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ijustwant2write · 4 years ago

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The Miracle Question-Bucky Barnes x Reader

(GIF credit to @sebastianruinedme)

Summary: When Bucky doesn’t tell (Y/N) that he missed his appointment, nearly getting into trouble with the government, she becomes furious and upset with him. She demands to have a session with him, wondering if their relationship is as stable as they thought it was, and if it’s actually making Bucky worse. To add to her anger, the new ‘Captain America’ decides to step in.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader (platonic), John Walker x Reader (acquaintances), Lemar Hoskins x Reader (acquaintances)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Mentions of therapy, arguing, slight violence, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Why would he do something like this and not tell me? He was doing so well with his appointments, and although I knew he wasn't enjoying them, at least he was going so he could get them over and done with. We hardly spoke of them, he was never the one to bring up the topic, it was always me; I just wanted to know how he was doing, I cared for him so much, and it was hurting me to think he wasn't able to open up.

"Sam." I got his attention as I briskly walked into the police station.

"Hey," he could see I was upset, immediately using a calmer tone,"he's alright. His therapist is here, she's got everything sorted."

"But why did it take me watching a video on twitter of my boyfriend being arrested to know about this?"

No one had called. Surely I was one of his emergency contacts? And if I (bizarrely) wasn't, why hadn't Sam called me?

Sam sighed."He didn't want you to know. He missed an appointment he had to go to and-"

"Didn't want me to know?!" I raised my voice, not caring if I grabbed the attention of anyone around us.

Sam held up his hands, trying to quieten me."Look, I'm not getting involved with your personal matters. That's up to you two. Just keep your voice down, we are in a police station."

I scoffed in disbelief."Why didn't he want me to know? He knew I would be angry, but I would never argue about it with him, or make him feel bad about it. I would support him."

"I know you wouldn't, and so does he. Bucky is still getting used to opening up, even with you. He just doesn't want to hurt you."

“Sam,” an older woman interrupted us,“I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Doctor Raynor, I’m James’ therapist.”

They shook hands.“It’s so nice to meet you.”

Raynor put her attention on me, also shaking my hand.“You must be (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the girlfriend. I’ve also heard a lot about you.”

“You have? Oh, didn’t think he would talk about me that much.”

“Thank you for getting him out.” Sam quickly interjected.

“Oh, that was not me.”

“Christina!” another voice called out.

We all turned to see who called, and I almost rolled my eyes when I saw who it was. John Walker, the new ‘Captain America’, was headed our way, almost swaggering. People immediately wanted pictures which he agreed to, and although I know Steve might have done the same in some cases, it wouldn’t be a priority for him, nor would he look like was was enjoying it. Although I didn’t want to judge others before knowing them, America had given the title to some random man, forgetting that Steve was not only a hero, but a friend and family to people like us.

“It’s great to see you again.” Walker said as he shook someone’s hand.

“You gotta be kidding me, you know him?” Sam mumbled.

“Yeah, we did some field ops back in the day.”

“Heard you were working with Bucky so I thought I would step in.” he said as he approached.“Bucky’s not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer.”

“We haven’t finished our work. Who’s authorised this?”

“Um...” he smiled as he gestured to himself.

Who was he to come in here and change everything? Bucky was doing well in his therapy sessions...or at least I assumed he was, we never spoke about it. And I hated the way he called him ‘Bucky’; only close ones were allowed to call him that.

A loud buzzer sounded throughout the station, and I whipped my head around, relieved to see Bucky walking out with two police officers. I no longer listened to Walker, running towards my boyfriend. He easily caught me as I threw my arms around him, not caring that the policemen escorting him out were watching.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, seeming both worried and annoyed.

“Bucky, you got arrested! I had to come see you, make sure you’re OK. Why didn’t you get someone to call me? Also, why did you miss your session anyway?”

“It’s a long story. And it’s not worth telling.”

“What are you talking about?”

Bucky’s eye line was now on Walker as he shouted over his shoulder,“I’ll be outside.”

Before I could say anything else, Dr. Raynor spoke,“James, condition of your release, session now. You too, Sam and (Y/N).”

“That’s OK. I’ll be out here with-”

She interrupted Sam.“That wasn’t a request.”

Bucky was silent as he slid away, reluctantly following the doctor. I tried holding his hand, but he was making it difficult to even grab it in the first place. My heart sank at the thought of Bucky not wanting me there, not even wanting to be comforted. When these sessions first began, he would come home and want to be held, be comforted; sometimes he asked if he could hold me, just to ensure that I was there with him, that I could feel safe in his arms. That was happening less and less now, it scared me to think he didn’t want this relationship anymore.

We were sat in an interrogation room, Dr Raynor on one side and two chairs on the other. She told Bucky and I to sit first, and that she would deal with Sam later. Nerves suddenly washed over me, petrified of what sort of answers Bucky was going to give.

“OK, so we can all sense a lot of tension in this room. And although I’m going in a slightly unprofessional route, I feel that we all need to do this to ensure you are all OK, that is my job after all. So, who wants to go first?”

She looked between me and Bucky. Part of me wanted to get the confrontation out of the way, perhaps that would make things go quicker and we would get out of here sooner. But my fear held me back.

“No volunteers? Wow, that’s surprising. Okay. We’re going to do any exercise. It’s something I use with couples when they are trying to figure out what sort of life they wanna build together. Are you familiar with the miracle question?”

I nodded.“Yes.”

“No.” Bucky answered at the same time.

“OK, it goes like this. Suppose that while you’re sleeping, a miracle occurs. When you wake up, what is something that you would like to see that would make your life better?”

Shit, that was deep. There’s a million things I could think of that I wanted with Bucky. We used to talk about it all the time. He wanted security in knowing that I wanted a life with him, and I wanted the same, hoping that one day it would happen. Glancing at him, Bucky was slouched in the chair, staring at his hands folded together on his lap. It didn’t look like he was going to be saying anything soon, so I took the first step.

“Um...” I started, unsure how to word this.“I would want to take away any suffering Bucky has gone through, so that he could have a somewhat normal life, and didn’t have to force himself through things like this. No offence doctor. That way he wouldn’t have to feel pressured into opening up and he would tell me anything that was on his mind.”

“That’s a good start.” Raynor slowly said.“And it’s a very sweet sentiment, but it’s what you want, (Y/N).”

“That is what I want. All I want is for Bucky to be happy, I love him.”

“Again, very sweet, I know you care about him very much. But let’s try looking at it a different way. You want your miracle to be that James opens up more. That he lets you into the side of his life you don’t get to see in person.”

“I...I guess.”

“You feel left out of the equation, because James won’t express how he’s feeling?”

“Yeah, when you put it like that, that’s what I want. I want my boyfriend to be able to feel like he can tell me anything, no matter how gruesome, traumatic or even little it is.”

“Right. Glad we got there in the end. OK James, your turn.”

I watched in anticipation for Bucky to speak. What if I had messed things up? What if that was the opposite of what he wanted?

“My miracle would be...not having you involved in that side of things.”

He didn’t even look at me as he spoke. He also didn’t look phased by his answer. So his miracle would be to not have me know about a huge part of his life? He was a hero for god’s sake! Why was he shutting me out? What had I done to deserve this? Had I hurt him in some way that made him feel that he couldn’t talk to me anymore?

“What? Bucky, have I done something to upset you?”

“I just think it would be easier for both of us.”

“You know I’m always here for you, right? We’ve spoke about this before, I don’t understand why you’re only expressing this now.”

Raynor tried to get us back on track.“Alright you two, I think we need to dissect this-”

“I’m sorry doctor but I would like Bucky to elaborate more on this matter, because I’m not fully understanding.”

“What’s not to understand?” he finally looked at me, but I hated this expression. It was as if I had asked the stupidest question in the world.

“Bucky, why are you being like this? You used to tell me about everything, what’s changed?”

He didn’t answer. I just scoffed, hastily grabbing my handbag and coat.

“(Y/N), please sit down.” Raynor asked.

“I can’t. I can’t sit here and wait for an explanation that I’m not going to get. Just focus on the two heroes, I’ll find out about all of this never.”

I rushed out of the room, breathing heavily as I tried not to cry, but my eyes were already watering. Ignoring looks from people in the waiting room, I couldn’t stop myself from starting to cry. Although I had every reason to be upset that my boyfriend wasn’t communicating with me anymore, I also felt slightly guilty for just storming out of there. Maybe we would have resolved it.

“Miss, you OK?”

Oh, I did not want to deal with Walker right now. He would only piss me off.

“Do you need help? We can provide assistance if you need it.”

Although I had wanted to walk away, I knew I should have, my feet were already leading me towards him. I was embarrassed that I was still crying, but I tried to block that from my mind by now. He was leaning against a police car with his friend, who’s name I hadn’t bothered learning.

“You don’t look so good, shall we get a cop to drive you home?”

“Who do you think you are?!” I snapped.

“Well, I’m Captain America-”

“No, you’re someone who thinks they’re anything close to what Steve was. He didn’t go around introducing himself as Captain America, He didn’t care about the title. I understand you’re under a lot of pressure Walker, Steve has a huge legacy to live up to. But don’t you dare come waltzing in expecting those two amazing men to immediately work alongside you like nothing has changed.”

“You got all of that out of your system?”

My eyes widened at him.“Are you serious right now?”

“Look,” his friend butted in,“we just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get mixed up in this. We’re dealing with something major here, it could effect the whole world.”

“Sorry, but who are you?”

He rolled his eyes.“Come on man, how many times? It’s Battlestar.”

My face remained emotionless.

“Lemar Hoskins? You know, the new Captain America with his-”

“I don’t think she cares.” Walker explained.

“You think I don’t know anything about trying to save the world? My friends are part of the Avengers, my boyfriend fought against Thanos. He disappeared in the Blip and I was left by myself wondering if he would ever come back. I’ve been targeted, I’ve seen aliens close up. Nothing could effect me now.”

“Well, I’m sorry you’ve had to endure that.”

“Do you two just not listen to anyone but yourselves?”

“(Y/N), listen,” Walker dared to put his hand on my shoulder,“you’re a normal citizen like us. No super powers, no hidden strength, yet here you are with a super soldier that’s over a hundred years old! I mean, do the maths here, you could have walked away from all this danger. And yet, here you are, by yourself at a police station, whilst your boyfriend cares more about his ‘job’ than making sure you’re safe.”

That was it, the last straw. I slapped his hand off of me, preparing to punch him square in the face, when someone pulled me back.

“No (Y/N)!” Sam raised his voice as he made sure to distance me away from Walker. He quickly stood in between us.

“What did you do, Walker!?” Bucky quickly stormed over.“Did you touch her?!”

Sam was desperately trying to diffuse the situation, knowing that people could be watching.“Bucky, calm down.”

“Did he do anything to you?” Bucky asked me quietly, his hands cupping my face as he looked over me.

My heart raced at the gesture, forgetting for a second that I was upset with him. I shook my head with his hands still on me, and they slid down my arms, one wrapping around my waist to keep me close to him.

“I didn’t touch her Bucky, I was just trying to....you know what, it’s not even important. Can we talk, privately?”

“(Y/N) is staying.”

Walker sighed.“Look, if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.”

“So what do you got?” Sam said.

“Well the leader’s name’s Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place.”

Lemar spoke up.“They geotagged a location, then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe.”

“We think she’s taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps.” Walker added.

“Well, there are a lot of those all over the planet since the Blip.” Bucky pointed out.

“Hundreds probably.” I said.

“So I guess you’ll have to look real hard.”

Walker smirked.“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?”

“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?”

“No, we don’t know, Bucky.” Walker was agitated.“It’s only a matter of time before we find out.”

Bucky had to push his buttons even more.“Things are really intense for you, aren’t they, Walker?”

Sam came to stand between us and Walker.“Take it easy. Look, Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kind of authorization you have to get. We’re free agents. We’re more flexible. So it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.”

Sam and Bucky turned away, Bucky guiding me with him. Walker called after us.

“A word of advice, then. Stay the hell out of my way.”

I instantly became defensive.“What the hell is that supposed to mean-”

“It’s OK.” Bucky reassured me, making sure I didn’t go back. Frustrated that Walker got the last word, I hesitantly followed my boyfriend.

“Hold up,” Sam stopped us,“I think you two need a quick chat before we delve into anything else. You both know that this is something big, we don’t know what we’re fully dealing with yet or how to fix it. Before we do all of that, you two better resolve whatever happened back there. I’ll be waiting Buck.”

We both watched Sam walk away, unsure how to start this conversation. He clearly showed that he still cared for me back there, but should I still be worried that our relationship was headed in a rocky direction?

“You OK?”

“Honestly? No, not really.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Do you realise how much you hurt me back there? I don’t want you to feel like you can’t speak to me anymore. And about me not being involved; what do you think the last years have been like? I know everything, you’ve expressed so much to me, opened up about your past. Why has that suddenly changed?”

“Because we have a chance now. The world is...relatively back to normal. I got an opportunity to make sure you’re safer, keep all of these nightmares away from you, not pass on my torture to you.”

“Bucky...what have the past years been for? Nothing needs to change. Just because things are getting back to how they used to be, it doesn’t mean we need to forget about the past. If I don’t know what’s going on with you, how can I look after you? How can I help you?”

“You shouldn’t have to do this-”

“I already made that decision when I knew I wanted to be with you. But we can’t revert back to how it was Bucky, not after all the work and effort we put in.”

“I’m sorry. I really thought I could make everything better.”

I sighed, reaching out to hold his hand.“They already were. I know whatever you’ve got yourself into is big, but I’m here for you Bucky, I always will be.”

“I’m sorry again, I’ll make sure I keep opening up to you. That’s the least you deserve.”

I went on my tip toes to kiss him, still worried despite everything he had said. Bucky was still fragile, but now he was on another mission. I wasn’t sure if it was the best thing for him, something for him to focus on. Or it could send him in a spiral, and I wouldn’t know anything about it. I had to stay close to this mission, even if it meant I was in danger. Though what would change there? I had to keep an eye on him, I had to make sure he was OK. I loved him too much to let him slip back into the dark.

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bumblesimagines · 4 years ago

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Green Thumb

Part 20

Request: Yes or No

"Time travel sounds fun until you see how cringy you used to be." You said, watching Nebula fix some things on the suit Scott had on.

"I've never been cringy." Scott said. You stayed silent in response, glancing at Rhodes. Scott blinked, scoffing softly as you giggled.

"You're great, Scott." You gave a tired smile. Bruce went to put in the red capsules.

"Hey- Hey, be careful!"

"I'm being very careful." Bruce replied.

"No, you're being very Hulky." Scott put in the capsules himself. Even if Bruce was careful, he could still crush whatever was in there without even thinking about it. It was weird seeing Bruce in Hulks body but you supposed it helped end the beef they had. Scott and Bruce went back and forth until he turned small and big in a second.

"Alright, one test run." Scott gave a sheepish smile, glancing at everyone in the room. "I'm not ready for this."

"I'm game." You turned your head, looking at Clint. You crossed your arms, a soft sigh leaving you.

"I'll do it." Clint shrugged. Scott licked his lips, looking at Bruce. Bruce gave him a small nod so Scott walked out of the room to change out of the suit. Clint followed.

"So.. He got a new tattoo." Rhodes glanced at you. You licked your lips, shrugging lightly. Rhodes sighed, leaving the room momentarily before returning with some twizzlers. He offered one to you, giving a small smile. You took it, taking a small bite from it as Clint walked into the room with the suit on. Nebula made sure everything was good with the suit.

"Clint, you're gonna feel a little discombobulated from the shift. Don't worry about it." Bruce told him.

"Wait, wait.. Let me ask you something. If we can do this, you know go back in time, why don't we just find baby Thanos and just.." Rhodes made a wrapping and squeezing motion.

"I mean, it's a solid idea. Baby Thanos was probably real ugly anyways." You said, chewing on the candy. Bruce stared at you and Rhodes in disbelief.

"First of all, that's horrible-"

"It's Thanos."

"And secondly, time doesn't work that way. Changing the past doesn't change the future."

"We go back and get the stones before Thanos gets them.. Thanos doesn't get the stones!" Scott said, shrugging. Rhodes nodded, motioning to him.

"Problem solved!"

"Bingo." Clint nodded as Nebula glanced at them, giving a small shake of her head.

"That's not how it works." She muttered.

"Anyways, who told you that?"

"Star Trek, Terminator, Time Cop, Time After Time, Wrinkle in Time, Hot Tub Time Machine-"

"So, any movie with time in the name." You said with a chuckle.

"Well, it doesn't work like that. If you travel to the past, that past becomes your future and your former present becomes your past." Bruce explained. You hummed, continuing to munch on the twizzler.

"If time travel works.. That means there's different versions of ourselves in different.. Dimensions, right? Like living things we've lived and making decisions we'll eventually make?"

"Yes, actually." Bruce nodded, glad that at least someone was getting it.

"For example, my past self might be in Sokovia fighting Ultron right now while my future self might be relaxing on a beach." Bruce said with a shrug. You hummed, nodding.

"I wonder what my future self is doing.."

"Probably getting therapy instead of napping and drinking." Rhodes muttered, glancing at you. You scoffed softly.

"You drink?" Clint questioned, brows furrowing as a frown tugged at his lips. You shifted your gaze back to the man you used to call dad and shrugged.

"Occasionally." Once the suit was good to go and Bruce had told Clint everything he needed to do, you followed the guys and Nebula to the platform Rocket had built. It was surprising how much a raccoon could built. You glanced at Thor, giving him a small nod. Bruce walked up to the controls, the others standing behind him as they watched Clint stand in the center.

"Alright, Clint.. We're going in three.. Two.." You could tell Clint was nervous, you were too. Despite everything, he had still been someone who took you in and loved you. You slowly chewed on the twizzler, gaze flickering around the platform. To Clint it could feel like hours but it would merely be seconds for you and the others. Clint suddenly appeared, falling on the ground. The helmet retracted as he panted. Natasha quickly rushed up onto the platform with you following incase he had injuries. Natasha helped him up, getting him grounded as Clint looked around.

"I saw her... I saw Lila again.." Clint panted. You stared at him, swallowing as your grip on the twizzler tightened. Clint tossed a baseball glove at Tony, nodding.

"It worked." Clint said. A sense of relief filled you along with everyone. There was a chance at getting everyone back. The team turned, heading to an office in order to talk more and come up with a game plan. You finished your twizzler, taking a seat and watching Tony pull up pictures of the stones.

"We gotta find out the when and the where." Steve said, looking over all of the stones.

"Almost everyone in this room has had at least one encounter with an infinity stone." Steve turned his attention onto everyone. You supposed Vision counted as an encounter.

"Or substitute encounter by being damn near killed by one of the stones." Tony added, shrugging as he sipped on his coffee.

"I haven't." Scott piped in. "I have no clue what the hell you're talking about."

"Regardless, we only have enough pinparticles for one trip each and these stones have been in a lot of different places throughout history." Bruce said, slowly walking around the office.

"Our history." Tony reminded him. "So, not alot of convenient spots to drop in."

"Which means we'll have to pick our targets." Clint muttered. Tony nodded, shooting him the side eye. You cocked a brow when you made eye contact with Tony. Tony simply patted your shoulder.

"Let's start with the ether. Thor, what do you know?" Steve asked, everyones' attention shifting onto the god of lighting. Thor sat in a corner, coke bottle in hand and sunglasses on.

"Is he asleep?" Natasha asked after Thor didn't answer. You stared at him. The last five years had definitely been rough for him.

"Pretty sure he's dead." Rhodes mumbled. You sighed, reaching forward and grabbing a cup of water. You made it turn ice cold before tossing it at the god. Thor jolted awake, looking down at his wet shirt.

"Thor, the reality stone. What do you know about it?" Steve asked again, watching him stand and approach the picture of the reality stone. You listened to Thors' rambling, turning to look at Tony. Scott was the only one interested in what he had to say. Tony approached him, urging him to sit.

"Alright.. Who's next?"

~~~~~~~~~~

You stared at the pictures. Three stones in New York, one in Asgard, and the other two in Morag. You looked at Steve as he approached the hologram.

"Alright, we have a plan. Six stones, three teams. One shot." Steve said. You swallowed, glancing at Rocket and Thor. You had been assigned on their team. Just in case. You stood up with the others, going off to change. You stared at the two pictures in your locker. One of the Barton family and the other of the Stark family. You headed towards the platform after changing, standing beside Thor and Rocket.

"Stay safe." Natasha said softly, giving your arm a squeeze. Steve gave a pep talk before you put your helmet on. You absolutely hated the feeling as you went through what looked like a blue tunnel. When you blinked, you were in Asgard. Thor held a finger up to his lips, passing by a room. You followed, glancing back and seeing his brother. You had never officially met Loki but he was an odd dude. You reached a hall, standing besides Thor. You listened to the women talk in the hall. You shared a look with Rocket.

"There's Jane." Thor whimpered, shaking his head. Rocket sighed.

"Alright.." Rocket hopped off the stone block, looking at you and Thor.

"You're gonna charm her, (Y/N) will be our lookout, and I'll poke her with this thing, get the stone, and we'll be gone." Rocket said, watching Thor. You gave a nod but Thor sniffled.

"I'll be right back. The wine cellar is just down here. My father used to have this huge barrel of ale." You stared at Thor, letting out a sigh as you scratched your forehead. You heard a door opening and quickly ducked besides Rocket.

"Yes, and could you also let me know when Gaia plans on visiting again?" You blinked, feeling your body freeze. You slowly stood, glancing at Thor as he slowly walked down the hall, gaze on the woman.

"Who's the fancy woman?" Rocket asked, hopping onto the stone. You swallowed, turning your head and looking at the woman.

"That's my mother..." Thor answered. Your eyes slightly widened, turning to face Thor. You opened your mouth to ask him a question.

"She dies today." Thor whispered. You shut your mouth, frowning. You licked your lips, gaze flickering around.

"How.. How does she know Gaia?" You asked softly. Thor glanced at you with furrowed brows.

"She was a friend of my mothers'." Thor answered. He looked back at where his mother had been, shaking his head.

"I can't do this." He breathed out, beginning to pant softly. You and Rocket faced him. Rocket told Thor to get closer as Thor rambled. You blinked as Rocket slapped him, almost laughing at the sight of a raccoon slapping a god.

"You think you're the only one who lost people? What do you think we're doing here? I lost the only family I ever had. Same with nature boy over here. I get you miss your mom, but she's gone. Really gone and there are plenty of people who are kind of gone. You can help them. So is it too much to ask that you brush the crumbs out of your beard, talk to the girl, and when she's not looking, suck the infinity stone and help us get our families back?" Rocket stared at him. Thor nodded, a small whimper leaving him as his eyes watered.

"Thor, calm down." You said softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "You're the god of lighting, Thor. You can do this."

"Yeah, yeah, I can." Thor nodded. You gave him a small smile, following Raccoon towards the door. You turned, hearing footsteps rushing away. You sighed.

"He's gone." You muttered. Rocket groaned softly.

"You go after him. I'll go get the stone." Rocket said, turning around and walking towards the room.

"I don't know this place." You huffed, looking at the talking raccoon. Rocket let out an exasperated sigh.

"Be my lookout." He mumbled. You walked towards the room Jane was in, watching Rocket enter. You stood infront of the doors, gaze flickering around. You had no idea what you were gonna do if somebody asked you what you were doing. You swallowed, glancing in the direction Thors' mother had gone in.

"He'll be fine." You assured yourself, speedwalking in the direction. You spotted Thor, quietly walking towards him.

"Thor-"

"Shh." He brought up a finger to his lips. Thor grabbed you, keeping you hidden behind the pillar as his mother passed by. She dismissed her girls. You and Thor peeked around the corner.

"What are you doing?" You flinched, letting out a yelp as a woman yelped as well. You turned and faced her, watching her look at Thor. Thor suddenly grabbed you, covering you with his jacket.

"You're better off leaving the sneaking to your brother." The woman said, head tilting.

"What are you wearing? Who is this?" She asked, stepping forward. You swatted Thor's arm away, clearing your throat.

"Uhm, I'm- I'm (Y/N)." You said. Rocket was gonna kill you.

"Frigga." She gave a polite smile. "What are you wearing?" Friggas' brows furrowed, looking Thor over. Frigga slowly approached her son, placing a hand on his cheek. Thor rambled slightly. Frigga smiled softly.

"You're not the Thor I know, are you?" She asked softly.

"Yes I am."

"The future hasn't been kind to you, has it?" She gently brushed some hair out of his face. You watched her, gaze softening. You could see why Thor loved his mother so much. They shared a tight hug, something Thor had desperately needed.

"Let's talk." Frigga smiled. You tuned out as Thor spoke to his mother. You walked around her room, looking over the glass. You licked your lips, looking over at them.

"How do you know Gaia?" You asked softly. Frigga turned to look you curiously.

"Like, uhm, Thor told me but I.. I wanna know more." You said, facing her. Frigga tilted her head, slowly approaching you.

"Gaia? What would you want with her?"

"She's my mother and she.. She kind of abandonded me." You shrugged lightly, letting out a small awkward laugh. Frigga hummed, gaze softening.

"Gaia's in.. It's hard to explain. She's in The Garden. She lives there and it's how she watches over her creations." Frigga explained.

"How do I get there?"

"Fairy rings. Only certain people have access to her portals." Frigga said. You nodded, keeping it in mind. Thor stood, approaching you and his mom.

"Mother, I must tell you something-"

"No, Thor." Frigga turned to face her son, pressing a finger to his lips.

"Mother-"

"Guys!" Rocket shouted, running towards you. "You were supposed to watch the door!"

"I know." You gave an apologetic smile. Rocket shook his head, showing the stone.

"I got it." He breathed out. "Oh, hey, you must be mom."

"I wish we had more time." Thor said softly. Frigga smiled gently, grabbing his hands.

"This was a gift. Now you go and be the man you were meant to be." Frigga said softly. Thor gave her a sad smile.

"I love you, mom."

"I love you." Frigga hugged Thor tightly. She pulled back and smiled. Rocket began to count but Thor stopped him. He extended his hand towards the balcony area. You and Rocket shared a look.

"W-What are we looking at?" He asked.

"It takes a second." Frigga chuckled softly. Thors hammer returned to him, making him beam. You smiled softly as the suit returned.

"Nice meeting you." You said.

"Same here." Frigga smiled, giving a small wave. The helmet came on and you went back through the nauseating blue tunnel. You grunted, shutting your eyes tightly.

"Yeah, fuck that." You muttered, rubbing your forehead. You looked around, noticing Clint fall to his knees with teary eyes.

"Where's Nat?"

~~~~~

Tags: @geek-and-proud @wolfelocksley @babyvisionisamenace @jjk-is-my-shit

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sunnysviolin · 4 years ago

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ok idk if youve been asked this before but i honestly think post-cannon sunny would try to pick back up playing the violin as a hobby. I don’t think he could bring himself to any time soon but eventually he would be able to start to play and I think he would make a hobby out of it because he genuinely loved to play pre-cannon. this could also tie into the crow omori hc because he would also start collecting sheet music. idk if sunny and hero would ever play together with hero on the piano or if he would ever perform or just keep it as a hobby and i wanna hear your thoughts

I have not been asked this before!! I’m loving it though, and this hits me in my favorite spot which is big brother Hero little brother Sunny...So while I also have a headcanon that Sunny could never really play violin again...the violinist and the writer in me cannot ignore this idea 👀👀👀 SO

Sunny goes back to high school in the fall in his new town. It’s overwhelming, and he starts only going half days with tutoring in the off. hours (Look me in the eyes and tell me this boy doesn’t have an IEP...do that)

His mom is the one who makes his schedule though, and his mom is trying her best to help him but in all the wrong ways.

So when they ask what electives Sunny might enjoy she tells them he draws and plays the violin...so they put him in Orchestra.

Sunny has a minor anxiety attack when he sees his schedule, and he doesn’t want to go. He might have made up with his friends, and he may have told the truth. He fixed his broken violin, but no this is too much. He skips Orchestra and hides in one of the bathrooms trying to breathe.

He continues to skip Orchestra while diligently attending every other class. His orchestra teacher has never even met him, and the man is worried (tm).

He had been given a one page summary of Sunny’s IEP just like all the rest of his teachers, and this avoidant behavior is a bad sign. He decides to ask Sunny’s resource room teacher to hold Sunny back for a second so he can at least talk to the boy

Sunny looks just how his teacher expects him to look- a tired pale boy who is too skinny, too small, and far too scared of him.

Sunny is nearing freaked out, forgetting all of the breathing exercises he once knew and just trying to keep himself from completely losing it. His orchestra teacher keeps a good distance, lowering himself into sitting on one of the desks and letting Sunny settle a bit before speaking. It’s just the two of them left in the room, and he asked one of the other music teachers to run the beginning of class for him

His orchestra teacher listens as Sunny explains that he didn’t actually want to play the violin (...doesn’t wanna be near a violin at all tbh...) but his mother forced him to sign up.

They reach a medium ground. Sunny will stop skipping orchestra, and his teacher will make him his assistant instead of having him play. Sunny helps to organize sheet music, tune instruments, rosin bows, and set up before class. He can sit and listen to the orchestra but he doesn’t have to participate unless he wants to.

The exposure therapy of being surrounded by others playing helps to ease Sunny into confronting his desire to play again. He eventually shyly tells his teacher that he would like to relearn, but he hasn’t played in almost five years.

Sunny’s last violin tutor had been a harsh old woman who stopped him in the middle of playing and screeched at him to correct his fingering and practice more. His new teacher starts him off slowly, and in private lessons once a week during lunch. Sunny relearns not only how to play, but how to love playing as well. He collects the sheet music that his teacher carefully writes out for him the same way he used to collect Mari’s. His new teacher writes his notes different to his sisters, but they still feel special and sacred.

He eventually joins the orchestra for real and quickly rises up to be first chair of the violins. There are some days where he feels like his violin is too heavy to pick up, but a gentle smile from his teacher and the joy of his new friends in his orchestra helps him to overcome that guilt.

He doesn’t tell his old friends that he’s started playing again. He isn’t even sure how to bring that up to them.

Once again his mom is the one to thank.

Sunny has his first concert on a freezing dark night in December. He had not wanted to play in it, nearly had another melt down, but his teacher had encouraged him to do it. he had eventually shared some of the bare bones of the story with his teacher- He had a sister he played with, she died the night of their recital.

A recital was different than a concert, there was no solo, no single light on him. If he messed up his notes, they would not be heard by all, but still Sunny felt anxiety running up and down his spine. As he sat backstage he nervously fingered the hairs of his bow, letting a plume of rosin fly out into the air. The rest of his friends sensed his nervous energy, but they just assumed it was Sunny being Sunny.

As he walked out into the too bright lights of the stage, Sunny’s mouth dried up and his mind went blank. He couldn’t remember his notes, he couldn’t even remember the right way to hold a violin. He shook hands with his teacher as was the custom of the first and the conductor.

He sat woodenly, looking out at a sea of faces as his teacher stepped up to the mic to address the crowd of friends and family. His mom had said she would be there, but he couldn’t see her.

Then he spotted a familiar face. Actually, he spotted four.

Sitting next to his mom was Hero, Kel, Aubrey, and Basil. Hero was wearing a neat jacket and dressy shirt, his hair styled in his usual way. He gave Sunny a grin when he saw Sunny noticing them. Kel sat next to his brother, waving furiously and beaming. Aubrey was elbowing Kel, rolling her eyes. Lastly was Basil, looking nervous as usual, but still there. In his hands was a dark blue pot containing a cluster of delicate white tulips.

They had all come to see him. They were there to hear him play.

Deep emotion cut through the panic, and as his teacher ended his speech, Sunny closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. Calm Down. Focus. Persist

Sunny raised up his instrument and began to play.

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fallingforyou123 · 4 years ago

Text

Cupcakes and Therapy-Meeting

A/N: I'm so sorry this is late, I had it queued up for the wrong day, but it's finally here. This is just the first part, I plan on continuing this with little blurbs after. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2.15k

Warnings: Some language, a panic attack and talks of panic attacks, falcon and the winter soldier spoilers

He woke up in a cold sweat, the last of his nightmare still fresh on his mind. For the third time that night he’d been jolted awake, the idea of sleep slowly slipping away. The sun was just starting to rise, a few rays slipping through the cracks in the blinds. He hadn’t slept through the night since his time in Wakanda. After Steve left him and the fighting stopped, there was nothing keeping his mind occupied anymore.

Slowly, he rose from his makeshift bed on the floor, every inch of his body aching from lack of sleep. He made his way over to the window, looking out at the street below. A new hobby he’d found was people watching, as creepy as it is for an ex-assassin to do, but it calmed him. It brought him back to reality when he felt like he was slipping into a dark place.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s stood there until Alpine starts rubbing up against his leg, meowing loudly. Alpine never fails to remind him just how utterly starving he is after sleeping for 22 hours a day. Bucky makes his way to the kitchen to fill his bowl, making note of all the things he’s running out of, a trip to the market after therapy becoming his plans for the day.

He throws a jacket on over his t-shirt and slips on a pair of gloves before leaving the apartment and making his way to the small coffee shop just around the corner. His routine had started consisting of coming here at ungodly hours of the morning for breakfast before making his way to his weekly therapy sessions.

He walked in and sat at his usual table, the barista on shift coming over with his usual coffee and muffin. Bucky hands her a crumpled 5 with a small smile, before grabbing a newspaper. He doesn’t really read it, he’s not one for politics before noon, but he does it to keep him occupied. It also helps to make it not look like he’s scoping the place out when he sits there for hours a day.

He sits there sipping his coffee and nibbling on his muffin, still too shaken from his nightmare to stomach much. He looks up from the newspaper every now and then to watch the people around him. Sunday mornings make the cafe crowded, couples and groups of friends line the one wall, families taking up space at the tables, and a few solos floating through.

There’s a feeling in his chest that hits him hard as he watches a mom trying to wrangle her daughter as the dad laughs. It hits again as he sees a woman curled into the side of the man beside her, giggling at something he’s whispering in her ear. His eyes shift from person to person, the ache growing strong as his breathing becomes difficult. He stands up abruptly, his knee hitting the table causing his coffee to spill, the few people around him shooting him strange looks. He rushes for the door, barely having time to apologize for bumping into someone.

The heat hits him hard when he steps outside, the feeling of being suffocated only worsening. He can’t think straight, the lack of air in his lungs making him dizzy. He turns into an alleyway, leans against the wall and tries to ground himself. A woman spots him as she walks by, coming over to check on him. She rests her hands on his arms, shaking him gently to get him to focus on her.

“Sir, sir you’ve got to breathe. In, out. Easy, easy. There you go.”

Her voice is smooth, almost melodic, and it does the trick to help calm him. Bucky attempts to follow her breathing, gasps of air slowly turning into steady breaths.

He manages to say a small “Thanks,” between breaths. The girl smiles and lingers a little longer to make sure he’s okay before heading on her way. Bucky’s stuck momentarily, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Suddenly much more tired and willing to go back to bed, he wishes he could head back home and hide for the rest of the day, but he doesn’t want to deal with what’ll happen if he doesn’t show up to therapy.

***

He keeps zoning out as his therapist talks, his mind wandering to what had happened that morning. He was no stranger to panic attacks, but they usually came after a nightmare, not sitting in a coffee shop. And the woman, no ones ever been that quick to help him, not when he looks the way he does. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, her face stuck in his mind.

“James, at least pretend to pay attention.” His therapist's voice knocked him out of his thoughts.

“I’m listening.”

“No you’re not, you’ve got that look on your face that means you’re thinking about your nightmare while telling me you’re not having any.” Her voice is calm, but he knows she’s getting annoyed with him.

“I can assure you, I’m not thinking about a nightmare. I, uh, had a panic attack this morning.” He looks away from her, the confession more than he’s ever shared.

“James, that’s normal. PTSD has a lot of symptoms.”

“No, no this was different. This wasn’t because of a memory or a nightmare. I was sitting drinking coffee, just looking around, and it hit me. I had to leave, spent a while trying to calm myself in an alley. And this woman, she came over and tried to help me. I mean, it worked, but I just, I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, you’ve got to stop downplaying these things.” She’s really starting to get annoyed now, her voice now having a slight edge to it.

Bucky can’t quite figure out what pisses him off more, knowing she’s right, or how she doesn’t sugar coat things.

“Tell me exactly how it started, what were you doing?”

He groans, not feeling up for a heart to heart at the moment.

“Listen, I told you. I was drinking coffee and looking around. People watching, I guess. Keeps me occupied.”

“Ah,” she sighs. “I think what’s happening is your minds telling you that you’re lonely. Seeing all those people being happy together, it’s something you haven’t had in a while. You need people, James.”

He doesn’t want to hear it and she knows it. It’s all he’s been told for months now. But he’s fine, really. He has weekly lunches with Yori, and Alpine is plenty of company when he’s at home.

“Listen doc, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. After everything that’s happened to you, being alone is the quietest, most personal hell. And, James, it is very hard to escape it.”

***

The market was crowded today. The mid-summer heat enticing people to spend their days in the sun. Bucky made his way through the rows of stands, stopping to grab various items he thought his fridge was lacking. This had become a weekend routine for him, spending Sunday afternoons trying to create some sort of normality in his life.

He gets distracted momentarily by the sound of a high pitched laugh, forgetting about the bag of fruit being handed to him. It’s then that he spots you, the same girl who helped him in the alley. You’ve traded your hoodie for a tank top and you’ve got a little yellow apron covering you now. There’s a basket of pastries in your hand and you’re laughing with a group of people.

That small ache in his chest makes an appearance again, thoughts racing through his mind. Bucky doesn’t believe in fate, he’s far too old and seen too many things to think it’s real. But in this moment as he watches you, the girl who took time to care for him in a dark alleyway, looking like the world belonged to her, he can’t help thinking that maybe it does exist.

He doesn't know what comes over him, but before he knows it, he’s shoving everything into his bags and heading towards the shop. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, blinded by the need to just be near her. Before he can reach you, you’ve already headed back into the building and stationed yourself behind the counter.

He walks in and is hit with the smell of fresh pastries and he’s brought back to spending weekend mornings baking with his mom and sister. You’re just finishing up with the group, turning your attention to Bucky, “Hi! Welcome to Honey, what can I get for ya?”

Bucky blinks a few times, suddenly losing every ounce of confidence he’d had. “Do you need a few more minutes? Or would you like a suggestion?”

He takes a second to compose himself before replying, “Yeah, um. A suggestion, please?”

He doesn’t understand where his shyness has come from, but you seem to find it endearing. You motion to the display case and start rambling on about each treat, “The orange zest cookies seem to be a fan favourite, personally I like the neapolitan ones the best. We’ve also got every flavour of scone you could imagine if you’re feeling more classy. And oh, this one's new, bourbon pecan nut bars, a little midday pick me up. We’ve also got some fresh sandwiches if you’re looking for lunch. Or if you’re still not sure I can do a sampler box?”

“Yea, I’ll just get one of those, and maybe a sandwich too?”

“Sure thing!”

Bucky watches you fill up a little basket for him, noticing how you add multiples of your favourites. When you head into the back for a moment, he starts figuring out how to bring up this morning without being creepy. He doesn’t want to sound like he stalked you, that would really mess up his shot with you. You finish it up with a fresh sandwich from the back and hand him a neatly wrapped basket. “Alright, is that everything?”

Bucky realizes that this is his last moment to say anything, “Yes, and no. I don’t know if you remember, but I’m the guy who you stopped to help in the alley this morning. I didn’t stalk you or anything, I swear, I was just shopping in the market when I saw you and I thought I’d come over and say thank you.” By this point he’s wishing the ground would open up and swallow him, his face turning extremely red.

“I thought it was you. Don’t worry, I’m not freaked out. It’s no big deal, I’m glad you’re okay. I know how scary panic attacks can be when you’re alone, I’ve had far too many.” You offer him some sympathy, knowing how awful these things can be.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Thank you again for the help. I’m Bucky by the way.” He reaches his hand out towards you, and when you take you swear you feel something, “Y/N, nice to meet you.” You reply with a smile.

The both of you stand there for a moment, lost in each other, only shaken out of it by the ringing of the door as someone enters. “I should go, I’m still on the clock.” You reluctantly let go of his hand.

“Can I get your number before I leave?” The question takes you by surprise, but you’re quick to put your number in his phone, and he makes a promise to call you later that night.

***

When you arrive home that evening you’ve completely forgotten about the promised phone call, too eager to make dinner and then climb into bed. You’re in the middle of cooking when your phone goes off with an unknown number on the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Bucky.”

That voice fills your ears and your heart stops for a moment. He sounds tired, the raspiness sending a warm shiver throughout your body.

“Hey, yea, how are you?”

The both of you fall into comfortable small talk. He asks you about work and you tell him about all of your favourite moments from the day. You ask him about the pastries you sent him home with and he confesses that his favorite were the oatmeal lemon cookies, they remind him of the ones his mom used to make.

You end up still on the phone with him by the time you’re curled up in bed, barely able to keep your eyes open. “You should go to bed doll, I can hear how tired you are.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

Bucky laughs, a small little chuckle, and all you want is to be able to hear that sound forever. “Why don’t you come over tomorrow after I’ve closed up the bakery and I’ll teach you to make something?”

“I’d like that. I’ll see you tomorrow doll.”

“See you tomorrow Bucky.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #marvel #marvel one shot #bucky barnes one shot #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction

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jerseydeanne · 3 years ago

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When I last sat down with Prince Harry for an honest, candid, funny and frank interview, he told me he would use his “privileged position” for “good stuff” for “as long as I can, or until I become boring, or until [Prince] George ends up becoming more interesting.”

Harry, then 31 and one of the most popular royals, seemed aware of his sell-by date. “There’s nothing worse than going through a period in your life where you’re making a massive difference and then suddenly ... you drop off. You want to make a difference but no one’s listening to you.”

Recently it has been almost impossible not to hear Harry, although the jury is out on how much people are still listening. So when he announced last week that at the age of 36 he is writing his “intimate and heartfelt” memoirs, “not as the prince I was born but as the man I have become”, it felt as if Harry thinks his greatest hits are already behind him. After settling in America, why the rush so soon after the soul-baring interview with Oprah Winfrey and a glut of other interventions?

A friend of Harry’s says that while he was still a working royal, he harboured a Prince Andrew complex of slipping down the pecking order and becoming irrelevant: “Harry has always been in such a rush to make an ‘impact’, because he thinks he has a limited shelf-life before the public want to hear more from George and his siblings and he worries that after that, he’ll turn into his uncle.”

Harry now wants to tell us about his “dedication to service” and how he’s “worn many hats over the years”, because “my hope is that in telling my story — the highs and lows, the mistakes, the lessons learnt — I can help show that no matter where we come from, we have more in common than we think.”

The privacy-obsessed prince will let us into his head for a rumoured multimillion-pound advance, with “proceeds” from sales of the book published by Penguin Random House in late 2022, the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee year, going to charity. Harry is said to have been working on a manuscript for more than a year with the American ghostwriter JR Moehringer, who worked on Andre Agassi’s memoir. Whatever is — or isn’t — in the book it is certain to outsell Meghan’s The Bench, which has shifted 6,195 copies here. Yesterday, a spokeswoman for Harry denied reports of a four-book deal, with a second book after the Queen’s death, as “factually inaccurate”, confirming “there is only one memoir planned” and “no project co-ordinated around” the monarch’s demise.

We are likely to hear Harry’s take on the very public breakdown of his parents’ marriage, the impact on his childhood and more on the devastating effects of the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, when he was 12. He has said he failed to deal with it for years, leading to a period of “total chaos” and a near “total breakdown” in his twenties. Of walking behind his mother’s coffin, Harry has said: “I don’t think any child should be asked to do that, under any circumstances.” Will the book reveal who asked him and what choice, if any, he was given?

How Harry chooses to relay the “party prince” years, when he was living it up in London nightclubs and smoking cannabis at his father’s Highgrove home, leading Charles to arrange a visit to a rehab centre, will be fascinating. Will the period be analysed retrospectively as the reeling aftermath of his mother’s tragic death? Or will there be candour about a young, privileged prince having a blast and doing what many young men in his position would have done?

“I never thought he was out of control then,” says a source who knows Harry well. “In his new Californian guise, I think he’ll tell it honestly, framed in the context of his ‘journey’ towards ‘healing’. I think there will be a lot of the old broken me versus the new fixed me who dealt with the pain, and a lot about Meghan as the woman who liberated me to deal with it all.”

A seasoned royal watcher says they are “looking forward to the Vegas chapter”, one of Harry’s most notorious escapades when he was photographed naked playing strip billiards in a Las Vegas hotel suite in 2012 shortly before being deployed to Afghanistan. “Too much army, not enough prince,” Harry later said, admitting: “I let my family down.”

Having become so outspoken on race and “unconscious bias” after meeting Meghan, the first mixed-race woman to marry into the modern royal family, what will Harry tell us he learnt after calling an Asian army colleague “our little P*** friend” while at Sandhurst military academy in 2006? The incident was widely condemned, a year after he was forced to apologise for wearing a Nazi uniform to a fancy dress party. “He’ll be smart enough to know that to gloss over those incidents would undermine the book,” says a royal source who knows him.

Harry’s account of family life will be intriguing — how the triumphant trio of William, Kate and Harry briefly became the “Fab Four” with Meghan, their fairytale wedding with the no-show by Thomas Markle, the father-in-law he has never met, William and Harry’s rift, the painful split from the royal family and their new life in America, right up to the controversy last month surrounding the naming of their new daughter, Lilibet. The Sussexes called in lawyers to dispute a BBC report that the Queen was “not asked” about the intimate nickname. “False and defamatory” said team Sussex. The BBC stood by the story. Buckingham Palace did not dispute it.

What will Harry’s version of life inside and outside the royal goldfish bowl look like? He has pledged total honesty, and is “excited for people to read a first-hand account of my life that’s accurate and wholly truthful”. But as the Queen’s statement following the bombshell Oprah interview in March pointed out, “some recollections may vary”.

In that interview, and in the mental health documentary series Harry made with Winfrey, he claimed talking about mental health with his family was off-limits. Royal life “wasn’t an environment where I was encouraged to talk about it”. His comments left some scratching their heads. After all, Harry, William and Kate championed ending the stigma around mental health for years in their hugely successful Heads Together campaign.

On the Armchair Expert podcast in May, Harry also credited “a conversation I had with my now-wife” for his decision to have therapy. Yet in another podcast in 2017, Harry said he sought professional help “three years ago” encouraged by William, who told him: “You really need to deal with this.” The inconsistencies in some of Harry’s recent recollections have been well documented, leading some to describe him as a “revisionist historian”. Harry’s rumoured ghostwriter has spoken about the importance of honesty.

There is little hope in royal circles that will happen. The Sussexes’ recent outbursts have driven once-loyal aides to despair. “I fear they may sail into the sunset now, convinced they did the right thing by speaking ‘their truth’,” says one. “Now I hope everyone shuts the f*** up.”

Charles has been portrayed as an emotionally and financially stingy parent. A source close to him says: “He has genuinely been so upset by it all. He just doesn’t recognise any of the examples or narrative.” Friends of William and Harry say William, who was forced to publicly defend his family against accusations of racism after the interview with Winfrey, “despairs” of his brother but the shock factor is wearing off.

Harry has done brilliant things in his time. Moving the dial on mental health, serving his country at war and launching the Invictus Games are just a few of his achievements. Nobody should begrudge him wanting to bang the drum there, and if he wants to bare his soul on how he has coped with undeniable adversity and tragedy in his life, fair enough. But if his book becomes the main course of a score-settling feast then he will lose many more hearts and his greatest fear will be realised — “no one is listening”.

#prince harry #prince andrew #memoir #british royal family #meghan markle

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suituuup · 4 years ago

Photo

pieces - chapter three

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca sees her again in the most unexpected place.

rated: E for drug use and sex scenes

AO3 LINK

“Bec?”

Beca hummed absentmindedly, blinking out of her daze and twisting her head in the direction of the voice.

Sarah smiled gently as she leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen. She cocked an eyebrow, giving a pointed look towards the sink. “I think the pan is clean.”

Beca glanced down, stilling her movements. She had been scrubbing that pan for probably ten minutes now, her thoughts completely consumed by Chloe and what she was supposed to do next.

Chloe clearly didn’t want to see her, and Beca wasn’t going to wait by the phone when it was clear that Chloe was far from okay. She was thinner than Beca remembered, and the look in her eye, the lack of light in those once bright blues, chilled Beca to the bone.

She looked… broken. As though her spirit had repeatedly been battered until all that was left were mere pieces of her old self.

If there were any left at all.

Beca couldn’t stand the thought of not doing anything, and she needed to come up with a plan to help Chloe without driving her into a corner and risk losing her forever.

“What’s going on?” Sarah questioned, pushing off the doorframe and padding over. She rested her hand between Beca’s shoulder blades, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “You’ve seemed off today.”

Beca released a sigh, setting the pan down into the sink and reaching for the dishtowel laying next to her on the counter to dry her hands. “I’m sorry, I’m just… worried about a friend.”

Sarah nodded slowly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sarah was unexpected, to say the least. Beca was a workaholic, and her career was too time-consuming for her to get into the whole dating thing. But Sarah, who happened to work as a barista in Beca’s favorite independent coffee shop, had somehow managed to convince Beca to go out with her. One dinner surprisingly turned into a second date, then a third, and it just like that, it had been almost a year since they officially got together.

Sarah was gentle, patient, understanding, overflowing with positivity, but most of all, incredibly kind. She reminded Beca of Chloe, sometimes. And maybe it was those similar personality traits that drew Beca to her in the first place.

They didn’t live together. Beca could feel that it was the next expected step on her girlfriend’s end, but she didn’t feel ready to commit, yet. She liked her own space, her solitude. So Sarah spent a few nights a week at Beca’s place, like tonight, and Beca was fine with that.

“Not really,” she replied, casting Sarah an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, it’s just-- complicated right now.”

“You need to stop apologizing,” Sarah murmured, her expression soft and loving. Beca let her shoulders sag, ready to apologize again. “I understand. But if you do change your mind and need to let something off your chest, I’m here.”

Beca nodded. “Thanks.”

“Are you coming to bed?”

“Not yet, I wanna get some work done, first.” She leaned in to peck Sarah’s lips. “You go ahead, I’ll join you soon.”

Walking across the living room and past the huge floor to ceiling windows looking over Central Park, Beca made her way to her home office, her happy place. She had bought the Manhattan condo two years ago, making it a requirement during her house-hunt to have a large room with plenty of light and enough space to store all her records and her music equipment. It was also where she kept her Grammys and other prizes, away from the attention as nobody really stepped into her office.

She usually popped a blues album on the record player, enjoying the soothing instrumentals while she replied to various emails, but not tonight. Tonight, she grabbed a yellow legal notepad and her headphones from her desk and curled up on the leather couch tucked in the far corner, then scrolled to her Spotify playlists until she found the one she was looking for.

she is magic

Beca couldn’t remember the last time she had listened to her Chloe playlist, one she had made back in Barden when she was hopelessly in love with her best friend. They were songs that reminded her of Chloe, or songs that Chloe liked. Or used to like, at least.

As lyrics she knew so well poured into her headphones, blocking out the rest of the world, different ones flowed out of Beca’s heart, materializing on the paper in front of her in black ink as she scribbled across the page. Lyrics about friendship, unrequited love, and regrets for listening to her brain and not her heart all these years ago.

It was pushing on two am by the time Beca called it a night. Her eyes burned, her mind felt mushy, but her soul felt a tiny bit lighter. Music had always been her therapy, and writing songs had always proved more efficient than paying a licensed professional, even though it had been years since Beca had last finished one, for lack of inspiration.

Or rather, because of the absence of her muse.

She woke up five hours later to a stiff neck and sore back, the bright sunlight pouring in from the windows lining one of her office walls drawing her from her sleep. She had meant to go to bed, before deciding to close her eyes for five minutes right on the couch.

Straightening with a groan, she grabbed her phone and turned it over, hoping to see a text from an unknown number on her screen.

Aubrey Posen [6:23am]

Any news?

Aubrey Posen [6:37am]

Should I come to New York?

Aubrey practiced family law up in Boston. She and Beca saw each other a few times a year, whenever Aubrey was in the city. Bella reunions were a bit more scarce now, with the girls being scattered all around the country. Their last one dated back to a year and a half ago, on the Fourth of July.

Beca ran a hand over her face and heaved out a sigh, swiping her thumb across the screen to unlock it.

Beca [7:16am]

No news yet. I think I’m gonna wait a few days before I head back to the club, if she doesn’t call in the meantime that is. The manager gave me serious sleazy vibes and I’m sure he could blacklist me if I’m too insistent. I don’t think there’s any need for you to come down for now. I’ll keep you posted.

Hitting send, Beca pushed to her feet and shuffled out of her office, hanging a left down the hall towards the kitchen. A note next to her coffee thermos sat on the island.

Missed you last night, but I hope you got whatever you needed done. I had to leave for my shift, you’re welcome to swing by for your second coffee of the day and your morning kiss ;) have a good day!

Sarah xx

Guilt swooped in over picking old feelings about an ex-almost over her girlfriend, and Beca let her head hang forward, releasing a grown. She was far from an expert at this relationship thing, but she cared about Sarah a lot and didn’t want to mess that up.

Beca shook off the sleepiness lingering in her bones and the stiffness in her muscles with a long, hot shower, then got ready for her day. She usually got to the office at 8 sharp, but it was already 7:54 by the time she was out the door, and her commute lasted about twenty minutes, so she wouldn’t get the chance to stop by Sarah’s workplace.

To: Sarah

I’m sorry, I got caught up in work last night and ended up falling asleep on the couch around 2. Come over tonight? I’ll cook dinner. Have a good shift.

Her morning was spent in the studio canning vocals for girl in red’s new album, a project Beca was stocked about as she was BMLJ’s most promising artist for this year’s Grammy Awards.

“That was awesome, Marie,” Beca spoke into the microphone, giving her a thumbs-up through the glass. “Let’s take a lunch break and resume in an hour?”

“Sounds good,” the younger woman agreed with a smile as she took off her headphones.

Beca headed back to her office down the hall and checked her phone for any new messages (finding none important), before shrugging on her thick winter coat and screwing her beanie over her head.

“I’ll be back in an hour, Gina!” She told her assistant on route to the elevator.

As Sarah’s workplace was just five blocks south from the label, Beca figured she would eat lunch there as she wasn’t able to stop by that morning. She stopped in the convenience store across the street from the coffee shop to buy Sarah her favorite magazine as she knew her break was coming up soon and she’d have something to read.

Beca was scanning the press stand for that specific magazine, not paying attention to the person walking into the store until they spoke.

“A pack of Marlboro, please.”

Beca would recognize that voice anywhere. Her head snapped up so fast she felt something in her neck pull, and she was rounding the stand before she even registered giving her feet the order to move. “Chloe?”

Chloe glanced over to her right and froze for a second, before fishing for a twenty in her jacket pocket and handing it to the cashier. “Are you following me or something?”

Given their last encounter, Beca wasn’t surprised by Chloe’s snark, so she gave as good as she got. “You came in after I did, so maybe I should ask you that question.”

Chloe stuffed the cigarette pack and the change into her pocket. “What do you want, Beca?”

“To talk,” she replied, softly. “One coffee, that’s it. And if you decide you really don’t want me in your life, then I won’t bother you again. I promise.”

Chloe seemed to ponder on that for a few beats. “One coffee.”

“There’s a shop right across the street.”

Taking her to the place her girlfriend worked at? Probably not the brightest idea, but she was afraid Chloe might go back on her decision if they spent too long finding someplace else.

When Chloe nodded, Beca took the lead and stepped outside, forgetting all about that magazine as she racked her brain about what she should say. Tactfulness wasn’t her greatest suit; Aubrey would be so much better at this.

They stepped inside Devocion and Beca picked a table in the corner, shrugging off her coat and draping it over the back of her chair. Chloe kept her jacket and beanie on, a bit hunched on herself as she sat down in the chair opposite Beca’s.

“Beca?”

Beca glanced towards Sarah as she approached, wearing a waist apron with the café logo on it. Her dark blonde hair was woven back in a French braid, a few strands escaping, and curiosity swirled in her green eyes as they flickered to Chloe.

Okay, in hindsight, bringing Chloe here was a terrible idea.

“Hey, um, Sarah, this is Chloe, a friend from college.” She cleared her throat. “Chloe, this is my girlfriend, Sarah.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sarah replied brightly, her smile fading a little when all Chloe offered was a distant nod. Sarah met Beca’s gaze briefly, clearing her throat. “What can I get you guys?”

“My usual. You want anything to eat, Chlo?”

The nickname rolled off her tongue so naturally, Beca didn’t even catch it.

Chloe shook her head. “Just a black coffee.”

“Coming right up.”

“Thanks,” Beca said as Sarah spun around on her heels, her focus shifting to Chloe. “So um, I wanted to apologize for the other day and putting you on the spot at the club. I just… wasn’t sure how else to talk to you.”

“I can give you some of the money back if you need it.”

Beca furrowed her brow, not having expected that. “No, no. I… it’s fine. I don’t care about money.”

Something flashed in Chloe’s eyes at that, something Beca couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Sarah came back with two coffees before she could analyze it further, setting the mugs down on the table. “Your club sandwich will be here in a few, babe.”

Beca nodded, casting her a small, appreciative smile.

Chloe straightened a bit in her seat, cradling the mug with both hands. “I’m not sure what you expect me to say or do, Beca.”

Beca licked her lips. “I was hoping we could… hang out from time to time. I’ve missed you, Chlo. So has Aubrey.”

The mention of Aubrey made Chloe lookup. “Does she live in New York, too?”

“Um no, in Boston. She’s a lawyer. But she’d come down to have coffee, or lunch, or whatever you feel like doing. In a heartbeat.”

Chloe shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

What little hope flared in the pit of Beca’s belly upon Chloe showing interest in Aubrey’s life vanished. “Why not?”

“I told you. I’m not the same person anymore. I’m-- I’m not…”

Beca tilted her head to the side. “You’re not what?” She pressed gently.

Chloe’s gaze fleeted out the window as her rather calm demeanor now radiated agitation. Her knee started bouncing and her fingers tightened around the mug, and it was as though Chloe was battling against her own thoughts.

She was itching to reach across the table to rest her hand over her wrist in a sort of grounding gesture, but something told her that would have the opposite effect.

“Chloe?” Beca attempted once more, her voice as soft as she could muster, as it seemed like Chloe was on the brink of bolting.

The tear slipping out of Chloe’s eye tore her heart into two. “I-I have to go.”

Her chair screeched as she pushed it back roughly, and she was nearly out the door by the time Beca scrambled to her feet.

It was lunch-hour rush in one of the busiest avenues in Manhattan, and Chloe had already disappeared in the crowd when she reached the exit, leaving Beca to helplessly wonder how someone like Chloe, once the epitome of sunshine, got herself trapped in so much darkness.

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pieces

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ramp-it-up · 4 years ago

Text

Fresh Squeeze, Ch. 5

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Cursing, Angsty Angst, drug and alcohol use, surprise flights, Anthony Ramos. Lots of Plot.

Word Count: 3.5 K

Plot: Linden Marshall just finished law school at Columbia University in NYC. Daveed Diggs is still creating magic with his platonic life partner Rafael Casal in the form of their Blindspotting musical, Bay Boys. Linden’s boyfriend WAS Mark Monaco, star of the superhero movie series Invincible. They were together for years, and her trauma and his addictions were toxic. She knows now that wasn’t love.

A/N: Keep in mind that this the same AU as Arrivals, with Holly Woods, but is BEFORE Rafa and Holly get together. And don’t come for me about Anthony.

Read the Previous Chapter.

===================

NYC, May 2023

Jasmine was blowing up your phone as you were trying to get dressed. You had to search for it under the pile of clothes on your bed.

You had procrastinated getting ready, trying to finish one of your applications for a summer internship at this law firm in Harlem that you were excited about.

You wanted to finally relax after finishing Columbia law in the top 10% of your class. You just wanted to relax and enjoy this weekend.

Craig, your mom and your uncle were the only ones to attend your graduation. They knew you didn’t want any fanfare, so your famous friends didn’t attend, and they had a show to do, but they’d sent you tons of well wishes.

We're coming up, get decent!

You chuckled and shook your head. Anthony usually raided the refrigerator when he came over. This time, you told him to bring his own snacks..

You slipped on what you were wearing for the night. Craig was in his room getting ready and you had volunteered his place, so you were playing hostess. You were surprised that he was so chill about it, actually.

“Pika Pika,” you said to yourself in the mirror then ran to answer the doorbell. It was almost 6 pm.

You opened the door for Cookie Monster and Big Bird. You burst out laughing. But you stopped when you saw Anthony's face. He had like five bags from Whole Foods that he was juggling in his blue arms.

"Jazzy!!!! There's my girl. Hey Ant! leave the food and your girl. We may run off together."

Anthony came in the door loaded down with bags and kissed you on the cheek.

“I love you Lindy, but fuck you man.” You punched him on the shoulder.

“Ow! Time to get this party started!”

Linden heard Jazzy’s Brooklyn accent turn into a London lilt as she started play fighting with Ant. They felt like family at this point.

=================

Ever since the launch party in January, Jasmine had pursued you as a friend persistently. You normally didn’t let anyone in because of the circumstances of your life, but Jas was oblivious to your awkwardness with normal human beings.

“Girl, you are fucking DOPE, and you are NOT gonna deny my love. I know your life has been a trip, and you don’t have to tell me all of it, but I’m not gonna let you shrivel up and be a little retiring wallflower. Life is to be lived.”

Jasmine telling you that during a Saturday brunch date in February was the key to your heart. She drew you out, and you didn’t see what value you added to her life.

But she loved you anyway. And you loved her, and of course, Anthony was part of the package.

He was beautiful, loud, talented, and reckless, but he reminded you too fucking much of Dell to be annoyed with him very long.

Your circle had certainly widened from just Craig. That was one thing for which you could thank Mark. You were working on him being a distant memory. He hadn’t lasted too long in Bay Boys, quitting soon after the musical opened in March.

Daveed’s hands and feet had ‘slipped’ one too many times during the scene when he was stomping his ass on stage. Mark cited health reasons, and publicly spiraled a bit. He was currently in rehab.

Again.

You had not heard from him and that was absolutely fine with you.

Because Jasmine was in Bay Boys and that was her life, the cast and crew became yours as well. Rafael was the type of chaotic creative genius that fascinated you; you could listen to him talk for hours.

Things with Daveed were more tricky. Ever since that awkwardness with him after the launch party, you’d kept your distance, but you hung out a lot, so you were trying to be friends.

When you and Jas and Ant and Rafa hung out and talked, Daveed was there, smiling shyly and sneaking glances at you, throwing in pearls of wisdom every so often.

He was so dope and so talented and intelligent and so freaking hot, but you were trying to get yourself together. You were convinced that night in January had been a mistake.

You needed some space. And time. Law school was no joke, and you were in therapy so entanglements was not what was up.

Daveed sensed your hesitancy and decided to stop pursuing you. But he couldn’t stop how he felt.

You were both a little wasted and keyed up the night of the launch party, and despite the way you were beautiful and intelligent and sexy as fucking hell, he was not going to press you.

Daveed was sure that you two could be something special if you would give it a chance, but he didn’t want to chase you, but he was so gone for you, that if you just nodded your head at him, he would be at your feet.

The attraction was undeniable. There was a crazy little dance you two did that everyone recognized and respected. This group seemed to know you were fragile, and that you didn’t need to be pushed too far.

But the more they persisted, the more you came out of your shell. The more you trusted, the more the old Lindy came back.

Craig noticed first soon after you started hanging with the crew when you were trying to find a place to live. He went to one showing with you and sat you down for a talk.

“Girl, I love the light in your eyes. I haven’t seen this Lindy since…well in a long time. Stay with me for as long as you want. I know you need to get through this last semester of school, you don’t need one more thing to think about. I’m proud of the work that you’re doing on yourself, Linden.”

You were grateful to Craig. His place on the Upper West Side was super convenient to Columbia, and not having to think about finding a place was so clutch. Third year was kicking your ass.

“Besides, I wouldn’t have this place if it wasn’t for…”

“Hush, I don’t want to hear that. Dell would have wanted this. I love you cuzzo.”

=================

Craig came out in a Sully onesie and immediately dragged Jasmine into a conversation about the Met Gala that had happened a few days ago.

You approached the kitchen where Ant stood, food all around him on the counter. You were whispering. He smiled a secret smile at you.

“I’m so proud of you doing this for Jasmine. It’s good for you all to get away. I’m glad that she got a little break. She deserves it all.”

Anthony had arranged for this little get together to be a surprise for Jasmine. This was going to be a kickback weekend.

The show was on a four day hiatus while the set was moved to a bigger theatre. It was a hit and was destined for a long run.

Ant’s green eyes lit up as you kept talking about Jasmine.

“Yeah, she does. And the woman of the hour deserves all the happiness in the world.” He lifted his beer to you.

They way he said that was weird and you were about to ask him what was up with that when the doorbell started ringing, you went to answer it and were stuck there for a few minutes as people started coming in.

The food and the drinks were flowing while all kinds of characters came in.

Now they also had Jack Skellingtom, and a Care Bear in the house to add to Big bird, Cookie Monster, Pikachu and Sully. It was an odd cast of characters who were jamming to 90's rap, eating chicken wings and basically tripping like only friends could do.

Then there was Toni, some tag-along chick who showed up with Rafa. She had on a plain gray onesie. What a downer.

You’d pegged her for a star fucker who only hung with Rafa because of who he and his friends were. The girl was too much in everyone's business.

"Sooooo. You and Mark ARE broken up for real for real. The tabloids say y’all are back together! I told my friend Susie you weren’t, but she wouldn't believe me."

You just smiled and didn't confirm or deny, treating Toni like the paparazzi. The girl was oblivious to your hate and just kept talking.

Daveed rescued you.

"Hey, Toni, show these folks how you can blow. They're setting up the karaoke machine over there. Show us what you're working with. Someone might hook you up with a gig."

Toni perked up and hurried over to Anthony and Craig, who were setting up the lyrics on the big screen to match the karaoke music. Some Bad Boy joints were up.

Rafa was behind them screaming, "Dylan, Dylan, Dylan!"

They were a scene. You breathed and relaxed a little.

"Don't stress. She's not coming with us to the island."

You looked up at the tall, fine Grumpy Care Bear who was nursing some of your special 18-year-old Chivas Regal that you had gotten for graduation. His beautiful smile shined out of his brown face and beneath the curls tumbling out of his hood.

“I’m not pressed. I’m chilling. You can do what you want. With who you want.”

“She’s not with me. Rafa brought her for the ride to the airport. And it’s not entirely true that I can do what I want. With who I want. Because what if who I want to do doesn’t want to do me?”

You knew what he meant. But you eyed his drink instead of looking at him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him. That was far from the truth. You didn’t want to get lost in him. And you could see that happening.

Daveed saw your wheels turning. You were over analyzing again. He’d spent three months observing you every chance he got. He felt like he knew your anxieties. So fucking smart, but here you were thinking too much.

"Hey Genuis Ass. Want some?" Daveed’s voice was softer as he grinned and offered you some of his drink. “Or, I could go make you something?” For some reason he wanted you to get loose.

"Nah, I'm good Diggs.” For some reason you needed to stay in control. You played it off by changing the subject.

“I still can’t believe y’all call me that.”

Daveed just smiled and nodded, chuckling a little. He craned his neck and looked at it, having to dodge a smack upside the head.

“That ass is genius, you know. That’s the one thing He Who Shall Not Be Named was right about. And you’re one of the smartest humans I know.”

You had to look at him then. The flecks of gold in his eyes tho. But you could tell from the slight redness that he was a little zooted. He didn’t get that way around you a lot, but you knew for the stories that he partied occasionally.

He and Rafa and that Toni chick must have pre-gamed. You remembered the last time you two were tipsy together.You cleared your throat and looked away.

“Why did you lie to that girl? She can’t sing.” You were shaking your head, scowling at Toni’s screeching from the karaoke machine.

He winked at you. D was well on his way to getting LIT.

"What? She can blow.” Daveed sipped his drink and watched her.

“She’ll suck your soul out and spit it back in your mouth." Daveed was loose. And so was his mouth. But he didn’t care.

Your mouth was hanging open at Daveed as you wondered what Daveed had done with Toni, what Daveed AND Rafa had done with Toni...

Shit, you were just going to ask.

"How do you know that she..."

"AWWWW SHEEEIIIITTT! THAT'S MY JAM! REMEMBER THIS LINDY??"

“No, I was like, negative 5..”

You raised your voice as he traveled away from you, smiling. He was not slick.

“Well you missed out being tardy to the party…”

He was backing toward the mic, knocking it out of Anthony’s hand and starting the rap. Rafa joined him, trading verses.

Now as the record spins around, you recognize this sound,

Well, it's the underground,

You know that we're down with wutchyalike

Yeah, with wutchyalike, yeah

And though we're usually on the serious tip, check it out:

Tonight we're gonna flip and trip and let it all hang out tonight,

We're gonna say what we like.

'Cause, yo, yo, we want to know how many people in the flow,

Would like to just let yourselves go

And doowutchyalike,

Yeah, well tonight's your night.

Just eat food, try not to be crude or rude,

Kill the attitude, chill the serious mood,

And doowutchyalike,

Yeah, and doowutchyalike,

Everybody doowutchyalike

Everyone was dancing and Daveed had effectively deflected your question. But you would never forget.

By 8 o’clock, Craig grabbed the mic and motioned for Jasmine to come with him. You had enjoyed some cocktails finally, and just figured they were going to duet Wind Beneath My Wings just like they always did.

You were actually moving to the music and feeling good.

"Ok guys, whew. I'm hot. Is it hot in herrrre?" Craig was fanning himself.

“Whoooo! Nelly!”

You yelled and everyone laughed.

Craig took his hood off and started to unzip his onesie. Jasmine did the same.

You kept dancing nervously, not realizing it, looking around at the others who were also disrobing. You did a double take as D’s abs came into view. What was going on?

Craig continued.

"Lindy, I just need a minute to talk, can you stop whatever it is you're doing?" He grinned at you from across the room. "You're still moving Lindy."

You blushed and stopped fidgeting.

"Ummm, Craig, what the..."

One by one people dropped their onesies, all except Toni, who had no clue what was going on. Soon, everyone was standing in Craig’s condo in their swimsuits, looking fine as hell.

You just looked around, then in your cup wondering if you were too drunk and hallucinating.

“Lindy, you’ve worked real hard, and this past few months have been crazy, so we wanted to do something special for you this weekend, for your graduation, and for your birthday, WHICH IS SUNDAY!!”

Everyone cheered as Jasmine took the mic. “You think this party is for me. Well the joke’s on you bitch, because you have been hosting your own party!”

You opened your mouth, squeaked a little, then spoke,

"But why?.. Everybody? But what..."

Daveed moved close.

"Damn, you fine," you whispered.

Your hand flew to your mouth when he smirked in response. Everyone was rolling because turns out, you didn’t whisper.

Daveed cleared his throat. "Thank you. You’re fine yaseif. Anyway, Anthony and Jasmine have a house there, and we’re flying out of JFK tonight. In about two and a half hours in fact. So we gotta get going.”

You still had only a part of a clue of what was going on. But you couldn't resist all of this.

"Okay? But... I don't have any clothes. And I don’t have a ticket..."

Craig came from the storage room off the kitchen with one of your suitcases. Others started getting their bags as well

"Everybody's shit has been in my house for a week. And girl, you know I got your information. It ain’t nothing but a thang. Your ticket is ready and waiting. Just sent it to your email.”

Your mouth dropped open and you stared at Craig as everyone pulled their onesies back up and got their bags together.

Your eyes filled with tears that you hurriedly brushed away. Craig came over and hugged you. Then every else joined in for a group hug.

"You deserve, Lindy. Let us celebrate you."

You looked like you didn't quite believe it, but you went along. You laughed, visibly deciding to go with the flow.

"I'm down!"

Toni was nearby. When the hug broke up, she started asking questions. Your patience was wearing thin.

"I don’t believe that all these people really roll like this. Y’all wild. Susie won that bet."

You just continued to look at this fool.

"But isn’t this dope? All these famous, successful men being so fearless with their love and appreciation for Black women, of all people. Who woulda thunk they didn't want white women?"

Toni just kept saying the wrong thing. It was the "of all people" for you.

You stared daggers at your houseguest. Toni caught the look.

"Wait, are you mixed?"

You narrowed your eyes and said, "Black mixed with Black."

Toni clutched her pearls.

"Oh wow. Didn't mean to offend. I just mean everyone knows Jasmine is mixed, with her dad and all, as black as can be. But her white British mom saved her from his skin tone. I mean, she has braids in now, so you can see it, but all she has to do is blow her hair straight and she can pass..."

Toni jumped when Rafa spoke. She didn't know he was there.

"Toni. Not Jas. She's the homie."

The look in his ice blue eyes could burn.

"And you are a Black woman, so you know how dope they are. Why would anyone NOT worship at your feet?"

Lindy just sipped her drink as Craig entered the chat. "Amen!"

"Maybe it is time for you to get going, honey. I might call you when I get back."

Rafa led Toni to the door as she protested.

"But I was going to take you to the air..."

"And I APPRECIATE you Black woman, but we'll get there. See you later."

Then Rafa shut the door in her face. Linden discovered she loved him eternally at that moment. She was rolling.

No one mourned Toni’s departure as arrangements were made for cars to take everyone to the airport.

"You and Daveed can ride with us, Rafa." Ant to the rescue.

"Yeah, Jasmine loves to look at my profile." Jas pinched him so hard he jumped.

“Fuck!”

Ant was screaming as he, Jasmine and Rafa went out the door.

"Peace! See you at airport security. If you get nabbed by TSA, you on your own!”

Daveed lingered. “I don’t know if all of us and our bags will fit in one car. Can I ride with you and Lindy, Craig?”

Craig smirked at Daveed, but didn’t say anything. “Of course...you good with that Lindy?”

You tried to keep it light.

“Sure.. no biggie,” you cleared your throat and headed to the bathroom to make sure you had everything you needed.

=================

By the time you got to your Uber, the traffic was horrible. It took over an hour to get to the airport. You felt both anxious about missing the flight and keyed up about sitting next to Daveed in the car.

His thigh and side pressing into yours in the dark in the back of an Uber Black brought back memories of that reckless night.

When he put his arm up on the seat behind you, “For more room,” he said, in that voice and flashing that megawatt smile, you were enveloped more into his scent and warmth. You had to control yourself not to melt into him.

Craig was sitting on his phone, sneaking glances at you and smirking the entire ride. He’d insisted that you be in the middle because you were so tiny.

The whole world was against you, you thought, as you and Daveed both stared straight ahead, both flashing back to that January night.

You were the last three people to run through the airline gate just at they were about to close it. All your friends in first class cheered when you took their seats, and Rafa popped a bottle of champagne.

"Talk about cutting it close," Ant commented as Rafa gave Daveed a high five.

Daveed looked at you. You shook your head at him. Somehow, you were sitting next to him. You just decided to let it be and have some time.

“Just make sure you don’t molest me under this blanket, Ms. Marshall,” Daveed intoned when you were settled and given amenities for the night.

The flight attendant had to tell y’all to keep quiet as the cat calls went up.

Welp, you thought. This will be the vibe the entire weekend.

You weren’t mad at it. You loved these people. And you were safe. You just smiled, settled down, and looked out of the window to watch the lights of New York fade away.

=================

Read the next chapter

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Tagging: @braidedchallah @einfachniemand @sillyteecup @commandersmiley @ohsoverykeri-blog @theselilwonders @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @id-do-it-for-free-babe

#Daveed Diggs #daveed x reader #daveed diggs x black reader #daveed diggs x ofc reader #Daveed diggs x ofc black reader #daveed diggs x you #daveed diggs imagine #daveed diggs angst #daveed diggs fluff #anthony ramos #jasmine cephas jones #Rafael Casal #Hamilfam #blindspotting #Daveed x Linden

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petri808 · 4 years ago

Text

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33-Epilogue

Neither Lucy nor Natsu sat through the closing arguments, but according to Gajeel the defense stood firmly on their case for insanity. Touka’s attorney argued that his client suffered from a disorder that should put her in a hospital for treatment, not a jail cell, and not only that, but the so-called victims in the case drove her to do what she did. It was a very risky move to blame the victims. Of course, the prosecution countered that not only did Touka not suffer from any condition but that this was a simple case of jealousy gone wrong. Natsu and Lucy were innocent victims of a selfish woman who tried to kill them. Period, and for that she should go to prison for the maximum sentence allowed.

The prosecutor implored to the jurors heartstrings. “You saw the effects that Ms. Shiromajyo caused to her victims. The tears shed on the stand and the genuine fear in Ms. Heartfilia’s testimony as she recounted the events in question. Ladies and gentlemen, this young woman stared death in the face and watched her boyfriend almost get killed by the defendant. They had to fight to survive! Ms. Heartfilia and Mr. Dragneel have experienced something that no one should ever go through.” He gestured at the timeline board facing them. “Ms. Shiromajyo stalked multiple people over the course of several years to reach her goal, intimidating people that really had nothing to do with her. Ms. Shiromajyo paid a person to kill Ms. Strauss, threatening and intimidating her. And most of all, ultimately took this whole situation into her own hands when all of her efforts didn’t work out. She is a danger to society. I urge you, the jury to give her victims the peace of mind that she’ll be off the streets in a cell getting the treatment that she needs, and the punishment she deserves.”

It was a nerve wracking time for the victims as they waited outside of the court room for the jury to deliberate. Lucy and Natsu stayed in a side room with the prosecutor along with their closest friends and family there to support them. The prosecutor assured them that they’d done their best and the odds were in their favor. But of course, it only took one hold out to cause a mistrial, and Lucy didn’t know if she could go through this again. She was already unhappy that even if convicted, Japan’s sentencing structures were not as stringent as other countries.

The jury deliberated for four hours before reaching a verdict pronouncing Touka guilty of all charges. Upon hearing the guilty decision, Lucy and Natsu slipped back into the court room to hear the final disposition.

“Rise Ms. Shiromajyo.” The judge then read the decision to the standing defendant. “You have been found guilty by this court of two counts of attempted murder that caused injury. One count of kidnapping for profit. And three counts of intimidation. Do you have any last statement to make to the court before I render sentencing?”

Touka hung her head as if resigned to her fate. “Yes...” Surprisingly, to all those in the courtroom, she apologized for her actions. “I see now how much pain I caused to everyone because I couldn’t control myself and I hope one day they’ll forgive me for it.”

But her words of contrition were too little, too late. The judge sentenced Touka to the maximum of the highest offense, which was 15 years with work, but instead of the work condition, imposed a special circumstance that Touka be ordered to undergo mandatory psychological treatment while in custody and to adhere to any treatments and medications prescribed for her own good.

“Ms. Shiromajyo,” the judge spoke directly to the woman. “You’ve apologized at the end, but I hope you truly feel that way. Based on all of the evidence presented in court, your actions were clearly towards a one-sided love affair with a man who wanted nothing to do with you, and for that you tried to punish an innocent woman who got in your way. I do not believe, and the jury agreed, that you do not suffer from a legal defense of mental defect, however you should spend the time in prison to get your mind right again, so that when you re-enter society in the future, you’ll no longer suffer from whatever emotional problems brought you here in the first place. You are very lucky that I cannot under the law sentence you to concurrent sentences for every single charge. Bailiff, take custody of the prisoner. This case is adjourned.”

As the final gavel bang echoed in the court room, Natsu and Lucy who’d made it in time to hear it all, broke down in tears and elation as the court room erupted in cheers around them. A rarity for the poised population. This case was certainly anything but common for Japan, especially because the perpetrator was a woman and journalists had kept the public up to date with its progress. A lot of people were affected by this case personally, but the fear of what Touka had done rang cold for onlookers too. For the public, the idea that someone you may know could harbor ill will and do something this heinous was a scary proposition.

While the case was now over, Lucy knew her own struggles with anxiety were not, despite the tiny relief she’d felt in hearing the words guilty. She’d made it through the trial by sheer determination, but the experience had set her back in her progress. Reliving all the worst events and being grilled by the defense had re-traumatized her. Not all the way regressed, but the nightmares were back anew, starting immediately after her recall testimony.

It wasn’t just the old memories that haunted Lucy, but a new, troubling thought brought out during that testimony. When the defense attorney tried to make her think she was just as bad as Touka, there was a point when she thought... was it true? And the more she pondered, the worst the correlation became despite her loved ones conviction that she was nothing like the woman. Because... why not? If Touka’s deluded mind really believed she was protecting what was hers, well isn’t that the same logic Lucy used to defend herself and Natsu? Then there was the rage she’d felt. Was the attorney, right? If Natsu hadn’t stopped her from beating the woman, would she have killed Touka? Did that mean she had a killer instinct too?

All the publicity surrounding the trial didn’t help one bit. Just trying to get out of the court room after the verdict had been a complete circus of cameras flashing and microphones being shoved in the couples faces wanting their opinions of the verdict. Oh, how Lucy wanted to scream in their faces! How do they think they’d feel?! Yes, it felt great to be vindicated, but 15 years for almost killing them? Where were their assurances that when Touka was released, she wouldn’t pick right back up where she’d left off and hunt them down?

All these irrational thoughts fueling the new regression were different from before. Lucy didn’t feel as anxious. She was a little depressed, but now she was also— angry.

When she arrived at her therapy session without Natsu, Lucy sat on the couch facing the woman with her arms crossed. The therapist was quick to note the way in which she was holding her poise because it wasn’t a comforting arm cross, but a firm one. The muscles in her forearms were tense along with the tight lipped and brows furrowed expression gracing Lucy’s face.

“Well, this is certainly new,” the woman put her notebook down as she spoke. “Something has changed, shall we talk about it?”

Lucy’s hands clenched firmly as her eyes look away slightly. “I had a small argument with Natsu this morning.”

“I get the impression it wasn’t small.”

“Okay! It was a big fight! Happy?!” Lucy’s arms unfurled and gesticulated. “I don’t even know why it got out of hand, but it did.”

“Tell me what happened and let’s figure it out together.”

“Tch,” Lucy crossed her arms again and looked away. “I woke up from a nightmare. He started comforting me like he al—ways does, and I told him to stop. But he didn’t.”

“Why’d you tell him to stop?”

“I don’t know... I was just, irritated.”

“With him?”

“Yes... No— both, I don’t fucking know! Just pissed off, okay?! I was just angry and didn’t wanna be bothered!”

“I see... and how did Natsu react?”

“He, well, um,” Lucy’s shoulders dropped a bit. “He just said okay, I’ll give you space if you want it and left the bedroom. And we haven’t spoken since then.”

“It sounds like Natsu respected your wishes to back off. But why is that making you so angry?”

The therapists question brought instant tears pooling in Lucy’s eyes. She knew why, but she didn’t know why, and holding it in was tearing her apart. But she also didn’t know how to articulate all of the random thoughts plaguing her in a way that made sense. So, at that moment she just broke. Through fitful sobs the cacophony of broken, fragmented thoughts spewed out in no logical manner. Lucy just spoke every word and sentence that came to mind as the therapist sat quietly listening.

This was her first session since the trial had ended, so all of the wounds were painfully fresh. Shouldn’t she be happy it was over? They were free for now and it was time to move forward but all she could think about were the things the attorney had said. And that made her angry with herself. Lucy’s always thought she was so much stronger, yet this experience or rather the effects left her feeling lost and broken, and weak. Even more infuriating for her, she knew these thoughts were completely irrational! It’s one thing to not understand, it’s another to know how stupid it sounded and not be able to fight back against it. Weak. That’s what it made her feel. Stupid and weak for losing herself. They may have won against Touka, but Touka had taken something away and Lucy feared she’d lost it forever.

Who she was.

The therapist moved over to the couch and hugged tightly to a sobbing Lucy, stroking her hair and cradling her head. Comforting in silence allowed the blonde to just cry, as hard as she needed to and release everything that had been held inside where it shouldn’t stay. When the tears slowed, and Lucy’s breathing had the normalized, the therapist spoke softly.

“You’re not broken, Lucy, and you’re not dumb. You’re rightfully in pain after everything you’ve experienced, and that’s okay too.”

“How is that okay?” Lucy sniffled. “It shouldn’t be okay!”

“It’s not fair what you had to endure but being upset and feeling pain because of it means you’re human. Even the anger is a good feeling right now.”

Lucy snorts an annoyed laugh at such a ridiculous sounding statement. Anger being, okay?!

“There are positives we can take from this.”

Again, Lucy huffs. “Yeah, right. That makes a lot of sense.”

The therapist pulls back and settles into a more professional pose to continue. “Your anger means you care. Think about it, if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t get angry, right?”

“I guess...”

“In all these months, this is the first time I am seeing a deep passion coming from you. Lucy you aren’t really lost, and this anger are those feelings screaming ‘I’m still here!’ You can use that same energy to push forward.”

“But what about Natsu?” Lucy’s eyes cloud up. “I think I really made him mad a-and I don’t want to lose him.”

“Did he come with you today?”

“Yeah, he’s in the waiting room.” Lucy mumbled through a frown. “But I think he just came cause he felt obligated.”

The therapists eyes softened along with her tone. “I have a feeling that’s not the case. He might feel hurt and confused right now, but I’m sure he still loves you deeply. Maybe we should bring him in here and talk things over? That way I can help you through it.”

Lucy paused for a moment before nodding weakly. “I’d like that.”

The therapist brought Natsu into the room and as soon as he saw the puffy red eyes and Lucy’s disheveled appearance immediately stumbled over and hugged onto her with tears of his own flowing down, apologizing over and over for upsetting her that morning.

Although Lucy stiffened up at first when he’d hugged her in fear of what he might say, his words instead stunned her. All along she’d felt the fight was her fault, not his. She’d been the bitch to him and now his pain brought her tears back along with a loss of her anger. “It’s not your fault,” she hugged him back. “I was angry with myself and took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

“But I shouldn’t have walked away like I did.”

“No,” Lucy exhaled, “you did the right thing. I... I needed something to wake me up.”

Natsu pulled back in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Lucy smiled weakly. “Coming here mad, I couldn’t hide it so she made me talk about it. Now I see how that needed that to happen and I feel a lot better because of it. I was just worried you’d hate me for the way I acted.”

“I could never hate you,” Natsu smiled and cupped Lucy’s cheeks. “I told you, you’re stuck with me.”

By that point, the therapist had gone back to her own chair and with the session almost over for that day, addressed the couple together. “Lucy right now I think you are at a very good point in your progress. Your anxiety had gotten better, the depression is still there, but it’s not as debilitating as it was before, so now it’s time to take the next step in the healing process. You’d mentioned wanting going back to school and the next semester starts in a month. Perhaps it’s time to consider going back?”

“I-I don’t know if I could handle full time...”

“Maybe reach out to the school and see if they’ll work with you on a modified schedule?”

“I guess I could...”

“And I’ll help you,” Natsu added on as he squeezed Lucy’s hand. “They’ve been really supportive so far.”

Lucy let out a long exhale. “Okay. I’ll give it a shot.”

“I’ve got another suggestion too,” Natsu added. “If you get angry, you could take it out with a physical sport or something.”

“That’s actually a good outlet,” the therapist agreed. “Is there anything you’re interested in?”

“Um...” Lucy thought about for a couple minutes. “I thought about taking self-defense classes.”

“That would be cool! Maybe we can go together?”

“I’d really, really like that.” And first time in a long time, Lucy truly meant it.

#nalu #nalu au #nalu fan fic #nalu fan fiction #Natsu dragneel #Lucy heartfilia #Natsu x lucy #stangers on a train #ch 31

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bestie-enthusiast · 4 years ago

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Chapter 3: Sam Fills in, Zemo is not Impressed (and also has his first therapy appointment)

Hello!! This is the third chapter of my PTA! Dad! Zemo fic. This is the fifth installment of 11, and the previous chapters can be found under the hashtag pta dad zemo.

Fic Summary: After the untimely death of both his wife and father due to a bombing, Baron Helmut Zemo takes his son and immigrates to America. He does not expect to find a family nor a romantic partner, and he especially does not expect to find the ability to heal. To grieve.

And yet, here we are.

This is a story about connections, growing, healing and mourning the past while still appreciating the future and all it has to offer.

Chapter WC: 1731

Fic below cut if you're interested!

Three days later.

Zemo frowned slightly as he listened to Carol’s rant. She had called an “emergency” PTA meeting (and he was fairly certain she paid the principal to let her do it), but there was no real emergency. Instead all Carol was doing was going on and on about how her son was being “bullied” for his lack of potty training. Her child was in fourth grade, of course the other children were making fun of him.

Even worse was that Sarah hadn’t been able to come in, she was at work, and so her brother had come instead. Zemo had met him only once, at a charity event the school was hosting, and he was not at all subtle in his distaste for Zemo. So he sat in silence listening to Carol’s ranting. No one was in the mood to tell her to shut up, so they all just sat there and waited for her to tire herself out.

Once Carol was done seething she looked at them expectantly, but no one said anything. No one dared to move an inch as they waited for Carol to completely calm down. Eventually, Carol stormed out with a huff and everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. A few people stood up, and Zemo stood after them. He started to walk out when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He instinctively tensed up but turned around. It was Sam.

“Sorry to bother you man, but Sarah said your, uh, butler was with AJ and Cass at a park? Sarah didn’t tell me where, so could I tag along with you?” He asked awkwardly, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he spoke.

“Of course.” Zemo said, nodding. Sam trailed behind him quietly as they began their walk. Zemo almost forgot he was there, with how silent he was being. He thought about all the things he’s ever said or done to hurt any member of the Wilson family, hoping he could think of something to apologise for. He couldn’t think of anything he hadn’t already apologised for or done something to make up for, so he assumed Sam had a different reason to not like him. He didn’t wish to assume it was because of his financial state.

Eventually they made their way to the park, where Oeznik was dutifully watching over Carl, AJ, and Cass. He gave a muttered goodbye to Sam and hurried over to Carl, gently leading him away and following Oeznik to the car.

He absentmindedly listened to Carl talk about his school day as he pulled open his messenger app. He texted Sarah, just to make sure she was okay and not because Sam filling in had reminded him of how lonely he actually was. Sarah texted him back that she was busy with work, and then asked why Sam was so pissed at him. He replied that he didn’t know and she just sent back an eye roll emoji, so he let the conversation end.

He conversed with Carl on the rest of the way back, reminding himself that Sarah was just an acquaintance, and that he shouldn’t let himself get distracted from the only thing that actually mattered, that being Carl.

Sure Sarah was the only person who he trusted outside of Carl and Oeznik, but Carl was the only person that actually mattered to him any more. His consultation with Dr. Raynor was tomorrow, and while he was initially enthusiastic at the prospect, he now regarded the appointment with dread.

After letting out a quiet sigh, Zemo plastered on a large, fake grin, and helped Carl with his school work while Oeznik prepared dinner. He helped Carl get ready for bed, but tonight he did not even bother attempting to fall asleep. He holed himself up in his office, working on things until his hands shook and cramped and his vision grew blurry, at which point he took a cold shower, and resumed work.

Eventually it came time for him to get ready, so he gently woke up Carl to tell him he had an early meeting out of town, but he would be back in time to collect him from school. Carl nodded sleepily and Zemo quietly got dressed, did his hair, and carefully completed his skin care routine.

Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he got into his car and started the long commute to Dr. Raynors office. If he decided to keep her as his full time therapist, he would need to find a shorter way to her office, or perhaps have only phone sessions.

He arrived fifteen minutes early, and spent the time analyzing the decor of her office and fiddling with his phone. Soon enough it was his own name being called. He stood and entered the office, shaking hands with Dr. Raynor when she offered.

“And you are… Helmut Zemo, correct?” He nodded, so used to the mispronunciation of his first name on the rare occasions it was used that he couldn’t be bothered to correct her.

“Yes, but I prefer to be referred to by just my last name.” Mentally he tacked on, ‘because you Americans say it wrong and I can’t be expected to deal with that.’

“Sure.” She said, writing something down in her notebook. “So I’ve looked over all your paperwork, but I want to know, coming from you directly, why you are here.” She said, and it didn’t sound at all like a question, more like a straight fact.

“I suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, you specialise in that.” He said simply, it was the main reason anyway. He did not comment on how he believed their personalities would match, as he was only here for her to consult on whether or not she would take him on as a patient.

“Right,” She said, rolling her eyes. Zemo held back a smile, she rather reminded him of his wife- oh.

She would not work as his therapist. He thought that she would work well, as she could call him out when he refused to do it himself, but no. Talking to her, talking about his emotions to her, would just remind him too much of Heike. Zemo struggled to keep a smirk on his face, or at the very least a neutral look, while she asked him questions. He responded at least somewhat honestly, and then they continued.

“So I’m going to be honest with you, I really only take on patients that peak my interest, and you haven’t.” Zemo held back a wince at the admission, although he supposed he was purposefully making himself that way. He only talked about his time as a Sokovian soldier, not at all about the loss of his wife (or father, but that issue was buried so deep that he forgot about it on occasion), or his obsession over Carl’s schooling and keeping him happy. He did not mention the fact that he felt a rather immense amount of guilt for feeling any sort of attraction, or that he was lonely. And he purposefully kept his face as straight and closed as he possibly could throughout their entire conversation. And so Zemo couldn’t help but relax a tad bit at the statement. No wife-like therapist for him, her death was not an issue he was ready to tackle yet like he thought when he made the appointment.

“Are you- Are you relieved?” She asked incredulously, and Zemo only blinked. She had noticed the slight change in his posture when she had said that. Oops.

“I could tell we were not going to get along.” Zemo replied, and it was the truth. Or partial truth? They would get along, rather spectacularly, according to all the personality assessments the people who left reviews had said. That's what he didn’t want though, he wanted to be detached and unreliant on whichever therapist he acquired, he would become far too attached to Dr. Raynor due to her similar personality to his wife.

“That is utter bullshit. You read the reviews before coming, you knew what I was like before you even came into this room. Why are you relieved I don’t want you as my patient?” Zemo frowned and licked his lips, he was not about to tell her about his wife before they ever had a proper session. “That information is… confidential. And you are not my confidant.” Zemo replied snarkily, who did this woman think she was? She already said no, and yet here she was, still questioning him?

“I’ve changed my mind, you are a very interesting case.” Zemo didn’t know how to feel about that.

“That’s all well and good, but I’m afraid I have not changed mine.” Zemo said, giving the doctor one last, polite, smile before standing up. She stood up as well and he held out his hand for a shake, which she did.

“If you reconsider, you know my number.” She said, before letting go. He nodded and started to walk out the door. Once he was in the waiting room he was surprised to find James sitting in there, fiddling with his phone. Carefully keeping his footsteps quiet, he kept his head down and walked past James, who looked up.

“Zemo?” James asked in surprise, and he turned around to give James a smile, a real one.

“Ah, hello Mr. Barnes.” Zemo greeted back, feeling the all too familiar flutter in his heart at the sight of James. Guilt and shame crashed over him like they did every time he felt that flutter, but it didn’t deter it in the slightest.

“Bucky, please. I didn’t know you knew Dr. Raynor,” James commented with a small smile.

“Y-yes well, I’m just here for a consultation appointment.” Zemo stuttered, that smile made his heart do things, such as sending blood southwards. “Well, Dr. Raynor is the best at what she does.” James responded with a smirk, and a shrug. Zemo gave him another smile, a quick wave, and then he was on his way. As soon as he was out of the building he called Dr. Raynor left her a voicemail stating he had changed his mind, and would like to become a regular client. Seeing James every so often in a non-school setting would be worth it, maybe he’d get to see that smile pointed at him again.

Tagging: @morganbritton132 (Who came up with this AU) and @i-ll-be-the-moon (Who is a great and suportive friend!)

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brattyfics · 4 years ago

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Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Daya Galindo [Black OC]

Word Count: 4,681

Synopsis | Masterlist

Chapter One

On the last leg of a week-long trip to San Diego, Daya Galindo did her best to remain engaging, open, and approachable.

Along with thirty other members of San Diego’s elite inner circle, she occupied one Petco Park’s most expensive and exclusive Skyboxes. Many of her nights were spent in the same Skybox attending the Padre’s baseball games.

This time, however, the Skybox has been transformed into a ballroom of sorts. Several circular tables were spaced out in the large room, eight chairs provided at each. Simple but elegant centerpieces decorated the tables.

The $10,000 a night Skybox opened up to the empty stadium on one side, and a breathtaking view of San Diego’s skyline on the other side. The sliding floor-to-ceiling windows were closed, and Daya found herself missing the fresh air she enjoyed on game days.

Most attendees remained inside, adding to the suffocating feeling in her chest.

Her husband, commercial real estate mogul and serial entrepreneur, Miguel Galindo, was one of the few people outside on the brick terrace. He used the balcony to take a private call.

“You look so pretty!” Marcy Stevens, the wife of a potential business partner, complimented Daya in a chipper tone.

An eight-hundred dollar silk cocktail dress stopped just above her ankles. An equally expensive pair of nude heels complimented the deep red of her dress. The front was designed to cover her breasts, giving the illusion of modesty while the fabric hugged her curves, outlining her shape. Thin straps were tied intricately on the back of the low cut dress. The ensemble was on-brand for Mrs. Galindo, a perfect balance between sexy and classy.

The big, springy curls that framed her heart-shaped face, bunching around the top of her shoulders, were also on brand. Her makeup was done simply, shades of brown and gold to complement her features.

Marcy was right. She did look stunning.

Regardless, Daya did her best to appear humbled by the compliment. It wasn’t that she was cocky or arrogant. The truth was she had become numb.

“You too! I love your lipstick. What shade is it?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure.” The middle-aged woman considered it for a moment before ruffling through her compact.

With a bright smile, she held the tube of lipstick up victoriously. She passed it over to Daya to inspect.

After pretending to take note of the brand and shade in her mind, she passed the tube back to Marcy. “Thank you.”

She couldn’t care less what shade of lipstick the woman wore, but the name of the game was flattery. Fundraising galas, country club banquets, and art exhibits had all become a blur of polite one-liners one after the other.

“It’s so nice to see you.” She lied even when it wasn’t.

“We have to have dinner and drinks soon.” She said to be polite, even when she’d rather not spend her time discussing the newest fashion releases with bored housewives.

“How are the kids?” She asked, although she had no interest in listening to parents ramble on about how great their mediocre children were.

“I love your dress. Who designed it?” Chances were she didn’t care.

A lively buzz of murmurs was standard for these events. Conversations flowed as freely as the champagne. Whether it was to foster relationships or just pass the time, people desperately spewed out the words like they would die if they couldn’t get it all out.

The constant chatter annoyed her, but Daya was able to connect with almost anyone on some level.

She knew a little bit about a lot of things, so conversations about sports, stock-trading, or even spa treatments were right up her alley. She never would have imagined herself as the type of woman to participate in meaningless conversations daily, but alas, she was. Her experience as a member of California’s high society was a far cry from her upbringing.

Daya Galindo was born Dayana Sims inside a community hospital in Hawthorne, California. Her mother, Denise Sims, settled in Cali sometime during her pregnancy. Denise didn’t talk about her life before Daya much. Her daughter knew almost nothing about her mother’s family or her reasons for moving to California. She didn’t even know her dad!

Daya was as inquisitive as any kid. She often wondered about him—who he was, what he looked like, where he lived, and if he ever thought about her. Her mother shut down any questions about him. The answer was always ‘stay in a child’s place’ or ‘grow up and let it go’. That was her mother’s response to anything uncomfortable, and inadvertently she taught her daughter to shrink herself to avoid conflict.

It was one of many bad habits that years of expensive therapy hadn’t completely fixed.

Denise had also taught her daughter to not form attachments. They moved around a lot when Daya was young. Most times it was only a few cities over, but each time she left someone behind. There was no explanation for why. That’s just how it was. She made it through her teens and early twenties without feeling the need to set down roots.

Her husband, Miguel, changed that.

On paper, Miguel Galindo was everything any woman would want in a husband. He was wealthy, smart, handsome, and charming when he wanted to be.

An honors graduate of Stanford, he quickly established a name for himself in business. Fresh out of college, he moved to New York and started a career in luxury real estate. From there, his interests transferred to commercial properties, and thus the entrepreneur in him was born. Miguel now owned successful businesses on both the East and West Coast.

When Daya met Miguel, he was new to Santo Padre and adjusting to his new lifestyle. The man who raised him died, and his mother, Dita was a wreck. Miguel vividly remembered the sounds of Jose beating Dita a room over, and the way he viciously chose his words to cut her down. Everyone thought she would be excited to start the next chapter of her life without him, but Dita took his death the hardest.

Becoming the man of the family meant his own complicated relationship with Jose was put on the back burner. His mother needed him, and the family business desperately needed tending to.

As the couple’s only child, he was the obvious heir. Regardless of his feelings about it, it was inevitable. Miguel’s future had been decided before he was even born.

Through the crystal clear glass, Daya watched Miguel’s face contort in annoyance. With a quick wave of his hand, he gestured for his head of security, Nestor Oceteva, to join him at his side. A few words were uttered between them before they were making their way inside. She expected Miguel to rejoin her at the table, but instead, he made a beeline for the elevators.

She was a little concerned, but not alarmed. If anything had gone seriously wrong, Miguel would be by her side, excusing them for the evening. He probably just needed more privacy.

Daya stepped up in his absence, focusing on the Stevens’ project in front of her.

Tom Stevens was Marcy’s husband and the owner of a chain of hotels in downtown San Diego. Property value in San Diego was higher than ever and steadily increasing, which made the hotels a worthy addition to Miguel’s portfolio.

An epiphany inspired Tom. He was passionate about the hotels because he built them from the ground up, but he realized his passion was better suited for home.

Marcy was a forty-something widower who decided to give love another chance with Tom. He was ten years her senior and even more unlucky in love, but he didn’t let his previously failed relationships stop him from trying again. The couple were newlyweds, and it showed with the way they giggled and grinned at each other every few seconds. It was cute watching them interact like love-struck teenagers.

Daya and Miguel had their moments, of course, but what they had was much different than the Stevens’. The young couple had gone through their rough patches and made it out on the other side, but the newlywed glimmer was definitely gone. Tom and Marcy were still open to each other and hopeful for the future. Willfully naive in Daya’s opinion.

No, what she and Miguel had was much more complicated. Neither of them trusted anybody completely, even themselves.

In between light conversation, she admired the night sky. In the distance, she could see the top of their hotel. It would be at least another hour before she could go back there, sinking into the king-sized mattress for the night. The Egyptian cotton sheets were calling her name.

“I was out in Brawley the other day, and I saw some of your signs up. What are you guys working on out there?”

If she remembered correctly, it was Luke that was speaking to her. Daya turned in her chair to face him as she responded.

Mama always said, “A woman’s work is never done.”

Another fifteen minutes passed before Miguel rejoined them, the vein in his forehead also present and in attendance.

Daya took a quick glance over her shoulder in search of Nestor. He wore a similar expression, confirming her suspicions.

They hadn’t resolved the problem.

Her hand found her husband’s thigh, softly stroking the strong muscle through his slacks. They sat close enough to the table that the movement was hidden. She smiled at him innocently when his eyes found hers for a second, a clear warning behind them.

A young woman with toffee-colored skin, and a short coiled Afro, approached the table, introducing herself as Eva.

Daya scanned her slim frame in the bright green dress she wore while Marcy explained how they met. Seven months ago, while volunteering at Skid Row, apparently.

Tom stood to offer Eva his seat, hand resting on the back of Marcy’s chair.

Eva talked about her non-profit organization, speaking passionately with her hands about what needed to be done to eradicate poverty. She shared her personal experience with homelessness, and how it shaped her life.

The expression on everyone’s faces said they were listening intently, but Daya knew better.

Millionaires didn’t care about poverty, because their wealth depended on it.

Daya had never been homeless, but she had been poor, and it wasn’t fun. Helping to dismantle capitalism was the last thing on her to-do list. She knew it was selfish, but she didn’t care.

While Eva spoke, Daya’s fingers inched up her husband’s thigh. She wasn’t surprised to find he was already half ready for her, his length thickening underneath his expensive slacks.

Miguel leaned over to whisper in her ear, the hairs of his beard just lightly tickling her ear.

“Watch yourself, conejita.”

The words sent a chill down her spine, but she didn’t remove her hand. Shifting in her seat, she crossed her legs in a poor attempt to dull the subtle throb below.

To her left, Luke asked Eva a question, diverting everyone’s attention to him. Daya used it as an opportunity to push her man further.

“Or what, papi?” The term of endearment rolled off her tongue with ease.

“Keep it up and you’ll find out.” He whispered through clenched teeth, speaking without moving his mouth. It reminded her of a mother scolding their child, and she resisted the urge to laugh.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” She warned Miguel, tapping his knee patronizingly.

Miguel’s arm came up to rest on the top of her chair, and his head dipped to whisper in her ear once more.

“Brat.” The word triggered something in her, and she bit the inside of her cheek.

A better woman would be annoyed by the nickname, or even insulted. Along with other words a wholesome woman wouldn’t appreciate, brat was a term of endearment between them.

Daya straightened, trying to clear her mind of dirty thoughts. The heated looks they were giving each other weren’t appropriate for the topic of discussion.

When she and Eva made eye contact, she nodded politely. When the woman stopped speaking, she would need to have something of substance to add to the conversation.

“Are you ready to go?” Miguel asked his wife, hand resting on her hip. She sighed with relief at his words.

The two of them had left the table under the guise of socializing, only to slowly make their way out onto the balcony.

"I've been ready. I hate to say it, but Marcy is working on my last nerve." Daya groaned as she remembered how Marcy kept her locked down for the past forty minutes. She had left the woman inside, and she hoped Marcy had found someone else to occupy her time.

"I don't know how many more fake bathroom breaks I could have taken before she noticed it was just to get away from her."

Miguel smirked at his flustered wife. She had a good poker face and tried to sell that nothing could face her. It was always a little entertaining to see cracks in her facade.

“I just hope this is all worth it. I have a headache from listening to everyone talk, and I can feel blisters forming on my feet.” She complained, pouting up at him.

Miguel dropped a quick kiss to her lips in apology before sparing a glance at her feet. "You don't have blisters, honey."

“You don’t have blisters, honey.”

“How do you know?”

Daya’s eyebrows raised, challenging him.

“I just do.”

“Well, how about you inspect them tonight when you’re massaging them?” She asked in a sweet tone.

Miguel laughed.

“Is that your way of asking for a foot massage?”

Daya nodded.

“Come on, loca. Let’s say our goodbyes, so we can get out of here.”

Locking hands, the couple began the slow process of trading goodbyes and promises for later dates. Another fifteen minutes later, they made it outside into the chilly night air, the California breeze kissing their skin. Daya was more than relieved to see the fleet of black SUVs that waited for them.

Nestor Oceteva stood by the truck in the middle, opening the back door for them. “Thank you, Ness.” Daya told him, accepting his help up into the vehicle.

A driver and Nestor's second-in-command and cousin, Antonio Oceteva, occupied the front seats. Daya greeted them both warmly as she crawled across the leather seats.

"I can't wait to get out of these shoes." She said to no one in particular.

With no answer, she slid across the seat to see what the hold up was. Miguel stood outside of the car, several feet away. In a heated tone, he and Nestor discussed something she couldn't make out.

Antonio turned around in his seat to stop her, hand stopping just before it touched her knee. She eyed his hesitant hand for a moment before she met his eyes. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Antonio was all business when he gathered himself to speak. "He'll be with you shortly, Mrs. Galindo." She huffed in response.

Daya craned her neck to look out of the window once more, but it didn't do much good. From her vantage point she could see that Nestor wasn’t happy, but not much else.

"What's going on?" She asked Antonio catching his hazel eyes in the rear view mirror. He didn't look worried, and that helped to soothe her some. At the same time, she knew it could just be his military training at work.

"I'm not sure, ma'am." He spoke in an even tone, giving nothing away. She thanked him but continued to look out of the window.

Daya didn’t need to know every single gory detail, but Miguel knew she hated being left in the dark. It created distance between them and made her feel shut out.

She could almost hear her therapist telling her to slow down and think. Logically, she knew Miguel meant no harm, but it reminded her of her childhood, making her feel small and insignificant.

He found her in the backseat with her arms crossed, eyes closed, and heeled feet tapping impatiently against the floor of the car.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, mi amor.” With a simple nod, he signaled for the driver to take them to the hotel.

His warm hand found her belly, holding her there while his tongue slipped past her pouty lips into her mouth.

She responded the way he expected, melting under his touch. Soft hands cupped his face, deepening the kiss. His hands slid down to rest on the curve of her ass as she leaned into him. With each movement, Daya felt less tense. Several moments passed before they broke apart.

“What’s happening?” Daya asked, breathless from the kiss. Her eyes scanned Miguel's face for answers.

“It’s nothing you should worry yourself about.”

Miguel’s hands roamed her body, but she knew it was a distraction.

There’s a saying, “You either tell your wife everything, or nothing.”

Miguel often found himself stuck somewhere in the middle. There had been a time where he told her almost everything. Now, he operated on a need-to-know basis.

“That’s your favorite thing to say these days.” Daya said it with a smile, but her eyes told a different story.

“I didn’t mean it that way, mi alma. I just mean it’s not important enough to bother you with. I’m going to take care of it tonight, and then it’s done.”

“You’re leaving tonight?” She didn’t bother to hide that she was upset anymore.

The couple had spent the last three days in San Diego, occupying the penthouse suite of a downtown hotel. Their home was located in Santo Padre, a small border town on the outskirts of Calexico, two hours away from San Diego. Miguel had several meetings in San Diego during the week--with Tom, one of his lawyers, and the event. It just made more sense to stay in town for the week, rather than make the trek back and forth.

“I know I promised, but...yes. I have to take care of this tonight.”

The young couple had agreed to use the few days as a mini-vacation to recharge and spend quality time together. He had kept his promise so far, but she wasn’t happy their time together would be ending early.

“I understand.” Business came first. Always.

“Don’t be like that.”

“I’m not being like anything. I said it’s fine.” She pushed down the anger she felt bubbling in her chest. “Seriously, I’m not upset. There’s no point. You’re still going to do what you have to. Right?”

He nodded, watching as she checked out of the conversation. She faced the window, staring out of it at the blur of lights.

“Do you want to go home? If that will make you more comfortable, they can take you tonight.”

“No. I’m okay. I don’t want to be on the road in the dark." She told him with a grimace. "I’ll find a way to entertain myself.”

The blur of neon lights transitioned into shades of shadowy grey as they entered the parking garage of the hotel.

“Nestor’s going with me, but Antonio will be here along with…” Daya tuned out as he named the guards that would stay in San Diego with her.

“They’ll take you home in the morning.” She nodded, gathering her bearings as the driver parked.

“Will you be there?”

“I’ll try.” She was disappointed in his answer, but at least he wasn’t getting her hopes up.

Antonio opened her door, and she accepted his warm, calloused hand as she stepped out of the vehicle.

Miguel met her halfway at the back of the truck, opening his arms for a hug. She stepped into them, the smell of his signature cologne washing over her. It relaxed her, and she forced herself to enjoy the moment. She was annoyed at her husband, but she loved him and wanted to appreciate every moment with him.

“Be good.” He whispered in her ear, tone gentle, but serious.

“I can’t make any promises.”

Antonio averted his gaze, turning his back to them. Nestor and the guards followed, choosing instead to focus on different parts of the garage. There were plenty of shadows for a person to hide in, and the couple needed privacy.

Miguel’s arms tightened around her waist, squeezing to let her know he was serious.

“You heard what I said.”

Before she could get a smart response out, she felt his manhood poking against her belly. Miguel wasn’t a tyrant, but he liked to play King of the Jungle sometimes; backing her into corners, and giving her silly ultimatums that he knew she’d rebel against. It was a fun game because it elicited a carnal response in both of them to fight for dominance.

“Be good or else I’m going to have to spank this fat ass.” She gasped as his hands cupped her ass. He squeezed the fat in his hands before jiggling it.

Daya moaned quietly, pinching her plump bottom lip under her teeth.

“You’ve told me what’s behind door number one. Now, what do I get for being a good girl? ‘Cause I have to say door number one doesn’t sound so bad right now.”

He pretended to think, cocking his head to the side. “What’s the saying, ‘happy husband, happy life’?”

Daya pressed a kiss to his chin. “That’s definitely not the saying, but fine. I’ll be good, but you owe me a foot massage for skipping out early.”

“I thought I owed you one because of the heels.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” She would also have to pack his luggage for him. “Three. You’re in the hole for three foot massages, mister. I expect full payment by the end of the month. Got it?” There were plenty of people with better massage skills than her husband, but for some reason, they felt better when they came from him.

“I have no idea how you calculated three, but yes ma’am. I miss you already, conejita.”

Her arms circled his neck, pulling him for a kiss. “I miss you more."

Years of learning each other made it so they were in sync when their lips met, stoking fires in each other that wouldn't be extinguished any time soon.

“I. Love. You.” She told him in between greedy pecks. “Call me when you get a chance, ‘kay?” He nodded, understanding she meant for him to call when he reached the border. She would probably be asleep by the time he made it there, but it made her feel better when he checked in.

“I love you too.”

Entering the luxurious penthouse suite, the first thing Daya did was free herself from the designer death traps disguised as shoes.

There were plenty of amenities for her to enjoy— a jacuzzi style bathtub, and a spacious balcony with a breathtaking view of the bayfront. She intended to make the most of her time alone.

After assuring Antonio she was in for the night and wouldn't need his services, she stripped down to her birthday suit and ran a bubble bath.

The purple bottle was nearly finished from all the bubble baths she'd taken during the week. Whiffs of the lavender essential oil flowed up through her nose as she eased herself down into the rectangular tub. Powerful jets massaged her aching muscles with hot water, washing the day away.

Her hair sat in a messy bun on top of her head, loose strands clinging to her neck. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her hair puffed up with frizz, but she didn't let it bother her.

Old school R&B played on her phone. She could barely hear it over the sound of the jets, but she crooned right along with the singer enthusiastically.

Eventually, the water was too cool to stand and she was forced to get out. With wrinkled palms, she dried herself off with the fluffy white towel.

Wrapping it around her midsection, she settled into the low chair of the vanity. It took some time, but she carefully removed her makeup and moisturized her skin.

Staring at herself in the mirror without all the bells and whistles was always a little humbling. It felt dramatic, like she was in a cheesy coming of age movie or something, but it was eye-opening. So much of her time was spent pretending for others—dressing her body up, and her personality down.

The exclusive parties and expensive accessories were fun, but they weren't everything. Most people that came across her thought she was superficial, but in reality, she was the opposite. She would never be able to convince them otherwise and that was fine.

The people that knew her understood her, and that was all that mattered. She had a close-knit, but complicated relationship with her friend group. Most of them had known each other for years, so there were layers to their relationships.

Daya, her very best friend, Ariel Castillo, and Ezekiel Reyes made up the core group.

The three of them met freshman year when Daya moved to Santo Padre. Along with the pressures of going to a new school, she had to deal with being the small fry in a group of big fish. Ariel and Ezekiel had been there to make the experience bearable. They connected through honor classes and bonded over their shared desire to go somewhere else, and be someone different.

Miraculously, all of them ended up stuck in Santo Padre.

Ariel received a full-ride scholarship to UCLA. She made it through the first year and a half, completing all her core courses, but then her father got sick. She came home to take care of him, but couldn't bring herself to leave again when he got better. So she settled, forgot her dreams of being a surgeon, and went to nursing school. Ariel was great at her job, the best Santo Padre Medical had to offer, but it hadn't been her dream.

Ezekiel hadn't even made it through his first year of college when his mother was shot and killed in his father's store. Her unexpected death made him spiral, sending him on a witch hunt to find out who was responsible. One thing led to another and he made a fatal mistake that ended him up in prison for eight years.

Daya never left Santo Padre for college. She was good with academics in high school, but always had a passion for art. Her mother didn't have any money to put towards college, and she wasn't particularly excited about spending another four years in school. So, she did what she was good at, designing web pages for business owners around Santo Padre.

It didn't pay great, but it allowed her to make connections. People were impressed with her work and shared it with their friends and partners. With a stroke of good luck, she was able to form the connections and save the money to start her own web development and design company. In thirteen years' time, she expanded the business across California from Santo Padre to Los Angeles, becoming one of the most popular and successful in its industry. Daya had touched more money than she ever thought possible.

She had traveled for a while, creating new stations took time and a lot of energy. In between, she went on trips out of the country, learning about new cultures and customs. It was hard to do with a growing business, but the experiences were worth it.

Eventually, she met Miguel, a kindred spirit who wished to be anywhere but Santo Padre. It was ironic that it was the very place they were both forced to settle. Miguel out of duty, Daya out of love and stability.

People came to Santo Padre from the north, south, east, and west. From Northern Cali, Arizona, or Mexico. The quaint town was like a vortex, drawing people towards it from all sides. Most were smart enough to pass through, but those that stopped stayed forever.

GENERAL TAGLIST:

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @ifoundmyhappythought @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @thesandbeneathmytoes

“DEARLY DEPARTED” TAGLIST:

@buttercup812 @princesscornbread @oa-zidan @tian-monique @lovebennycolon @aria725

#mayans mc #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x black!oc #miguel galindo x black oc #miguel galindo x reader #please let me know what you think

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labyrinthof-fan-fiction · 3 years ago

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Fever {3}

Series Masterlist

A/N: So for my purposes, I’ve decided to age Jake up to 18. It works better for me, rather than the younger by two years. I am not a licensed therapist, so take that portrayal with a grain of salt. This is a Renèe slander account. I also hated the bikes, or at least her reasoning for the bikes, so I removed the bikes. So basically please just accept that this fic is 99.9% OOC.

Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Abandonment, Therapy Session

Summary: Bella’s first therapy session, family dinner at the Black’s.

Rating: M

Word Count: 2,905

Monday came faster than I had expected. School was better, Jessica and I made plans to get through Calculus tomorrow after school, not without her making a welcome back from zombieland comment, which I couldn’t blame her for. Dad picked me up in the cruiser for the appointment with Dr. Gilbert. The drive to Port Angeles was a silent hour, I pondered what I was going to say to this therapist. Obviously, my ex-boyfriend was a vampire and I almost died due to an unhinged vampire hunting me and luring me into an old dance studio wasn’t the best opening line. I almost died on my eighteenth birthday due to a paper cut, maybe I should just stick away from the near death experiences. Mentioning vampires would probably award me a decent vacation and a straight jacket.

Dad checked me in at the office and we sat awkwardly in the waiting room. He picked up a fishing magazine and I picked at my nails. I was torn from contemplating my nail beds when the secretary called my name. I followed her into a room with a large couch, a woman sat in a chair across from it.

“Hello Bella, I’m Dr. Gilbert.” She was tall, her dark hair was tucked up into a bun. Black glasses were perched on her nose. She had a nice smile, kind, welcoming.

“Hi.” I mumbled as she gestured for me to sit on the couch.

“Tell me about yourself, Bella.” Dr. Gilbert stated, clipboard balanced on her lap, a pen in her hand.

“I don’t know, there’s not much to tell.” I murmured, crossing my legs under me on the couch. I pulled my sweater around my body, I was cold again. I probably could have started with my childhood, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you start therapy. Tell them all about your childhood, blame it on your mom…. Which, maybe wasn’t too far off.

She pursed her lips and nodded. “I see you’re a senior, what are your plans after you graduate this year?”

I nibbled on my bottom lip, “To be honest, I’m not sure. I had a plan, but that’s changed. I think maybe college, or a gap year to save. I think I want to go to college.”

She nodded and scribbled on her paper. “What do you think you’d like to do?”

I chuckled, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay to not have a plan, Bella.”

“I know, but everyone around me has a plan, colleges they’ve been accepted to. And I’m just…..” I gestured vaguely into the air.

Dr. Gilbert chuckled, “Sometimes those with the plans aren’t as put together as they seem. When I was your age, I was going to be a professional cellist. Got into Juliard and was ready. I got there, and realized that wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. I still play the cello, I’m a part of the local orchestra, but I’m not doing what I had planned. You have time. Tell me about your friends.”

I hesitated. “I have a few, we haven’t hung out as much, I…” I trailed off, not sure how to explain that I had been an emotionless blob for months and wasn’t sure where I stood with my friends.

She hummed, “They’ve been too busy?”

I chuckled, “They’ve been busy, I’ve been dealing with some stuff.”

“Care to elaborate?” She raised one of her sculpted eyebrows.

I sighed and pulled my knees to my chin and wrapped my arms around my legs. “My boyfriend broke up with me.”

“Tell me about him.” She stated.

“He would come through my window and watch me sleep.” I murmured. “He oiled the latch so it wouldn’t wake me. God, I thought it was romantic, he could have killed me. He could have done anything he wanted. And I would have let him. I let him control me.” The scratching of a pen on paper filled the moment I took a breath. “I thought that love meant he was allowed to control me, but that’s not love, is it?”

Dr. Gilbert looked at me. “I think you know the answer.” She paused, pursing her lips.

I nibbled on my bottom lip. “Why didn’t I know?”

She glanced at me. “He was your first boyfriend, right?” I nodded. “First loves are intense.” Her eyes wandered away from me. “You’re allowed to have strong feelings after something like this.”

“Is it normal to feel like you’re stuck in a void, just lost to the pain?” I asked, before I could stop myself.

Dr. Gilbert eyed me carefully. “There are several stages to grief, it sounds like you have begun the depression stage. But the stages aren’t always a linear progression, you can shift between them and go back and forth.” She was jotting things down on her paper. “How long have you felt lost to the pain?”

“A few months, five maybe?” I said quietly.

“That’s a long time to feel that way.” She glanced at her watch. “Do you feel that way now?”

I shook my head. “I feel like I just got out of the middle of it and I’ve started to come back to the real world.”

She nodded. “I want to you pay attention to what you do this week, if anything sets you back to this. That way we can find out what triggers this.” She sighed, “Unfortunately, that is time up, I’d like to see you next week at the same time, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that should work, I can check with my dad.” I said.

“It was nice to meet you, Bella.” She said, standing. I stood up and shook her outstretched hand.

“So how was it?” Dad asked as he started the cruiser.

“Good, I like her.” I answered, giving him a small smile. He glanced over to me, a curious look on his face, I tilted my head. “I think this is going to help.”

“Good.” He paused before pulling out of the parking lot. “Billy invited us over for dinner on Friday.”

My head snapped to him. “Billy?” The last time Billy Black had interacted with me, he had warned me away from Edward, hindsight, he was right. He had bribed Jacob to come to prom and warn me off the Cullens.

“Yeah, says he misses me.” Dad chuckled. “I think it’s a ploy to get me to go fishing again.”

I let out a small laugh. “Will Jacob be there?”

Dad raised his eyebrow. “Probably, why do you want to know?”

I shrugged, “Haven’t seen him since I bought the truck, thought he might be able to help with the radio.” That sentence did not sound as nonchalant as I had been hoping.

A twinkle was in Dad’s eye. “I think he could help with…your radio.”

I groaned and hid my head in my arms. “Dad…” I whined.

Dad let out a loud laugh, “Sorry.” He most definitely was not.

The next day at school was uneventful, that was until after school tutoring with Jessica. She flopped into the chair next to me, a scowl on her face.

“Hey, Jess.” I greeted.

“Hi, sorry. Fucking Mike.” She grumbled, apparently in my zombie state I had missed the constant on and off again relationship she and Mike had been navigating. According to Angela, I hadn’t missed much, all you could do was watch like a weekly soap opera. “So, let’s get to this.”

Jess was extremely patient, considering how many questions I asked, about concepts that we probably learned at the beginning of the year. By the time our hour was up, I felt like I could muddle through the homework, rather than just stare and hope the pages filled themselves. “Thanks, Jess. I really appreciate your help.”

She smiled, “No problem, just don’t slip off into Zombie Bella, she’s not cool. Same time next week?”

“If you can.” I answered.

“See you tomorrow and Tuesdays for calculus.” She paused before she left. “And, if you ever need to talk about it. Ange and I are here. She doesn’t have much experience with this end of things, but she’s a good listener.”

“Thanks, maybe sometime.” She gave me a knowing look before giving me a quick wave and leaving. The rest of the week I settled back in with the group who had been my first friends when I stated in at Forks High. Sure, Lauren and I were never going to be best friends, but I had friends again. And these friends weren’t going to accidentally eat me.

Friday came and Dad let me drive the truck to La Push, he crawled into the passenger seat, eyes falling on the radio. His eyebrows almost hit his hairline, but he didn’t say anything about it. The drive was quiet, with the occasional direction or turn from Dad. I parked in front of the Black’s home, it was a small red home, it was familiar. I knew that I had spent time here when I was younger, but that was so long ago, the memories had faded. A dark head of hair popped up behind a window and the door to the house flew open.

“Bella!” Jacob called, he was taller than I last saw him, broader too. His black hair was loose around his face, his eyes bright with a huge smile beaming on his face. He was like sunshine personified.

Dad opened the door. “Yeah, Jake, good to see you too.” He muttered, walking into the house without even glancing back at us.

Jacob smiled as he got to my door. “Dad said Charlie had been saying something about your radio…” His eyes traveled to the beat up mess in my dashboard.

“I didn’t like the song…” I offered.

His eyes were wide as I stepped out. “Care to let me know the song, so I don’t play it by accident?”

“I don’t know, it was on a station that I don’t listen to anymore.” I replied, jumping down from the truck to the ground. I had to tilt my head back to look at him. “How did you get taller?”

“Maybe you shrunk.” He teased, nodding to the doorway. “We better get in there, before those two start planning our wedding.” At my shocked face he paused. “C’mon Bella, you can’t tell me that you didn’t know those two in there have been trying to find ways to get us together since the first summer you were here.”

I shook my head, “I hadn’t known.”

Jacob eyed my curiously, “Really? You never noticed how much Charlie brought you down here?”

I shook my head again, following him into the house. When we entered, both of our fathers were seated in the kitchen, eagerly watching the door. “Hey, Billy.” I greeted awkwardly.

A smile split his face. “It is great to see you again, Bella. You look well.” There was a glint in his eye as he looked at me, I knew there was more to that statement, the lack of a vampire boyfriend for one.

“I’m doing my best.” I shrugged, taking the seat to the right of Dad, leaving the only seat open for Jacob, directly across from me.

“So Jake, what do you think the damage on Bella’s radio is?” Dad asked, spooning food onto his plate.

Jacob’s eyes flicked over to me. “I’m thinking she’s going to need a new one Charlie.”

I sighed, “Or I could just go without music, not a big deal.”

Billy’s eyes were on me again. I felt like I was under a microscope. “The current music that is released is shit anyways, can’t blame you for losing it on the radio.”

I chuckled, dinner was, different. It felt so familiar, but I know the last time I had dinner at the Blacks, Jacob and I were at an age of single digits. It was odd, us being just a few months shy of the other. Last year, his seventeen had seemed so far from my seventeen, he still had his baby face. But now, he had just reached eighteen and he had changed. He was more angular, bigger, more muscle, and impossibly taller.

“Bella?” A voice interrupted me, I glanced over to see Jacob across from me, his head tilted. “Earth to Bells?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” I answered, “What did you need?”

“Just was asking if you wanted me to check out your radio? Maybe fully remove it from the dash?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

He smiled, “Let’s go, leave these two alone. We can deal with the aftermath later.”

I giggled, actually giggled, and followed him out of the house, trying to ignore the gleeful look in our fathers’ eyes. Jake stopped by my truck.

“I’m gonna have to rip that out, there’s no saving it. You really did a number on it.” He said, shaking his head at it. “That was a nice radio.”

I shuffled my feet. “Yeah, I kinda lost it.”

He remained silent, glancing back toward the house. “Want to pull this in the garage and I can get the remains out so we can put the radio to rest?”

“Sure.” I said, hopping into the truck. Jake started walking through the yard and I followed him. The garage was behind the house, small, but hidden by trees and shrubbery, I doubt you could see much of it from the house. Which, if what Jacob had said about our fathers was true, was probably a good thing. I pulled up next to it as he came out with a small toolbox. Jake hopped into the passenger seat of the truck, lifted the toolbox lid and took out an assortment of screwdrivers.

He started in on the radio, removing screws with sure fingers until it loosened and he ripped it out. An empty hole was left in my dash, seemed poetic. “That should do it, if you have another I can install it.”

“I’m not sure I really like music right now, need a little break from it.” I said.

Jake nodded. “So how’s she been treating you?”

A smile broke across my face. “Great, I love this old truck. She takes good care of me.”

“She’s a hunk of junk.” Jake retorted.

“She is my hunk of junk. Now be nice before I banish you.”

“You could try.” Jake challenged. I narrowed my eyes at him and bumped my shoulder against his. He fell against the door in mock injury before a fit of laughter overtook him.

“Don’t fuck with my truck.” I snapped, laughing.

He held his hands up in defeat. “Point taken, want to meet my baby?” I quirked an eyebrow in interest. “C’mon, not every day I get to introduce her to a pretty girl.”

I felt the blush beginning to crawl up my neck as he jumped out of my truck. I shook my head and followed after him into the garage. A red car was propped up on cinderblocks, I recognized the Volkswagen insignia on the hood.

“1986 Volkswagen Rabbit.” Jake said proudly. “Almost finished, needs a few tweaks, then she’ll be perfect.”

“How long have you been working on her?” I asked, taking a circle around the car.

“Couple years now, Dad just got me the final parts I needed last spring. All that’s really left is cosmetic.” Jacob smiled. “She’s my college car. Figure I can run her back and forth while I go up to Peninsula.”

“What are you thinking of studying?” I asked, genuinely curious.

The smile on his face seemed to grow impossibly brighter. “I’m looking into their history track. With that degree I want to work to preserve the history here.” He gestured vaguely. “There’s so much that has been lost that I’d like to preserve what I can for future generations. The Elders aren’t getting any younger.”

I took a moment to truly look at Jacob. He looked so determined, passionate, alive. I felt a pang in my chest. “That sounds amazing.”

He chuckled and looked down, not before I saw a blush in his cheeks. “It’s not much. What about you?”

I chewed on my lip. “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t even applied to schools yet.”

“I could help you, apply if you want. Peninsula’s was easy enough.” Jake said, before he started stuttering over his words.

“I wouldn’t mind a little help. I think Dad has been a little worried that I haven’t applied anywhere. And Peninsula doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Maybe we could carpool?”

A small smile was on his lips, “Yeah, maybe.”

“They have a decent education program, from what I’ve heard.” Jacob supplied.

“Education?” I asked.

He chuckled, “When we were little you always talked about being a teacher like your mom. Obviously time changes things. I was convinced I was going to be a superhero.” He smirked. “But it’s a starting point.”

I nodded, then heard laughter coming from the direction of the house.

“Time to go home Bella!” Dad’s voice called out, I could hear him chortling with Billy.

Jake and I rolled our eyes in sync. “Well, it was nice catching up, thanks for the help with the radio.” I said, holding my hand out awkwardly.

Jacob’s hand encased mine as he shook it, “Don’t be a stranger, Bells.” He smiled. “Now let’s go before those two get any ideas.

#twilight #new moon fic #jacob black #jacob/bella #fever #bella swan #charlie swan #team jacob #twilight fic

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devart · 3 years ago

Photo

“here we are again” Taking a moment to share my painting, I was honored to paint this, as a tribute to strong business woman Ms. Swift. - I am you could say new to painting especially to a digital painting. recently graduated as a Civil Engineer. And thought how much taylor’s work was there for me for the last almost 10 years. I usually never share my work, and considered where I live people would find it odd, but a true Swfite might understand it. English is not my first language so I hope it wont be an Issue. When I was I high school I already knew who Taylor Swift was used to listen it as a guilty pleasure. when RED first was out the music was great I used to study for my SAT with it. And the flood hit mine town. I decided to take a gap year and not go to college. we were ok if you wondered. and that was the 1989 was released . amazing singles and I decided to get a whole album and my whole life was changed. the music was so fresh but retro, for the first time I truly understood what is so special while listening the whole album of an artist. it was in my car, it was my calming therapy... I learn to drive with “this love” and “clean” . conformed me when I lost some family members. 1989 inspired me to write some original lyrics that I am super proud of. its my inspiration game, I wrote my sisters wedding speech last minute, I had no idea what to say, took my headphones put 1989 and in like 10 minutes I had amazing speech that people complimented me for months. I went to college, got a small cold horrible apartment and when my playlist started playing Welcome To New York, I felt like home. (I was farm from NYC as I could be LOL). I made true my fist year and on second (that year was hell) after a long time a new album was about to happened, on third year REP was there I had amazing friends and rep was just my jam true the hardest year on my college journey. got mine bachelor degree, went on my master and when summer came LOVER was out, that September I had 4 exams and I needed to pass 2 to get to the next year. you can guess that I listened Lover visualized how easy I did all, and that happened I not only passed I got like streight A’s on them. and everytime i Listen to lover I feel calm walking on the riverside feeling happy and free that I could for the first time wait for next year not having tons of work. I was so in love with LOVER. and even today it takes me back and reminds me of amazing job I did, but next semester was there and ended it was my last year last semester before I get my master's, and the whole pandemic hit, folklore was there, I was already into folk it also helps me study and its just nice genre. I could not belive that there was an album from Taylor like that. and while everybody postponed their music Taylor just gave us a gift... an album that when I listen I still see my self holding that degree, aiming my exams again becoming an engineer again. - To all of you this might look like an boring story of where was I when taylor released her music, but to me its a personal, when I hear song Mine or enchanted I think of my dog and all memories I had with her before she was killed. when I hear 1989 I remember my self going true some big life changes and being brave. learning how to drive having big goal studding something that I was not ready for and still worked hard beveled in my self and graduate all five years in five years. learned that I can do so much more I learned how to paint I thought its impossible, learned hard math and design buildings. lover still makes me proud and feel that sunny transition from summer to fall, and how I got lucky with my work. Folklore and evermore still takes special place in my heart, reminding me of ultimate success and last years Christmas.

I took that music so personal, and I never had that connection to any other artist, and thats probably because Taylor makes her music personal. and share it with us. And I same super proud of her for standing up and taking her work back and owning it like she should owned it in a first place. Thank you for making this music. I cant wait for 1989 re-realise. Know that I will go crazy when that happened. and if anyone likes this digital painting of mine if you can download it feel free to print it and frame it thats something I’m gonna do. please do not sell it, even I wont sell it the art work was a tribute to Taylor. (we swifties got her back) The artwork is titled with taylor’s version, and by that it means she owned it. Thank you fo reading this post

#taylorswift #1989 #red #lover #evermore #folklore #reputation #13 #swifty #art #digital art #digitalpainting

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yoonia · 5 years ago

Text

About Time // Part 17

Character: Jungkook x reader / Jimin x reader (feat. BTS)

↳ Type/Genre/words | Angst, Fluff, Alternate Universe (Time Travel!au/Time Leap!au, Soulmate!au), Mature/+18 only / 10k words

↳ Prompts | “What if you find your soulmate… at the wrong time?” - Lauren Kate, Passion

↳ Summary | Be careful for what you wish for, because you may never know how to deal with them once it comes true. What would you do when your wish for a second chance actually came true? But was it really a fulfilled wish? Too many questions lie when it actually happened. Were they real memories? Or perhaps a part of a past life? Was it only a dream all along? Will everything be different this time?

↳ Warnings | mentions of cancer, (probably) inaccurate medical and law terms

↳ Author’s Note | This chapter was initially longer, but I had to split it into two parts to make it easier to read because some parts may be a bit...too much to handle in one reading. I hope the next chapter can be posted right after this one. Enjoy!

↳ ⤎ Previous Chapter | Series Index: About Time | Next Chapter ⇢

—First life. St. Vincent’s Hospital, year 2027—

While it seemed like I was stuck in place, that time and everything around me had stood still, I could still feel it as the world outside continued to evolve.

Though it might sound contrary to what I had wished for, I had kind of expecting for Jungkook to still be relentless on trying to see me or contact me for him to get what he wanted. I had prepared myself in case he would show up here in the hospital with another surprise visit or to give me continuous text messages and phone calls to remind me of his threats. Yet almost a week had passed, and he had yet to give me any of it.

Instead of smothering me and haunting me like I had thought he would, Jungkook only did the other way around. He disappeared.

By the time the week was coming to an end, as time kept moving stealthily slow between days of treatments, medications, and scheduled therapies, I finally got myself the surprise visit that I had been anticipating for.

Only it was not Jungkook who came to see me.

It was his older brother.

Jeon Junghyun had always been the level headed one out of the two brothers. He was the one person that Jungkook would run to whenever he needed help, the only voice of reason that could have made a lot of differences if only Jungkook would do just that whenever he was facing a problem, instead of running to his old friends that could only give him all the wrong solutions.

At some point in my marriage, Junghyun had even taken my older brother’s place as my confidant, and sometimes, as a mediator to help me communicate with either Jungkook or his family. He would always come to me with open arms and listen to all of my troubles whenever I needed someone to talk to, giving me all the right advices and the right answers which I could not get from other places.

I could not exactly remember how the two brothers had drifted apart. The only thing I knew was that the moment Junghyun stopped appearing in our lives, that was when everything came tumbling down.

“You should have come to me,” he said to me as he sat down next to the bed, after we had gone through all the unnecessary pleasantries as if we were two strangers instead of the close related in-laws we once were.

It was obvious that he was not completely sure about coming in here alone. While seeing him here, watching how his eyes grew wide as if he still could not believe he would find me here when he first entered the room, to the moment his gaze softened with concern, I started to feel guilty for not letting him know about what had happened. The problem I had was with Jungkook, and it was not fair for me to bring his family down with it.

But I was not about to say that to him. Not when I was not sure whether he would be taking his brother’s side or mine.

“And what good would that be?” was all that I could say, though I could not help but give him a sad smile. “You can’t always fix everything, Junghyun. Certainly not this.”

Junghyun shook his head slowly. The grim look he had on his face told me more about what he was feeling at the moment. “I could have been there for you so you won’t have to face everything alone. If only I’d known—”

“I was not alone. I had Yoongi who helped me reconnect with my brother,” I cut him off and winced when he looked up at me with eyes full of shock. Sighing, I continued with a softer voice, ”Hoseok has been here for me through everything. They had already done more than what your brother could’ve given me,”

“I know what Jungkook did,” he said, after giving me a bit of silence.

“Did you?” my voice came out small. I knew I should not have blamed him for what his brother had done, but I had to know. “Did you know about it when it happened?”

Once again, Junghyun shook his head. “He wasn’t talking to me then,” he said, sighing deeply. His eyes were full of remorse as he ran his hands through his meticulously styled hair. “I had to force it out of him to know what he did the day we met. He came to our family lawyer, saying that he needed to discuss some stuff. When I found out that he was talking about divorce papers, I knew something was wrong, so I ambushed him at the lawyer’s office and forced him to tell me everything.”

Rubbing his hands over his face, he told me how his brother confessed to all of his faults — from abandoning me after the day of my last miscarriage, about how he had left me feeling neglected while he searched for comfort on alcohol and another woman without putting me or our marriage in his mind. The more he spoke, the more he looked as if he was also hurting from what Jungkook had done, if not disappointed at his brother for making so many mistakes altogether.

“Do you know what he’s doing to me now?” I asked him once he was done talking, after he muttered a few apologies as if he could have done something to undo everything or stop them before they had ever happened.

There was no need for him to say anything for me to know the answer. Jungkook was backed up by their family lawyer, after all.

“He loves you so much.”

I could not hold back the laughter that came bubbling from my throat. “And yet he torments me for it.”

Junghyun sighed. As if it was the only thing he could do when he was just as lost as I was in finding a way to deal with all of this. “He was sheltered all through his life until he found you,” he said, as if his words could make a difference. “He grew up having people fixing his problems for it so the only thing he knew what to do was to ignore them until they go away.”

“I knew that,” I told him with a scoff, holding back from reminding him of how many times in the past I called out Jungkook for that trait. And how many times I had to remind myself that no matter what I had done, there would be something about Jungkook that would never change. “And yet—”

I keep coming back to him.

Closing my eyes, I looked past the rage and the hatred that I had felt stronger for Jungkook during the past few days. With him not appearing before me to remind me of all the threats he had given me, I was beginning to resent him less and less for what he said to me that day.

Though it did not erase the pain that I still felt from his betrayals. “Still doesn’t explain why it was so easy for him to find someone else to fuck with if he really had loved me so much.”

This time, Junghyun shared the same disappointment and pain in his eyes when he groaned. “That one, I cannot explain.”

As we exchanged gazes in our silence that fell after, it felt like we had something to agree with. It was no denying that there was nothing left for us to fix. The only thing we could do was to move on and Jungkook was the one making it hard for both of us to get out of this standstill, to be able to protect what was left of us.

If he would keep this up, there would be nothing left of us but specks of dust and bitter memories of each other.

“You have always been so forgiving,” Junghyun muttered with a bitter smile.

“And for that, I had enabled him to do things as he pleased because of how much I loved him. The fear of losing him was much stronger for me to look the other way,” I admitted, closing my eyes as I began blaming myself for letting me be in this position.

“And now?”

I scoffed. “Look at me. I don’t have anything left. I’ve run out of things to break and if he breaks me again—I’m not sure if I can survive it,” I said, pointing at myself — mostly on the way I was motionless on the hospital bed and everything else attached to my body after my last chemotherapy the other day. “All I want is to have whatever chance I could get—no matter how small—to be happy.”

“But not with him.”

I looked over and was relieved to find that Junghyun was looking at me with curiosity, not that he was demanding me to forgive his brother and give him another chance, but just to understand what it was that I wanted.

“I can forgive him. I will always be able to. You know that,” I told him, smiling bitterly.

“But I can’t forget. He had hurt me too much and I have kept all these wounds inside me for far too long. The only way for me to heal and to continue living, even with the limited amount of time I might have left, is for him to let me go.”

That night, I told Jimin about the surprise visit and the conversation I had with Jungkook’s brother as we lied down on my bed.

At this point, nearly the entire hospital staffs had known about our affair. At least, those who were working on our floor, since both of us had stopped being discreet about it.

Thankfully, things were just the same as the time when we used to slip into each others’ rooms after our treatments. Nobody reacted negatively when they found out. Except for a couple of the strict staffs that would give eyes the stink eyes when they saw Jimin leaving my room in the morning, the other nurses and some of the security staff on this floor had only given us knowing looks and light scoldings about him leaving his room without permission, but did nothing more to stop us to share the bed. The last warning we had before tonight came from the night shift nurse who came by in her rounds and said, “Just be careful about breaking the bed,” while raising her brows knowingly. “And we’re not taking any responsibility if you kids get into trouble.”

Jimin and I laughed about her warnings when he came in, before his brows creased the moment he heard about Junghyun coming to see me and after I told him all that we talked about regarding Jungkook.

“He promised to talk to his brother, to convince Jungkook to make the right decision instead of making things a lot worse,” I told Jimin as he got worried, thinking that perhaps Junghyun had come in as a reinforcement to take Jungkook’s side when he only left after promising me that he would do the best he could to change his brother’s mind about the papers.

“You know that he can’t really take things to court. He can’t do that with your condition and when the documents you have handed for the divorce are legit,” Junghyun had told me, helping me to calm my thoughts a little. “I’ll work with your brother before he comes in to see our family lawyers. Pretty sure I can have our lawyer prepare another offer and make a better a deal that works for the two of you in the future.”

Jimin tucked my head against his shoulder. I could feel his hand running down my thinning hair, soothing me while he was listening to me speak. Though I partly believed that he needed that contact to calm himself down at the same time.

“If only I’d known what I had put myself into—” I wondered loudly while my mind traced back to all the decisions I had made which led me to this point.

Jimin chuckled bitterly beside me. “Remember what I said about turning back time? Whenever I wonder about the same thing, I always try to imagine if I could change anything I’ve ever done if only I had a chance to do it.”

Scoffing at the thought, I looked up to him. “Really? You think about changing your past?”

“Don’t you?” he asked me, raising his brows questioningly as if he already knew what my answer would be.

“You’re right. I do think about things like that randomly whenever I have some regrets,” I murmured softly, admitting for the first time that I had always thought about all the things that I would have done differently if I had to look back into the past.

“Can’t help it,” he said, sighing deeply while pressing his lips on the top of my head. “I guess that’s how our minds cope with all the terrible things we’re dealing with at the present time. To make us think that it’s possible to change things to make us feel less worthless and to stop us from wallowing too deep into all the regretful things we’d gone through.”

“If you could turn back time, what would you wish for?” I asked him. “Would you do things differently?”

Humming, Jimin looked up to the ceiling with a dreamy look in his eyes as he answered me, “There are a lot of things that I wish I could change. Maybe I could still do some things that I loved to do, but do it differently. I’d stay in school, keep in touch with my family, fall in love—”

“So you wouldn’t have to meet me?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Jimin cut me off, chuckling when I playfully pushed him away. He took me into his arms, pressing his lips on mine to drown our shared laughter.

I was ready for a gentle kiss, something that he would usually do just to shut me up. I was not expecting him to suddenly push through, to have his tongue penetrating through the seams of my lips, devouring me instead of just taking it easy with a simple kiss.

The kiss lasted longer when I got lost in it, then I felt the heaviness in the air building up the moment he pulled himself back. There was something in his eyes that I could not read. Something dark and cold, and it made me want to wrap my arms around him and never let go.

As if I was not the only one there that was left with broken pieces.

“I wish I could have found you first,” he said, tears curtained his eyes. “Perhaps it would have saved us both all the heartache, all the pain, and I could have made you happy. We could love each other and take care of one another without any worries, without being so scared of being wronged.”

I looked into his eyes searchingly, when his words triggered something inside me. Like there was a thread inside my chest that began to grow tight. It tightened, pulling itself up until it was clogged in my throat. I had no idea what it was.

Regret? Hope? Or was it the wounds from the past opening itself to remind me that there would never be a chance for me to rewind everything. That there was nobody else to blame for all the pain I have had to endure all these years but myself.

Jimin tipped my chin gently, wordlessly demanding for my attention. “How about you? Would you do things differently?”

My lips curled down to a bitter smile. I had to choose my words wisely to be able to share what I was feeling. Then I decided that the only way I could properly heal was to be honest with myself and face the bitter truth.

“I would have made different choices, yes,” I told him, looking deep into his eyes to say what I needed him to know about me the most. “I loved him, you know. He was the first person who had taught me about love, how to love, and made me feel loved. I thought he felt the same, but—”

But—

Why?

I have questioned myself the same thing over and over again, wondering why things had gone so wrong.

Jimin’s eyes were full of sorrow when he returned my gaze. “He wouldn’t be fighting so hard to get you back if he didn’t feel the same about you, love.”

Whatever it was that I was expecting to hear from him, certainly was not this. But it was enough to have me ask all the questions that I kept asking myself, everything that I never had the answers to.

“But why did he hurt me? Why does he keep doing these things?”

Why would he make my life feel miserable when all I have ever done was to love him and protect him with everything I had, even when everyone else had forsaken him, when people had forsaken us for being together?

“Why only fight for me now, after everything has been done, instead of then, when I needed him the most?”

Jimin brushed a thumb across my cheek, catching the moisture that had fallen without me realising it happening. “Because he’s desperate. He was lost and now he has no idea how to fix his own mess. Honestly, nobody can really tell the reason why but himself.”

I opened my mouth, quickly closing it again when I failed to find any word to respond to him with. He continued to caress my cheek and I instinctively rubbed my face against his palm, relishing the way he was calming me down. I felt bad about throwing all of this on him, but I was surprised to find him supporting me instead of pushing me away.

He was willing to listen and lend his shoulders for me to cry on, to reach out and willingly put his arms around me to shelter me in his embrace. And I felt extremely selfish for taking it all from him.

“When you talk to him again, ask him all the right questions so both of you can find the answers. Even if he finally gives in and lets you go, you probably wouldn’t be able to move on without knowing exactly what is going on in his mind. It will be hard for you to stop questioning things when you have absolutely no idea why he did all the things he had done.”

He was right. I knew he was and I knew that he was just saying all the things I should have known already but had slipped my mind when I was dealing with the situation with my emotions instead of using my head.

His words opened my eyes and I could feel the weight that had been filling my chest slowly being lifted.

“But you have to know this—” he suddenly added, right before I could even say anything. “No matter what his reasons were, they were never your fault. It wasn’t your fault that he hurt you. It was never your fault to feel so broken. And it was certainly not your fault when he broke your heart and your trust each time you gave him second, third, and many more chances by forgiving him and letting him back into your life. It’s always hard for someone to forgive others when they are hurt. Yet you have such a big heart to be able to forgive someone like that and welcome him with open arms. It’s his fault to take that for granted.”

“Why do you always have the right words to say?” my voice was small, cracking at the end of my words. But it was easy to notice how I was slowly healing. Not entirely. Not yet. But being able to speak about my problems and not dwell on them on my own truly helped.

This time, the smile he gave me reached his eyes. I could feel it and see it from the way he was looking at me before he finally said the words, “Because I love you.”

His words sent sparks fluttering inside my chest. It came to me so suddenly that I sucked my breath, and he caught my lips just as the first sob escaped me. Instead of crying, I found myself once again drowning in him and I leaned in for more, to let him devour every part of me that needed release until I could feel myself whole again through his touch.

“If only I had met you first—” he whispered to me when he pulled away, keeping his forehead pressed against mine. It was the same wishful thinking that he kept telling me, the same words we kept saying to each other. But this time, it felt somewhat—blissful, instead of feeling bittersweet to think about it.

“What would you do if we had?”

Jimin sighed. “I can’t promise you that we wouldn’t have some hard times. You know how stubborn I can be at times,” he said, making us both chuckle. “But I will never give up so easily and walk away when problem comes between us. I would never do that to you.”

From the past half of year I had known him, I knew that Jimin would never lie to me, even if it was only to make me feel better. I could see it in his eyes that he was telling me nothing but the truth. And right at that moment, just as we lost ourselves in our gazes, I felt something inside me that was begging me to do just the same, to only give him the truth and to always be honest with him.

Especially about what I was feeling.

“I love you, Jimin.”

Another day came passing by, another guest came to give me a surprise visit.

This time, though, the surprise was welcomed. Even if I clearly was not expecting to see her there.

She came in when I was snoozing off the exhaustion after my morning routines—the physical therapy and blood test which was taken to see how well I was hanging on after I had gotten the last drug pumped into my system. I was doing fine this morning. Yet on that afternoon, I woke up to a pain in my stomach. It had me clenching my hands tight but surprisingly felt no urge to throw my lunch out of my belly.

That was a first.

As my eyes slowly cleared out of the haze, that was when I finally saw her.

It was like looking through a piece of an old portrait the way I found her. Perched at the edge of my bed, she had her back facing the window, allowing the silver strands combing her dark hair to glow under the sunlight. She had yet to notice me awake as she had her head down, humming softly as she was peeling a tangerine so patiently and cleaning it up before placing them on a plate.

Just like the way she used to do it back when she was nursing my ailing mother.

“K-Kara?”

She nearly let go of the fruit in her hand at the sound of my voice, but managed to place it back into its basket as she moved to reach my hand. “Oh, baby—you’re awake,” she said, looking at me with her misty eyes. I knew then that some time while she was watching me asleep, she must have been crying.

The endearment she was giving me made me smile though, completely distracting me from her rattled state. “I’m not a baby, Kara. I’m about 30, after all,” I told her with a smile as I pushed myself up to sit.

Yet she scoffed and waved her small hand at me. “Almost. But not yet. It’s nowhere near your birthday yet,” she told me, smiling as she did, before a frown came to her face the minute she heard me clearing my dry throat. “What do you need? How are you feeling?”

“Thirsty,” I told her, frowning, and she was quick to leave her seat to help me with a glass of water.

“I peeled some tangerines for you,” she said as I slowly drank my water, waking myself up from the drowsiness which still remained. “Your friend—he told me that tangerine helps ease the bitterness on your tongue and might stop you from getting nausea before mealtime. Though he did warn me not to let you eat too much so you can still have your meal.”

“My friend?” I looked up to her, creasing my brows as I tried to think of someone who might have been there while I was sleeping. Hoseok had been absent as he was busy with a case at work while Yoongi was busy on his own projects to deal with. Which only left one other person. “Oh, was Jimin here?”

“Yes, Jimin. That’s his name,” Kara told me while sitting down next to the bed, grabbing the basket of tangerines back onto her lap to finish what she was doing. “He came by just when I got here and passed me these fresh, sweet looking tangerines. Told me that he would usually peel them for you whenever he is here to watch over you while you are sleeping.”

“Oh—”

My cheeks started heating up as if I was a teenage girl getting caught having her first boy crush. Or her first boyfriend. Kara must have caught on to it as she lifted her eyebrows.

“Someone special?”

I looked down, smiling to my lap. “Sort of,” I said. Then I remembered back when I was a teenage girl, when Kara used to sit in the dining room with my mother, sipping tea while they would gossip around on the neighbours and their old high school friends. And I remembered how Kara was the one to tease me when I got home with a boy the first time.

“We’re sort of seeing each other now,” I finally told her. Though judging from the way she was smiling, she could probably tell it was the case already.

Leaning forward, she passed me a plate of peeled tangerines for me to eat and asked me, “Tell me about him.”

And I did.

The next thing I knew, we began talking so normally and easily like we used to so many years ago. Starting from Jimin and how our relationship had grown, the funny stories I have had since I got into the hospital, and reminisced a few memories of my teenage years—skipping all the bad memories and the horrible parts of our past—all while we ate the tangerines Jimin had left behind and I had even managed to eat some soft cookies that Kara had bought for me.

Everything felt so comfortable and I felt so in peace. Everything just felt so right. And suddenly, all the painful memories between us—the fights, the resentment, and the disappointment I felt—seemed like they had never existed.

“What is it?” Kara asked me when she heard me chuckling to myself. Her smile was warm and her eyes were bright as if the sound slipping out of my lips were the most wonderful thing she had ever heard.

“Nothing, it’s just—” I chuckled some more, shaking my head for thinking about this. “It’s just that I’ve been lonely for so long and now suddenly—suddenly, everyone keeps coming back into my life. I’ve been getting the most random visits from the people that I had least expected. It’s just surprising, and funny, to think about. That’s all.”

“People come and go from our lives. It doesn’t mean that it would be impossible to reconnect. Even if it takes years,” she reached out to grab my hand. “Just like us.”

Her eyes grew misty yet again as she pulled back. “And it’s nothing wrong to let people back in once you are ready. No matter how well we are when we are alone, we still need people on our side. People to accompany us as we walk on our path and to lead us to where we need to go.”

I chose not to say anything, though I could hear Jimin’s words echoing inside my head.

“It goes to show that no matter how much you’ve pushed people away, at least some of them would find their way back to you.”

The only question which remained was—had it been too late for me to let my people in?

Kara came back the next day. Visiting me on her own again.

I didn’t think much of it when she came by the day before without my father, knowing how our last encounter had ended up. The last talk I had with my father may have ended with a truce, but it did not necessarily mean that we had reconciled the relationship that was once left broken. He had even stopped calling me on the phone after a while, though the only thing he said to Hoseok was that he had been busy with work.

When I saw Kara sitting there with drowsy eyes, I knew something was wrong. It didn’t take long before she finally confirmed it. All I had to do was told her about what I was going through with the divorce, before she finally admitted that she was going through the same thing. Or, at least, she was considering it.

“You’re divorcing my father?”

Kara’s lips curl down to a thin line. “Nothing official yet. I just—I just have been thinking about leaving him. That it would be best if we separate before things fall apart.”

There was a nagging feeling brewing inside my chest. All because I saw something familiar in the way she talked about him. I saw the same look on my mother when she told me about my father’s affair a long time ago.

“What happened?”

Kara pursed her lips together and looked away. A heavy sigh escaped her just as she began to speak, “At first, things just remained the same. His work always comes first. He still travels a lot for his business, opening shops here and there, attending off-shore meetings, visiting new places—” her voice trailed and her whole body started shaking as she took a deep breath. “I’ve always understood that he has his priorities straight and nothing has ever changed. He’s still the same caring, loving man, always tends to my needs and spends his time with me. Even if he spends just as much time at home as he does staying out.”

She looked at me, and her eyes grew misty. “Then I noticed that lately, he seemed—happier. I had thought it might have been something about you, because he’s been keeping contact with you. He spends time in the kitchen a lot, enjoying his moment there as he tries different recipes every night, cooking for me,” she says with a soft chuckle, and I suddenly picture him there—just like how I had found him the day I went back home to visit, when he cooked us dinner.

“He’s also been spending time at the gym,” she laughed. “Can you believe it? Your Dad, who had never cared about how he would look like, suddenly beginning to care about appearance.”

No, I could never imagine my father being at the gym, keeping his figure as if he was not an ageing parent. I should be laughing with Kara, thinking about him with wonder. But her laugh was bitter and I suddenly knew where this was heading. So I bit my tongue and kept silent.

“I thought he was trying to keep himself looking good so he can make me happy. He’s been joining me on a few gatherings, meeting up with the neighbours, coming with me to meet up with some of our friends,” she sighed. And that was when her mood changed. “But, that’s not the case with your Dad, is it?”

No, it was not. And I still said nothing.

“I went to his office one day before he was supposed to go on his business trip. It was the first time I met his new assistant. His very much younger assistant. Curvy, young, fresh, with thick hair and soft makeup and a coy smile that I knew your Dad would love,” she said with a faraway look in her eyes. “I should’ve seen the signs. I knew that man for years and I still failed to see it. Or maybe I did, but I just refused to see it as it was.”

A sense of bitterness came over me. I could not understand the nature of the rushing emotions that came bubbling up, for I had no idea what to think or feel about the ordeal my stepmother had found herself in. Should I be happy, for karma finally showing itself? Should I feel guilty and shameful for even thinking that way? Or should I feel sad for her?

“Did you think that you could change him?”

Kara shrugged, looking defeated. “I honestly don’t know what to believe. Maybe I was too naive,” she sighed. “I’ve never told you this, but I still blame myself for the pain we caused to your mother. Yet I stayed and I kept telling myself that he still needed me. I kept making myself believe that your mother never knew about what was going on between us. But after your visit, you opened my eyes and I knew that I had only been lying to myself. I should’ve also reminded myself what kind of man he is, but—”

Even after years of not seeing my own father, there was no possible way I could forget who he was and what kind of man he was.

Jungkook may have his reasons to hurt me. No matter how much I tried to deny it, I knew that he had his own reason on why he kept making terrible mistakes after another and why he had tormented me in the end, all because I knew his flaws. And it was the reason why I had always try to be the better and stronger person to give him a chance whenever he promised to do what was right until he could no longer keep his own words.

But that was never the case with my father.

The reason why he cheated was simply that. He was just a cheater who did so only because he could.

“So what now? What are you going to do now if you’re not coming home to Dad?”

“I went back to live with my parents,” she said, suddenly looking brighter now that she was talking about her plans. “And I’ll be renting a place downtown so I can be with you.”

Shaking my head, I refused to take her offer. I had witnessed what my mother had to go through and I knew how I felt with what was going on with me now to know better than to let her focus on me instead of getting her life back together. “You should focus on yourself. You don’t have to—” I stopped, pondering my next words a little before I voiced out my doubts. “If you’re here to help me because you are looking for redemption, then—”

“No, that is not what I’m looking for,” she sternly said, pointing her finger at me the way she used to whenever she had to chastise me in place of my mother. “I’m here because I want to. Even before I married your father, I had already looked at you as if you were my own daughter. I had already loved you then, and it had never changed no matter what had happened between us.”

Great. I was not expecting to be the one choking out with emotions after what she had spilled on me, but I did. Once again, I was reminded of the good old days, back when she was just coming to our house to spend time with my mother while my father was away on his trips and meddled with my teenage crushes because I could not talk about it with my parents. Back then, she was my Mom’s best friend who acted more like my favourite aunt and an older sister instead of the woman who had stolen my father away from us.

“I’ve lost so many years of knowing you, of being with you. I refuse to lose any more of it,” she said, this time choking with the same sobbing emotion as the one brimming inside me.

“What if I don’t get better, then what—”

She pressed a finger to my lips, shutting me up. Though her stern attitude was nothing compared to the look she was giving me through her gaze. She was not only looking at me with pain in her eyes. There was something else there when she looked at me. A look that she had been trying to conceal by forcing herself to be hopeful and full of joy.

It was fear.

Fear that I could feel rushing out of her when she spoke with her voice shaking emotionally, “I will take whatever I can get as long as I am here with you. You hear me? I’m not walking away from you and leave you be when you need help. Never again.”

It was happening again.

The highs and lows of my life just kept on coming to me like strong waves taking over the ocean.

Just when I felt things were going great, when I felt hopeful enough to make future plans, things instantly fell short to make sure it would never happen.

I was supposed to be getting better.

I was supposed to be planning my life ahead, of trying to find a place for both Jimin and me to try and continue to live like regular people. We were supposed to be on our way to find houses with big yards and white picket fences for both of us, looking through pictures of dogs or cats in the animal shelters for us to adopt.

Instead, here I was, waking up with more pain. At the end of the week, instead of feeling better and proving to the doctor that I would be able to live independently, I had only gotten worse, much worse, and I finally woke up at my lowest point one morning that I dreaded ever waking up at all.

“Tell me how you’re feeling,” Kara asked me when she found me curling on the bed. With tears flowing out as my body temperature was high with a fever.

“I’m fine,” I whispered, closing my eyes when the lies burned my tongue. Though I knew it was not the words I said which was hurting me. It was my own body, falling apart to the demon that had been eating me up inside.

“The doctor said he will come back with the test results and update us about what is going on,” Kara said as she passed the lunch tray. I could tell how hard she was trying to stay calm, but her own hands betrayed her when they kept shaking while she was preparing for my meal. “In the meantime, try to eat a little.”

“I can’t,” I told her, closing my eyes when talking alone felt too painful for me to do.

I tried to wet my lips, but it would do nothing to lessen the dryness and the patches on my drying lips. I tried putting on chapsticks and had even tried to put on the various types of lip balms that Kara had bought me. Nothing. I also had blisters inside my mouth which made it hard for me to eat anything.

“I remember when your mother had that too. I think soft pudding and soft ice cream helped her a lot back then. That’s why I figured I should get some for you so you could at least have some snacks,” Kara said as she pulled a few snacks out of the grocery bag that she had brought with her today.

My stomach was churning with both nausea and hunger, but I snatched the pudding anyway and forced myself to eat.

“Well?”

Swallowing slowly, I nodded timidly. “As long as I don’t have to chew, I might be okay,” I said with relief as I gobbled a few scoops of the pudding without a problem, though only seconds after the final word was out, I instantly winced in pain.

“The doctor better be here quick before I drag him down here myself,” Kara hissed, clenching her hands before she helped me open another container of the sweet pudding she bought me while I kept quiet.

We were scheduled to see the doctor today, but not for the reason of finding out what was wrong with me. We were supposed to talk about our plans for getting me out of here. After I had told Kara about what Jimin and I had planned, she had taken it upon herself to meet the doctor and requested that he would consider it, while also offered to take up the role as my guardian and caretaker if the hospital was willing to approve my release and make me take all the treatments as an outpatient like I used to.

With what had been going on since I woke up this morning, I already knew that we would be talking about all the different things and that I would not be getting all the answers I wanted.

Two containers of soft pudding and a small cup-sized of soft ice cream later, a nurse in her blue scrub came into the room and prepared me to take a trip downstairs. There was nothing much she could say when I asked her about it, only that the doctor needed me to take a quick visit down the lab before meeting him, and that he had something urgent to say to me after I had some blood work done.

All the way down to the doctors’ lobby with the nurse and Kara at my side, I had instantly felt it.

The dream of having a normal life shattering the closer I was to meet Dr. Kim. No more hopes for having a house with a beautiful white picket fence around it, no more hopes of building a peaceful life with Jimin.

I was sure of it even without the doctors confirming it for me beforehand when I could already feel it. After continuous chemotherapy and radiation, the strength and positive outcome that I was feeling slowly became null. I was feeling the pain again, I had no progress against the increasing pain and drowsiness I was feeling, and after a few days of finally being able to move freely on my own without anyone else’s assistance, I was suddenly becoming immobilised.

Pretty sure it was for that reason Dr. Kim had invited me to visit him in his office instead of having him come to my room as usual. There had been many changes happening already to make me feel cautious and tense. Like how today’s drug treatment was cancelled and how the schedule for my radiation—which was supposed to happen right before I was being released—was moved to an undefined future date.

The minute I sat right across from the doctor right in front of his desk, I already knew that he had come here bearing unpleasant news before he even said anything.

I could tell by the way he entered the room without even looking my way, and also from the quick exchange of glance he made with Kara as he was taking his seat behind his desk. And then there was the sigh which escaped his lips when he looked down on his notes. The deep sigh which he would always make each time he knew he was about to disappoint someone with what he was about to say. He even wore the grim look on his face, one which had his brows furrowing so deeply it made him look extremely tired and older than he actually was.

At least he had his white hospital coat disposed of before he sat down, giving me a leeway to treat him like a friend. Just the way he wanted me to.

Except that he had yet to raise his face to look at me. He still had his eyes down as he flipped through the folder on his desk, my full name imprinted on its front cover and right on the top of the papers which looked similar to my previous test results.

“Lay it on me, Doc. What’s the verdict?”

Dr. Kim lifted his face and smiled. “It’s Seokjin, remember? I’m off-duty the minute that coat is off,” he said, pointing at the coat hanged right at his door with his thumb as he winked playfully. For a moment there, the tension in the room lessened with his cheekiness. Only briefly, and then it fell back in place when his cheeky smile turned into his signature regretful one.

His silence made me wonder if he was planning to take it easy, going on a round route of giving me nice words and some positive news to distract me from the negative ones. But he knew me well enough at this point to know that it would never work on me. Enough to know that I would prefer for him to be honest instead of giving me false hopes.

“Alright—” he started, sighing once more as he straightened himself on his seat, bracing himself for what he was about to say. “I know that I had promised to keep you updated with your progress and see if we could get you out of here. You know how much I hate to do this, but I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Raising my brows, I could only guess what this meeting was all about and what the doctor was trying to tell me. “You’re denying my request of getting released from the hospital.”

“I’m so sorry about this, and it’s not that the hospital is completely denying to let you continue as an outpatient, which I believe you could, or that I don’t trust you to nurse ______,” he said, glancing at Kara on this part before he turned back to look at me. “I do trust your family to keep an eye on you while you are out there. It’s just that this is going to have to wait.”

“How so?”

“A new progress has occurred after our last test and with your current condition, it seems impossible to let you go before giving you another treatment.”

“Just one treatment?” I asked him while trying to figure out what he might be planning for me.

Seokjin nodded solemnly. “Just as predicted, the cancer has stopped responding to your treatments. The chemo did well at first, and your body reacted the way it should until it didn’t, even with the new drug we have added in the mix. The cancer seems to be fighting back, and we’re beginning to worry that the radiation will not be able to keep up with how fast it is growing.”

Kara reached for my hand and clenched tightly. “So, what’s our option?” she asked the doctor. Her presence comforted me, but I could not deny that I was wishing to have my brother here with me to hear this news with us instead of having to wait until I could break it down to him later.

“Your first option would be to go through radiation if only we could get it sooner than we had it planned. The X-ray photos we took from you after the last radiation showed great results, but we can’t do it simultaneously, and the pain you have been experiencing only indicates that the mass seems to keep on growing during the spare time we have between treatments. So we’ve been talking about placing you in surgery,” he said, as if he had it all figured out.

“After looking through your family history and your mother’s case, we have found that you share the same T-cells as your mother, and it seems that the cancer is building up around it the same way it did with your mother. If I’m right, it will resume to progress the way it did with your mother. The only way I can give you clearance is if we go ahead with the surgery and see if we can take it out before it gets any worse. But—” Seokjin stopped for a moment, having quite a hard time to choose his words. “—with the size of the mass growth we have now and where it is situated, the risk would be too high.”

Kara’s grip on my hand tightened, and I could have never been more grateful to have her there so she could keep me grounded. The new information was making my head spin.

“Your body is still recovering from the vigorous chemotherapy treatments you have been put through so we’re supposed to wait until you are ready to get you to another drug treatment or the upcoming radiation. But like I said, it’s a race against time. The cancer is getting aggressive and if we don’t move fast to remove it, it might progress further into the next level of its metastasis. It could either spread into a wider area, or—it would strike you at your fatal points.”

I knew that he was trying to tell me everything there was to know about my disease. But I hated the fact that he sounded like he was trying to persuade me into agreeing and let him cut me open to get this thing out of my body. And I hated that he made it seem like I had no other option.

“How—how bad would the spreading be?” I heard Kara taking over the conversation while I was mulling over the new fact that I was still having a hard time processing.

Seokjin kept his eyes on me for a moment, like he knew I was having trouble making a decision. Then he looked at Kara, sounding calm and collected when he said, “Looking at where it is located now, the metastasis could head straight into the lungs, and there is always a risk of having it reaching the brain area.”

Just like my mother, I suddenly wondered with a shudder as I recalled the day she fell into a coma when the mass inside her body progressed so rapidly, as if it had taken a turn overnight and bypassed her radiation when it began building around the soft tissues in her body. Her lungs taking the hardest blow before her brain seized to function.

“The only thing that I must warn you about is that through the surgery, the doctors tend to be aggressive upon removing this type of cancer.”

A high-risk surgery. So that was the reason why he had chosen to have this talk in his private area, instead of in the open space of my room.

“What are my odds of getting through it completely intact?”

“40 to 60 percent of survival, give or take,” he said, though it was clear to me that he was trying so hard not to make empty promises when he was not entirely sure about it.

“So basically, what you’re saying is that I’ll either die of this cancer or die in the hands of the people trying to save me?” I was practically shaking so hard after listening to everything he had to say and my heartbeat was racing so hard I could barely breathe.

How my voice came out so calm and steady at this point was beyond me.

“You could put it that way,” he shrugged, though it was obvious that he hated having to tell me all of this. For not being able to give me something positive to hold on to. “But it would be no better than to wait until the chemotherapy and radiation could finally work against it. If you choose to remain with the therapy and medications you are currently in, we can still try to intensify or add the dose on the next radiation to help you heal slowly, use it to reduce the pain until we get through the next one. But we have no clue how much time the mass will stay dormant this time before it resumes its growth.”

At this point, it really did seem like I had no other choice. It was either to take that risk so I could have a chance to have some extra time in life, or fall back and let fate decide what to do with my life.

I recalled having him offering me to have the radiation to cut down the nerves which allowed me to stop feeling any pain so I could get through the treatments more smoothly. But I had refused to do it long ago as it would be like deceiving myself and making me forget that I was going through this.

I could not decide. I felt so lost and afraid. Afraid of making the wrong choices when my own life, my own future, was at risk.

“If you were the one to make the choice, what would you say would be the better option for me to take?”

Seokjin kept his eyes on me when he spoke, as if he was trying to talk me down into giving in. “If it was up to me, then I say we remove it. It’s a high risk, but we are on a race against time and we have to move quickly if we want to get a step ahead.”

“Will you be alright on your own?”

Kara tightened her coat on while watching me closely. The nighttime had fallen and she had to return home.

She had a clearance to stay the night as my guardian, but she knew that I would want to spend some time with Jimin—even if she never knew how often Jimin would spend the night in my bed at night—while she would try to find a way to talk to my brother and update him with everything that we had just found out today.

“I’ll be fine,” I told her, forcing a smile so I could convince her the best I could. “Jimin would probably come to visit me before bedtime anyway to keep me company. Even if he’s not coming, I’m tired enough to fall asleep anytime soon.”

The lie felt bitter on my tongue, but I was glad that Kara never caught on to it.

“Okay, but keep your phone close and in hands reach so we can stay in contact. I’ll be here before noon tomorrow,” she said, before kissing my cheek one last time and walked out the door.

The room fell silent right after. It was not long until the nurses came in for the last round of the night and the lights were turned off, but I could not find sleep coming to me soon enough. Hours passed and my mind was still moving a mile a minute, pondering over the things that we had talked about earlier today.

The night continued to linger, and I began to notice that there was no sign of Jimin coming into my room.

I waited until an hour passed. Then another hour. Still no sign of him.

I had no idea what came over me. Perhaps the need to find someone to talk to had made me feel impatient and restless. Perhaps the stress was compelling me to step out of the room when it was suddenly starting to make me feel claustrophobic.

Though I could also say that I was probably just missing him so badly, since I have gotten used to sleeping in his arms.

Before I knew it, I was pushing myself off the bed. There was no infusion bag attached to me and no IV pole to hold me back, so I had thought I would have no problem moving on my own without help or a wheelchair. But it surely didn’t take long for me to realise how wrong I was.

The pain began to build up when I was only halfway out on my journey. My breath was getting heavy and my chest was growing tight. I only told myself that I was doing okay and that it was only nerves getting to me for the reasons why I was out there making my way to him.

I hated to be the bearer of bad news, to crush all hopes of us living happily together and forgetting about our battles right here inside these walls. Yet I held on to hopes that perhaps facing the truth together would be able to help us to cope, to make us feel stronger against whatever coming in the way of our happiness.

That thought alone was the only thing that kept me going, no matter how badly my body was begging me to stop.

The hallways were dark and deserted at night. I could always hear it when the nurses or security guards were walking around the hall so I was half expecting to be found before I managed to get to him. But there was no one stopping me as I continued walking, holding onto the handrails attached to the walls as I made my way towards the other wing where Jimin’s room is located.

It took me a long time to get there. Though it wasn’t exactly an easy trip to go through either.

But after having my nightdress soaked with sweat, my back aching and my legs shaking as I kept holding myself up and forcing my way, my chest growing tight as I was running out of air even when I was taking my time and moving so slow from one hallway to another, I was finally standing right in front of Jimin’s room.

The door was closed shut, so I had thought that he might have fallen asleep.

He was not supposed to be having his treatment yet, which was why I was not expecting to find him resting so early. But it did stop me from barging in, afraid that I might wake him up and intrude his much-needed rest.

Then I heard his voice, coughing so hard from inside the room. The coughs sounded wet and heavy, and unlike the sounds that I have heard him making when it happened to him before, so I couldn’t wait any longer and gently pushed the door. Just as I stepped inside, calling his name softly, I saw him hunching over on the bed, still in his coughing fit.

His face was pale when he looked up to me, his eyes were red with tears. But it was the stain on his clothes and sheets which had me gasping and nearly stumble crying, because all I saw was blood, dripping from his lips and coming out on each cough escaping him.

“_______,” Jimin choked out my name when he saw me, coughing out blood a few more times and gasping for breath, before he fell unconscious over the bed.

“Jimin!”

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