed kisses along your face, to your ear. Running his tongue, on the out shell of your ear, he took your earlobe and chewed on it. Your hands made their way to his biceps, digging your nails into them, gently bringing yourself up to his biceps you lightly bit them to keep from morning.

“Would you two stop? Some of us want to sleep!” Dustins annoyed voice sounded. This caused Steve to shoot Dustin a glare. Dustin flipped him off in return.

“Goodnight, y/n”

#steve harrington x reader #steveharrington #stranger things #strangerthings #steve harrington #imagine #one shot #preference #oneshot #stranger things imagine #king steve #strangerthingsimagine

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saitamaandmanakoblog · 3 years ago

Text

Manako’s PTSD: The Hero Training Test: 1/2

Remember all the fan-made fiction of Saitama and Manako is not in order so good luck with that.

“Hey Saitama do you want to come to Hero Training with me?”

“Nay I’m good, if they give you any trouble call me ok.”

“Ok, bye Saitama, I love you~”

“Love you too Manako.”

Manako hugged Saitama before she went out

Time Skip

Slowly, the Metting Room started to trickle in, and a few attempted to make small talk with the other heroes. She sighed when she realized that the minister is was going to be late.

“Hey, Manako!” Child Emperor grinned. “You’re the one my friend talked about, right? ZombieMan is his username!!”

“Yeah.” Manako smiled softly. “My Username name is FlashLight.” She explained. “He told me to keep a lookout for you. Sorry it took so long. I’m kind of socially awkward.”

“That’s fine, ZombieMan is, too.” Child Emperor grinned. “Is it ok if I ask you some questions, Manako?”

“So, Manako!” The Green hair girl, leaned towards her, cutting off whatever Child Emperor was going to ask. “I have to ask. What’s your Powers?!”

“My… Powers?” Manako blinked. Didn’t they…? Oh. She didn’t tell them. She opened her mouth to affirm that her powers is a literal flashlight when Sweet Mask decided to be an ass and do it for her.

“BL?! Ha! That little Monster’s power is literally a flashlight. She’s basically useless. I have no idea how the fuck she managed to get into A Class.”

“Flashlight?” Child Emperor echoed, confused.

“Gee, thanks a lot.” Manako threw SweetMask a tired glare, startling the blond. “But yeah, I’m basically a Flashlight. I still managed to become a hero same as the rest of you. So doubt me if you want, but just know that underestimating me will not end well for you.” There was a glint in her eye that made the heroes falter.

“I think it’s so cool! A Monster and you still got in?!, you’re incredible!” Child Emperor grinned, taking Manako aback.

“Um… what?” She blinked. She’d been so ready for the teasing and discrimination, already having built the wall around herself in preparation… but… what?

“Yeah!” Dark Shine grinned. Watchdog gave her a thumbs up.

“I think you’re very brave and definitely someone I wouldn’t underestimate on the battlefield. If you could take down those monsters while saving civilians , then you must be a force to be reckoned with.” Metal Bat.

“Though I gotta ask, how did you beat them?!” Child Emperor was literally bouncing in his seat.

Before anyone could say anything else, The Minister strode in, making Manako stiffen. Oh Phew it’s just the Tester guy or TG for short.

( I have no idea what’s the staff’s name is so the random mister guy is going to be the Hero Tester.)

After the TG explain the rules Manako smirked. This was going to be fun.

Flash Forward

Okay, scratch that. This was going to suck. Test Guy had put her up against SweetMask of all people. Manako didn’t know how, but she had a feeling that it was either on purpose, or a ‘unlucky accident’. Either way, her TG looked happy with the matchup. She supposed that Tester Guy simply thought that the two were friends since they went to same zones to help a bunch of random civilians at at that time, but…

Manako was not an idiot. She knew he had weak points and faults just like everyone else. He was just better at hiding them. Can’t look at something ugly—specifically that monster who easily beat up Sweet Mask and the roof started collapsing—and the important sparkles that came out of him? But there is one problem SweetMask has a strong hate towards monsters thereafter was something that could easily pull her into a flashback. (She hated sudden loud noises, but explosions were the worst. She blamed childhood trauma.) She knew this, which is why he tried his best to stay away from SweetMask whenever possible.

That’s why she always stay close to Saitama, she always feels safe around her BFF and Geno since most of the time she just hang in Saitama’s Pouch.

“TG?” Manako asked quietly, making sure none of her heroes would overhear. “I was wondering if I could switch opponents. I know that normally this isn’t allowed, but I have… bad reactions to certain noises, and was going to talk to Mike about working around it at the end of this week.” Manako was trying to be mature about this. She really was.

(Mike is a made up Monster Character in this universe.)

After all, she knew, logically, that this fear of hers is extremely dangerous in the field of heroism. However, that’s what Mike, the counselor, was for. He’d help Manako work through them—even if she didn’t want to talk about anything to the Ant Monster—and then Manako would be cleared to do hero work in those situations.

She was waiting until the end of the week because she knew it could pose the risk of her safety when she go out with one of Saitama’s Hero Work Trip Days, which she does not want Saitama to worry.

TG just smiled down at her. “I understand, Manako, but you cannot always choose what powers your enemies have. Even if it makes you uncomfortable, I ask that you still bear with the exercise. If things start getting out of hand, I’ll stop it.”

He isn’t taking me seriously. Manako sighed. “If that’s your final decision that’s fine by me.” I am in huge trouble!

Okay, so maybe Manako was being a little harsh. But she felt somewhat unfair and considering that the Monster Association. Tried to kill her twice. And yeah, she understood why he’d pared her with SweetMask, and even mostly understand why he thought it’s a good idea, but Monako was still bitter about the whole thing. And considering all that she’d been through, she felt that the minister chose the wrong person to do the test.

When the match started, Manako took a deep steadying breath. “Child Emperor.” The boy looked at her. “SweetMask will come after me. I’ll distract him to keep him in bay. Take this,” she passed him a small canister, “It’s a smokescreen.” He said. “Try to use it on Flashy Flash speed against him.”

“Right!” Child Emperor grinned, taking it from Manako with a smile.

“GO!”

Like a flash, Manako and Child Emperor bolted into the city’s building. As expected, SweetMask met them on the second floor, heading them off.

Manako motioned for Child Emperor to hide as he drew SweetMask attention. “Why do you hate monsters so much SweetMask?, What have I ever done to you?”

“Shut the hell up you Monsters! Why are you in the Hero Association? Are you here to spy on everyone?!”

“That’s what’s got you so mad?” Manako sighed, as she saw Child Emperor sneak up the stairs from the corner of his eye. “SweetMask. This is obviously a huge miss understanding can’t we just talk this out and be friends?.” She watched as the blond flinched.

“Like I’d ever be friends with a Monster reject like you!” He snarled, lunging forward with his all-too-familiar sharp hands.

Manako easily dodged, catching his arm pin it into the wall. It would’ve ended there if SweetMask hadn’t used his other hand to slice her up, but his free legs break through the floor and sending the two crashing to the room below.

SweetMask immediately jumped away and reared around to the offensive.

“So you’ve got some moves. So what!” SweetMask snarled. “You’re still a Monster ! You’ll gonna get killed anyways!”

“SweetMask.” Manako flinched when she hears a huge explosion went off a room above. The smell of the dust that the explosion kicked up and the sound of the ceiling crumbling at the edges of the hole that SweetMask made, but Manako nasty memories rather came right away.

Flash Back

“It’ll be alright, kid.” Aden smiled as she patted Manako’s head. “You’ll make it out of this.”

“B-but i don’t want you to die.” She protested through thick tears. “You can come with me. Saitama is a good friend he can help us.” She flinched at the sound of angry mobs of monsters.

“You know I can’t. Tell Saitama and the others I’m sorry—and stay safe, kiddo. Keep smiling.” She gave Manako a grin before standing up from their hiding place, leaving Manako essentially buried in a safe-hole Aden had dug just for her and the others so they have a chance to escape through the secret tunnels. “See ya in the next life.”

“Goodbye.” Manako smiled as best she could. “Auntie Aden.”

Manako shook his head sharply, barely dodging a blow from SweetMask. He hadn’t had to think about Aden’s death in a long time. The Ant Monsters had run out to draw the Mobs away from Manako’s hiding spot. All she’d managed to find of the ant after was few bloodstained pieces of clothing and some bone,And her minding helmet, That was it.

End of Flashback

“I know you won’t understand this, but there are bigger things for me to worry about than your point of view!.” Manako charged at him, ducking under a angry swings and dodging fierce blows.

Oh sh*t that was close!

The noises and explosion were starting to overwhelm her, and the smell of blood and nitroglycerin filled his nostrils, mixing with the scent of ash and smoke. She found that it made it harder to remember on what she was supposed to do. SweetMask kept using his hands-like glimpses of knifes and swords of the corner of his eyes.

Sometimes, when SweetMask tried to slice her with his hand, she overlapped with the image of the Miners evil boss. His red eyes glinted in malice and amusing glee, and Manako wasn’t sure if that was the hallucination or not.

Don’t kill him. The thought ran through her mind. She had to remember. This was SweetMask , not the Monster Association… not the evil boss… this is SweetMask . She pulled back, restraining herself, fighting against years of instinct screaming at her to do otherwise. She fought at only a small percentage of her power. She couldn’t go all-out. Not against her death coworkers. Not against, a fellow friend . A human child.

The two finally jumped apart to catch their breath as Manako held up his hand (a hand that looked bloody pale and was horribly dry from overuse of the slice hand technique), one finger hooked in the pin on the rope. Yellow eyes glined in bloodlust as they thirsted for his death. “You know what structure of this building is, right? Well, Monster, what’dya think these are for?”

Manako’s eyes widened in startled realization as her vision focused on the present for that moment. “The force of the channels down through the walls to the floor.…”

“STOP! YOUR GONNA KILL HER!” TG’s voice rung out in worry, and Manako heard the familiar voice of Mike in the background. Mikey? What’s he doing here?

“Only if she doesn’t jump!” SweetMask grinned as he pulled the rope pin.

If Manako hadn’t spent a decade time surviveing Saitama training or fighting a unbelievably fast and ludicrously strong Monsters, she’d would’ve actually died.

But luckily for Manako, her reflexes were insane, and she managed to dodge most of the buildings rubbles. But one caught her left leg, burning and piercing the skin. The smell of burned flesh reached her nostrils, mixing with the dust kicked up from Manako’s trap. The scent mixed with blood became unnervingly similar to the scent of a decayed corpse from the Monsters Association, and suddenly Manako was completely gone—she didn’t know where she was.

She was half-sure her mind was playing tricks on herself, but she heard some mobs nearby. She glanced around herself quickly, and slipped into stealth mode, hiding in the best spot she could find. She’d wait out the Anger Monsters—Mike and the others was smart enough to do the same. And if her friends was in trouble, Manako would plan it out. She’d go to help them if that were the case. She made a promise to the gang to keep each other safe, after all. Mike wouldn’t die. She’d make sure of it.

But she also promised Aden that she’d look after herself. So she needed to survive. “You’re doing great, Manako.” Aden’s hand ruffled her head. “You’re doing just fine. Keep your elbow bent a little more, yeah! Like that!”

She violently flung the thought out of her mind—this was no time to think of people long dead.

They will survive. No matter what.

May the Meeting Room

Silver Fang was tired. Not that that was necessarily anything new, per say, but he was apprehensive about Saitama’s friend first Heroics Test. Never once his gut feelings lie, he decided to observe TG’s lesson. It was the man’s first time testing heroes, after all, so he’d likely need a hand reigning in 19 superpowered Heroes.

He entered the observation room with TG and the remaining 15 Heroes as Blast, Atomic Samurai, King, Metal Night ready themselves for their battle. ZombieMan , personally, was against the idea of SweetMask and Manako facing one another (or a battle exercise right off the bat, but he trusted that TG had enough common sense to stop heroes for over doing it).

Something about the way SweetMask had lunged at Saitama’s Sidekick during the test before had rubbed him the wrong way. Though Manako hadn’t seemed phased by the unprompted lunge, ZombieMan could see the way she tensed around SweetMask and the surrounding. He suspected this was a case of trauma or something similar, but with no evidence there was nothing ZombieMan could do about it except do his best to prevent any further altercations.

Warily, he kept his eye on the match before him. He just had a feeling.

“Turn on the audio.” Silver Fang spoke up, startling the TG. He internally smirked—he loved scaring people when he’s on stealth mode.

“Silver Fang. I wasn’t aware that you were observing the Test today?”

“I wanted to make sure you had an extra set of eyes on these 2. They’re a handful.” He explained, and TG nodded.

“Um… how do I turn on the audio?”

ZombieMan sighed before leaning over and pressing the obvious white button with the headphone icon. Honestly, the staff should’ve made him get a teaching degree or at least. teach him in private so he will know what to do.

They listened as Manako handed what she explained was a smoke screen bomb to Child Emperor. Clever idea, but let’s see well her plan works.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long until Manako met with SweetMask , and the results were as hated as ZombieMan had feared.

“Why do you hate monsters so much SweetMask?, What have I ever done to you?” Manako worriedly asked, causing SweetMask bristle in anger.

“Shut the hell up you Monsters! Why are you in the Hero Association? Are you here to spy on everyone?!”

“That’s what’s got you so mad?”. “SweetMask. This is obviously a huge miss understanding can’t we just talk this out and be friends?.” Obviously there’s a lot of context I’m missing, here.

“Like I’d ever be friends with a Monster reject like you!” ZombieMan’s attention immediately became entirely focused on the fight. He had suspected that SweetMask’s record wasn’t as clean as it initially appeared, but 1SRanks has a lot of advantage to hide from the public eye, also noob crushers was very serious—especially for a Monster hero like Manako and Saitama.

ZombieMan also found himself appreciating the smooth form that Manako had, and his obvious expertise with analyzing. She wielded them with experience beyond his years, and ZombieMan wondered where shee’d learned to fight.

Compared to Manako, SweetMask looked like a raging fashion model with graceful and stylish appearance or manner elegance.—powerful, with strong instincts, but a lot of wasted energy and movement. Manako’s movement wasted none, and actually reminded ZombieMan he needs to improve his fighting style a little more on his Weapon.

He tensed when SweetMask cracked a hole in the floor, freeing himself from Maniko’s grasp.

“So you’ve got some moves. So what!” SweetMask snarled. “You’re still a Monster ! You’ll gonna get killed anyways!”

Zim eyes narrowed. This was a personal statement. He knew right there that both of these 2 heroes would need to talk (SweetMask for his anger and fame blindness, and for Manako is low self-esteem and trauma.)

“SweetMask .” Manako flinched as another crashing sound went off, and ZombieMan took a deep breath. He didn’t like the feeling he was getting.

And for a moment, Manako froze. No… ZombieMan’s eyes narrowed. That’s not right. This is something else… But between the shitty angle of the camera and the dust settling, ZombieMan couldn’t name what it was before the Monster snapped herself out of it.

“I know you won’t understand this, but there are bigger things for me to worry about than your point of view .”

Something’s not right. The dust settled and he could see a lot more clearly. Manako’s eyes… they were somewhat glassy and she didn’t look completely there. It was as if she didn’t completely recognize where she was beyond the fight. That worried ZombieMan. A lot.

And then something changed.

It was subtle, and the shift was one that ZombieMan only barely noticed, but Manako went from a sparring fighting style to a fighting for your life style. He caught Manako altering several moves at the last minute that would’ve been lethal (for SweetMask) if he hadn’t changed course. That was when he’d decided that enough was enough. He moved to stop the match before someone got killed, when SweetMask spoke up.

“You know what structure of this building is, right? Well, Monster, what’dya think these are for?”

“The force of the channels down through the walls to the floor.…”

“STOP! YOUR GONNA KILL HER!” TG

shouted over the intercom.

“SweetMask , if you pull that ro—” ZombieMan started, but SweetMask didn’t hear him.

“Only if she doesn’t jump!” ZombieMan felt anger well up alongside his fear as the pin was pulled and a massive crash and explosion took out the building crumbling down.

“Holly Sh*t?! Is everyone okay?!” TG asked, but ZombieMan hit a button on the panel instead while Sliver Fang worried.

“Stop the exercise! Anyone continuing to fight will be expelled.” Silver Fang promised as TG sent him an affronted look.

“I’m going to go check on Manako and The rest. Call the hospital, there’s sure to be injuries.” TG nodded meekly and went to do as told. “Hero Training has been canceled” glared at the remaining heroes , who nodded and planted their feet where they stood or sat. half of them is terrified and the other half is worried if that was of ZombieMan , then good, he’d done something right. Silver Fang though

His heart pounded in worry. SweetMask was leaning casually against a wall, acting like nothing was wrong. While Child Emperor was sitting down on the floor and Flashy Flash was looking at the crumpled building “You are going to wait for me in the minsters office. We will have a nice long discussion on why that was not okay. And the boss wants to talk to you so don’t attempt to go elsewhere, and you’ll find yourself in huge trouble.” ZombieMan glared, and SweetMask straightened in shock and nodded.

Silver Fang stayed with the 3 heroes while ZombieMan looked for Manako

Fubuki and King came down the stairs, worry evident on their faces. “So are they ok?” Fubuki asked.

“Just go back to the other heroes since this test is called while I locate Manako also can you call Saitama.” He ordered, and King and Fubuki did what he had said.

ZombieMan was good at finding people with his analyzing skills—he had to be to find the crooks and crannies lurking in back alleyways at important missions. But it was harder to find Manako for the life of him, finding Manako is really tricky. And that scared him. It wasn’t until he finally caught sight of a few drops of blood on the floor (likely from cutting herself on rubble) that his eyes focused on a deathly still figure hiding in the rubble.

Wide one eyes stared around his environment, as if tracking unseen enemies. She flinched—twitched, more like—at unheard sounds, and her breathing was almost nonexistent.

ZombieMan realized that Manako was stuck in some kind of flashback. “Bright Light.” No reaction.

“Manako.” He tried again, noticing that his friend twitched a little at the sound of her given name.

“Mikey?” ZombieMan blinked. Who the heck is Mikey? He decided not to question it right now. “Yeah, kid. It’s me.” He carefully made his way over to him. “Can you tell me where you are right now?”

“Cave Mineing. I can hear them nearby… Making a break for it would be too dangerous, though. But as long we stick to the plan we can make it out alive. Did you get hurt?” Manako’s voice was scarcely a whisper, and ZombieMan couldn’t help but feel a little heartbroken to see the hardened and fearful look on her face. Just what had happened to Manako in the past? She looked like a soldier in a warzone.

“I’m okay. Listen to me. You’re at Hero Association You’re safe, it’s okay. Nobody is going to hurt you.” He kept his voice calm and soft, and the monsters blinked a few times in confusion. “There’s no one here but our gang?,But… I can hear them?”

“Hear who?”

“The anger mobs of monsters.” There was a pause. So Manako has enemies who are not only human but also monsters? “Mikey? Are the gang okay? Foapy, MooMoo… And Vend?” Are those Manako’s old friends?

“Yeah. Everyone’s okay, Manako.” He rolled with it, calling him Mikey. The monsters relaxed substantially, so ZombieMan assumed it was the right call. “Saitama is here to pick you up.”

“Saitama? But he’s…” her eye furrowed before her eyes cleared up quickly.

ZombieMan carefully placed a hand on Bright Light’s shoulder, and he found Manako’s hand grasping his arm like a lifeline. “Where am I?” She asked desperately.

“It’s Wednesday.. You just started your first Hero Test of Hero Association .” He answered quietly, and she froze for a moment before she melted into his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…” ZombieMan ignored the tears that were soaking into his coat as he held Saitama’s Sidekick . He reached up to his radio. “Silver Fang, I’ve found her. She’s hurt, but nothing life-threatening. I’m taking her to the Saitama myself.”

He then turned his attention back to the obviously traumatized monsters. “It’s all right, Bright Light. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I… I must’ve hurt my coworkers and my teammate I… I’m so sorry…”

#opm #one punch man #saitama #manako #Saitama&manako

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stenbrozier · 5 years ago

Text

Addict (Teen!Richie Tozier x Reader)

Warnings: drug use/abuse (cigarettes, alcohol, weed), mentions of dead parents + drug overdoses, mentions of rape (not in detail), religious themes (Christianity), angst, violent outbursts, swearing, cute and caring Richie Tozier

Aged up to 17 !!!

Based off the song Using by Sorority Noise

A/N: I needed to write this because I’ve been grappling with nicotine withdrawal and writing is the one way that I can really release this energy. I’m sorry if this offends anyone in anyway. I just really needed an outlet, especially while I’m stuck at home during this quarantine. This is my longest one yet, so I hope you guys enjoy it.

——————————————————————————

The moment (Y/N) took a puff of Beverly’s cigarette for the first time, she was hooked. It was nice to have something to hold onto, something to fall back on when everything felt like it was going to shit. After her first cigarette, she asked Bev to get her smokes whenever she was getting herself some because (Y/N) didn’t have the balls to flirt with that creep like Beverly did. She couldn’t just waltz up to Mr. Keene and say that she was getting them for her parents because she didn’t have any parents to get them for. She lived with her aunt and uncle, and everyone knew that they were the most Christian, drug repelling household in all of Derry. They would berate her friends if they walked into the house smelling even faintly of alcohol, weed, or cigarettes, especially if it was Richie. Richie smoked weed all the time but always had to change before he went to pick up (Y/N); however, that didn’t stop him from having a natural drug scent. They had been best friends the majority of their lives, ever since she had moved in next door when they were 7. Her aunt and uncle loved him, loved the way he handled her and helped her through life if she needed it, but they despised the fact that he did drugs. What they didn’t know, was that she did them with him.

Richie would sneak into her room, usually at 1am, and would drag her out of bed to go on walks with him. These walks consisted of smoking cigs or weed, occasionally getting drunk off of a bottle of wine. Richie introduced her to alcohol, and it was something else she started to rely on. Richie noticed how bad she was getting after that. She would go to parties just for the sake of getting drunk, and Richie started to worry every time she got too drunk. Something else that was worrying him was how quickly she finished a pack of cigarettes. Bev would get her a pack, and she’d finish it within a day or two. (Y/N) was a chain smoker; it was very hard to catch her without a cigarette in her mouth. The only time she didn’t smoke was when she was within a 100 feet of her house or inside it, but once she couldn’t see it anymore when they were walking to school or to hang out with the losers, she would light up cigarette after cigarette. Richie tried multiple times to talk to her about it, but she just shrugged it off, saying that it wasn’t as big of a problem as he said it was.

“I don’t smoke all that often,” she would say defensively. “Fucking, come on, Rich. You smoke, too.” She rolled her eyes at him whenever he brought it up. He did his best to talk to Bev, but she would just shrug her shoulders.

“I only buy her one pack a week,” Bev said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not my fault she smokes it so fast.”

“You need to stop buying her cigarettes,” Richie whispered back, seeing that (Y/N) was walking towards them. “She’s getting bad, and she’s going to keep abusing it unless you stop supplying.” Beverly sighed, smiling at her best friend as she stopped in front of them, wrapping her in a hug. (Y/N) handed Bev a $10 as she pulled away, asking her to get her the “usual.” Richie knocked into Bev’s shoulder, her glaring at him as he went around to (Y/N). He wrapped my around her waist and she smiled up at him. They’d always been touchy; it wasn’t something that bothered them. They were both touch starved growing up, and they needed that person that would give them that physical attention. It just so happened that they had found each other.

“Don’t...don’t you think you should try smoking weed a bit more,” Bev asked, trying to persuade (Y/N) away from the nicotine. “It’s better for your lungs, anyways. I-I mean not completely, but at least it’s not all nicotine and chemicals and shit.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, pushing away from Richie because she knew he was behind her questioning.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) said, kicking her feet along the pavement. “I’m already a few years in anyway. I might as well keep smoking. Besides, you smoke, too. Don’t be a hypocrite, Bevvy.” She shrugged her shoulders, pulling her backpack straps up higher. “Hey! Did you guys hear about Greta’s party tonight? I think I’m gonna go.” Richie gulped, moving swiftly towards the girl and wrapping her in his arms again.

“I’ll-I’ll go with you,” he mumbled, rubbing his hand down her arm. She shrugged looking over at Bev. Bev shook her head and held her hand out.

“Ben wanted to have a movie night,” she answered simply. “Maybe Eds and Stanley will go with you guys.”

“No,” (Y/N) shook her head, “Bill and Mike might though.” She thumped Richie’s head with her pointer finger, a few of his curls shaking from the impact. “We should invite them to the quarry.” Richie shook his head rapidly, which caused Bev to raise her eyebrows.

“Why can’t they come to the quarry,” she asked suggestively as she stuffed the $10 bill into her back pocket. Richie stammered, looking at (Y/N) for help.

“It’s kind of our thing,” (Y/N) said. She freed herself from Richie’s death hold, booping his nose when he frowned. “We go and get high most days. Sometimes we just talk. It’s our time. It’s personal.” She looked over at Richie, who was staring at her with a small smile. “I’m sorry I even suggested it.” She whispered the apology to him, and he nodded, looking over at Bev.

“We’ll see you at the usual time Monday night,” he asked, throwing up finger guns. The Losers usually met at the clubhouse on Mondays and Thursdays. They didn’t have a lot of classes together anymore, so that was their time to catch up and just talk. She nodded back at them, shooting back finger guns, laughing as she ran off to meet Ben at the bike rack. Richie unwrapped his arm from (Y/N)‘s shoulder, reaching his bent elbow out to her with a dramatic bow. She laughed, wrapping her hands in the crook of his elbow and they walked off the quarry.

“Are you sure you want to come to the party with me tonight,” the girl asked. Richie shrugged, looking down at her as they crossed over the rickety Kissing Bridge, ducking under a few trees to get out to the sandy, faux beach that was the quarry. They sat down on the big rock wall, and (Y/N) sighed in content when the sun hit her face. Richie laughed at her, taking his backpack off and sitting down next to her. “You never answered my question.” Richie furrowed his eyebrows at her as he turned his head to look at her.

“What question?” He knew exactly what question; he was just trying to avoid it. In all honesty, he hated going to parties with (Y/N). She always got wasted and left him by himself, and yeah, he liked to drink, but not by himself and not while babysitting his best friend.

“Do you have a problem accompanying me to Greta’s later?” Richie looked over at her, sighing before moving to lay on his side and prop himself on his elbow to look down at her.

“I hate going to parties,” Richie said calmly. “Especially with you, and it’s not because I don’t like you anymore or anything. It’s just...” he thought for a moment, “I’m tired of you walking off and getting wasted and I have to clean you up.” (Y/N) scoffed at him, sitting up as she scooted off the rock. “Don’t get upset. I have the right to hate when you get drunk!” (Y/N) sniffled, tears threatening to fall.

“You know parties are the only time I can let loose,” she responded, her voice getting caught in her throat. “I get wasted because it’s fun, Rich. I never asked you to be my babysitter.” Richie stood up, throwing his arms up in the air.

“You get wasted every single weekend,” he yelled, causing her to flinch slightly. She could tell he was getting pissed off, and she hated when he got angry. He became a bitch, and it wasn’t something that she wanted to see. She made him mad once when they were 14 and he didn’t speak to her for weeks; this was all over her missing one of their quarry meetings because she promised Bev she’d help her dye her hair. “I have to babysit you cause no one else will! No one cares enough, not even you! You’re always getting drunk and it pisses me off. I hate seeing you risk yourself to cirrhosis because of how much you drink!”

“Richie, I’m in perfectly good health!” (Y/N) grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder. “How much I smoke and how wasted I get doesn’t fucking concern you.”

“Yes, it does,” he said angrily, jabbing his finger at her. “It concerns me because you’re all I have. You’re the only person that I know will be there forever and you...you’re killing yourself! At this rate, you’re gonna get lung or liver cancer before you’re 35! Hell, maybe fucking both!” She tried to walk away, but he grabbed her arm. “I’m not done. I love you, (Y/N), okay? I-I’ve loved you forever and-“ (Y/N) ripped her arm away from him, looking him up and down with tears streaming down her face.

“If you loved me, you’d let me do what I want to do ,” she spat at him. She could feel the tears streaming down her face, soaking her shirt collar. Actually, it wasn’t her shirt at all. It was one of Richie’s shirts that she’d stolen and cropped, but it didn’t matter anymore. She thought about it for a second, looking down at the band that was on it: The Cure. She sighed, looking back up Richie who was grabbing his backpack, too. “I’m going to ask Bill to come with me, instead. Show up if you want, but don’t try confessing your love for me unless you’ll let me be me.”

“Darling, come on,” Richie said, the high pitched nature of his voice scaring him. “Don’t do this. If you don’t love me, just say it.” (Y/N) turned away from him, taking in a deep breath.

“I never said I didn’t love you back,” she whispered. “Just don’t tell me what to do and then think I’m gonna kiss you and throw away every other thing I love to make you happy.” She started walking up the steep hill that separated the quarry from the street. “I’ll see you Monday.” Richie watched as she walked away, and he followed her. He tried to catch up with her but she ran off, too fast for him to catch. He sighed, banging his fist on the splintering wood of the Kissing Bridge.

“Fuck,” he screamed as he started punching the shit out of the bridge, splintering his knuckles and making them bleed.

———————————

(Y/N) got to her house, slamming the door shut and marching over the phone. She had all of the Losers’ numbers memorized, so she quickly dialed Bill. Mrs. Denbrough picked up, and they had a conversation about school as she waited for her son to come down and grab the phone. Mrs. Denbrough said a quick farewell as Bill slipped onto the phone.

“H-hey,” he said and (Y/N) could practically hear the smile in his voice. The two didn’t hang out all too often anymore; they were honestly the most distant out of the group, but that didn’t stop them from loving one another unconditionally. “Do you n-need something?” (Y/N) laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Wanna go to Greta’s with me,” she asked as she twirled the phone cord. “Richie’s being a dick and he’s decided that he doesn’t like getting wasted with me anymore.” She heard Bill sigh and let out a small chuckle.

“W-what time does it st-start? I have b-baseball practice in the m-mor-morning.” (Y/N) sighed, scuffing her shoes against the wooden floor of her uncle’s house as she thought. She shrugged as if he could see her.

“I don’t know. 8ish? But I can always ask Eddie,” she said, taking on a reassuring tone. She hated taking Eds to parties but loved it all the same. It was very difficult to get him to let loose, but when he did, he was the life of the party. “Actually, don’t worry about it. You focus on baseball. Love you, Billy.”

“L-love you, too, (Y/N).” The line went dead and (Y/N) started to dial in Eddie’s phone number. She was prepared for Sonia, since she barely let Eddie touch the phone, and was pleasantly surprised when she heard Eddie’s voice saying a soft greeting.

“Eds! You’ve got to come to Greta’s with me,” (Y/N) yelled. “Pretty please?” She did a pouty lip, more to allow Eddie to hear the desperation in her voice. She heard him sigh, and the sigh felt as if it was in remorse.

“I-I’d love to, but...why can’t you just go with Richie? Trouble in paradise,” he asked mockingly. “Listen, I’ll come by and we’ll talk, and if after we talk you still want to get wasted, we’ll go.” (Y/N) scoffed.

“There is no paradise to have trouble in,” she said defensively. “Besides, the conversation will all be done in vain, Kaspbrak. I always want to get wasted.” Eddie laughed on the other side of the phone, shaking his head.

“Fine. I’ll be over in like 45 minutes so you can get ready for the party with company.” Eddie regretted telling her that the moment he did. He didn’t want (Y/N) to drink anymore, but he wanted her to be happy. Maybe he could convince her to drink a little less tonight and not blackout like she normally did.

“Okay, Eds,” she replied sweetly. “Door will be unlocked, so just walk in. I’ll probably be in my room.” He made a noise in response and then the line went dead. (Y/N) sighed, walking up to her room. She looked out her window and noticed Richie’s blinds were close, so she closed hers as well.

——————————-

“Richard, you have to watch what you punch,” Maggie said to him sternly, taking the set of tweezers back to his knuckles to pull out the last few splinters. “I know you were upset, but you don’t have to punch things. Don’t worry, she’ll come around.” Richie scoffed and rolled his eyes, his mother lightly bopping his head to the side when he did. “Go wash off your hand and we’ll bandage it.” She ushered him to stand up, pushing him lightly over to the kitchen sink as she went to the bathroom done the hall for bandages. He sighed, taking the hand soap and putting it on his left hand, rubbing the soapy water over his blood covered right hand. The soap made him cringe, it stinging his cuts a bit. He finished washing it, taking a paper towel and dabbing them to dry them off. Maggie came back with the bandages, going over the him and wrapping them around his knuckles. She secured the antiseptic wrap, giving him a soft kiss on the hand.

“I think I’m going to go to a party tonight,” Richie said softly. “(Y/N)’s mad at me and I-I don’t want her to get too drunk.” Maggie nodded, waving for him to follow her in the living room. They say on the cough and Richie tucked his legs underneath him, feeling his mom’s head on his shoulder.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” she said, sitting up and kissing his temple. “I’m going to go get things for dinner. Do you need anything?” Richie shrugged.

“More Gatorade?” Richie drank Gatorades all the time. They were packed with sugar and sodium; however, they miraculously calmed him down and made him sit still for once. He looked up at his mom with a small smile on his face, and she pinched his cheeks. She nodded, grabbing her jacket and purse from the coat hanger. She checked her purse for her keys, and she opened the door, ready to leave. “The blue ones!”

“I know, honey,” she replied softly. “I love you.” She walked out the door before Richie had the chance to say it back, but he would’ve been cut off my the phone ringing anyway.

“Hello,” he said, expecting (Y/N) on the line.

“Hey, Rich.” He sighed, disappointed. It was Eddie. “What happened between you and (Y/N)?” He furrowed his brows. She asked Eds to go with him? Damn, she really didn’t want him there.

“She’s pissed I don’t support her chain smoking and excessive alcohol consumption,” Richie replied flatly. “Did she ask you to go with her?” He could practically hear Eddie, nodding a soft sniffle coming from his end.

“Yeah, I’m leaving in a few minutes to help her get ready for the party. You should show up, let her know you still care.” Richie tapped his fingers against the phone, no doubt causing a hollow sound to go through to Eddie’s side.

“I was going to,” Richie said sarcastically. “I also, might’ve, sorta confessed my feelings to her as she was screaming at me to “not control her”, so I need to make up for that.”

“Jesus, fuck, Rich,” Eddie mumbled on the other end. “We’ll talk more tonight. I’ve gotta get to your girlfriend’s house. See you later.”

“She’s not-“ The line went dead before Richie finished. He sighed. “-my girlfriend.” He hung the phone up, marching up to his room to see that there was little light coming in. He shrugged, thinking his mom must’ve dusted the blinds. He opened up his curtain, bringing the blinds up to see that (Y/N)’s were closed. Richie rubbed his hand across his face. They always left their blinds open, no matter how mad they were at one another. She must’ve been pissed.

——————————

Eddie walked into (Y/N)’s house, and he marched up the stairs. He saw that her door was slightly ajar and she was laying out outfits on her bed. He walked in, her hand waving him over.

“Light blue dress with my white Converses or black jeans and one of Richie’s cropped shirts with Docs?” She looked up at him to see him biting his lip, tilting his head to the side to closely examine the outfits. He noticed a blue mark on the white cropped shirt and he pointed it out.

“Is that marker or paint? Get a different shirt you’re not wearing one with a stain on it.” Eddie walked to the closet when she did, looking at all the shirts she had. He noticed a faded olive green top with bell sleeves and he took it down from the rack. “I think this one with the jeans and the white Converses.” He shoved it at her. (Y/N) looked at it, nodding before taking off her shirt and throwing it into her hamper. She slipped the shirt on, going back out into her room to put on the jeans. Once she slipped on the jeans, Eddie looked at her with his head tilted side ways.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows and frantically looking at her self in her body length mirror.

“Tuck in the front, fix your hair, put on some mascara and lip gloss,” he said bluntly. Eddie ended it with smile and (Y/N) went over and ruffled his hair.

“Thanks for being blunt, love,” she sighed. She dramatically rolled her head around on your neck and sat down at the bench in front of her vanity. “Love my quintessential gay best friend.” She laughed and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I’m not gay, you bitch,” Eddie said, sitting down on her bed. “But I am pretty sure that you should try to make things better with Richie again. I called him earlier and he was a little bit of a mess. He sounded like he was in pain, I don’t know why.” (Y/N) sighed, finishing up her mascara before she turned around to look at Eddie.

“He closed his blinds, Eds,” (Y/N) shrieked. When Eddie just looked at her weird she sighed. “It means he’s pissed. We never close blinds without talking about it first.” Eddie snickered and (Y/N) shot him a death glare.

“Love birds,” he said, making it sound like a song. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, turning back to her mirror to tussle her hair and make it lay flatter on her shoulders. After a few seconds of changing its position, she sighed and walked over to her desk to grab a hair tie. As she put her hair into a bun, Eddie started talking to her again. “He’s not pissed at you. He’s pissed at what you do. There’s a difference.” (Y/N) scoffed.

“I can do what I want Eds and he just needs to realize it.” She pulled some baby hairs out of the front of her bun, watching as they framed her face and blew from the slight breeze her fan was giving her. “We should eat before. You wanna go to the pizza shop in town for dinner?” Eddie shrugged and thought before shaking his head ‘no.’

“Let’s go to the diner,” Eddie said. “We can at least get healthier food there to combat all the alcohol you’re going to drink tonight.” (Y/N) slipped on her shoes and threw the bird up at Eddie, causing him to laugh. “And don’t forget your lip gloss.” She shoved him out the door, grabbing her purse and shutting her bedroom door behind them.

—————————

After the diner, they walked over the Greta’s and all (Y/N) had in mind was beer. She wondered if Greta had gotten the good kind this time, the craft beer that came from a local brewery in Bangor, or if she got the shitty beer from the grocery store in town. (Y/N) also thought about Richie. He confessed his love to her, which was horrifying enough. She always tried to push her feelings of him away because she knew that they’d got unrequited, but she was quite wrong. He told her he was in love with her, and it made her regret walking away from him. But she wanted to get drunk and he didn’t understand that. Eddie talked her through it at dinner and revealed Richie was going to apologize at the party, or so that’s why it seemed like he was going to do when Eddie called him earlier.

“He isn’t mad at you, babe,” Eddie had said. “He’s mad at himself for letting your alcohol and drug issues get this bad.” (Y/N) didn’t think they were bad. Sure, she smoked too much and got high too often, but she didn’t get drunk more than once or twice a month, tops. She shook her head, looking down at the streets, which were now illuminated with the orange glow of the street lights.

“I’ll be okay,” (Y/N) said slightly above a whisper. She said it more to her self than Eddie, but she looked up to see his eyebrows raised and a major side eye. (Y/N) grabbed his hand, dragging him down the street, causing him to fumble with his fanny pack to make sure the zipper was closed so that nothing would fall out. When they got to the Keene household, there were a few cars already parked out front and they could hear music coming from inside. (Y/N) jumped up and down slightly with a little squeal and Eddie rolled his eyes, smiling slightly at his best friend. They walked into the house and Greta greeted them, pursing her lips together and turning around when she saw who it was. Greta liked (Y/N), but she knew that with (Y/N) came Eddie, the Trashmouth, and the rest of their nerdy friends. They didn’t ruin the parties, though. In fact, their drunk asses made them more fun, so it was whatever. (Y/N) made a b-line towards the kitchen, smiling when she saw vodka and whiskey as an option, too. She grabbed a cup, pouring and taking three shots of vodka while Eddie watched awkwardly from the side, tapping his fingers on the granite counter.

“You drinking already,” said a deep voice from behind them. (Y/N) turned around to see Ryan, a kid who was in her science class. He was the second best baseball player on the high school’s team, trailing behind Bill who already had 7 scholarships as a junior. Ryan had 4 and was extremely popular. (Y/N) smirked a little, shrugging her shoulders as she looked at Eddie and raised her eyebrows a few times. She grabbed a beer from the cooler, the good kind, and opened it with the ring in her finger.

“It’s a party, what else am I supposed to do,” she replied with a hint of over sweetness in her voice. Eddie noticed and smiled dramatically at Ryan before dragging the girl away from him and out into the backyard, where people were smoking weed and jumping into the pool. “Eds!” (Y/N) whined as she looked back into the house through the big windows, seeing Ryan grabbing a red SOLO cup and pouring whiskey into it.

“We should wait for Richie somewhere by ourselves,” Eddie replied, dragging her over to a bench swing that Greta had in her backyard. “We’ll just sit here and wait.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, standing up and going back to the house. Eddie quickly got up, tripping as the bench swung back and made him slip on the grass. When he caught up to her, she was talking with Ryan in the living room. The party had gotten exceptionally more crowded in such a short amount of time, and he stood on his tiptoes to look over the crowd and at the front door for Richie. When his eyes met the closed door, he sighed and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing himself a SOLO cup. He looked at the drinks, ultimately deciding he’d make something (Y/N/N) taught him: a Cape Cod. He poured about three shots of vodka into the cup and then topped it off with cranberry juice. Eddie took a sip of it, grimacing when he tasted how strong the vodka was. As he poured more cranberry juice in, he heard heavy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“‘Sup Eds,” Richie said softly, clapping his hand on his shoulder. “Why’s (Y/N/N) not with you?” Eddie took another sip of his drink and pointed out towards the living room, seeing the jock she was with heads over everyone else. Richie followed Eddie’s eyes and cursed under his breath. “I-I’m gonna go talk to her.” Richie shoved through the crowd, making his way towards the two. He appeared behind Ryan, causing your too furrow your eyebrows as Ryan yelled over the music about college or drugs or something. You tapped Ryan’s shoulder and pointed to the kitchen, silently letting him know you were “getting another drink.” You looked at Richie disdainfully and sighed when you heard his footsteps following you. Eddie smiled at you, glad to see you were okay.

“What the fuck, Rich,” you yelled, stomping your foot on the ground. “I thought I told you to leave me be.” He reached out to grab your arm, but you yanked it away, taking a long swing of your beer and finishing it off. You abandoned it on the counter, walking around Eds to get a SOLO cup.

“What happened to the one you had literally half an hour ago?” Eddie asked, scoffing as you shrugged at opened the green apple flavored Smirnoff that caught your eye. Richie took it right out of your hand, capping it and holding it above your head.

“No more.” He grabbed your hand, sticking the bottle back on the counter behind you as he dragged you out of the kitchen.

“Richie I’ve barely had anything,” you whined, stumbling over your feet as you got pulled into the hallway that lead to the front door. Eddie followed close behind, taking tiny sips of his drink as he helped Richie push you out of the house. “What the fuck! You guys are no fun.” You crossed your arms, allowing Richie to shove you into the passenger’s seat of his beat up Buick Regal. Eddie hopped in the back. When Richie got into the driver’s seat, you smacked his arm out of rage, tears welling up in your eyes. He started the car and pulled off the street, taking a few turns to get to Eddie’s house.

“If you need help with her, call me,” Eddie said quietly to Richie before reaching around front and giving (Y/N) a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, (Y/N/N).” You sighed in response, squishing yourself into a ball and moving closer to the window. He quickly got out of the car, closing the door and running up to his house. Richie drove up into the intersection, making a left and heading towards where Mike lived, to the farmland.

“Home’s right, dumbass,” you spat softly, rolling your eyes as he kept straight ahead. You looked down at his hands on the wheels, and through the dim streetlights, you could see that his hands were extremely white and wrapped in bandages. Usually, they had a pinkish tone to them, but all traces of that were gone. The bandages were stained a little with blood, so you figured he punched the shit out of some wall. He was mad. Richie was angrier than you had ever seen him, and you hadn’t even looked at his face yet. Tears stung your eyes when you saw the familiar dip in the trees that lead down into the quarry. He parked his car right at the top of the hill, getting out without a word. You got out, too, following him down into the quarry. When you got there, you saw him sit down on the rock and put his head in his hands. You came and sat next to him, folding in on yourself by wrapping your hands around your knees which were pulled up to your chest.

“I told you I didn’t want you to go to that party,” Richie whispered. He ran his hands up into his hair, the curls falling over his forehead when he violently slammed his hands down on his lap. He looked over at you, a scowl on his face and tears in his eyes. “That guy was going to get you drunk and fuck you. He was going to fuck you, and you were going to let him.”

“Richie, I would’ve said no,” you said defensively. “One, my standards aren’t that low, and two, I wouldn’t want him to touch me while I was sob-“ Richie scoffed, shaking his head.

“You were on your way to being wasted as soon as I got there, darling.” He stood up, kicking the small rocks that lines the big boulders. “He was going to rape you. I could see it.” You looked down at your hands without answering, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “You can’t ever go to party without me again. I have to protect you.” You started crying, sobs racking your body as you wiped your eyes in your sleeves.

“Says the one who told me he didn’t care what I did not even 6 hours ago,” you yelled, pointing at him as tears continued to fall down your face. “You’re a piece of shit! Ya know that, Richie? You want to help people, but then you just trample over everything they love, including people.” Richie furrowed his eyebrows, confused at the end of her statement.

“People? I’ve never purposely hurt someone in my whole li-“ (Y/N) pointed to his knuckles.

“What did you do?” (Y/N) asked, sniffling as she tried to calm herself down. “You punched the shit out of something, I can tell that much. I just don’t want you hurt.” Richie sighed, sitting down next to the girl who looked so small compared to the rocks and big trees behind her that were faintly highlighted by the moonlight.

“Now you understand,” Richie responded calmly. “I don’t want you hurt. Drinking hurts you. Smoking hurts you.”

“You know why I do it,” (Y/N) interrupted. “It makes me forget, drinking especially. I hate thinking of them so much. They’ve been gone for years, but I can’t stop thinking about them. So, I try to destroy my mind enough to forget for a little while.” Richie hesitantly put an arm around her, and when she melted into him, he pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.

“I don’t understand that,” Richie answered. “But I can tell you that drinking and smoking is just going to get you closer to where they were. They were so addicted they died, babe. Died.” He shoved his face into your hair, sniffling as he held you super tight for a few seconds while he paused. When he pulled away, he brought one of his hands up to your cheek. “I-I can’t have you dying on me.” You looked up at Richie, tears falling down his face as he stared into your eyes. You leant up closer to him, bringing his face down to yours and kissing him on the lips. He was taken by surprise and pulled away immediately, a confused expression on his face.

“A-are you okay,” you questioned. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, I’m sorry. You just...earlier you told me that you loved me and I love you too and I thought I’d kiss you because-because this is a meaningful moment and-“ Richie planted his lips back into yours, causing you to melt into him. After a few seconds, he pulled away and rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone as he smiled at you.

“I love you too much to lose you,” he said softly. “I-I don’t care you smoke or drink...just-just don’t get excessive, okay? That’s my worst fear, honestly, you becoming an alcoholic or dying of lung cancer.” You snickered a little, Richie look at you in confusion.

“I’ll take it easier, ya goof.” You wrapped your arms around his torso and you stuffed your face in his neck. “Whenever I go to a party, I’ll make sure you protect me from all of the big, scary guys.” Richie laughed at that, and he ended up having to pull away to catch his breath.

“I’ll do my best, princess,” he said back, his laughing fit still leaving his body. “I will definitely do my best.”

#it imagines #richie tozier smut #richie tozier #richie tozier headcanons #richie tozier x reader #bill denbrough #stanley uris #eddie kaspbrak #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #masterlist

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mayve-hems · 5 years ago

Text

New Perspective | Dad!Calum

Type: IMAGINE | ONE SHOT | MULTI CHAPTER

Summary: After leaving for four years, Calum returns back to his friends and he has a big surprise: he has a three-year-old daughter, but he refuses to admit it. Until, he falls in love with his little girl, and learns he can’t live without her and her sassy mom either.

Word Count: 15.0k

Note: If you would like to request a one-shot / imagine / story prompt / blurb / HC then I am accepting requests currently and I would love to take them!

Warnings: Calum is honestly kind of a dick in the beginning and Eve just doesn’t wear a shirt sometimes

Moodboard

“As’in” Melody slurred, stomping her left, light-up Sketcher on top of the eye-level stool in front of Ashton. Ashton flinched from the loud noise, scooting back on the kitchen floor just a smidge. “Cooler ‘an you.”

“Of course you are, Mel,” smiled Ashton. He dug his ring-clad fingers gently into Melody’s sides. The brown-haired girl, with one foot on a step stool and the other, bare, foot holding her balance upon the floor burst into a fit of giggles. Laughing with her shoulders digging into her ears and arms struggling to get Ashton to release his grip. “Who said you could wear my dinosaur pajamas?”

“Mine, you - you jerk!” Melody stuttered. Her Uncle Luke stuck his hands underneath her arms and pulled her body from the ground. “Hey!”

“I was saving you from the tickles,” said Luke. “I could put-”

“No!” screamed Melody. She stuck the foot with a shoe on into Ashton’s face. “Off.” She commanded. Ashton rolled his eyes and unstrapped the velcro.

“Was dance practice fun?” Luke asked, pulling his niece’s whole body away from the shoe. With Ashton’s hand holding onto the rubbery bottom, it slid off easily. Melody nodded her head and struggled up the too large countertop. “Did you learn anything?”

Melody gained her stability and stood up straight. With high countertops, she seems to be an inch taller than Luke. “I can do a roll!” Melody stuck her hands straight in the air, preparing for a somersault.

Luke, Ashton, Calum, and Michael had been planning to build a house together since they were in grade school. A custom-built one with five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a Gameroom, an upstairs and a downstairs living room, a large kitchen, and a workout room built into a large shed just outside of the house, and a fully furnished, soundproof basement. Evita “Eve” Sanchez, a girl with luscious long black curls and dark freckles became their best friend and included on their house plans too. Only, Calum didn’t officially go through with the agreed plans and left the state after paying his part of the house, before it was finished.

“No!” Luke yelled, catching Melody before she started a somersault off the counter. “Let’s not do that. I don’t want Mommy to get mad at me.”

Calum’s bedroom was finished, and several arguments ensued between Michael and Eve over whether or not Melody’s nursery should’ve taken over her fathers’ room. Michael got his way, and Eve didn’t turn the barely-furnished room into a nursery. She bit her tongue every time she passed the empty room.

“Did you feed all of your animals, Mel?” Ashton asked, standing up from the floor. Melody gave him a single, hard nod. “Both dogs and your cat?” Melody nodded again. “Your ferrets and your lizard?”

“Mommy fed Norber’!”

“So Norbert was the only animal Mommy fed? If I go ask-”

“-Well . . . Phin and Ferb too.”

“That’s it? Norbert, Phineas, and Ferb?”

Melody bowed her head in shame. “Well . . .”

“If you don’t start feeding your mass abundance of pets, Mel, you know Mommy will get rid of them!” lied Luke. Melody, just like her father, has taken a liking for pets of all kinds. Melody isn’t allowed at the pet store very often because she’ll convince somebody into getting a new animal - lately, she’s been adding to the downstairs aquarium. “How about you give your ferrets some treats, and make sure Norbert has water?”

“Yes, Uncle, Lu’,” Melody sighed. Luke put her on her feet and pushed her towards the living room. She walked from the counter, towards Norbert The Leopard Gecko. Her favorite pets have to be Phineas and Ferb, twin ferrets. Their large cage sits in the downstairs living room for everyone to play with. Originally, Melody wanted their cage in her shared bedroom. Eve quickly said no.

“You aren’t supposed to tell a kid things like that, Hemmings,” a familiar voice said. Luke turned around from watching Melody. The blond didn’t want to believe who was standing in his kitchen, with arms crossed over his chest and a smirk like he’s the fucking leader. “Especially an animal lover like her. She’s got a heart like her daddy’s right? Dog lover and names on Petunia?”

“You think-” Luke started, flabbergasted at Calum’s accusations.

“-Don’t,” Ashton groaned. He faced the intruder that ran away only four years before. “What are you doing here?”

Calum let out a loud breath. “It’s my house too, right? Unless my bedroom was turned into a playground for - what’s her name? Melody?” His black combat boots his loudly, approaching Ashton and Luke quickly. His finger drug itself along the countertop then led a journey to his eyes. At least the house was clean. “So, who’s the mom?”

“Excuse me?” asked Luke.

“The kid - who’s her mom? Is it Evita? I bet you ten bucks y’all fucked and-”

“-Obviously she’s Eve, dumbass,” Luke bit down on his lip. He didn’t know if it was his right to inform Calum that - Guess what! - he had a kid after escaping the state.

“Never thought you’d get with her,” Calum flashed a look of betrayal on his gorgeous face. “What about the Bro Code?”

“I didn’t get with Eve-”

A loud cry cut off Luke’s explanation. He flipped around to see a chair collapsed on the ground, and Melody clutching her right arm close to her body. Luke and Ashton quickly bolted to their niece to see what happened.

“Help!” Melody screamed through tears. Michael and Eve joined Luke and Ashton within moments. Eve, just barely out of the shower, sat her daughter on top of her fluffy robe and asked what was wrong. “Hurts,” Melody cried and pointed toward her dominant hand.

“What happened?” asked Eve. Calum peered through the doorway at the cluster of adults servicing a three-year-old alien activist and Disney lover. Surprise overtook Calum when he watched how Eve messed with Melody’s arm. Within four years, Eve’s hair seemed to have darkened from chocolate brown to jet black and pink still wasn’t her color. Calum made out dark ink all along exposed skin.

“Norber’ want water,” Melody started before letting out a loud wail when Eve attempted to straighten Melody’s arm. “I want to give him ‘dat bottle, an’ I fell!”

“Luke, can you get her shoes on? I’ll put some clothes on and take her to the hospital.” Eve sighed. Calum was surprised at how sure she sounded, not hesitating to be stern in a time of need. Eve’s older sister broke her hand, and Eve completely freaked out and fainted on Calum. That wasn’t an enjoyable experience for him. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Michael swept the small girl off the floor, giving affirmations that she’d be okay. He set her down on the counter and handed her mother his own jacket after she’d ran down the stairs in just a hoodie and a bra. “We have a visitor.” Michael griped, clenching his jaw hard. “What do we do?”

Eve looked at Calum watching Luke put Eve’s shoes back on. He seemed uncomfortable. “Fuck it, my kid just broke her arm and I couldn’t care less about him.” Eve wrapped Melody’s favorite blanket around her shoulders and picked her back up. “Calum, your daughter just broke her arm, want to come to the hospital with us?”

“Wh-what?” Calum sputtered. He shook his head, trying to hide his bulging, scared eyes.

“Where’s Michael?” Calum asked as he took a journey through the kitchen. He stopped behind the girl with a bright blue cast, chewing something that looked like a lazy attempt at pizza. He grimaced.

“Guitar!” Melody said before taking another bite. Tortilla, pizza sauce, and cheese piled together and microwaved on high for a single minute- that’s Melody and Michael’s favorite meals. Besides chicken strips, of course.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That means he’s in the basement practicing with the guys,” explained Eve. She barely looked up from her load of dishes at her confused face. “What? Can’t she explain where they are?”

Calum looked disgusted. “Why can’t she just say they’re in the basement? Is she delayed?”

“She’s three, give her a fucking break before I break you,” Eve shoved a plate into the dishwasher and finally looked up at Calum. She couldn’t help that he still looked hot; messy curls, tan skin, and bright brown eyes. It was destined that Melody is the cutest kid in the world.

“What is she even eating?”

“Lunch.”

“That is not a meal,” said Calum. “That’s something you feed a child that won’t eat anything besides chicken strips and pizza.”

Eve locked eyes with Calum. Staring straight into his ripped soul. “Exactly.”

Calum scratched the side of his head with the tip of his middle finger. “Can you lead me to the basement?”

Eve smirked. “You should know the house, Cal,” she laughed. “You helped design it. Oh, wait, you-”

“-Yes!” Calum screamed. “I get it! I left! Just . . . fucking lead me to the basement please.”

“Fine,” Eve picked Melody up from the enjoyment of cheap pizza. Melody protested a little bit, but the pain in her arm came ‘round and she stopped. “Wanna’ give Uncle Mike some pizza?” Melody nodded her head and grabbed the plate with her good hand. “Let’s go/”

Melody, Eve, and Calum rounded the corner toward the back door and walked through the laundry room to find basement steps. With Melody on her his, and Calum sadly right behind her, Eve descended down the steps. Michael looked up from his controller and took the plate from Melody and shoved it into Luke’s chest, then took Melody in his arms.

“How’s the hand, Mel?” asked Michael. He kissed the big ‘CLIFFORD’ signature underneath her wrist.

“Hurts.”

“Well, of course, it’s going to hurt, you fell off a chair,” Melody scowled at her uncle. “What’re you guys doing down here?” he asked, dismissing Melody’s continuous sass. He placed her back on the floor.

“Just seeing what the house looks like,” Calum said, looking around the furnished basement. It’s large; larger than he’d remembered. There’s a bathroom behind the wooden staircase, a man cave to the left and a room with tons of band equipment to the right inside of a soundproof studio. Just in front of the stairs was Melody’s playroom. Calum had never seen so much pink. “Pretty nice. How do you guys pay for all of this?”

“Jobs, Cal,” Luke snapped. The youngest of the adults rolled his eyes. “Are you going to get one?”

“Wait, you guys have jobs? Why aren’t you working right now?”

“I’m a YouTuber,” Michael pointed to a section of the playroom with a backdrop and a nice camera, along with a gaming computer. “I can do whatever the fuck I want to.”

“Bet the rest of you don’t have jobs like that,” Calum shrugged, pointing to the rest of them. Melody already escaped to her dolls and barbies. “Probably mooch off all his money like the lowlifes you are.”

“Actually,” Luke snapped again. “I’m a teacher, and Eve is a tattoo artist.” Calum’s eyes went wide. Eve began to show off her ink to Calum. One really intrigued him; a feather on her left arm that dissolved into tiny fragments that formed ‘MELODY ANN’ on Eve’s wrist. There seems to be enough space for more children too. “Ashton works at KFC.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Calum pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Nah, dude, I’m a museum tour guide,” replied Ashton.

Calum snorted. “Nice one.”

“I’m serious.”

“Bone library, huh?” Calum laughed at his joke. His fingers reached for little toes right underneath Eve’s eat, tattooed in a seemingly-painful way. “What’s what one?” Eve pulled her shirt up just a little bit to reveal the tattoo she sat hours for. The design was as if Melody walked from the front of Eve’s left hip bone, to her back, up to Eve’s right shoulder blade and ended with Melody’s footprint right behind Eve’s ear. Though, she only had the right foot, as if she were waiting for another child to come along and step on her. “Are those actual feet? Like prints from when Melody was born?”

“Taken right from her birth certificate,”

Calum wanted to undress Eve and analyze all the ink beneath her skin. He wanted to know the story behind the entire canvas she’d printed on her back, sternum, legs, and arms. It would take a couple of hours to learn about three years' worth of tattoos. When Calum left, she had a single tattoo of five tally marks on her finger. Each mark was dedicated to her friend group.

“You think I could get a job? Who’s the owner of the shop?” Calum asked. Eve pulled her shirt back down and laughed loudly. “What?”

“I’m the owner, asshole,” said Eve. “You can’t even draw a stick figure. Unless you’re buying, don’t come to my shop.”

“You’re a bitch,”

“I know,”

“Cut the shit, what are you doing here?” Michael asked when Eve and Ashton walked away to play with Melody. Calum ruffles the front of Michael’s blue hair. “Seriously. Why did you just randomly show up?”

“Did some stupid things,” Calum laughed. “Turns out sometimes you have to pay to perform. Dropped out of high school, so music is all I got.”

“Then what are you going to do for a job?” Luke asked, stepping up close to Calum. Michael and Luke were trying to intimidate him, make him see how stupid he is for leaving everything behind one day, leave without a warning, and show up randomly. He’ll never get off scot-free while living with them. “We’ve got people to support. A house to live in. You’re going to have to pay bills.”

“You’re joking,” Calum chuckled. Luke and Michael didn’t break their stares off the man. “I don’t have a way to get a job. I’m not good at anything. Can’t I just watch Eve’s kid and be okay?”

“You don’t get paid for watching your own child,” Michael replied in a low voice. “I don’t care if you helped design the place. It’s time to pay bills.”

Calum locked eyes with Michael. “She’s not my kid.” He pulled the curls falling into his eyes back and combed through the dark locks with his fingers. Their intimidation wasn’t working on him. “Guess I’ll have to get a job. Ain’t got nowhere else to go.”

Calum shivered underneath the orange tip of a washable marker. Its cold sensation ent socks through his arms, resulting in goosebumps and for Melody to color outside of the tattoo lines. He looked down where Melody sighed and takes in the sight; Melody, with eyebrows scrunched up and her little tongue poking through her teeth, and a marker sitting between her fingers. She was very focused.

Calum notices that their hair curls the same way, and their hair color is the same shade. He catches a curl, twirling it around his digits. A knot sticks around Calum’s finger, catching skinny strands along one of his rings.

Melody yipped. “Hey!” she whined, pulling her head far away from Calum. She rubbed the spot Calum assaulted and acted as if she were to cry. Melody’s dark lip begins to quiver and she burst into a fit of sobs. “Mommy!”

Eve ran into the kitchen, halfway through braiding her hair back for work. “What’s going on?” Eve asked, staring straight at Calum. Quickly, Eve wraps her arms around Melody. Melody laid her head against Eve’s chest. “What’s wrong baby?”

Calum looked down at his hands. “I was messing with her, and I accidentally pulled her hair a little bit,” he answered. Melody continued to cry. “I . . . I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Eve answered for Melody. Melody calmed her loud fries and looked back at her father. “It was just an accident. Can you tell him that you’re alright?”

Melody shook her head. “Not ‘right-”

“-Melody Ann, you are perfectly fine. Can you tell him that?”

Melody shook her head again. “Go to work with no?” Eve shook her head as a reply. One occasion, just a few months before Calum showed up, Melody walked into Eve’s tattooing shop for her birthday and got her very own Crayola tattoo of a sunflower on her right thigh. Since that day, she’d used all efforts to get another. “Pwease?”

As they say, you get addicted to the feeling of tattoos.

“I thought you wanted Calum to watch you?”

Melody had requested that ‘Uncle Calum’ put her to bed while Eve was working. Calum disagreed, argued with Eve about how Melody isn’t his kid and Eve needs to find her own babysitter. Calum continued to argue with Eve until Melody’s big brown eyes looked up at his, and she held a handful of markers underneath his nose. She sat next to him on the counter and asked if they could play tattoos. Calum was confused until she began to color in Mali Koa’s bird.

“No!” Melody screamed. “Hurt me!”

“Mel,” Calum whispered. He felt terrible. “It was just an accident.” He’d never had such a feeling of guilt, even the day he ran from New Jersey to New York on the small promise of a successful music career. He’d been promised by an agency that if he left New Jersey, he’d have a good life filled with wealth and fame, as long as he left home quick. His parents told him if he left, to never come back. “I’ll never do it again. I promise.”

“Promise?” Melody stuck her pinky out for Calum to wrap with his own. Calum gave her a stern nod and hooked their fingers together. “Good Uncle Cal.”

Eve’s face dropped. Uncle? Eve wants to break all habits Melody developed around Calum. Telling people he’s her uncle, even calling him Uncle Calum. Eve wants to tell Melody to call him an asshole, a fucking jerk, a liar, and most importantly, Dad. Calum was only comfortable with Uncle Calum. Eve turned around when he’d said that the day after Melody broke her arm, told Calum to ‘choke on her dick’ and stomped away.

“Face masks?” Melody asked, forgetting she’d just been crying. She drug her pointer finger along her face in areas you’d put on a face mask. “Yes?”

“I’m not doing a face mask,” stated Calum. “Never.”

“Liar,” Eve snorted. “You did them with me all the time when we were teenagers.”

“We did a lot of stupid things when we were teenagers, Eve. I’m not doing face masks.”

“Did I just hear Calum reference how bad he is at sex and facemasks?” Luke called, walking through the laundry room. He offered up his arms for Melody to enter and had a pouncing three-year-old in his arms. She thwacked the side of his face with her cast. “Ouch. Jeez.”

Melody got close to Luke’s ear to whisper. “What’s sex?” she asked. Luke looked towards Calum and Eve for an answer but Calum hid his face. Tiny fingers pointed at the pair. “Sex.”

“Well, tech-”

“-Hemmings!” Eve interrupted. Luke’s face flashed terror of the five-foot-nothing girl. “You want to do a face mask with Uncle Lu?”

“Blue one!”

Luke stared down at the floor. The last time Melody, Luke, Michael, and Ashton had done the blue face masks - Melody’s favorite color - they all ended up with blue splotches spread on their faces for a few days afterward. Luke refused to show his bare face in public and stole a whole bottle of Eve’s dark foundation just be able to go to work. Michael slathered his face in blue paint for a YouTube video and played Fortnite. Their lives are very different.

However much Luke wanted to please Melody, he doesn’t want to wear foundation several shades too dark for his complexion. He took his phone out and texted Michael to grab Eve’s golden mask out of his bedroom. He may have stolen it from her. She’ll never know.

“I’m not putting that shit on my face, Eve,” whined Calum.

“You don’t have to,” Luke smiled. “You can leave, or go to your room, or do something that’s not bothering us.”

“You’re seriously just doing face masks?”

Luke smiled a little bit wider. “We let Mel pick out a movie she’d like to see,”

“I can do that, just not face masks,”

“It’s an all or nothing package, bro,”

Calum offered Luke a very disgusted look. “Fuck that.” He hauled himself off the countertop to stand. “Have fun being a girl, Luke. Let me know how the gender reassignment surgery goes.” Luke bit his tongue to not have a witty comeback filled with several choice words.

“Lil’ Sanchez!” Michael called from the staircase. Melody almost fell from Luke’s arms to see Michael. “Heard you wanted the good kush!”

“Michael!” Eve drew out, ready to fight everyone. Luke and Calum constantly arguing, Calum being an asshole, and Michael teaching Melody words he shouldn’t be. Ashton is the only one she can stand.

“Sup dude!” Melody held out her fist and Michael bumped it softly. “Good stuff.”

“Which one do you want, kid?” Michael held up a grey tube he’d also stolen from Eve. The front of it read Clay Mask, but Michael couldn’t stand the scent of the paste. It was too late to give it back to Eve without her noticing. In his opposite hand, he showed off a round tube of golden gel. “Good smelling stuff or Luke’s knockoffs?”

“Blue.” Melody stated.

“Good stuff or knockoffs?”

“Blue.”

They were in for a long argument against a three-year-old.

Calum was surprised he didn’t see Eve quickly, inside of her tattoo parlor. He thought the name of a shop would have something to do with Melody, but he’d about had a heart attack when the large neon sign read ‘FIVE SECONDS OF SUMMER TATTOOING’. He walked in immediately and requested the first appointment they had open.

“Man, our artists are busy for the night. You’ll have to find somewhere else,” Jason, Eve’s apprentice, said looking over the schedules for each artist. Except for Eve. All four basic artists were booked with large projects for the night drunks and fucked up stoners. Eve had space next to her name, though, twenty minutes into the future.

“Why can’t Eve do it?” Calum questioned, pointing over the counter at Eve’s full first name written in fancy cursive. He wasn’t used to seeing it written so perfectly. Usually, she writes ‘Eve’ with a light hand and lowercase letters.

“Evita? Man, she’s real good and doesn’t do most people.” Jason shook his head. He looked tired, tripping balls, or just done with Calum. “You have to get special approval from her. She doesn’t put up with anyone’s shit.”

“Ask her then,”

“What? Man, no. She won’t listen to me. How would I even ask?”

“Well, first you walk up to her and say ‘Eve, you’ve got a customer that’ll take your shitty tattoos and will pay fucking cash and a tip. Now tattoo him.’ It’s easy.”

“I think if I say that to her, I’ll be fired,”

Calum sighed and ran a hand through his dark curls. One caught on his ring and pulled like he’d done to Melody just hours early. He thought to himself how weird it was they had the same curls, hair color, and facial features. “Just get Eve.”

“I don’t-”

“-Do it and I’ll tip you.”

Jason turned around in the uncomfortable spinning chair and stood up. 5 Seconds Of Summer tattooing took over an old tattoo shop and a bar, erasing of all the alcohol and vomit stains on the floor and disposing of all barstools and tables. Eve put in a couple of couches in the front of the shop for people that waited, had a bathroom on both sides of the shop, and turned the bar portion into a piercing area. Calum looked around the teal walls at anatomic sketches and cartoon characters drawings. He was very impressed.

“Evita!” Jason screamed. Calum dropped a twenty on the desk.

“I get it,” Eve stammered loudly. “I’m Mexican! But you don’t have to constantly call me Evita like an asshole Jason!” Red burned her cheeks and ears at such anger. To Calum, Evita was triggering to Eve after four years of him calling her it. He was fully convinced she’d explode when her eyes landed on him. “You have blue on your face, dumbass.”

Calum wiped his face and noticed no residue on his finger. “Your daughter got Michael to put on blue shit,” Calum sighed. “Roped me into it too.” Michael, Ashton, Luke, and Melody watched two minutes of The Nightmare Before Christmas, disregarding February creeping upon them before Melody ran to Calum’s room and rasped on the wood. He asked her what she wanted, with his attitude faltering. Melody pointed to the blue cream on her face, and Calum reluctantly agreed with a groan and learned that he’s becoming wrapped around her finger.

“She’s your daughter too,” Eve said. “What do you want?”

“A tattoo,” Calum crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “Feel like I’m due for one that’s not Crayola.”

“I’m busy,”

“No, you’re not,” Eve looked a little defeated. “We can go for drinks instead. Get drunk, fuck, and you’ll get pregnant and claim Luke’s kid is mine again.” Calum smirked harder than before. Eve resisted punching that smirk off his face.

“Come on!” Eve stammered again, dragging Calum to her office with walls of perfect drawings. “You need to fucking stop!” Eve said the moment she locked the door. Their relationship seemed loveless and dangling off the edge of a crumbling cliff. They’re covering anger at themselves with arguments. Eve’s angry Calum left four years before; Calum’s angry he left too. Their feelings are repressed, but unlike Calum, Eve wanted those feelings back and to know what it’s like to be loved.

“Stop what, Evita?”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Eve hit her hand on the wooden door and a stinging pain shot down her arm. She didn’t stop. The brunette took all of her anger out on a hard door, tempting the bones in her hand. “You lost the right to call me that the day you left! You lost the right to call me that the day you came up with the thought that Melody is Luke’s daughter!” Eve turned to face Calum. Hot tears full of rage were beginning to gather. “If she was Luke’s daughter, why does she have dark hair? Curls? Why isn’t she pale?”

“You’re dark,” Calum snapped back. “You have curly hair.”

“Melody barely took after me! She took after you, you fucking asshole!” Eve wanted to hit Calum, take the rest of her burning rage out on him. She kept her hands to herself. “She’s supposed to be Melody Hood, not Sanchez. She’s supposed to be calling you Dad, not Uncle Calum! She looks just like your fucking sister, Calum! Stop denying her!”

“I’ll stop denying her the day you admit you fucked Luke.”

“I’ve never fucked Luke!”

“Everybody knows you did, Eve! Why else would you have kept your daughter a secret from me?”

“Because you fucking left,” Eve’s voice dropped low, scarily. She’s shorter than Calum by a foot, but he was scared he would get his ass beat. She could tear him to shreds; rip his confidence up one leg and down the other. “You left without a fucking word! Changed your phone number, abandoned any way we had to contact you!”

“I was doing what I needed to do!”

“Then why are you back? Why didn’t your dream go perfectly? Why aren’t you living happily in New York? Do you just want to torment me?”

“Everything failed, Eve! It’s not like I wanted to come back! I had nothing!”

“Then leave.”

“What?”

“If you didn’t want to be here, then leave. I’ll give you some fucking money. Get out, stay away from your daughter and this ‘Uncle Calum’ bullshit. Tell her that you’re her dad and I’m not the reason she’s never met him!”

“Eve-” Calum tried to say.

“Do you want to be here?”

“I . . . I don’t-”

“Yes or no. Decide right now. Do you want to be here?”

Calum swallowed his thick pride. “Yes.”

“Then man up and quit being everything you vowed you wouldn’t.”

“Get a DNA test.”

“What?” Eve looked down at her bruising hands, suddenly feeling the worst ache from them she’d felt in a long time.

“Get a DNA test. If it comes back that she’s mine, then I’ll be her dad. If I’m right, and she’s Luke’s, then shut your fucking mouth and quit being a bitch about everything. Deal?”

Eve squinted. “Go fuck yourself.”

Calum didn’t get a tattoo from Eve that night and took the first opening from a different artist in the same shop. Shay Ramsey, a regular that Eve tattoed a lot, walked into the parlor right after Eve finished cleaning her hands up and showed Eve a sketch she wanted. Eve studied the design and quickly fell in love with the way it had been originally sketched. She stayed up until dawn, tattooing a Medusa staring at a loaded bow pointing towards Shay’s neck. Underneath the bow were Medusa’s snakes with cracks and flowers sprouting from them.

Eve rang Ashton for a coffee and food run after the sun was fully up, explaining that she was working. Ashton pulled on joggers and a hoodie, put Melody in her car seat, and made the drive into town just for her.

“How’s it looking?” Shay asked, looking at the wall right in front of her. Medusa was split in half, which was the hardest part for Eve. Medusa didn’t have a nose bridge or a cupid's bow, to make room for a quote of Shay’s spine. ‘Daughters of the witches you couldn’t burn’ was tattooed in cursive, leading into the arrow.

“I think I’m going crazy, but a relaxed crazy. You know?”

“Makes sense,” Shay laughed a little bit, trying to not move her back from Eve’s needle. Eve only does large and time-consuming projects she knows will tip and sit well. “Miss your baby girl yet?”

“Man,” Eve laughed, turning to dip the needle in ink. “I do. She was with her uncles last night and they did the blue facemasks again.”

Shay laughed again. “You ‘gotta tell them not to do that again. How’s her arm?”

Eve rubbed the sleep from her eyes for a brief moment with the side of her arm. She just had to finish up shading Medusa, and she’d be finished. It would take forever, though. “Good. She’s getting out of the cast in a few weeks. She no longer feels comfortable feeding Norberty by herself.”

“How many animals does that child have now?”

Eve thought for a moment. “Two ferrets, a cat, a lizard, several fish, and she’s claiming Petunia, Michael’s dog, Ashton’s hedgehog, and Calum Hood.” Melody claims all of the animals, but she doesn’t take care of any of them. Though she’s three, so everyone lets her get away with it most of the time.

“Woah, wait. Calum Hood? He’s back?”

“Been here about a month. Spent all of his money, came back to live in the house and is a giant pain in my ass.” Eve shook her head. How dare he just leave her? She’s still not over four years of mourning and fear over raising their child by themselves.

“You two were perfect in high school. What happened?”

“I’m not even sure we liked each other in high school,” Eve wiped the sketch from Shay’s skin. The tattoo was progressing like a snail, but amazingly. “That’s a lie. He was the best thing in my life. Then, he gave me another Best Thing In My LIfe and he’s still sitting a close second.”

“You have to tell him that.”

“No thank you,” Eve watched the shop door open after Ashton unlocked it. “How about a break?” Shay nodded her head. Eve made her way towards Ashton and snatched the brown bag from his hands. “Did you get me food?” She slipped him some money for compensation. Eve grabbed a doughnut out of the bag. “Thank you so much.”

Just like Calum’s face, Ashton and Melody had faces stained with blue. Eve had to laugh a little bit. “Tell Uncle Luke to throw that stuff out, yeah?”

“No!” Melody shook her head. Ashton had thrown it away after he looked at the blue marks for a second time, depositing it in the location it was born from. Trash. “I had strawberries and ‘nanas.”

“You have strawberries and bananas?” Eve repeated back. She began feasting on her donut and sipping on frozen coffee. It tasted like perfection. “Did you save me any?”

Melody shook her head again, rustling her bed head. Ashton only slid a pair of jeans and a jacket on the little girl. Eve didn’t blame him for not dressing her up that much, that’s her job. “Uncle Cal made ‘em.”

“Calum made you strawberry banana pancakes? He hates those,”

“Yeah, but they were fucking good,” Ashton laughed. “Somehow, he knew they’re Melody’s favorite.”

Eve was very surprised.

Staring at the seemingly bored man standing in her bedroom doorway, Eve wondered if she should just kick him out. The thought of welcoming him inside of her bedroom made her feel warm and comfortable, she just wasn’t sure if it was the best idea. Calum hadn’t been in her bedroom at all, even when he showed back up and started taking care of Melody. He’d hold her until she slept, then Luke, the seemingly quietest person ever, would carry her up to her room.

It was personal, a barrier from the lives they used to love to the ones they’re entertaining now. Before escaping New Jersey, Calum snuck into Eve’s room, kissed her, and they laid together until she was well asleep. What eve doesn’t know about that night is that it took everything in Calum to leave her. He didn’t want to move hours away, but he had to. Calum remembers preparing to sneak back out and just watching her chest go up and down with shallow breaths. Everything in his body hurt.

After a few seconds of staring, Calum brushed his hair from his face. “We should go drinking tonight.”

“No,”

“Why?”

“I haven’t been drinking since before Melody was born,”

That didn’t stop Calum from convincing her into taking shots of tequila at a bar with their friends. Melody was staying at her grandparents for a few days. Eve could do whatever she wanted.

“Woah, slow down there Sparky!” Calum called, grabbing Eves shot out of her hands. “I think we should go home.”

“You’re just a party pooper,” Eve slurred, barely able to keep herself up. She slumped over a little bit, causing Calum to catch her. “See. I’m fine.”

While Eve isn’t the tallest person, she still manages to have long legs. On the few occasions, she’d get drunk at parties during teenage adolescence, and also go home to have sex all night with Calum, she’d learned how to not trip over her own feet and break her legs. After spraining her ankle walking from a party to Calum's house, she drilled herself to no longer trip over her feet like a newborn foal.

Calum was impressed she managed to keep that ability after several years of not drinking. Calum wrapped his arm around her for support and they stumbled towards the door, Calum getting in the way of where Eve was stepping.

“We should get tacos, Cally!”

A sharp pain overtook Calums' left side. Eve called Calum ‘Cally’ when they were teenagers. It was her favorite nickname for him because only she could call him that. On one occasion that Luke tried to call Calum ‘Cally’, Luke almost ended up with a shiner. Calum and Eve had nicknames for each other that only they could say.

“Yeah,” Calum whispered through a scratchy throat. “I don’t think there’s a place to get them.”

“Then let’s go home and make tacos!”

Calum rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he unlocked the car door and helped Eve inside. She smiled at him and blew him a kiss before he ran to the other side of the car. “Ready to go home?”

“Yes,” Eve smiled wider.

The ride was short for the pair. The bar was a while away from the house, but with a flirty Eve in the car with him, Calum drove over the speed limit before he did something he’d regret soon. Eve sobered up a little bit on the ride and began to remember some of her anger towards Calum. In all honesty, she wanted a kiss from him too.

“How was drinking?” Ashton asked. Eve gave him two thumbs up. “Sounds like you had fun.”

“I don’t even remember why I went drinking,” Eve laughed. Calum pulled her toward the kitchen. “Tacos!” Eve screamed, gathering the ingredients. She pulled meat from the fridge they’d cooked earlier in the night, along with tortillas, and everything you can imagine going on a taco.

“Wanna watch a movie downstairs while we eat?” Calum asked. Oddly, he didn’t want to separate from Eve. He wanted to stay with her, protect her, lay with her, and watch bad TV shows together. Calum misses how he and Eve used to be.

“We can watch it in my room.” Eve shrugged. She grabbed her plate of a soft taco packed inside of a splitting shell and lead Calum to her room.

Melody had left some toys behind, leaving them scattered on the floor. Eve shoved them toward Melody’s messy bed and set her plate on the side table. Calum felt uncomfortable walking into the room as if it were his own, sitting down on the bed like he used to. Eve always sat toward the end so she could see the TV better, but Calum always sat behind her. He laughed when she chose The Jonas Brothers.

“You still watch that?” Calum asked. He took a bite of his cold taco.

“Who doesn’t?”

“Me,”

“Well you’re stupid,” Eve said. She watched the show intently, taking bites of her food every so often. Calum didn’t watch TV, instead he watched Eve break down a wall he wished was never there and let him inside of her. She wasn’t mad at him, she wasn’t trying to pick a fight or argue with Calum. She just sat there, eating and watched a Disney show like her life depended on it. Until she fell back into teenage habits and scooted back to sit in Calum’s lap.

“Comfy?” Calum asked, offering up a small laugh. Eve rested her head on Calum’s shoulder, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like Old Spice and memories. “Are you going to lay like this for a while?”

“Obviously,”

“But I’m cold!”

“We are laying on a blanket, Calum, learn to use your head,” Eve sighed and tore away from her comfortable position to pull the blankets tucked corners out. First, she got underneath the blue duvet, then sat on Calum so he could be warm too. “Better?” Eve asked, returning to her position.

“Much.”

Calum wasn’t cold. He just wanted to get Eve off of him, but he didn’t know how to say it. He wants Eve off his body so he didn’t feel the fire of her skin touching his, the sight of her small body laid on top of him, or the smell of orchid shampoo filling his nostrils. Calum wanted to forget everything; Melody, coming back to New Jersey, Eve, how he still loves Eve with all of his heart.

“Calum?” Eve broke Calum’s concentration on the window behind the TV. Calum looked down at her and wanted to keep her body in that position forever. “You okay?”

Calum cleared his throat. No. He’s not okay. He’s falling even further for someone he never got over. “Yeah. You?”

Eve looked up. Calum couldn’t help but gape at Eve. “Kiss?” Eve tilted her head back for a kiss. Just like when they were teenagers. Calum hesitated for just a moment. “W-wait. I’m sorry. Just-” Eve hid her face in her hands. Embarrassment flooded her body.

She’d forgotten about everything. Calum seemed to do that to her. She forgot about how she’s supposed to be mad at him, about how he left without saying anything. Calum giggled and reached for her hands.

“Evita,” Calum smiled. It was funny to him - her red cheeks and ears were magnificent.

Eve declined his laughter. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why? It’s your name. Evita Ma-”

“No!” Eve cries. “Stop it!”

“Why do you hate it so much? You used to love being called Evita,”

Eve looked at Calum. Calum thought she was going to fall over and cry. “You used to call me Evita. Only you!”

“And?”

“You call me Eve now,” Eve brushed her hair away from her face. The messy bun she’d tried to do during the car ride was falling in small strands. She felt like she couldn’t see. “Just Eve. I only let you call me Evita, and then-”

“-And then I left and you felt that it was tied to me.”

Eve nodded her head. “Michael tried to joke around and call me Evita one day and I started to cry. Could've been pregnancy hormones or something, but you came back and now it’s like it’s all in the past and-”

“Eve, shh, calm down,” Calum grabbed Eve’s hands before she had a chance to hurt something. Her fists clenched hard and he was forced to undo them. “Listen. I’m here right now, and I’m not going to leave. No matter how much I say I just want to leave, I’m not going to leave. I’m here for you, for Melody, for . . . for everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Of course.” Calum didn’t realize how tense Eve was until he said that. Her body relaxed as if she’d finished working out or something. She just fell into him and he felt well. “How are you feeling?”

Eve looked up at Calum. “Kiss?”

Calum barely pressed his lips to Eve’s, giving her what both of them wanted. His lips began to feel numb, ripped apart by electricity he only felt with Eve. Neither of them let go. Eve snaked her hand around to the back of Calum’s neck, deepening their kiss. Calum slid his cold hand up the back of Eve’s hoodie. She shivered.

“Your hands are very cold,” Eve whispered, crumbling away from Calum’s lips. Calum nodded his head. January has made their entire lives freezing. “So are mine.” Eve clapped her hands on an area of skin Calum’s collar revealed.

“Yes they are, Eve,” said Calum. They both giggled a little bit. Eve watched Calum, but Calum watched her lips. She bit down on her bottom, kiss-ridden lip. Calum couldn’t stop watching. Eve kissed him again.

Calum loved the feeling of Eve’s lips on his, Eve sitting on top of him in a non-sexual manner - but let’s be real he’d love it either way. They weren’t angry at each other, just happy and acting like teenagers they used to be. Calum’s heart broke a little bit, though, realizing that Eve wouldn’t remember a single thing when she’d wake up the next morning.

She’d just remember drinking.

“I’m going to pick up Melody, anybody need anything?” Eve questioned, walking through the kitchen to grab her car keys. She plucks them off the hook and wraps her lanyard around her finger.

“It’s snowing, Eve,” said Ashton. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“You’re so overprotective,” Eve groaned. “I have to pick my daughter up from her grandmothers’ house. Does anybody need anything?”

“You’re not going,”

“Yes I am, Ashton. Would you like anything while I am out?”

“I’ll go with her,” Calum sighed, reaching for a jacket. He pulled it over his head and let the hood settle on top of his curls. “Might as well have somebody else with you. Right?”

“I guess,” Eve snapped. “Let’s go or we’ll be late.”

The cold wind hit them like a ton of bricks. Eve was suddenly well aware of how underdressed she was, and how she should buy a snowsuit. She got into her silver SUV and turned the heat on immediately. It also blasted cold air.

“Cold?” Calum asked with a small chuckle. He pulled his jacket back off, leaving him in just a long-sleeved shirt. “Here,” He said. Eve took his hoodie and slipped it on. It smelled like heaven and even while he only wore it for just a small period, it was warm.

Eve took it off before entering her moms' house, though. She gave it back to Calum so her mother didn’t question why the Hood emblem is on her breast. The short girl became cold and wanted it back.

“Mel!” Eve called before hearing the sound of Melody stumbling down the stairs. “Don’t break another bone!” Melody ran right up to Eve and hugged her legs tightly. “Ready?”

Melody shook her head. “No.”

“Why?”

“It’s cold.”

“Want my jacket, kid?” Calum asked. Melody nodded her head, and for a second time, Calum peeled it off his body. “Arms up.” Melody put her arms to the sky and Calum helped her put it on. It pooled at her feet.

“I swear if she breaks another bone-” Eve started.

“-She’s not going to break another bone, Eve,” Calum laughed. “I can just carry her- see.” He lifted Melody off the floor and onto his hip. “Comfy, kid?” Melody nodded her head. Calum laughed again.

Catalina Sanchez, Eve’s mom, walked into the kitchen and started to swoon. She looked different from the last time Calum had seen her; black hair turned grey, wrinkles embedded themselves in her forehead and underneath her eyes, and she seemed to have lost a lot of weight. “Calum!” She called, opening her arms up bringing him into a hug. “I heard you were back from this little munchkin,” Catalina poked Melody’s belly.

“Sure am, Mom,” Calum replied.

Catalina is the mom of every person she comes in contact with. All of Eve’s friends, all of her sister Emerson’s friends. Ashton, Calum, Michael, and Luke were always allowed around her house to relax, live, eat, or for emotional support. Everyone calls her Mom, besides her grandchild.

“How long? Are you leaving again? Please tell me you aren’t leaving again Mister Calum H-”

“I’m not planning on leaving again, don’t worry,”

“Good. This little girl is happy to have you. She talked about you for about two days straight,”

Calum felt a pang of happiness in his heart. Did Melody talk about him? Bragged about Calum? Calum had never had anything like that before. He smiled wider than he could imagine.

Catalina turned to her daughter. “Now, Eve, I swear you need to get Melody’s speech impediment figured out-”

Eve groaned. “She doesn’t have a speech impediment, mom, she’s just being a kid.”

“Are you sure? She can’t say, Ashton. Melody say-”

“Mom!” said Eve. “Would you stop? Please? My daughter is perfectly fine and is just barely three!”

Catalina pointed her finger sternly at Eve. “Don’t talk to me that way, young lady. If she still can’t say Ashton when she turns four, then she has a speech impediment.” Eve rolled her eyes. “Calum, how about you go warm up the car? I need to talk to my daughter.”

Calum took the cue to go away and headed out the back door. “How was your stay at grandmas?”

“Good!” Melody squealed. “We had chicken!”

“Chicken? No way!”

Calum opened the door of the SUV but stopped when he noticed all the snow accumulating. There was no way they’d get home safely with all the snow. He cursed, but quietly so Melody wouldn’t hear him.

“‘s wrong?” Melody asked. She looked around, trying to figure out the problem Calum was having. If Calum set her down on the ground, snow would reach above her ankles, almost to her knees. The snow wasn’t the only thing falling from the sky, but also hail the size of golf balls and painful sleet.

Calum’s head was turning into the clouds above him. There’s no way that this is happening to him. No way! “We’re going to have to stay here, Kid.”

“Sleepover!” Melody squealed.

Calum almost had a heart attack. Eve’s bed seemed to be more comfortable than he could remember, but when she walked from the hallway, into her old bedroom, he couldn’t believe the outfit she’d worn. A large shirt - that used to be his - and he wasn’t sure if there was anything underneath. He glanced away, staring at the floor instead of the beautiful princess closing the bedroom door.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this? I can go to sleep on the couch if you’re not.” Calum said with a bit of pitch in his voice. He looked at the window he’d crawled out of the night he left New Jersey. He felt like shit.

“It’s fine,” Eve shrugged. After she moved in with Luke, Ashton, and Michael, she changed almost nothing about her old room. The dresser still sat crooked near the closet door, a small TV was still sitting on top of it, but Calum wasn’t sure if it’d work. Eve sat down on the bed next to Calum. “Are you okay with it?”

“Yeah,” Calum said. He cleared his throat. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because . . . okay, that’s it, I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

Calum grabbed Eve’s arm before she could stand up from the bed and pulled her close to him. “I’m fine, okay? I promise. It’s like when we were younger and-”

“-We fucked practically every night.”

“Well, not exactly,” Calum chuckled. He offered a small smile to Eve, which she took with an eye roll. “When all of us would sleepover. Luke would always sleep on the floor with Michael and Ashton, and after they were asleep I’d crawl up to bed with you.”

“They had no clue about us for like . . .”

“Four months,” Calum said. Eve smiled. She couldn’t remember that small detail, but Calum could. She wondered how much more he could remember about their relationship. “Remember Ashton screaming after the basketball game?”

Eve hid her blushing face with her hands. Giggles slipped through her fingers. “I remember that. You busted open your lip or something and whined every time I put the cleaner on it. I had to kiss you like every five seconds and-”

“And Ashton walked in and screamed at the top of his lungs,”

Eve laughed even harder. “You threatened to tie him down and fill his lungs with orange soda.”

“I had to make sure he wouldn’t tell anybody!”

Eve brushed her long hair from her face and looked at him. Her ears and cheeks were red, but not like a few days before. “He still told Michael two minutes later.”

“How was I to know that he had his phone on him, Eve!”

“Remember when Luke found out? He walked straight here and told my mom-”

“-And she said ‘You’re late’!”

They both tumbled backward from laughter. Luke had walked straight from his house a few blocks away just to tell Catalina, but Catalina already knew. She felt bad for saying that, so she made him his favorite meal. Luke ate it quickly, thanked her, and went to Calum’s mom to spoil the news for her.

“Man, I miss being a teenager,” Eve sighed. She was nineteen when Melody was born. Her life went from studying modern art to being a badass mom with tattoos and ignoring everyone's opinions about her life. “No responsibilities. Get to live life. Don’t have to worry about which Disney movie to watch next.”

“Since when is it movies? We watched The Jonas Brothers, Eve,”

“We did what?!” Eve yelled. “The other day we watched The Jonas Brothers? Are you sure you just didn’t see the TV that well and we were-”

“Eve, the TV is right in front of your bed. I know which show we were watching,”

Eve looked down and began playing with her fingers. Calum was in her room? They watched her guilty pleasure together, and Calum didn’t complain until some stupid show was played? “What else happened?”

Calum didn’t want to reply. He didn’t want Eve to know about them kissing, or how she confessed why she hates Evita, or how he said he wasn’t going anywhere. He wanted to leave her hanging just a little while he came to terms with Melody. It was taking longer than it should’ve and he was even mad at himself. “Nothing important.”

“You sure?”

Calum pretended to think. “100-percent.”

“Really?” Eve asked. “I may have forgotten most of the night but I remember one thing.”

Calum’s heart began beating fast. He didn’t know what she remembered, and he was suddenly worried. He didn’t want Eve’s hopes up, and all of a sudden he had to dip because he can’t take the idea of having a child. “What do you remember?”

Eve scooted closer to Calum. “Your hands were really cold.”

Calum laughed. “They were.” Eve and Calum locked eyes. “Do you remember anything else?”

Eve shook her head. “That’s what alcohol does to me.”

“Are you sure you don’t remember anything else?” Suddenly, Calum was desperate to kiss Eve again. He missed the electricity flowing through his body. But eve shook her head. She didn’t remember the kiss a single bit. Calum wanted to remind her. “Nothing else?”

“Why? What happened?”

Calum’s eyes flicked to Eve’s lips. Just a peck, a small brush, or even a kiss on the cheek. He needed some sort of contact. “Can’t tell you.” Calum locked eyes with Eve for just a moment, then looked away at something else. The closet door seemed like the perfect place to look, but it also messed with his head.

A few times that Calum would stay the night with Eve, Luke or Ashton would show up unannounced and Calum would have to hide, half-dressed, in Eve’s tiny closet. Even worse were times that they tried to stay for a while and Eve had to drag them upstairs to play video games just so Calum could pretend he just showed up.

Eve followed Calum’s eyes to the closet door. “Want something else to wear?”

“Huh?” Calum looked down at his jeans. “Oh, uh, no?”

“I still have your clothes, Cal, I’m not offering you a frilly dress. I’m offering you something comfortable to sleep in.”

“Sure,” Calum sighed. Eve stood up to dig through her dresser drawers. Most of the clothes Calum had left without, she kept at the new house, rather than the one she lived in once before. A lot of times, they made great maternity clothes.

“Here,” Eve said, continuing to dig through her drawers. She’d expected she left more clothes, but in reality, she left almost none of Calum’s. Calum took the grey joggers out of her hands. They were tied for her tiny waist. He pulled the knot apart. “I don’t think I have any shirts except-” Eve looked down at the shirt she’d been wearing. “Let me look in my closet.”

But the closet was almost bare. Just a few shirts that Eve bought while pregnant, that fit so large they were oversized with an eight-pound baby in her stomach. She’d never choose to sleep in those, however. They had been itchy and uncomfortable. Imagine sleeping in something like that.

“I don’t have a shirt,” Eve shrugged. “Sucks to be you.”

Calum rolled his eyes. “I have my shirt, and my jacket, brat. I think I can suffice.”

Eve shrugged again, but dramatically. “No, I don’t think you will. You should take it off.”

“Is Evita Sanchez telling me to take off my shirt?” Calum laughed. Maybe she did remember the kiss and wanted it to happen again as much as he did.

“You’ll never know,” Eve laughed and stuck her tongue out just a little bit. She looked just like her eighteen-year-old self when she did that. Calum was swooning again. She scrunched her nose up a bit and Calum had to laugh.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,”

“What’s underneath that shirt?”

“Dare,”

“Take off that shirt.”

“What makes you think you get to see what’s underneath my shirt, Calum Hood?” Eve crossed her arms. Normally, she’d just tell him, as she’d do with the guys. But normally, she’s wearing actual clothes instead of just panties.

Calum bit his lip and drug his eyes from the floor to her long, tan legs, up to her hips, which happened to be covered by the shirt. His eyes continued trailing up her body, noticing an inconsistency with what she normally wears. “You’re a tease.”

Eve rolled her eyes dramatically. “I am not a tease.”

“You’re not a tease?” Calum stood up from Eve’s bed. “Not a single bit?” He pressed his body to hers, his hands dragging up the back of her bare legs. Eve shivered. “Are my hands cold?”

The drunken night started coming back; they made out on her bed, and she enjoyed it. She was happy to be kissing her high school boyfriend again and feeling his hands on her body. “Maybe.” Eve sputtered out.

Calum seductively smirked. “Are you okay, Evita?”

“I’m fine,” Eve lied. “Your hands are just cold.”

Calum let go on Eve, setting backward to grab the joggers off the bed. “Maybe we should just go to sleep, then. I can warm up, then.” He walked out of the room to change in the bathroom. Eve’s body slumped against the closet door, and she slid until she was sitting on the floor.

She’s fucking up her life anymore, but she doesn’t care.

Only a few days after the encounter with Calum at Catalina’s house, Eve woke up to an empty bed, and an empty room. Normally, Melody crawls into bed with Eve or at least wakes Eve up in the morning, but Eve was surprised and concerned when the room was empty. She shot up, looking at the time when it hit her that Melody wasn’t with her. Just barely dawn, and her baby isn’t with her.

Quickly, she ran out of her room, to Luke’s right next door, then to Michael’s on the opposite side. She wasn’t with either of them or Ashton. Melody and Ashton have a bond for the love of sleep and making loud noises. But all three of her roommates were asleep. There was one place she hadn’t checked yet; Calum’s room.

She knew in her heart that the possibility that Melody was in Calum's room was low, especially since Calum sleeps late, and Melody wakes up early. Calum probably went to sleep just not long ago, passing out after a video game binge. Reluctantly, she pushed his door open just an inch.

The room was a disaster with clothes strewn everywhere, and blankets scattered in odd directions. However, Melody was there. Asleep on Calum’s bare chest, snoring just a bit. Eve wanted to capture the moment and relish in the captivating sight she was looking at. Like father like daughter, asleep with The Little Mermaid playing in the background, surrounded by thousands of blankets and pillows.

Eve smiled and walked back to her bedroom.

Melody jabbed her finger into Eve’s throat. “What’s that say?”

“It says angel,” Eve replied for the thousandth time.

“What’s that one?” Melody pointed to both of Eve’s shoulders.

“That one is the sun, and that one is the moon,” Eve said.

“Why?”

“Because I liked it,”

“Why?”

“Because you are the sun and the moon?”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you go bug Uncle Calum about his tattoos?”

“Yours is cooler.” Melody traced the crescent moon and the clouds it covered. “Pretty,” Melody switched to the sun on Eve’s right shoulder. “I get one?”

“You’re too young, Mel,” Eve reached for markers Melody left on the coffee table. “You want a washable one?” Melody nodded her head quickly and tore off her shirt. “What do you want?”

“That,” Melody pointed to snakehead just peaking above Eve’s sports bra, in between her boobs. “Pwease?” Eve reluctantly nodded her head and pulled the cap off the black marker.

Her snake is intricate, with geometric patterns along its back and realistic shading. Eve sketched out a simple cartoon snake on Melody’s sternum. Melody didn’t stop smiling until Eve pulled the marker off her skin.

“More? Pwease?”

“No,” Eve laughed, grabbing Melody’s arms to sit her up fully. “You don’t need to be covered in ink yet.” Melody giggled her normal giggle and stared down at her body. “Do you like it?”

“Just like yours!” She waved her cast toward her mom’s chest. “Show them?”

“You want to show your Uncles?” Eve could barely ask the question before Melody bolted toward the kitchen, almost falling on her face. She has her fathers’ athletic abilities, even just at three. Eve followed behind, but slower. “Melody has something to show you,” Eve said, entering the kitchen of men.

They looked up from their odd positions, eating different types of breakfast, not surprised that Melody is running around barely clothed again. In the 5 Seconds Of Summer household, wearing shirts is more uncommon than being practically naked. It’s an unwritten rule in being confident with your body.

Calum set down his cereal bowl on top of a notebook. Eve wanted to know what he was writing, and why it had so many scribbles. “What is it, Kid?” He looked past the snake drawn on her chest.

“Look!” Melody pointed at the snake, and the group of grown men called ‘Wow’ and ‘No way is that real?’

Calum pushed away his notebook and crouched to Melody’s level to look at the snake closer. “Is this real? I’ll kick your butt if you got a tattoo!” Melody giggled at him. “I’m serious! Is it real?”

“No!” Melody giggled. “Mommy’s ta’too!”

“It’s mommy's tattoo!?” Ashton exclaimed, joining Calum. “Are you sure? I’ve never seen this on her.”

“Yeah, Eve, why don’t you show us your tattoo,” Calum chuckled. His brown eyes meet with her silvers and she had to break away. “Don’t be a party pooper, Evita.” Calum stood up and walked to Eve so he could press his finger to the snakes head. “I wanna’ see it.”

“Yeah, man, I’ve never seen it,” Luke laughed. He shoved a piece of bacon in his mouth, ignoring painful glares Eve sends him. “Eve,” Luke drags out loudly. “We wanna see!”

“I will fight every single one of you, don’t test me,” Eve answered. She looked around Calum and pointed at his notebook. “I’ll show you the tattoo if you tell me what you’re writing.”

Calum looked down, then up, toward his notebook, back at Eve, at Melody, then at his hands. It was a hard decision. “Suck my dick, Sanchez,” Eve winked at Calum. Calum winked back. “Boys, I guess we won't get to see the tattoo.”

“I seen it!” Melody yells. She reaches up the drag down the top of Eve’s sports bra. Eve barely caught the fabric before she flashed a room full of guys. “Show ‘em!”

“No, Mel,” Eve giggled. “They don’t get to see it.”

“Fine,” Melody huffed and stomped her little butt back to the TV. Eve looked around the corner to make sure she safely made it to the couch.

“So what is in your notebook?” Eve asked Calum, passing him. Luke tore the bowl away from the paper and hid the notebook underneath his shirt. “All of you are going to hide it from me, aren’t you?”

They all collectively nodded their heads. “It’s personal, Eve,” Calum said, grabbing for his notebook. “You can know when it’s finished. Otherwise-”

“At least tell me what it’s about. Please?” Eve covered her chest with both of her arms. “I’ll show you the tattoos. All of them.”

“Really?”

“No,” Eve reached for the rough notebook again. “Please just let me see it!”

Calum held it above his head, where she couldn’t reach. “No way. You can know when it’s finished!”

“Fine,” Eve snapped. “Next time you let my kid lay with you, tell me first, please.”

Calum nodded his head. “Now show the tattoo or leave, Evita.”

Eve turned on her heel and headed toward her daughter.

Calum recognized the sound of Eve’s knock. He waltzed to the door, opened it, and stared eye to eye with Eve. He moved his eyebrows up and down. Eve wasn’t amused.

“Yes, Evita?” Calum asked. Eve barely got a peek into his room, looking around at the torn up sheets of paper littering his bed and floor. The notebook he’d carried like a baby the past few days were seemingly getting smaller and smaller. Eve just wanted to know what he was doing with it - but he won’t tell her.

“It’s time to cuddle,” Eve ducked underneath Calum’s arm and walked into his room like any other day. She brushed the ripped paper off the bed and pulled the most recently-tucked-in blanket off his mattress and settled underneath it.

“Well hello to you too,” Calum let the door latch before pouncing onto the mattress. He straddled Eve’s body with his legs. “Guess whos’ on top?”

“Get off of me playboy,” Eve laughed. The small girl had to use all of her might to push Calum’s body off of hers.

Calum landed flat on his back next to her. “Look who’s sneaking into whos room now, huh?”

Eve poked Calum’s side. He flinched a little bit. “If there wasn’t a sleeping three-year-old in my room, you’d probably sneak into mine too.”

“Never. Absolutely never.” Calum smiles at Eve, and Eve smiles right back at him. “If I show you what’s in my notebook will you show me the snake tattoo?” Eve let out a loud bellow.

“Good try, Hood,” Eve pulled the hair tie from her long, dark braid and her mane fell in loose curls on Calum’s bed. To Calum, she looked beautiful whether or not she was showing the tattoo. “You’ll never ever get to see it.”

“Damn,” Calum swears with a snap of his fingers. “How many tattoos do you have?”

“As I said, too many,” Eve smiles wide, remembering the days she got most of her tattoos. After Calum left, Eve couldn’t get a tattoo until after Melody was born, and that’s when she elected Melody’s footprint to be right behind her ear. After a couple of months, though, she continued the trail down her back in the tattoo Melody is most fascinated with.

Eve got a snake tattooed between her boobs on a dare. Her, Ashton, and Michael were out being stupid late one night, so they started playing the dumb game. It took a couple of rounds to get Eve convinced into a tattoo, but she showed up to Addictions Tattoo Shop. She ended up buying that shop, renamed it, and painted it to her desire. Catalina almost killed her.

“Explain some of them to me,” whispered Calum. He glanced at her. “Honestly. Explain some of them to me.”

“Well I obviously have Mel’s feet, and-”

“-No,” Calum shook his head a little bit. “I express myself through music, you express yourself through art. Explain to me some of them people can’t see.”

“On my rib, I have ‘still breathing’ tattooed with a semicolon. Does that count?”

“Kind of,” Calum turned fully to tug up Eve’s shirt. He forgot her habit of wearing only underwear underneath. He just wanted to see the ink embedded in her skin and it’s a whimsical dance around her body. Just above her hip bone, Calum traced a large lotus flower with paint splatters curling toward the inside of her thigh and around to her back. Eve giggled a little bit. “What does this one mean?”

“I got bored and wanted to try a new technique. Turned out pretty good, right?”

Calum continued to trace, along to tattoos scattered around her stomach. “It did.” Eve was right, she has ‘still breathing;’ tattooed on her left rib in cursive, but a dinosaur on a skateboard smoking a cigarette on the opposite rib. He traced that tattoo and Eve shivered. His hands always seemed to be cold. “What’s this one?” Eve was about to answer when he tore her shirt up a little bit more, revealing moon phases and tiny stars underneath her breasts, curving with the way her body was built. “How’d you come up with this one?”

“My mom was always told me to look at the moon every night, and I’d find comfort in everything,”

“Deep,” Calum tug her shirt up a little more, expecting that Eve would try to fight him about being a pervert. She didn’t, though, thus Calum pushed it up to her armpits and admired Eve’s body. “Nice tattoos.”

“Right?”

Her torso curved perfectly for her liking, and she still had some meat on her bones. Eve was seemingly skinny, but healthy, and like she wouldn’t eat a salad to impress a guy. She didn’t have an overly large chest, the perfect size for Calum to like. During their teenage years, Eve was uncomfortable with Calum seeing her body all the time. She’d hide from him and wear overly large clothes because she was uncomfortable.

Calum pressed a kiss to the bottom of her sternum, right underneath her rips, on the warm, ticklish skin. He pressed the area right above it, then until the shirt was bunched up. He kissed the front of Eve’s neck and on the tattoo that said ‘angel’ in a fancy font. Behind her ear, Calum smirked when she let out a breathy capture of his name.

“You should get more tattoos like that,” Calum stated, tracing his finger around the snakes coiled tail. He didn’t let his finger stop on the tip, but drug it down her body to the waistband of her panties and over to the lotus flower on her hip. “I like them.” He rubbed his finger into her hip bones, digging down just a little bit. “Do you like them?”

“They’re cool,” Eve replied. She grabbed his shoulders to pull his body into hers. She felt his shirt press into her bare torso, and more. Feeling overly nervous, Eve pressed her lips to Calum’s. Something she’s wanted for so long, to remember it for days to come. Calum rubbed Eve’s jaw with his thumb, sneaking his fingers into her curls right behind her ear. “Wait - wait, we can’t.” Eve pulled away from Calum, wiggled to remove her body from underneath his and to pull down her shirt again.

“Wh-” Calum tried to ask.

“We can’t, Calum,” Eve covered her eyes with her fingers and dug her nails into her hair. She wanted Calum back more than she ever had. Calum was the love of her life, her first real boyfriend, the father of her child. If anything were to happen, they’d complicate everything, in Eve’s head. They’d hurt Melody, and she’d get mad about being deceived for over a month about ‘Uncle Calum’. “We’ll fuck everything up, and-”

“Eve-”

Eve stumbled to his door. She turned back to look at him. She loves Calum. Her heart hurt when he left, and when he came back. She wasn’t angry that he was back, but he was angry that he left without saying anything. Eve wants to hate him, to forget about Calum all together, leave behind a life she always wanted.

“Eve!” Calum called when Eve reached for the doorknob. She wasn’t thinking with her head, just what she thought everyone was wanting.

“I . . . I think I need to move somewhere with just Melody . . . no one else.” Then she left his room and locked herself inside her own.

“Where’s Eve?” Calum pushed, running into the soundproof room in the basement. He didn’t see her at all, not even when he walked into her bedroom. He could find Melody in the room with Ashton, Michael, and Luke, holding a tiny tambourine, but he couldn’t find her mother. “Have you guys seen Eve? At all?”

“No, what’s up?” asked Luke. He pulled his guitar off his body and placed it on the rack.

“I need to find Eve. Something stupid happened last night and-”

“Oh God, please tell me she’s not pregnant again,” Michael jokes, pointing at Calum’s dick. “Learn to keep that in your pants, please. We need exactly one Melody.” Calum let his arms fall to his sides. He couldn’t even joke around with his friends. He needed to find Eve! “Cal, are you okay?”

“I have to find Eve!” Calum screamed. Desperation filled his tone and strangled everyone around him. Quickly, they all figured out how badly Calum needed to find Eve. “Have you seen her?”

“I . . . I think she’d in the workout room. Have you checked there?”

Calum takes a deep breath. That’s the only area around their property he hasn’t checked. His long legs took him up the stairs, out the back door, and down the stone pathway to a large shed full of equipment. Loud music filled his ears. The music he wouldn’t have expected - Drag Me Down by One Direction. It was obvious that Eve was there.

He knocked once, but to no avail, he didn’t get a reply. She’s distracted. She’s working out, not waiting for knocks on the door and men professing their love to her. Calum opens the door and spots her in the far corner doing yoga.

One Direction and yoga. That’s Eve for you.

Her eyes look in the mirror, reflecting the open door. She dropped to the mat beneath her and stood up. “Get out.” Calum was surprised she wasn’t stern, but rather trying to convince herself that she wanted Calum away. “Get out!”

“You have to stay, Eve,”

“Good to know,” Eve picked a jacket off the floor and pulled it over her sports bra. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Your opinion doesn’t matter. I’ll do what’s best for me and my daughter.”

“But it’s not what’s best for Melody!” Calum bit down on his tongue. It was coming. He knew what was coming; a broken voice and shaky hands. A bolt of electricity shot through him. “She needs to be here- with her mom, her dad, and all three of her uncles.”

Eve was surprised, taken aback, concerned at what Calum had said. Her voice went low. “What?”

“Please, Eve,” Calum wanted to get on his knees and beg. After Eve left his room, he sat up for hours, thinking about Melody and Eve, how much he wanted them around. He came to terms with Melody - a very scary thing - and finally stopped denying it. Calum Thomas Hood has a beautiful daughter with brown eyes and curly dark hair, named Melody. “Please don’t take my daughter from me. Melody means everything to me, and I can’t . . . I can’t let either of you leave.”

“This isn’t going to work, Calum.” Eve crossed her arms. She didn’t want to believe what he was saying. “You can’t just use her as an excuse when you want me to do something! You can’t use my daughter as a pawn!”

“I’m . . . I’m not, Eve,” hot tears began to fall down Calum’s cheeks. He was so passionate, wanting Melody and Eve to stay, keeping his daughter close, and coming to terms with everything he didn’t want to. “Melody means more than everything combined. I want my daughter! You can’t just move out because of me! If anything, I’ll move out - find somewhere else to live and leave both of you alone. I’ll visit Melody, I’ll make a complete effort to be the dad I should have been for so many years!”

“I think that’s passed, Calum,” Eve knocked her shoulder against Calum when she walked into the cold February air. Calum watched her walk away, down the stone path with all of their handprints stuck into rocks and colored with spray paint. She ignored his pleads for her to listen. Calum wants to change her mind, for her to stay. But Eve has to decide what she needs.

Calum walked slowly back to the soundproof room. He broke the seal of sound, ripping open the door. He didn’t close it behind him. His best friends were playing a song for his daughter - one that they called Airplanes, that Calum had written. To him, it didn’t sound weird without his bass or singing, but to everyone else, they were uncomfortable. Calum flicked off the amps Michael and Luke were connected to, cutting off all the sound except Ashton.

“What the fuck?” Michael screamed, throwing his hands in the air. “Do you have a death wish or something?”

“Shove off,” Calum muttered, searching for his guitar. He picked it by the neck and carried it to Melody. He sat with his legs crisscrossed, right in front of her. “Mel,”

“Ya?” Melody replied with a large smile on her face.

“I wrote you a song. Do you want to hear it?”

Melody nodded her head quickly. “Duh!”

Calum wrote the song for all of them. For Luke’s carefree voice, Michael’s perfect guitar strums, Ashton’s drumming, and Calum’s bass. Yeah, they did alternative parts where Michael or Calum sang, and Luke just played guitar and so on, but those were Calum’s favorite parts. He couldn’t take it; Calum planned on singing for Melody as a present when the song was furnished, cleaned up, and memorized properly. He knew all of the singing parts, all of the guitar's parts. He could do it by himself.

He started strumming. Without Ashton’s drumming, it was bizarre. He kept strumming. “I don’t even like you, why’d you want to go and make me feel this way?” He scrunched his nose up and leaned close to Melody so she knew he was joking. Melody giggled in reply. “I don’t understand what’s happened, I keep saying things I never say.”

Luke, Michael, and Ashton were surprised. When they were puny highschoolers, playing talent shows and basement concerts, Calum never wanted to perform by himself. Even with just their family surrounding them, he wouldn’t sing by himself. On one occasion, Eve got him to sing a little bit of a song she liked, but he quit after stumbling over the lyrics. Singing by himself isn’t his thing, but he can’t express everything with everyone else.

“I can feel you watching even when you’re nowhere to be seen, I can feel you touching even when you’re far away from me,” Calum had to smile wide when Melody poked the tip of his nose in response. “Tell me where you’re hiding your voodoo doll, ‘cause I can’t control myself. I don’t want to stay, I wanna’ run away, but I’m trapped under your spell.”

Calum slowed down his strumming and pointed to the areas he described. “And it hurts in my head and my heart and my chest, and I’m having trouble catching my breath.” Melody replicated Calum’s movements until he picked up strumming again. “Won’t you please stop loving me to death?”

“No!” Melody squeaked.

Calum felt more love for his daughter. “I don’t even see my friends no more, ‘cause I keep hanging out with you. I don’t know how you kept me up all night, or how I got this tattoo,” Calum held out his right wrist, with a pocket watch sitting in a bed of flowers tattooed from the night he argued with Eve. He told the artist to choose a random time for the clock hands, and he ended up with the exact time Melody was born forever on his body. “I can feel you watching, even when you’re nowhere to be seen. I can feel you touching even when you’re far away from me. Tell me where you’re hiding your voodoo doll, ‘cause I can’t control myself,” Melody stared in awe at Calum. “I don’t wanna stay, I wanna’ run away, but I’m trapped under your spell, and it hurts in my head and my heart and my chest,”

Melody did the same moves as Calum; pointing at her right temple, right above her left breast, and on her sternum. She didn’t dare take her eyes off of Calum, though.

“And I’m having trouble catching my breath, won’t you please stop loving me to death?” Again, Melody told him no. “Every time I see you, suddenly my heart begins to race, every time I leave, I don’t know why my heart begins to break.” Melody poked Calum’s nose again, so he’d smile. “Tell me where you’re hiding your voodoo doll, ‘cause I can’t control myself, I don’t wanna stay, I wanna’ run away, but I’m trapped under your spell. And it hurts in my head and my heart and my chest, and I’m having trouble catching my breath. Won’t you please stop loving me to death?”

“Never,” Melody smiled. Calum finished the last cords and placed the guitar on the floor next to him. Melody crawled into his lap so she could wrap her arms around his neck in a hug. His large hands patted her small back. “T’ank you!”

“Of course,” Calum patted her back again. All of his friends were amazed at what he’d done. What he didn’t know was Eve had walked down to the music room to tell everyone to close the door, and videoed the entire song. Especially capturing a photo of the two hugging at the end. “Melody, what if I told you I was your daddy?”

Luke’s eyes became wider than saucers; Michael’s mouth dropped to the floor; Ashton dropped his drumsticks from their constant twirls. Eve, standing just outside of the room, covered her mouth with her sleeve. She was beginning to cry.

“Daddy?” Melody asked, letting go and cocking her head. “You’re my daddy?”

Calum nodded his head. His eyes were beginning to become glossy. “I’m your daddy. And those weirdos staring at us - they’re still you’re uncles.”

“I call you daddy?”

“You can call me whatever you want, baby girl,”

Melody hugged Calum tight again. “Daddy!”

“Calum! Calum! Calum!” Eve screamed, running out of her room with messy, static hair all over the place, and wearing only a shirt. She bangs on his door, letting him relish in privacy and a surprise wake up call. “Calum!” She screamed again. By that point, Michael, Luke, and Ashton were all awake, running out of their rooms to see what all the commotion was about. Ashton scooped Melody off the floor. “Calum Hood!” Eve screamed once more, ready to bang on his door even more, but she can’t because he pulls the door open with wide eyes and a petrified face. “Calum!”

“What do you want?” Calum asks angrily. Eve shoved her phone into his bare chest. He grabs it and stares at the screen. A video with his name, and a few comments, and . . . Calum’s eyes go wide. “Is this legit?”

“What’s going on?” Luke asked, reaching for the phone. Calum hands it to him, staring at the floor with saucer-sized eyes. Ashton reaches for the phone, but Luke pulls it further towards him to study the screen. “Eve posted the video of Calum singing to Melody on Instagram and-”

“-One-point-five million views,” Calum says with a blank voice. Absolutely stunned. “Overnight.”

Ashton checked the time on his watch. “We have five minutes,” Calum took in a shaky deep breath. “Now, we just have to find Melody.” She moved her little legs underneath Calum’s hoodie, that he was also wearing. Her head popped up, hitting Calum in the jaw. “There she is!”

“Don’t you think you should leave daddy alone?” Eve asked with a large smile on his face. “He’s going on stage soon, and I don’t think you want to be on stage while it’s really loud, right?”

Melody began to pout. “But I want daddy!”

“I know you want daddy, but he has to go on stage and sing your song,”

Melody turned her head to look at her father. Calum smiled at her, but she just rolled her eyes. “Make it good, Daddy,”

“I always do, don’t I?”

“Sometimes,” Melody sighed.

Successfully, everyone convinced Melody away from Daddy Calum’s hoodie, as long as she got to wear it. Calum took it off, put it over her head of curls and helped her fit her arms into the holes. He tucked long locks behind her ear and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“You’re the reason I’m here, baby girl,” Calum smiled. He got famous over the video of him singing to Melody, and after posting a few videos of his new band, 5 Seconds Of Summer, singing, they were asked to go on tour. Calum had only his daughter to thank for his song inspiration and joy. She sparked his failed career, with just a simple smile. “Are you ready to go on stage?”

“More than ever!” Melody pounded fists above her head. Calum tickled her armpits and sides, causing his daughter to erupt in giggles. “Remember,” She said through laughter. “It’s Melody, not Mel. I’m famous.”

“Whatever you say, Mel,”

He tickled her again.

A song started their journey on stage- the classic What I Like About You played with an extra-long guitar riff at the beginning, with lights and fire when Luke said the first lyric. The group danced on stage with their guitars, and Ashton hit the drums with such passion, Eve was afraid he’d break them. They quickly turned to their newest song, Valentine, that Calum wrote for Eve. Eve and Melody stood in the wings of the stage, waiting for the end of the song.

Then the time came.

“And we also have some special people to thank for this awesome career!” Calum said into the microphone, pointing in the direction of Eve and Melody. “First up, my oldest daughter, Miss Melody Hood! Can we get a round of applause for her?” Melody swaggered on stage with a little smirk. She’s Calum’s twin. Melody waved her hand and made the motion to be held, but Calum shook his head. “I got a guitar on me, dear, I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t supposed to tell a kid things like that, Hood,” Luke replied. He reached for Calum’s bass, to hold for the time Melody wanted to be in his arms. “Especially when she loves her daddy so very much.”

Calum shook his head and took off his bass. Melody immediately jumped into his arms, wrapping hers around his sweaty body. “Okay and now we have some other people to introduce.” Calum gestured towards Eve. “My other muse, my wife Eve Hood, and our unborn daughter Liberty Hood.”

Eve smiled when Calum hugged her too. This was everything she ever wanted. Calum, Melody, Liberty, and the feeling of being needed.

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stupidwithu · 5 years ago

Text

I’m the loser (you know I’m gonna come undone)

this is extremely self-indulgent and honestly not that well written but it’s here now

summary: Eddie’s sick and Richie loves him.

Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak (IT)

__________

Eddie collapses into the hammock with a deep-rooted sigh. Subconsciously, his legs swing over the edge of it, in the direction of Richie’s head, who catches both Eddie’s ankles in a single hand.

“Occupado, asshole.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie says emptily. His voice is unusually subdued, Richie thinks, and the taller boy crinkles his nose at the sound of it.

“What’s your problem?” Eddie glares.

“What’s yours?”

Their banter is jaded. For once, there’s no venom – or even humor – behind Richie’s words. Just curiosity.

Eddie, on the other hand, seems… off.

“Eds?”

Eddie groans.

“You okay?”

Eddie offers a sock-clad tap to Richie’s left cheek. Richie slaps his foot away, rolling his eyes when it comes right back, knocking the rims off the bridge of his nose.

“I’m serious,” Richie exhales. “You look—”

“Like shit,” Stanley finishes. Richie narrows his eyes at him, like he’s just now remembering he and Eddie aren’t alone.

This seems to catch the rest of the losers’ attention. They turn in almost-creepy unison to face the boys with looks that are equal parts interest and concern. Richie blushes. He nudges Eddie away.

Eddie makes himself known with a soft whimper, curling in on himself with his back to the group (Richie can still see his face, all scrunched up and irritated). He doesn’t like the attention he’s getting. Not now. Not like this.

“I just don’t feel good, okay?” His voice is muffled by his own knees, pressed against his lips like he’s trying to make himself smaller. “Leave me alone.”

Richie’s seconds away from a Seriously, Eds? How old are you? when Bill cuts him off.

“What’s wr… what’s wrong, Eddie?”

For some reason, watching his friends fret over the boy before him makes Richie feel strange. An uncomfortable sensation bubbles up in his stomach and his blood goes warm. He swallows hard, opens his mouth, and says nothing.

In a matter of seconds, Beverly is crouched at Eddie’s side, one of her hands finding residence beneath his hair. Bill stands behind her, arms crossed, and Ben’s there too, like he wants to make sure he looks useful and caring, in case Bev happens to look his way.

Stanley and Mike keep their distance, and Richie doesn’t blame them, because a few hushed whispers into the love triangle’s apprehensive exchange and Eddie’s bolting upright, pushing them away – or at least attempting to. Richie scrambles to plant a foot on the ground to keep himself from falling as Eddie rocks the hammock.

“Stop!” He screeches. “Stop fucking touching me. I mean it!”

He’s breathing heavy. Richie can tell he’s got more to say.

“Eddie—” Ben starts, but Beverly gives the smallest shake of her head and he purses his lips. How does she do it?

“Guys,” Mike says then, and all heads but Eddie’s follow his voice. He cocks his head in the direction of the clubhouse entrance. “A word?”

With hesitant, almost shameful movements, they follow Mike and Stan up the ladder and into the afternoon sun.

Richie lingers a few seconds longer. He’s hoping Eddie will ask him to stay.

As if on cue, he tugs feebly at Richie’s wrist.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, not even when Richie tries one of his more annoying nicknames, but he doesn’t loosen his grip, either, and nobody seems to mind when they don’t move at all.

_____

When Eddie wakes, it’s to the feeling of Richie’s hands cupping both sides of his face.

For a moment, the soft yet slightly panicked brush of Richie’s skin against his cheeks makes Eddie think he’s at the Neibolt house again. His arm jolts in protest, but it doesn’t hurt like it did before. It’s not broken, and that’s not where they are.

The clubhouse, Eddie remembers slowly.

While he was asleep, it got dark. Richie switched positions somewhere between Stanley saying goodbye and Bev popping back in to kiss Eddie’s forehead. They’re laying in the same direction now, still in the hammock, bodies pushed together so that Eddie’s fanny pack is pressed uncomfortably to Richie’s torso. A surge of guilt runs through him. He wonders how long they’ve been like this. Eddie almost thinks he remembers Richie playing with his hair, but he might’ve dreamt that.

“Wha—Where’s everyone?”

“Not here,” Richie shrugs. He’s sweating, Eddie notices. How the fuck? It’s freezing. “Bill was the last one to leave, like an hour ago. I would’ve gone, too, but you just looked so adorable laying here all feverish and helpless, I—”

“Beep beep,” Eddie coughs. “R-Richie.”

“Oh, come on!” Richie has an argument on the tip of his tongue (that was not means for a beeping, Eds), but it falls to nothing when the coughing doesn’t stop. “Eddie!”

Eddie tries to sit up, but he’s light in the hammock and Richie’s weighing it down. He makes it halfway up before collapsing into Richie’s chest, pushing against him without an ounce of strength. He starts to wheeze, and Richie springs into action.

He falls to his knees before a now-seated Eddie, who hacks into the crook of his elbow. Richie winces, rather unhelpfully, giving one of his shoulders a tight squeeze. “C’mon, Eds. It’s okay. Breathe.”

When he’s able, Eddie punches Richie in the chest. “I’m trying, dipshit.”

Richie just smiles.

“I’m sorry you’re sick.”

Eddie frowns. Richie sounds so sincere. “I’m not—”

“Ben said he’d stop by with meds and if those don’t help, I’ll—”

Eddie pales.

“Shit, are you gonna puke?”

Eddie ignores him. “What meds?”

“I don’t fucking know, like, fever reducer…? I’m not a doctor.”

Eddie stands, nearly knocking Richie over in the process. A sudden fury crosses over his features. He fumbles with the buckle of his fanny pack, but his hands are trembling.

Richie rises in a matter of seconds, towering over him in a more natural stance. He covers Eddie’s hands with his own, an uncharacteristic gentleness overcoming him. “What do you need?”

Richie reaches for the zipper just as Eddie gets the belt undone. He tosses the bag as far as he can manage. It hits the wall then crashes against the ground with an empty thud. Richie flinches.

“Eddie?”

“Nothing! I don’t—I don’t fucking need anything in there!”

“Uh,”

“I don’t need medicine, Richie.”

Richie makes a weird face. Eddie wants to punch him. “Oh.”

“Fucking what, Richie?”

“This is about Sonia.”

“What?!” Eddie’s eyes go wide. “No, it isn’t.”

“Of course it is.” Richie runs a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner! That fucking bitch traumatized you.”

“N-no.”

“You’re not sick, Eddie Bear, but you are sick—like with the flu or some shit, it’s actually disgusting—”

Eddie swings, but Richie avoids the hit easily.

“Stop!”

“I’m sorry she lied to you.” Sincere again. It’s not a good color on Richie, Eddie thinks. “That’s, like, a lot to unpack and it’s getting late, but you know your mom’s a piece of shit and I don’t think—”

“Fuck you, Richie.”

At that, Richie stops. Not because of the dark hatred that his favorite person in the entire world just spat at him, but because Eddie’s crying. Actually, openly sobbing. Eddie was furious and screeching and burning red and Richie blinked and now his face is wet and blotchy and he’s hiccupping and fucking crying. Just like that.

“Eds…”

“My mom loves me.”

“I—”

“Shut the fuck up. Just—just, for once in your goddamn life, Richie—”

“That’s not fair.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Eddie’s furious again, but it’s short-lived. He takes a half-step forward before his knees buckle and he collapses into Richie’s open arms. He’s sick, gross, and mean but Richie doesn’t even blink. He pulls him close, waiting patiently as Eddie cries into his shirt.

“My mom loves me,” he sobs.

One of Richie’s hands snakes up Eddie’s neck, simultaneously testing his fever and taking the ends of his hair between his fingers in a soothing gesture. The other arm’s around his waist, keeping him steady. Eddie’s otherwise completely limp, clenching and unclenching the damp fabric on Richie’s back.

“I love you,” Richie says without thinking. Eddie sniffles. “I just mean… of course your mom loves you, Eds, she just—I don’t know. She just—She doesn’t—”

Richie pauses, takes a deep breath. He knows what he wants to say. He just doesn’t know if Eddie wants to hear it. Honestly, he thinks he already knows.

“The losers love you,” he corrects. “And we don’t want to see you sick, or hurting, like, ever…” he sighs. “Look at you, Eds.”

He’s referring to Eddie’s sickly pale skin – save for the bright pink fever and the tear stains – and his glossy eyes and his chapped lips and the way his tiny body shakes and his voice cracks. Richie knows he’ll be fine, but he can’t help the way his heart breaks.

“I didn’t think about how hard it must be for you. Meds, after everything… You don’t have to take them if you don’t want to. We just thought it might help if you woke up still feeling shitty and it seems like—”

Richie cuts himself off again. He clears his throat. “Anyways, are you done needing consoling? Because I’m not good at it and if you ever tell anyone I’m saying all this sappy shit, Edward, so help me—”

Eddie squeezes him tight. “I’ll take them.”

“Okay.”

“Please don’t take me home.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.”

“—I just wanna be here, just for a little while longer.”

“Okay.”

Richie would stay with him all night, if he asked.

Eddie pulls away, just slightly, and Richie helps him stand on his own. They’re silent for a while. Eddie’s staring, but Richie can’t bring himself to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

Richie wants to kiss the words off his lips. He leans down and kisses his clammy forehead instead.

Eddie’s eyes are wide and Richie’s are closed, until Richie pulls away and they blink their expressions back to normal.

“I, uh, I love you too, Rich.”

#my fic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #it chapter one #it #fanfic #fanfiction #sickfic #hurt/comfort #eddie sick #whump #losers #decided to post this despite my breakdown yesterday #don't ask me why #needed validation

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har-rison-s · 5 years ago

Text

heaven: 16

nothing lasts forever

request/plot: Stan x Reader where they were together back in Derry and kind of forgot about each other after moving away but they always had a void in their lives. And then when Stan is just about to do it after Mikes call his phone rings and it’s you and you’re crying after just getting off the phone with Mike to come to Derry. You both end up going back and seeing each other at the restaurant and you guys just catch up after all these years that passed and old feelings come back.

A/N: Hi! Part sixteen already. Whew, last one was quite long, wasn’t it? It’s one of my best works ever, I think. Has me feeling so many emotions, and quite strongly, idk. Welp, here goes one of the last chapters. I still haven’t decided how many more chapters there will be, but I just know this Heaven is nearing its end. I hope you all like how this turns out. I’m still a bit conflicted between a few characters and plot points of the ending, like I have a few versions of the ending in mind, and I wanna execute all and none of them at the same time. If I decide on this one ending that’s the most strong out of all of them, I hope y’all won’t kill me. I just finished rewatching the 1990 mini-series. Damn, that’s messy. The dialogues, the special effects… Don’t even get me started on the acting. Anyways, happy quarantine reading! Love you lots <3

warnings: long as always hahahah, wounds, blood, food, nothing else

word count: 3.7k

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IT masterlist

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Gif credit goes to owner, which isn't me! (Also, it's raining in the gif but idc! Y'all know it's morning and sunny as hell in Derry, Maine rn!)

“Could we have six menus and a first-aid kit?” Richie Tozier asks the young waitress who has approached their miserable-looking table. Her eyebrows raise and she scans the eight adults to see why they would need a first aid kit—not that it’s any of her business—and she screams, coming across Eddie’s bleeding side. The Losers flinch at the high pitch of her scream.

“You need to get to the hospital!” She says, tears streaming down her face. Now this one’s quite emotional for six o’clock in the morning, the Losers think in unison and exchange looks between themselves, finding it imposible to say any words at the current moment.

“I promise, he’s fine.” Richie tells the girl, looking at her through his thick glasses.

“It’s just a scratch.” Eddie says non-chalantly, and the waitress thinks to herself that these really are a bunch of crazy people, as she presumed when they walked inside the diner. “Besides, I’m a doctor. Could you please bring the menus and a.... uh, a first-aid kit?” He squints and tries his best at a smile at the crying waitress.

She gathers herself, wipes her tears and smiles as wide as up to her ears. “Right away.” She says in a squeaky voice and leaves their table. The Losers exchange looks between themselves once again, overwhelmed by the events of the night and by the heavily emotional waitress that they have to deal with. They huddle closer together to one another in their red-and-white leather seated booth.

The place smells of freshly cooked food, coffee and cigarettes. Oh, they’ll all definitely have coffee. A mood and energy booster, that’s for sure, that’s what they need. Though none of them are sure they even have such a thing as a ‘mood’, or ever will. This morning they’re certainly not in any kind of mood. To be completely honest, the Losers feel quite hollow. They feel completed, and they feel a lot of love and pride, but they feel empty inside, as if there’s a hole in their chests and it keeps getting more hollow.

Stanley’s head rests on Y/N’s shoulder, his hair fallen against her delicate neck. She runs her fingers slowly through his semi-dry curls. Only the roots have dried, and slowly the draught moves further through his jet black strands, taking its time. Stanley places his hand over Y/N’s in his lap, their fingers intertwining seconds after. She lays a kiss on his forehead, and he closes his eyes. You can be at peace.

Y/N looks onto Eddie and Richie, both anxiously waiting for that requested first-aid kit. But they look more peaceful than ever before and Y/N thinks, they all must look that way. Richie’s arm has fallen with natural force around Eddie’s shoulders, and Eddie holds that slack hand in his own, creating a lock of security around himself. Richie’s other hand is drumming against the marbled surface of the table, and he looks at Bev and Ben across the table.

They’re talking to themselves abotu something so quietly that no one can hear them. Their foreheads are pressed together and they’re playing with each other’s hands softly, playfully. Bev’s crimson locks touch Ben’s cheek ever so softly and he closes his eyes. January embers. He opens his eyes again and looks strongly into Bev’s. My heart burns there, too.

Bill tries not to watch them too strikingly. But it’s hard, his first supposed crush and love sitting at the other end of the table with his best friend, completely in their own world, completely in love. It’s hard for his heart, to be precise. His mind knows better. You know better, Bill, you have a wife that you love and, now that you think of it, looks a lot like Bev here. And Beverly’s happy. So are the rest of your friends. You’ll go home and you’ll be happy, too. Back home with Audra, her movies, your novels and their shitty endings.

Maybe I don’t want to go home, he finds himself thinking. And he’s a bit surprised by that thought. Hmm. What does that mean? Maybe I could live in Derry, spend the rest of my days here, watching as the town, hopefully, evolves, changes. Maybe he can live with Mike now. Bill looks over at his friend. Mike’s smiling, smiling for his friends and his own self, but he’s not looking at them. Mike is probably gonna stay, isn’t he? So what’s so bad about me staying here, and with him?

Actually Bill doesn’t even wanna think about going back what’s been, for the last thirteen years, considered home. The thought of it makes him sick, for some reason. Maybe he’s not yet ready to think about it all, think about the possibility of going back to England and telling Audra they’re moving to Derry. Yeah, she is not gonna like it at all. And he’s not gonna like that she won’t like it. The thought of it makes him sick, as already said.

“Here are your menus and the kit.” The waitress has returned, and she doesn’t look shabby anymore. She lays out the menus on the table with her delicate, seemingly teenage hands, and puts the first-aid kit on the table in front of Eddie.

“Thanks so much.” Eddie speaks his thanks the loudest, and the young girl leaves again. Eddie immediately opens the red box and searches for disinfectant and bandages. He finds a bottle of Equate antiseptic and hands it to Richie, continuing his search for cotton gauze and pads, assuming he won’t find plasters as big as he needs in here.

Richie unscrews the antiseptic and lifts up Eddie’s shirt. Jeez Louise, it’s a bloodbath. Eddie’s started to bleed onto the seat. Y/N sees their desperate situation and hands the box of tissues on the windowsill to Richie. But Richie gives them to Mike, so he can help clean the wound while Richie cleans it with wipes Eddie’s found in the box.

“You’re losing a shit ton of blood, dude, you feeling okay?” Richie asks Eddie, carefully cleaning the scrape in his side. Eddie winces here and there, and even draws back when it really stings.

“I’m fine.” Eddie replies in that same non-chalant voice he’s used for the past half hour. “It’s not that much, anyway.” Richie shakes his head at that statement. They’re almost done with cleaning the skin and wound. The blood still flows, though.

“We’re going to the hospital later.” Richie states in a soft, commanding voice. Eddie doesn’t really pay mind to Richie’s words, having trouble connecting to thoughts about the next five minutes. He’s gathered some bandages from all that he could find in the kit. Then Eddie looks down at his left side and groans.

“Looks like something took a bite out of me.” He states, looking at the obvious strike in his skin and a bit further than that. There’s other layers visible already, a darker red than his skin. Muscle, that is, and he can see some blood vessels too. Oh, dear God, he’s going to faint. The blood flow is not stopping.

“Be thankful it didn’t.” Richie reminds him. Eddie takes some medical wool and gives it to Richie. He puts it, as softly as he can, directly into the wound after it’s disinfected, to hopefully stop the blood drip for at least a while. Eddie winces, and his face scrunches so much he feels tears squirting out at the corners of his eyes. That is not a nice feeling at all.

Mike presses his hand on the wool to keep it there while Richie gets bandages from Eddie. He puts the biggest plasters at the top and bottom of the wound, securing the wool, and Mike lets go. Then Eddie adds more wool, puts tissues and bandages over it, and Richie helps him secure it all with gauze. Quite messy, but for the time until they’re in the hospital, this will have to last. Richie cleans up the blood around their make-shift work place and puts Eddie’s shirt back down. They throw the tissues in a trash can under their table—wow, they have that kind of thing here?—and lean against the sofa, both tired, more tired than before.

“No staph infections in our lifetime.” Richie states between yawns. The ones who were there, in the back alley where the two holy words were spoken first, laugh. But Mike and Bev only share looks of confusion. Richie lays a kiss atop of Eddie’s head and embraces him back in his arms. Now they have time to look at what the menu’s offering.

Y/N opens the menu in front of her and Stanley so they can both read it at once. Stanley sighs. “I don’t have my glasses.” He mewls. The words printed on the laminated paper are blurry to him, and he realises his obstacles are either back at the hotel or lost in the over-flown sewers or the underground lair. He blinks his eyes twice, but he still can’t read anything except for Derry Diner Menu, which are much larger and in bold.

Y/N tilts her head to rest on his. “Breakfast. Pancakes - ones with caramel, ones with chocolate, ones with bacon and cheese, ones with berries and fruit, ones with ice cream…” She reads out loud. “Country breakfast - ham, eggs, fries, baked beans. Eggs Benedict, Lobster Benedict, Irish Benedict, Eggs Florentine, waffles, steak & eggs.” She sighs. “Anything strike your fancy?”

Stanley shrugs. “Keep reading.” He says, and feels his eyelids and chest heavy. Her voice is so sweet and soothing. Y/N nods.

“Breakfast burrito, mac and cheese, mac and cheese with lobster,” she widens her eyes, “chili, chicken pot pie… turkey, roast beef sandwhiches… sea food, side orders…” she flips through the menu, which requires to move the arm that’s around Stanley. And she finds that his body is limp against hers. She worriedly looks down.

His breath passes through his slightly parted lips, his eyes are closed and his face is completely relaxed. He’s asleep. Y/N almost laughs into his face, but she turns away and suppresses her giggles. Her friends look at her. “He’s fallen asleep.” She tells them in a whisper, pointing down at Stanley. They nod and most of them smile. No wonder. They feel like doing the same, and they’re actually on the verge, if they weren’t concentrating on reading the menu and hoping for coffee soon.

Y/N stops her giggling fit and looks down at the menu again. What do I want, what do I want… “What are you guys gonna order?” She asks her friends.

“Probably pancakes.” Comes from Bev, who’s decided for both her and Ben.

“Us too.” Mike informs. “Bacon?” He asks.

“Berries.” Ben responds.

“We’re gonna get that country breakfast or whatever.” Richie says. “To get proper fat, you know, grow into Eddie’s mom.” He explains further and everyone giggles, even Eddie himself.

Y/N hums. “I’ve got no idea. I want everything, but it just won’t fit.” She states and Bill chuckles. “I know what to order for Stanley, but myself…”

“Take the same and stop working your brain.” Mike suggests. Y/N looks at him.

“It’s worked enough for the past hours.” Bill supports his argument. Her eyes shift to Bill, and then she looks down at the menu again, a smile on her face now.

“I guess it’s just that easy now.” She admits and closes the menu, putting it on the table instead. Making decisions really is that easy now. She leans back into the seat, Stanley’s body moving with hers. He gets more comfortable while sleeping, his face nuzzling into her neck, tickling her a bit, and his arms going around her, securing themselves together at her waist. Y/N smiles and hugs him back, resting her cheek on his curls. She closes her eyes.

“What will you have?” Bill asks her and she opens an eye to look at him, her own eyelids feeling sort of heavy now. “Before you join him.” He whispers, smiling. She smiles back.

“Love you, Bill.” She tells him sincerely. “Eggs Benedict for us both.” She says and Bill nods. “And coffee, too. Both black, but two sugars in Stanley’s.” She’s surprised herself that she still knows how he likes his coffee, or which breakfast option he’d always choose. It’s like it’s basic knowledge now, something that’s imprinted in her mind and feels like it’s been that way since she can remember. She closes her eyes again and lets her exhaustion take over. She wants to rest, just for a little bit, just lay with Stanley for a while.

She did join him in sleeping for a while. Bill wakes her up when the food and coffees have arrive, starting to tickle her, Ben doing the same to Stanley. The two adults jolt awake, eyes wide and confused, and make their friends laugh.

“Morning, sleepyheads.” Richie nods to them with a smile. Stanley nods right back and Y/N and he both right themselves, sitting up straight. Y/N moves her hair behind her ear and Stanley flattens his shirt. They look down at the fresh food in front of them, though their vision and look on their environement is still hazy from the good-as-hell nap they just woke up from.

“Bone, apple, tit, was it?” Richie suggests as a toast for the Losers’ diner breakfast. Everyone laughs once more, but they clink their coffee cups together, repeating Richie’s ridiculous words and they laugh again, harder this time. Languages have never been Richie’s strongest side.

They all drink coffee in unison and regain some amount energy at that, then delve into their steaming breakfast which fill their noses up to the maximum with utterly irresistible aromas. Richie, like the beast he is, devours half of his plate in the first few minutes while everyone else devours their food bit by bit. But everyone is so endorsed in eating that they don’t pay mind to their friends, for the time they’re eating they even forget they’re with their friends, lest someone else entirely. Food is very good right now. Heavenly, if you might.

When they’re done, they all slump into their seats, letting out groans of content and holding their bellies. “For a diner, that was really good.” Bill says. Y/N laughs. Bill, Eddie, Stanley, Ben—cross that, all of them, except herself and Mike, have grown used to dining at fancy restaurants where it costs to even reserve a table, grown used to making great mega-dishes at home for themselves. They’ve grown used to business events with crazy dinners and a wide range of appetisers. Champagne, wine, whiskey of the highest classes. So this is entirely out of their usual menu, and Bill is, of course, taking it like a snob. Hence Y/N laughed.

She and Mike have not lived the life their friends have. Not that it’s bad lives they’ve been living upto this point, just different, way different from most of the Losers Club. Y/N hasn’t become a famous writer, architect or fashion designer, neither has Mike. So for one, their daily routine differs, and two, their eating habits differ from their friends’. Diner food may be the lowest of them all, considered so by the highest class of society, but Y/N can safely admit that she likes diner food and doesn’t mind having it once in a while. And what can Mike have in this shithole town, anyway, other than make-believe restaurant meals, takeout and diners? Neither of them mind eating here now or any other time.

“I want more.” Y/N manages to croak out, and everyone laughs. “Anyone up for a sundae split?”

“Ugh, we’re really gonna get fat.” Eddie sighs.

“Haystack’s gonna have a come-back!” Richie announces and changes his face into an excited expression. But he still makes his friends laugh, including Ben himself. His laughter rumbles deep and low like a bear’s roar.

“I’ll have a sundae split with you, Y/N/N.” Beverly says, then. Y/N smiles at her.

“Anyone up for a Diet Coke and salad?” Mike asks now, and they all laugh again. Richie joins the girls for a sundae split, and the rest agree with Mike’s offer.

“Wait, wasn’t Y/N working in a diner for a while? In, like, high school?” Eddie asks now, as they wait for the waitress, and he looks at Y/N. She looks at him, tired and full from the eggs, but nods.

“I was.” She confirms. “Not this one, though, the one in the center of town.” She leans towards the table to sit proper and rests her elbows on the surface. She crosses her arms and puts her chin on top of them. “After Bowers and Cockstetter were… out of the picture, I had the freedom to work in the skirt the diner required me to.” She recalls. Those boys were always onto her and Beverly, while they were still alive, which made it hard for them to ever wear something remotely feminine. They always got some sort of cat-calls, and groping was the worst of what would come from them. “Jesus…”

“What scumbags they were.” Beverly joins in, also leaning against the table. She moves her hair out of her face, and looks to Y/N, but Ben’s worried gaze catches her eye instead. She turns to him. He only reaches for her hand with his own. I’m here now.

“You working in a diner was the best thing, Y/N.” Richie says, putting emphasis on ‘best’. She looks at him now and smiles, remembering how stoked they all were for free food and the food that she actually made. Mostly deserts. Stanley’s arm makes its way around her waist. She leans closer to him. “I mean, the birthday parties there were amazing. Nothing could top them.”

“Wow, Rich, even college and work parties?” Mike asks, and they both chuckle.

“You bet your fur, Mikey,” Richie says, patting his friend’s shoulder. He looks reminiscent for a second, his head hangs down, and then he tries to put it into words, “you know, I think—I think because childhood, and teenage years, were the best part of my life. I mean, I’m forty now, so I’m old enough to say shit like that, you know, but… It’s true. I know that I thought it then and I know it now—those were the best parties of my life.” He admits and looks around at his friends. “Because—because I was still young, and because it was the best childhood, I think, any kid could wish for. Even counting in all the shame, the fear, and IT. And because I was with you guys.”

A silence falls upon the Losers Club. But they smile at Richie, and at each other, realising that’s true. Those were the best years of their lives, and actually, taking the horrible parts, the best childhood any child could wish for. The best friends anyone could wish for to spend that childhood and those confusing, difficult teenage years with. Without each other, they wouldn’t be the same, and they wouldn’t be as strong and as full of love and, perhaps, belief.

“You know…” Stanley starts to say, they look at him, “nothing lasts forever.” He states, shaking his head with a dreamy look in his eyes. Nothing does seem to last forever, that is true. But he has a feeling of differing in opinion with his own statement. Nothing lasts forever—the monster they thought had lived under Derry forever, eaten its kids and other residents, cast a spell on the adults and the whole air of Derry, is now dead. So that doesn’t last forever. The promise they made—it is fulfilled now, meaning it won’t last forever, either. It lasted as long as needed to unite them all again. But this… what they have…

“Except for friendship.” Y/N says, looking at him. “And love.” Yes, friendship and love. Those will last forever. The love they have for each other will outlive all their future deaths, all their future kids’ deaths, and their kids’ deaths. This love, and this bond, it will last forever. It will always be somewhere in the predicted long life of the Earth and humanity. It will fly with the wind, blossom in flowers and rosy cheeks, it will swim with the ocean and breathe with the air. Always.

“And love.” Eddie says it with Y/N in unison. They smile at each other. Love. What a wonderful thing. It might as well be a living creature, like fear was. Only much stronger.

“Desire.” Ben suggests. Beverly closes her eyes and leans her head on his shoulder. I know, Ben. But we’re here now. All the desire pent up in teenage and adult years seems much lighter now. For Beverly, Ben and for Richie and Eddie, too. And for Stanley and Y/N. All their desire towards each other has finally been released, even if the door to it is only open in a narrow slit now. Desire might as well live in all eight of them, desire for each other, desire to meet each other again, desire to have that unbreakable friendship again. Desire for that lived in their hearts all these empty years, it was unknown and mysterious, a feeling they could not guess. Now it’s known, and out in the open, nothing to hide from each other. Or anyone else, for that matter. They’re proud.

The Losers Club fall silent, but comfortably so. They’re finally in a comfortable state with themselves and each other, and with the world around them. Strange, vile and ignorant as it may be, the world is truly amazing, though, and much bigger than they all thought. Brought them together that one summer, made a bond that will last forever. They’ve got a lot to thank it for. But they’ve also got every reason to kick the world in the butt and other places.

For now, they’ll let it slide. For now, they’re only focused on being in the diner, getting desert and then showering. Most importantly, for now, they’ve got each other, safe and healthy, and that’s all they need. That will do.

“Anything else you’d like to order?”

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what-if-i-imagine · 5 years ago

Text

Promises, Hugs, and Kisses

When he first moved to Hawkins, Indiana, Lucas Sinclair wanted nothing more than to go back to the city. That is, until he met Will Byers, a timid boy who was the only resident of the town to catch his six year old interest on the first day of kindergarten. As they grow up constantly showing each other affection through hugs and kisses, Lucas builds a list of promises in his head to try and protect Will from the very cruel world they live in.

In which Lucas and Will are casually in love with each other throughout their childhood but Lucas starts cracking down through the events of sessions one and two.

Lucas Sinclair had just recently moved to Hawkins, Indiana with his parents and eight month old sister, and he hated it. His parents told him over and over that this was for the best. They would be closer to his uncle Jack, and the small town life would be good for him and Erica’s development, whatever that meant. He still hated it though, and hated everyone in it. They were all boring cookiecutter husks of people that he had seen on the sitcoms and soap operas his mom watched, everyone of them just like the ones before. There was no one interesting for his six year old brain to latch onto, leaving him in a constant state of tired boredom

Lucas had met the Wheelers briefly during the barbecue they were invited to their first week in the cul-de-sac. The Wheelers were a perfect example of literally every boring family in town.They were okay enough people, but dull and plastic. Their son, Mike, was more interesting than most people he had met in the town, but he talked far too much for Lucas’s usual liking in conversations. He couldn't find it in himself to hold enough interest in the boy or his family or his town to last him more than five minutes.

The first day of kindergarten came, and of course, he didn't know anyone and made no attempts at knowing anyone. He had overheard his father the night before expressing the same feelings as him about the town. He knew that it was only a matter of time before his parents asked him if he wanted to go back home. Back to Indianapolis. So there was no point in talking to anyone he didn't have to.

Lucas got home from school to find his mom was already getting started on dinner and his dad was still at work. When he had nothing to report of the days events, his mother sent him outside to play in the front yard so she could have some quiet time while Erica napped. He went out and tried to entertain himself, for his mother’s sake, but ended up just laying on his back on the grass, staring at the sky as his brain tried to find something in the cloud for stimulus. Even the clouds were boring here, resembling the exact shape a kid would draw for them.

Then it happened. The Wheeler’s second car, the one he always saw Mrs. Wheeler driving, pulled into the next door driveway. Mike climbed out of the side facing the Sinclair yard, but another pair off feet could be seen under the car, tattered sneakers that Lucas didn't recognize. A boy, smaller than Mike by a lot, ran around the back of the car to grab onto his arm. He looked startled and out of his element, brown bowl cut fluttering around his head as he nervously took in his surroundings. He wore a colorful sweater- something lucas could only ever imagine a girl pulling off- under a pair of obviously second hand overalls. His bowl cut was home done, unlike most kids he had seen that day, the back of it cut slightly crooked like this was his parents first time doing it. For the first time since they got here last month, Lucas felt his interest peak.

“Micheal, help me with the groceries,” he could hear Mrs. Wheeler say as she went to unlock the trunk. When the small boy tried to reach for the bags and help too, Mrs. Wheeler shooed him away. “No William. Go ahead and wait out here, Mike will come out when all the groceries are away.”

She and Mike disappeared into the house with arms full of groceries, leaving the small boy alone in the driveway. His eyes were wide, staring at the front door as if looking away would make it disappear. Anytime a loud car on the busy road leading to the cul-de-sac would pass, the boy would flinch and dig the tip of his right shoe into the pavement ready to run. After a few minutes passed without Mike reamirging from the house, Lucas decided to make his move.

“Hey you!” he yelled, causing the boy to flinch harder than he had before. He looked over like a startled animal caught at the end of a hunter’s gun. Lucas stood from the grassy lawn and waved his hand, beaconing the boy to him.

When the boy didn't move, he tried again, “You know it’s rude to ignore people! Come here!”

The boy spared one last long glance at the Wheeler’s front door before timidly making his way into the Sinclair yard, stopping at the edge of the grass. Up close, Lucas took in just how small the boy was. He looked more the size of a three year old than a five year old, every proportion seemingly too small to be right. HIs hands were as small as the rest of him with delicate fingers that had the remains of crayon stuck under his nails. On his overalls Lucas could see where paint and dirt stains had been scrubbed at futally, causing the denim to wear out without the stains being removed completely. Up close he could tell just how ill fitting the overalls were, as a clothespin was hooked under both the boy’s arms. His shoes were going to fall apart any day now, either constantly used by him or second hand like his overalls, most likely both with chalk and scuffs covering the once vibrant red surface.

“My name is Lucas Sinclair,” Lucas introduced, holding out his hand. The boy glanced up for a moment, then back down. He shook his hand, but didn't give a name in return. Lucas noted how the boy barely grabbed his hand during the shake, and how his hand trembled ever so slightly in his grip.

“I live next door to Mike,” he explained as if it weren't obvious. “I’m in kindergarten too.”

The boy nodded.

“My dad was in the air force. We move around a lot. He works as a lawyer in town now. My mom is a lawyer too, but she's staying home to take care of my baby sister Erica for now.”

Another nod.

“Don't you talk at all?”

Another nod.

“Then talk.”

“William Byers,” the boy said quietly but loud enough to be heard. Lucas could tell the boy had a naturally quiet voice, like his auntie or the girl he knew from preschool that was still carrying around his first kiss.

“What?” he said anyways, in hopes the boy would talk more. As quiet as it was, his voice was nice for the two words he spoke.

“I’m-m William Byers,” the boy looked up at him now, up though his bangs and eyelashes. Now that he was having to say more than just his name, Lucas could hear how bad the boy’s stutter was. “Th-that’s my n-n-name. My family and M-M-Mike call m-me Will.”

“Anything else Will?”

Lucas grinned at the sight of the boy, of Will, thinking so hard about his next response. His nose crinkled a little and he looked down, but only with his eyes this time. It was like speech was some grand mystery to him that he was desperately grasping at straw to figure out. He thought for a long while, nipping at his lip every so often. When he looked up again, he only seemed more nervous than before.

“M-m-my mama works at M-Melvald’s General Store in town, and m-my daddy works somewhere...I-I think,” he said meekly, shoulder raising to his ears.

“You think?”

“M-my brother says he gets f-fired a lot.”

“You have a brother?” Lucas sat down on the grass, motioning for Will to follow. When he did sit with him, still not on the grass, he drew his knees to his chest to rest his chin on them, taking up as little space as possible.

“His n-name is Jonathan. He’s f-four years older than m-me,” Will was able to look straight at Lucas when they sat like this. Part of Lucas enjoyed not having to look down, the other part missed the sight of the shorter boy having to look up. “He likes taking pictures a lot. He’s really shy, so no one ever notices him doing it.”

“Is everyone in your family quiet?” Lucas asked, leaning forward a bit. His own family was always bursting with so much noise. Even his quiet and well mannered auntie could get loud and oozing with confidence like the rest of the Sinclairs if she was given enough drinks.

“No,” Will shook his head, pulling Lucas out of his thoughts. He was picking at the crayon shavings under his nails, no longer making eye contact. “M-Mama and Daddy are really loud people. Mama likes to yell at m-men who tell her what to do, and she really likes t-talking to-to-to people. Daddy likes t-talking to people to-too, but he never yells at p-people outside t-the house.”

“So then why are you and your brother shy?”

Will shrugged, “Ma-Mama says that her and Daddy m-must have used up all of our voices be-before we were born. Daddy says I’m dre-ad-ful at talking.”

“He’s right,” Will’s face went pink and he buried it in his knees, curling in tighter on himself. Lucas felt gilt rise up in his chest, and he wanted nothing more than to make him feel better at that moment.

“Sorry,” Lucas mumbled. “That sounded mean. I didn't mean for it to sound mean.”

He waited another moment before scooting forward and nudging at Will’s shoe with his own, “Keep talking, please? I like the sound of your voice.”

Will peaked up as if to make sure he wasn't joking before uncurling just a bit. He watched Lucas for any sign of sarcasm or humor before nodding.

“M-my brother likes m-music. It’s loud. M-Mama says that's where the rest of his loudn-ness must go.”

“Where does she think the rest of yours goes?” Lucas asked, encouraging him to keep going.

“She isn't sure yet,” he bit his lip.

“Where do you think it goes?”

Will bit the corner of his lip, “I-I don't think I ever had any.”

“I’m sure you do. It’s just hiding right now,” Lucas’s grin returned. Will smiled back fully, and if Lucas was honest with himself, that smile fuled him for the rest of the week.

The sound of the Wheeler’s front door bursting opened startled them both. As Mike ran outside, both boys sprang to their feet, and Lucas could feel a sowel pulling at the corner of his lips. Mike barely even noticed Lucas’s presence, and all of Will’s attention dragged to the Wheeler boy.

“My mom said we can play in the basement if we’re careful,” Mike said when Lucas tuned in after a moment to what he was saying.

“O-okay. I’ll m-meet you down there,” Will said with a wide smile. Mike ran off back to the house, and before following, turned back too Lucas with a shyer smile.

“Talk to you later?” Lucas asked, returning the smile.

Will nodded and when Lucas thought he was going to leave, he instead stepped forward and hugged him. He felt impossibly smaller when his arms were around the taller boy, and Lucas’s heart leapt as he hugged back. Then Will was disappearing into the Wheeler’s house, and Lucas was standing alone on his lawn.

It was another week before Lucas saw Will again, never able to catch him before he went into the Wheeler house with Mike. The night he saw him again it happened because he sat outside on his lawn until it was time for Will to leave the Wheeler house.

Will didn't notice him, too focused on getting down the dark driveway without tripping to get to his mom’s car. Lucas jumped up at the sight of him and quickly ran over before he could get in the car. He simply hugged and very shocked Will tightly before running back to his own house. He did this every night from then on until late November when a topic he had all but forgotten came up at the dinner table.

“Baby, what would you think about us moving back to Indianapolis?” Lucas dropped his fork in shock, his head snapping up to face his mother and father.

“Don't look so surprised,” his father laughed.

“We can't leave,” Lucas blurted, eyes wide.

“Why not? Baby, we know how much you don't like it here. You don't have any friends like you did back in the city, wouldn't you like to go back to them?” his mother asked.

“I have a friend,” Lucas protested. His parents exchanged skeptical glances.

“Why don't you invite your friend over this weekend then?” his father suggested.

So that was how Lucas ended up running around town asking every adult who would humor him about the Byers family. He learned they were fifth generation Hawkins residents on both sides and had lived on the same property on the edge of town for two generations on Will’s mom’s side. People’s opinions varied on the family, many negative and saying they were a disgrace to the town, others singing Lonnie Byers’s praises. He got their address from a store clerk who used to work with this Lonnie guy that Lucas assumed was Will’s dad and biked down the tree enclosed road until he got to the gravel driveway. There were no cars in the driveway, but the lights of the house were on.The house itself looked about exactly how he imagined. Small, old and unkempt on the outside. When he knocked on the door it was answered by a boy who must have been the same age as Mike’s sister who he quickly registered as Jonathan. Unlike Will, his older brother’s clothes were dark and lacking in color, but still too big for him and worn in.

“Hello,” Joanthan asked more than greated. He spoke quiet like Will, but Lucas could tell he wasn't really meant to be a quiet person. He reminded him more of his cousin, the son of his quiet auntie, who was hesitant and nervous but carried a much louder voice than his mother.

“I’m Lucas Sinclair,” he shook the older boy’s hand. A bit of recognition flashed across Jonathan’s face and he looked over his shoulder and a thud sound that came from inside. Lucas tired too look around him to see what had fallen, but couldn't see anything in the living room. “Is Will home?”

“Yeah, give me a second,” the older boy mumbled, still looking over his shoulder. He ducked into the house and shouted Will’s name a few times before the pitter patter of small feet came running to the door.

“I fell,” Lucas heard Will admit to his older brother as a fond smile creeped over Jonathan’s face. Will’s brother left the doorway and Will’s tiny frame replaced him, his hair being ruffled by Jonathan as he walked away. Lucas could definitely see the family resemblance. They were both smaller than most kids their age with similar faces and home done hair cuts. The only differences Lucas could see at the moment were their different hair and eye colors.

Without a word, Lucas leaned forward and placed a kiss on Will’s forehead, like he saw his father do in the mornings to his mother when she was still barely awake. Will turned pink again, but this time it fully reached his ears.

“Since you don't understand, I’m going to tell you now,” Lucas started. “You are officially my best friend. I don't care what Mike Wheeler says, you’re mine.”

Will rapidly blinked at him, his mind visibly working a mile a second to compute what had just happened.

“My parents want you to have a sleepover at my house this weekend. This is our number,” Lucas handed Will the note card his mother had given him before he left the house. “Have your mom call my mom to work out the details.”

After that weekend their families fell into tradition. On Saturdays, when Will’s dad wasn't home, the Byers and Sinclair families would eat dinner together, switching houses every other week. Whichever house they were at for dinner, the son of the opposite family would stay the night and be dropped off or picked up before the Sinclairs went to church on Sunday.

They became so accustomed to the rhythm of things that Lucas felt like something had hit him with the speed of a bus when it was interrupted. Mrs. Byers had called and tried to cancel dinner that weekend, telling his mother that their house wasn't fit to have people over and the boys weren't feeling so good. His mother insisted though and talked to Mrs. Byers until she cracked and agreed to come to their house insead for that weekend.

When they Byers got to the house, something different and odd hung in the air. Mrs. Byers’s voice was slightly hoarse, like she had been yelling or crying a lot, and all of them looked very very tired. Will and Jonathan were usually quiet, but that night they didn't speak at all during dinner, and refused to look up from their plates. Mrs. Byers and Jonathan left to head back home, but before she walked out Mrs. Byers hugged Will tighter than Lucas had ever seen a mom hug their child, her nose scrunching up like Will’s did when he was thinking as she told him to have fun.

Will still didn't speak when they went up to Lucas’s room and flinched away anytime Lucas tried to touch him or even moved close to him. The next morning Mrs. Byers picked Will up early, and Will didn't even hug him goodbye.

Lucas spent the whole week thinking he had done something wrong, but was proved to just be paranoid the next weekend when the Byers were suddenly back to normal and Will was being a bit more affectionate than usual. Weekends like these started to happen about once a month, but it wasn't until February that Lucas learned how to navigate them. All he had to do was pretend it wasn't happening and treat Will like normal. Will would warm up little by little through the night until Lucas was able to get a few words out of him and a hug goodbye in the morning.

On March 22nd, Lucas was invited to Will’s birthday party where he first met Will’s dad. Up front, his dad seemed like a nice man. He smiled a lot and talked to the Sinclairs and like they were old friends- it turned out the Wheelers were actually old friends of his and Mrs. Byers, so his warmness to them was no surprise. Mrs. Byers seemed more tense around her husband, but at the same time loser around Mrs. Wheeler and his mother.

During present opening time Mike sat on Will’s left with Lucas on his right. Will grinned big as he opened Mike’s present to him of a full box set of the The Lord of the Rings books. He was almost bouncing from his mother’s gift of crayons, his brother’s gift of chalk and Nancy Wheeler’s gift of a sketchbook. Then came the gift from his father, and the moment it was open,all of the Byers besides his dad seemed to catch their breath and hold it as if Will had been given a bomb. It was just a baseball bat though.

“I figured hes old enough to start learning now,” Mr. Byers said from his recliner chair where he was drinking a beer. “I was six when I started.”

Mrs. Byers nodded with a very tightlipped smile that Lucas saw his mother frown at. To relieve the tension, Lucas grabbed the box he had personally wrapped and sat it in front of Will.

“Open mine next,” he said, smiling to try and make Will’s smile come back. It worked, and Will melted back into his happy state, pushing the baseball bat aside.

Lucas had gotten him a rainbow sweater that he had seen in a box of clothes his auntie had sent of her daughter’s old clothes, and decided immediately that it was perfect for Will. Will hugged the sweater close with a big grin and sparkling hazel eyes. Lucas was soon trapped in a hug, and he almost laughed when he felt that Will was trying to hug him with all his nonexistent strength.

“Okay okay,” Lucas laughed, patting his back. “The sweater isn't the only thing I got you!”

Will pulled back to look back in the box, now seeing the brand new pair of yellow sneakers that sat in the bottom with “Lucas Sinclair” written on the white toes. This made Will practically launch back into his arms, almost knocking them both over in the process. He didn't stop hugging him until Mr. Byers cleared his throat, and even then Will held his hand for the rest of the party.

The Sinclairs were the last to leave the party, and when they did Lucas placed a kiss on Will’s cheek and pulled back with a grin.

“See you Saturday,” he said, then ran off down the driveways with his parents to their car.

He was shocked when that Saturday turned out to be one of those weeks. But even though Will was silent like he always was on weeks like this, he was almost doubly as affectionate with Lucas than usual. Almost all through the night he held his hand, and there were plenty of hugs and cuddles sprinkled in when they went up to his room. At first Lucas didn't understand, and even when he saw the reason, he was still confused. When Will must have thought Lucas was looking away so he could change, Lucas saw the bruises on Will’s arms and back, Some of them were fresh, but other looked like they were starting to fade, like they had been inflicted earlier in the week.

Lucas had no clue where the bruises came from, but they caused him to make a promise to Will, even though he didn't make it out loud. When it was time for bed, Lucas had Will sleep in the bed with him instead of on the floor in a sleeping bag. He kissed Will on the head and cheek before they fell asleep, the finle though of the night night being his promise.

As long as I live, no one will ever hurt William Byers again.

Of course, everyone always saw it as Mike and Will against the world. They had the same teachers for the first three years of school, and Lucas was always in a different class. Outside of class and the Wheeler’s house though, it was Lucas and Will. Their parents found Lucas’s blatant affection for the young Byers adorable, encouraging it even as they got older, even when both Boy’s finally understood what their affection really looked like on the outside.

Will stayed just about as quiet and shy as they grew up, and Lucas stayed just about as bold and blunt. They balanced each other out, even as fumbling children who didn't know their place in the world. Will taught Lucas a lot about boundaries, and respectfulness, and how to find joy in the silence. Lucas taught Will a lot about adventure, and joy, and how to live his life outside of his own head every so often.

By third grade, he finally got the same teacher as Will. So did Mike.

Both the boys’ parents discovered that year how hot headed and possessive they could be. A few scuffles here and there, barely hidden glares, name calling and passive aggressive comments grew between them that always took place behind Will’s back. At one point when they were bother waiting with Nancy and Jonathan at a playground for Will to finish in the bathroom, a fight got so bad that the two thirteen year olds had to rip them apart. That day was when their cover was broken, as Will came out of the bathroom to see the tail end of the fight. Long story short, Lucas and Mike had a crying Will on their hands and a very pissed off Jonathan. A new truce was made between them, monitored by Nancy, to play nice and try to be friends, for Will’s sake.

Lucas’s promise evolved into something knew: As long as I live, I will never hurt William Byers again.

The truce actually brought Lucas and MIke to realize just how much they had in common, and soon it wasn't just one of them and Will. It was Will, Mike and Lucas against the world.

Despite their happiness as a trio, it was that same year that Lucas learned just how bad Will and Jonathan had it at home. He learned what the baseball bat from Will’s sixth birthday really meant to them from Jonathan. He learned what the bruises that sometimes peaked out from Will’s collar meant from his parents when they sat him down after one of those weeks, the worst one yet when Will was acting off the entire week. He learned during a late night confession from Will what those weeks actually were.

“My parents have always fought a lot,” the combination of Will’s already soft voice and whispers in the dark made it almost impossible to hear him, but Lucas managed to. “Those Saturday’s we’re acting weird, its because none of us got sleep because Mom and Dad were fighting all night.”

“Why do they fight,” Lucas risked asking.

“Because of me,” Lucas almost cut in to tell Will that couldn't be true, but Will stopped hi,. “It’s true. Jonathan says they must have been in love at some point, but he never says they act like it even before I was born. It was only after I was born that they started fighting. Dad started drinking, Mom picked up more shifts at work to pay my hospital bills, and Jonathan tried not to get in their way.”

“Hospital bills?”

“I had to be in the hospital a long time after I was born. No one says it, but I know that's why we’re in so much debt. Even if we weren't already the poorest family in town, we would have become it after I was born. Jonathan said that when I was born, Dad was working three jobs and gambling a lot to try and make up for the bills, but the gambiling only lost us more money. That's why the fights started. We were in so much debt, and Mom wanted to leave him.”

“Why didn't she?”

“It was 1971,” Will said, like it was obvious. When he saw it wasn't, he explained, “The no-fault divorse laws were passed in 1969, but in Hawkins it was still really looked down upon for a woman to divorce her husband. No lawyer would defend Mom without a lot of money as payment upfront, so she just didn't do it.”

The next night at the dinner table, Lucas asked his parents all about the no-fault laws that Will had mentioned. Then he asked about why Will was in the hospital as a baby.

“Did Will tell you about that?” his father asked.

“He mentioned that they went into debt because of it,” Lucas said. “I don't get it though. Don't babies usually go home with their moms after they’re born.”

“Most of the time, yes,” his mother nodded. “But in Will’s case, he couldn't. He was born too early. Joyce was only five months pregnant when he was born.”

“Do you know what a miscarage is?” his father asked. Lucas said he did. “Will was almost a miscarage. They had to keep him in the hospital for a few months to make sure he could live on his own before they sent him home.”

“That's scary,” Lucas said.

“It is,” his mother agreed. “But Will is healthy now, and that’s all that matters.”

Lucas agreed then went to bed.

For the next few weeks Lucas would notice Will tugging on his sleeves, and with great pain, he realized that just because he hadn't seen the bruises in a while on his best friend’s skin, didn't mean they weren't there. He took it upon himself to always make Will feel better for at least the hours he saw him, but always had to restart the process of making him feel better the next day.

His promise that he had lived by grew into a list of promises that year.

As long as I live, I will never hurt William Byers again.

As long as I live, I will never turn my back on him.

As long as I live, he will always have a friend.

As long as I live, I will always listen to him.

As long as I live, we will always be together.

As long as I live, I will always hug him at least once a day.

That last one was added when they were nine. The rain from the day before had carried into the next morning, but Lucas could care less. They Byers had missed their Saturday dinner, and every time they called Mrs. Byers said she couldn't talk right now and hung up. Lucas refused to sit and wait for Mrs. Byers to tell them what was going on, and his parents didn't stop him when he hoped onto his bike right after dinner. In fact, his mom prepared him with a backpack for the evening if he ended up staying, a letter from her to Mrs. Byers and A pan of cinnamon rolls. She pulled a rain coat onto him and had him put on a pair of rain boots, and he was on his way to the Byers’s house.

When he got there, Mrs. Byers answered the door. She had darker bags than usual under her eyes, her hair an unkept mess in a bun on the top of her head. She tried to tell him now wasn't a good time, but he wouldn't listen. He stubbornly stood there on the doorstep in the rain until she let him inside and accepted the letter and cinnamon rolls.

“He’s sick right now,” she tried to tell him. He ignored her and ran back to Will’s room, only to find she hadn't been lying to him.

Will was tucked tightly into his bed with a wet washcloth other his forehead, his nose bright red from congestion. Lucas threw caution to the wind and kicked off his shoes, laying down on the bed by his friend’s side. The movement woke him, but he made no protest against his presence.

After getting Mrs. Byers’s reluctant permission to spend the night, Lucas curled up underneath the covers with Will, wrapping him in his arms to supply body heat.

Lucas stayed with the Byers for two rainy July weeks to take care of Will so that Mrs. Byers could focus on Jonathan- who was also sick- and her job. His parents came over every few nights with their brief cases, and he started to piece together why Mr. Byers was nowhere to be seen for the full two weeks.

“My dad left,” was the first coherent thing that Will said to Lucas, confirming his suspicions. It was early in the morning, and he had just woken up, but he jumped into comforting mode right away. The day it happened, Jonathan and Will had spent the entire day building a fort in the forest that they called Castle Byers, and the rain made them sick.

That was the day Lucas Sinclair decided to add the last promise on his list, and by far the one that seemed the silliest at first glance but really meant the most. Every day, he decided, he had to give Will at least one hug. He had to give his friend some sort of comfort, some stability, some constant in the hurricane his life had become. Will took notice, and returned the gesture, hugging Lucas even when he had forgotten. It wasn't much different from how they used to be, but the hugs, the small acts of physical affection meant something very different now.

They were promises.

Promises from Lucas to always be there. Promises from Will that he would always want Lucas there, and would be there for him when he needed it.

It was them and Mike against the world. The cruel cruel world that they needed each other to survive in.

In fifth grade the three became four, happily adding the new kid, Dustin Henderson, to their party. They played D&D on weekends in the Wheeler’s basement, and made up their own adventures in the edge of the forest between the end of the school day and dinner. They were all best friends, as improbable as that seemed. They were always together.

They built their rules of the party, Dustin’s addition being the first blood rule when he witnessed one too many fights between Mike and Lucas, the “friends don't lie” rule unsurprisingly made by Will. They lived by their rules, with Lucas living also by his promises to Will. Mike acted as a sort of leader, even though they liked to say they were a democracy.

They all relied on each other, and cared deeply for one another. All of their parents were quickly becoming friends too with how much they had to see each other because of their children. They were inseparable.

Things were still bad at school though. They loved their classes, and most of their teachers, and the AV club was their sanctuary, but their party was frequently bullied. Will was bullied the heaviest, the only one the bullies dared to get physical with. The boy that had brought the group together was a constant target, even on days when the others were left alone. He never told them how bad things got with the bullies, but every time one of them did, Mike and Lucas would both end up in the principal's office.

They were still happy though. They were a team.

And then November 6th, 1983 rolled around. They said goodbye for the evening after a ten hour long campaign. His mom was standing on the porch of their house, impatiently tapping her foot as he talked to his friends outside the Wheeler’s house. He hugged Will tightly for the third time that night, an odd feeling in his gut trying to tell him something bad was coming. When they pulled back, Lucas debated kissing Will’s cheek. He hadn't done it in a few years, now knowing the real implications of a kiss, but with Will’s tired, life filled hazel eyes staring up at him like that, it was hard not to. Especially knowing the real implications of a kiss.

He didn't do it though. He just waved goodbye and watched from his bedroom window as Dustin and Will peddled down the road.

He realized the next day that he should have done it.

The search started to find Will, everyone believing he had just gotten lost, but by the third day a body was fished out of the quarry right before his eyes and all hope was lost.

He didn't let himself react in front of his two remaining friends and the weird girl they had let in, but as soon as he was home, he fell into his mother and father’s arms and cried for an hour. They were crying too, and his mother had full intentions of going to see Ms. Joyce before seeing the wreck her son was over it. He didn't actually stop crying the entire night, but after the first hour, he did manage to stop the sobs and head to his bedroom. Erica was eight at the time, but she was still young enough in her own mind to be showing him how much she cared. She hugged him and fell asleep in the same bed, not minding her hair being wet by his tears as he cried himself to sleep.

Then Will was alive. He heard his voice over the radio in the AV club with the others, and Will was alive.

“Mom, Mom! --- It’s like home but it’s so dark- it’s so dark and empty and it’s cold---”

He had never heard Will so scared before in their lives, he had never heard him screaming and crying like that, even after all the things Lonnie Byers had done to him. Hearing it made something in his chest snap, and right away he got on a mission where nothing could distract him. He had to find Will and bring him home, even if he lost his other friends in the process.

Seeing Chief Hopper and Ms. Joyce walking into the hospital was the only relife he got from the terror of that night’s events. Will was in Hop’s arms, still wet and covered in the slime of the Upside Down, his skin just as pale as that of the body pulled out of the quarry. Despite how awful he looked, the irregular rise and fall of his chest through choking coughs was the most beautiful sight in the world to Lucas, because Will was breathing. Unconscious, and broken, but still breathing.

When Will woke up, Lucas ran into the hospital room with Mike and Dustin. For a moment, he forgot they were in a hospital all together. He threw his arms around his friend’s neck at the same time the Mike latched onto him. The feeling of Will being under his arms again almost sent him back into the same crying fit from a few nights before, but Dustin pushing him away to get his own hug in grounded him.

It was impossible to get a moment alone with Will for a long time after that, even when his mother hesitantly let him go back to school. He was constantly surrounded by people, be it his mom, Jonathan and Hop or the party or other adults. They couldn't have their sleepovers on Saturdays anymore. Lucas didn't care though, in fact it made him feel much more secure to know Will was never out of someone’s sight, even if it meant giving up seeing Will after dark. Whenever possible, Will never left his sight, and that made up for something.

Dr. Owens took over Hawkins Lab, and became Will’s doctor for the next year. Every other week, Will would go quiet for a whole day like he used to after his mom and dad got in a fight, and his mom would pick him up early from school to take him to his appointment. He never told them about the visits to the lab, and he very rarely let that week in November slip into conversation. During the times when people would insist talking about it, Will’s eyes would glaze over and Lucas would feel his heart break a little from the expression.

They thought things were getting better. Will had episodes here and there, and would sometimes have to talk to Lucas over the Super-Coms all night when the nightmares got too bad, but they thought he was starting to get better. He was smiling like his old self again, back to his normal amount of quietness instead of the trauma induced silence. When school started up again in September, they realized the exact opposite was happening. The episodes started to happen more and more often, and Lucas found himself drinking a little too much coffee every week to keep himself awake after those long nights up. But Will wasn't acting different on the surface, he was acting like he was getting better when they could now all see he wasn't. As soon as he realized how tired Lucas was, he stopped calling after nightmares, and he played off episodes as him spacing out.

Then Mad Max showed up, and Lucas finally had something, someone, to get his mind off of the whole situation. He felt guilty, and he knew Dustin did too, but they both desperately needed a break and found it in the interesting new girl from California. But even this new possible friend couldn't distract him completely, Mike made sure of that. Even with Mike’s annoyance though, Will seemed to be amused by Lucas and Dustin’s fascination with the red head and somewhat relieved they weren't fussing over him anymore.

“He’s quiet today,” Mike commented as they peaked around the corner of the school building at Will being lead to his mom’s car.

“He’s always quiet,” Lucas sighed. Whatever was said in response, he tuned it out, because he knew whatever Mike had to say, he had already thought.

Before Will could get in the car, Lucas ran over and pushed through the crowd. He grabbed his wrist to stop him from getting in the car. Will didn't even have to look up to know who it was. Lucas knew Will could recognize his touch quicker than he could recognize his own name. Just like Luas could recognize his touch quicker than he could recognize his own name.

“You’d tell me if it got worse, right?” Lucas asked in a careful whisper.

Will looked up at him, eyes as gentle and kind as ever. He didn't smile, but that was to be expected on an appointment day. He did, however, pull his arms up a bit so that Lucas was now holding his hand. Will squeezed the tips of his fingers, and in the blink of an eye, pushed himself onto his toes to kiss Lucas’s cheek.

“Go have fun, okay?” Will whispered. Giving his hand one last squeeze before letting go and getting into his mom’s car. Lucas watched them pull out of the parking lot, his heart beating in his ears.

So this was how Will felt when Lucas did that.

If he thought seeing Will’s fake dead body, and his real dying body were scary experiences, then this sight of his best friend was absolutely terrifying.

It had only been two days since he last saw Will in a temporary catatonic state on the field outside their school. Max finally believed him about the events of the years prior, Steve had become their babysitter, and Jonathan and Nancy had reappeared from their missing state. Things should have been easier now, they had help now. But the moment they pulled into the Byers’s driveway, Mike made them all aware of what exactly had transpired since Will’s last episode in the field, and now nothing was easy at all.

At first, Lucas felt just how Max must have when he sat her down in the back room of the arcade. The information made sense, it fit, but he couldn't believe it. Will Byers, his Will Byers, had been burned alive twice, had a seizure, gradually forgot everything he knew and led dozens of men to their deaths. Mike explained how Will’s behavior changed over the two nights, how at first they thought this could be a good thing they could use to their advantage, but they soon realized it had infected and taken over Will completely. The Mind Flayer was what Dustin named it.

Lucas listened in a disbelieving shock as Mike described in detail how they figured out Will was gone. How the Mind Flayer had to guess who Joyce was, proving that Mike was right and Will wasn't there anymore. How Will thrashed against Mike and the hospital bed, screaming over and over again that he was lying while Joyce administered the same tranquilizer they used when Will was burned alive. He tried to push the images out of his mind, but the scene forcibly danced behind his eyelids in something more horrific than any scary movie he had ever seen.

He waited outside the room with everyone else while they woke Will up. His stomach lurched when the screaming and thrashing came through the walls, and his brain refused to register it as Will’s voice. When the screaming went quiet, he peeked through the peephole at the makeshift room.

Will was tied to the chair, slumped forward slightly. The bright lights that shone directly onto his face bleached out his skin. His eyes were wide, and even from the distance, Lucas could see how the irises were a dark reddish brown instead of the hazel he always found so endearing. He could sense it, just as Ms. Joyce, Jonathan, Mike and Hop must, that Will wasn't completely gone. He was still in there, and Lucas had to cover his mouth at the thought that Will was trapped in his own mind, seeing, hearing and feeling everything without being able to do anything about it.

“Let me go,” the Mind Flayer croaked out with Will’s voice after the stories that were trying to jog his memories came to a stop.

Lucas couldn't stand it anymore. He gently knocked on the door to the makeshift room, and Hop carefully let him in. Will didn't look up when he walked close, eyes that weren't his own fixed in the distance on nothing in particular. With a hand on his friend’s shoulder, Lucas took Mike’s place crouched beside Will. He was told by Hopper not to touch him, to keep a distance, but it was so hard when Will was right there. Jonathan gave a small nod, eyes deep in that now signature Byers’s Exhaustion, and Lucas took a deep breath.

“I should have stayed with you and let Max check my wing of the school,” Lucas said in a breath. “Maybe if I did, it wouldn't have gotten you. If I had you spend the night with me last year, maybe the Demogorgon wouldn't have got you. But I’m staying with you now. You’re staying with me, and nothing else is getting you. I don't have a memory to share like everyone else, there are too many to pick from and none of them would be good enough right now. All I have is being here”

Will didn't react in any way, but Ms. Joyce’s pat on his shoulder reassured him to continue.

What Lucas did next almost sent the other in the room into a panic. Hop and Jonathan reached for him. Joyce yelped his name. Mike flinched back. None of their actions stopped him though as he leaned forward and placed his hand on the back of the chair to steady himself.

Hugging had always been Will’s “love language”, as his mother called it. He expressed so many emotions and thoughts through every hug, every pressing of chests together and arms tucked around each other’s backs. While he participated in the love language and made one of his promises based around it, Lucas’s personal love language he had gotten from his parents. Kisses. Kisses to the head, or temple, or cheek, or top of the head. Sometimes kisses were peppered into hugs by being placed on shoulders, ears and the nape of the neck. He had sprinkled in these kisses over the years, and now seemed to be the perfect time for one.

His lips lingered on Will’s cheek longer than they ever had before. The kiss moved to between the smaller boy’s cheek bone and eye, then to his temple, then back to his cheek. He reached up and placed a hand on Will’s other cheek to hold him closer. His skin was so cold under Lucas’s palm and lips, but he took it in stride and continued the kiss. He pushed everything that had been growing in him over the years into the kiss, wishing for a flash of a moment that he could kiss Will on the lips. That would be wrong at the moment, he knew, so the thought left just as fast as it had come. When he went in for that kiss, that special one, he wanted Will to be able to stop him, or return it, or take it at his own pace.

Lucas finally pulled back and he was astonished at his self control when he didn't jump back. Will turned his head and stared Lucas in the eyes like he was truly seeing him, truly knowing him. At some point his other hand had cupped the cheek he had just kissed so that he was holding Will’s face completely in his hands, allowing him to stare right back.

The tapping started, and Lucas couldn't help but smile. He had gotten through. Together, they had all broken down the barriers the Mind Flayer put up and got though, and his kiss had been what sealed the deal.

Before leaving to help with translating the message Will was tapping out to them, Lucas placed another long kiss on Will’s forehead. As he walked out the others continued telling stories to keep Will there as long as they could. In the end, before the phone rang and gave away their location, they got two full words scribbled on the paper.

“Close gate.”

The plan was risky and terrifying, even with El back and Will’s instruction of how to put an end to it all. They all knew that one second of miscalculation and all of Hawkins would be dead, or Will would be dead with the Demodogs.

Lucas refused to think about the pain Will was in at that very moment and focused on the mission in front of him. They were going to win, they had to. And when they did, they would have El back, and Max and Steve as their new, real friends. The best part he kept tucked away in his heart, right under his shirt like a secret of his own. As they burned the heart of the underground system, surely only causing Will more pain, Lucas revised his promises.

As long as we live, no one and nothing will hurt William Byers again without my avenging it. (I'm not a kid anymore, I know I can't stop things from hurting him, but I can make sure they think twice before doing it again).

As long as we live, I will never turn my back on him.

As long as we live, he will always have me. (I think I count as more than a friend now. Plus “a friend” is too vague).

As long as we live, I will always be there for him. (He’s never been good with words, so there might not always be something to listen to, but I will always be there in any way he needs me just like he's always done for me).

As long as we live, we will always be together.

As long as we live, I will always kiss him at least once a day (with his permission of course).

They got back to the Byers’s house after Ms. Joyce but before Hop, so they considered that somewhat of a win. The second they were through the door though, Ms. Joyce, Jonathan and Nancy were bombarding them with questions on Billy’s unconscious body on the floor and the Demodog in the freezer.

Ms. Joyce paused her lecturing of the others to tell Lucas Will was in the bath at the moment and would be sleeping in her room -the only room untouched by the mess. Lucas nodded and paused for a moment to hug her tightly. He waited outside the bathroom, leaning on the wall and listening for any possible sounds of distress from inside. None came, and by the end of the hour he could hear as the bath started to drain. Sounds of Will’s stumbling and grabbing onto different surfaces for support came. The after effects of heat exhaustion, the thrashing and the tranquilizers was sure to be the cause of the stumbing, but Lucas still stayed on guard just in case.

The lock to the bathroom clicked, and the door opened with a creak, queuing Lucas to look up from where he had been picking dirt from under his nails. At first Will didn't look up, not noticing that there was someone else in the hallway with him. He was holding himself up successfully, but it required him pressing his entire body weight on the handle of the bathroom door, and his head was dipped like he was still struggling to find balance. Slowly, Lucas took hold of Will’s shoulder to help him stand fully, and Will looked up.

Lucas’s breath caught in joy when he realized he was looking into hazel eyes and a timid expression. Then his breath caught in fear when Will swayed and fell forward into his arms. Lucas caught him, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest. Jonathan had warned him of the spot where a hot poker was jabbed into Will’s left side, and he was extra careful not to touch it as he lifted him up.

“I can walk,” Will tried to protest, voice scratchy, hoarse and quiet.

“Not without falling over,” Lucas mumbled back. “You’re too skinny, you know that? I shouldn't be able to pick you up so easily.”

“Maybe you’re just strong,” Will shrugged then clenched his teeth. The movement had tugged at the gauze wrapped over his burn, but besides the tightness of his jaw he didn't show any other signs of how the movement had hurt.

Lucas gave him a disbelieving glance and carried him to his mom’s bedroom as if it were routine, which it wasn't. Lucas crawled under the fluffy comforter with Will still in his arms. He didn't let go, not for a second.

“Thank you,” Will whistered against his shoulder after a few minutes of silence. Lucas pulled him impossibly closer as a response, running his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” Will’s voice came out a croak that Lucas quickly hushed. He shook his head against Lucas’s shoulder but made no attempts at apologizing again. His hands were gripping the front of Lucas’s shirt so tightly that the fabric pulled slightly at his back, and his forehead was pressed tightly into the crook of his neck. They fit together so easily like this, making Lucas more sure than ever that this was how it was meant to be. It was meant to be them.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Lucas asked. Will nodded. “I need you so much, and it scares me.”

Will tried to look up at him, but Lucas gently kept him in place by curling his fingers in his hair. He took a deep breath, waiting a few heart beats before continuing, “I think I’ve known from the start that I need you, but it only started to scare me last year. When you were there, in that place, I realized how badly I need you and it was terrifying because we thought you were dead, then when we knew you were alive we also knew you could die at any moment. I promised myself a long time ago that I would be with you as long as I lived, because it never occured to me that I could lose you like that. Then today, when I saw you in that chair, I almost lost it. You were right in front of me, and you were right there, but you were gone too.”

“You helped get me back,” Will whispered, pressing his head closer.

“Because I couldn't stand the idea of losing you again,” Lucas almost laughed. “I can't lose you again. I need you here with me.”

“I need you too,” all of Lucas’s tensed muscles relaxed at the affirmation that he wasn't the only one. He kissed the top of Will’s head, and finally let Will look up at him. Hazel filled his vision, and he wanted nothing more than to see only that hazel for the rest of his life.

Lucas leaned forward, stopping just a centimeter from Will’s lips to allow Will to close the gap or pull back. Will closed the gap.

This kiss was short and chaste, and before he could take in WIll’s reaction his head was back on his shoulder, but a phantom warmth lingered. He hugged Will just a bit tighter and closed his eyes, letting himself drift off the moment Will’s breathing evened into the pattern of sleep.

#byclair #will byers #lucas sinclair #stranger things #stranger things 2

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