#and it made me so mad because you literally do shop around before therapists and for restaurants

[nyanryan]

the need to have "neurotypical" and "neurodivergent" be two completely different things with no grey area in between is a disservice to both groups. i would say every single person on this earth could qualify as neurodivergent if they bothered to go see a psychiatrist. its just that only certain ppl are going to be put in a situation where they cannot function and need a label to explain it bc society

[constellarations]

moon's wane - reki x gn!reader

reki's feeling down and you comfort him.

pairing: reki x gn!reader

warnings: sad reki :(

notes: hi

gift for: @hpalways

Reki was acting strangely today.

Actually, he’s been strange for the past week. Week! Why a week? Uh, you weren’t sure.

You wondered if he was possessed. Kyan Reki, a literal skateboarding-fanatic, had suddenly stopped skateboarding to school. Was this what parents called a phase?! An era, even?

He was unenthusiastic, and even when you offered to go skating with him, he declined and said he was busy.

Busy doing what? You munched on an apple angrily. Sure, you didn’t confess to Reki yet. And suuure, you had no idea if he liked you back or even cared about your feelings, but—!

“[Name].”

Okay, honestly, you didn’t even know if Reki was into you. His love for skateboarding probably overpowered any inch of… existence… that you had up in his (tiny) brain.

Silence.

And not to mention the fact that the two of you shared like— zero hobbies in common! What does writing and skateboarding allude to? Uh… poetry about a board? Hello?!

“[Name].”

You took another bite out of your apple, questioning the meaning of life and whether the way Reki spared you a glance for approximately 0.628 seconds meant that he was in love with you.

“[Name]!”

You flinched. Looking over to your side, where your ear was getting yelled at, you were met with the sight of Langa…

… Who had a very unamused expression.

“Did you have a fight with Reki?”

You were offended momentarily, taken aback at his sudden question.

“No?”

“You sound unsure.”

“I didn’t talk to him at all!”

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

Are you a therapist? A detective, even? You sweatdropped, unsure of how to answer.

“I don’t know… yesterday?”

Langa looked surprised. What was he expecting? For you to not talk to Reki for weeks? As much as you wished you could do that, Reki, unfortunately, had some kind of magnet around—

“So he’s sad because of another reason.”

“EH?! Are you saying he’d be sad because of me?”

Okay, now you were actually offended. Did Langa think Reki and you had some kind of bad blood? Hello… that’s a Taylor Swift song! Not your relationship!

“I don’t know.” Langa shrugged. You almost wanted to strangle him, but alas, you were not here to kill pretty boys. “He just seems… off.”

He does. You agreed silently. You were so used to a flamboyant and sunshine Reki, it was odd to see him so down in the dumps. In all honesty, you didn’t even want him to be down. You wanted Reki to be happy.

“I’ll go talk to him!” You stood up with newfound determination. Langa, on the other hand, could only watch you with his usual confused deadpan.

“[Name]-chan, do you even know where he is?”

You deflated slightly. If this were a K-Drama, you would’ve known. Ah, what was the title of that one show? Where they have this little alarm in their head when they come close to the one they love? Yeah, that was what you wanted to be. Though, if you were near Reki with that ability, you may have gone mad due to the repetitive alarm of your mind.

“No… I don’t. But I can find him! Just watch me!”

Langa let out a puff of air, mumbling something along the lines of “no thank you.”

A tick mark appeared on your forehead. The Canadian boy was lucky that he was cute, if he wasn’t, he would’ve been six feet (under)!

And then, you ran off. Leaving a very indifferent Langa and a bunch of questions sprouting in your mind.

Usually, you would find Reki somewhere like a skatepark— but obviously, he was possessed or whatever— so he wouldn’t be at such a place.

Your brain then became the size of the galaxy. His house! You made an abrupt turn, running for your bike that was parked before swiftly hopping onto it, pedalling away to the boy’s address.

Okay, actually, you were no stalker. So you had to pull your phone out to get directions… but let’s pretend that you knew based on instincts because of your undying love for the red-haired boy!

Coincidentally enough, there was a silhouette standing right outside the boy’s house. Squinting, you could barely make out the faint hue of crimson, matched with a very unfitting frown.

Reki. You pedalled a bit faster, desperation rocking each time you did. He’s sad? Why? He seemed to be looking quietly down at his skateboard. The scratches on the bottom represented all of his hard work, and yet, he didn’t look proud.

Finding your voice, you called, “Reki!”

You smiled brightly. It contrasted his solemn look as he glanced up at you instantly. Slightly, you could make out his lips curving up. Somehow, it managed to make your heart beat faster.

When Reki frowns (which was very rare), you would smile. If you could, you would give him every single smile that you’ve ever shown. All of them, any of them. You’d smile for him until your lips could not do so anymore.

Because whenever you were sad, he was there for you. It was only fair to do it back to him. If it were nature’s ecosystem, you supposed that Reki would be the rain and sun, giving you time to flourish. And in return? You’d promise to take care of this grand Earth while he cultivated it.

When did I suddenly become a poet? Your hands subconsciously braked, you suppose it was muscle memory. Docking the bike before hopping off, you walked slowly up to the boy with a small grin.

“[Name].” He seemed relieved when he saw you, and for a moment, it made your hopes fly high. It felt good to know that you were not the only one who was ecstatic over such a brief meeting.

“Want to walk around the town? There’s a new boba place that opened up! We should go together.” You decided to take his mind off of whatever was bothering him. You were no therapist, per se, but it was a start.

And surprisingly, Reki accepted your offer. Weirdly enough, he turned around to his porch before dropping off his skateboard. It confused you a bit— no, tremendously.

Deciding that the sport was the source of his worries, you decided not to pry. I’ll ask later.

With a warm face and a racing heart, the two of you walked off in the direction of the shop. It was odd not biking and him skateboarding, but a change of pace was nice every now and then.

“Hey, [Name]...” Reki kicked a pebble. You almost felt bad for the tiny rock. “Have you ever fallen behind in something you loved?’

Your eyes widened before your mind drifted off. Many times, actually. You were not invincible or a character that was protected heavily by plot-armor— you were just you… kind of average, kind of dumb, but at the end of the day, failure was common, wasn’t it?

“Yeah,” your voice quieted down, and for a second, Reki panicked.

“Sorry! Was that too blunt—?! I’m really sorry!”

You smiled.

“Don’t worry about it, Reki.” You could feel your face get hot, even under the cool Okinawa breeze.

“Actually, I fall behind a lot.” Looking down at your feet, you kind of wanted to sink into the floor. This is embarrassing! But seeing how distraught Reki was, you supposed that giving up your pride would be worth the smile he’d wear after.

“But everyone has different goals and minds. It’s not fair for me to compare myself to others…” You were tempted to give Reki a look as his lips seemed to be quivering.

“Hey, [Name]...” He spoke, stopping abruptly on the sidewalk. You paused, glancing over at him slowly.

“Can you… l-look away, for a bit?” He stuttered, face somehow turning red even under the dimming light. You wanted to question why, but the expression he had and the way his arm rubbed his eyes was enough of a response.

“Sure.” You turned around, refraining from doing the opposite and holding him while he cried. His sniffles grew louder and louder, even when he was making such an active attempt to dwindle them.

“I… I just…” His breath was shaky as he seemed to choke on his own words. “I don’t know what went wrong… what did I do?”

You did nothing wrong. You stayed silent. The male seemed to not need words of reassurance, instead, he only needed a listener.

“He started after me… b-but now I’m just a n...nobody. He’s so much better than me, in everything, anything.” He cried, sniffles turning into hiccups. Don’t cry. You wanted to turn around, but that would be a violation of his request.

So you stepped back. One, two. Counting, you finally felt a wall of fabric. The image of Reki’s yellow sweater popped up in your mind. Cute, you mused. He still wore it in times like these.

You could feel his breath stifle once your back met his. With the two of you facing away from each other, the warmth from his hoodie flourished like ink in water.

“Why do you skate, Reki?” You gazed at the sky. The moon is pretty tonight. The stars too, but right now, the stars reminded you of tears.

And it was then you realized that Reki was not the sun or the rain. He was the moon. Supportive, bright even in the darkest of times, and hidden. Reki was hidden behind prodigies like Langa and Miya, but even so, he was essential.

What would the sun do without the moon? Who would the sun step back for to lay down the burden of giving light? The sun gives for the moon to take, and the moon takes for the sun to give.

If you had looked, then Reki would probably be crying stars. Constellations would be trickling down his cheeks, and maybe, you could make out polaris with it. He could paint the galaxy with him and himself alone, he could do so much, and yet, he was not the sun.

No, he would never compare to the sun. The sun was a completely different essence in itself. It would be unfair to hold Reki up to Langa and expect them to be the same.

Reki was silent. You supposed that in this trek of inferiority, he had lost that essence— that galaxy. What was the reason he skates for? Why did he spend so many hours getting bruises and scratches?

Why did he do so much and expect so little in return?

“Because it’s fun,” he said confidently. If the moon was the sun, then it’d shine so brightly. If the moon was the sun, then the world would never have time to sleep. There would be no way to see the stars, or the constellations in the sky, or Venus and Mars.

With those three words alone, you could feel Reki’s breath speed up. He turned around, resting his hands gently on your shoulders as you could feel his smile alone.

“It’s fun! Skateboarding is fun! It can be done anywhere, anytime—” His voice cracked due to just having cried, and you swore that fumes escaped his ears. You wanted to laugh slightly at his embarrassment, but decided to be benevolent and stay quiet.

“... and can be done with the ones you love.”

You froze. Love. What a strong word, what a broad word. What is love? What does it entail? How can one person want to devote their entire life to another? It was strange.

But you suppose that love is Reki. He is love, he is someone who you’d think about the second you woke up. Was that cheesy? Yes. But when you were a kid, you used to think that the moon was made out of cheese— so it works out. You were quite the poet, Shakespeare kinnie.

“Is that so?” You pretended to question, but Reki knew that you were just saying that to say it.

Reki was an anomaly. As much as you knew about him, and he knew about you, you never seemed to understand him. If it were anyone else, you were sure that they would not recover from a slump with just three words.

But Reki was not anyone else— he was not a nobody either. Reki was the moon and the definition of love, he was sunshine even though he was unappreciated. He was everything and anything.

It was strange, though. You two were only teenagers, and yet, you could envision a whole future with the red-head. Unrealistic. You wanted to scold yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“[Name],” Reki called, and this time, he spun you around. He averted his amber eyes from your own irises, a light pout dusting his lips.

“Do you want to… skateboard with me?”

You sweatdropped. What a weird way to confess. Though, you had just concluded that Reki was an anomaly— so this was not that strange.

“Is that your way of asking me out on a date?” You smirked, but that wasn’t enough to mask the way your eyes widened in shock. You were both idiots, but you supposed that wasn’t a bad thing.

“No— yes! Yeah? Wait—” Reki short-circuited, unsure of his own choice of words. Now, he really was reprimanding himself for being such a dummy.

“Relax.” You patted his shoulder, smirk turning into a goofy smile. “If it is… then I accept.”

“R-Really?!” His mouth hung agape, and you could only deadpan.

“Were you expecting me to say no?”

“Well.. I wasn’t really expecting to get this far!” He managed to laugh, even with tear-stained cheeks and reddened eyes.

“Idiot.”

“Hey!”

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (4)

masterlist. 

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD

Short update this week! I just started a new semester, and I’m taking a maximum credit load, so it’s very possible that a) there won’t be an update next weekend b) updates will be every other weekend instead of every weekend for a while. We’ll see how it goes. Thank you so much for all your love and support!

*****

Riley woke to Kalei’s lips on the back of her neck. “Good morning,” she hummed. 

“Morning, gorgeous.” Kalei’s hands explored Riley’s body as he spooned her, slowly waking her nerves with each touch. Eventually touching turned to kissing, kissing to making out, and making out to bodies writhing between the sheets and loud moans echoing throughout the apartment. 

Riley couldn’t remember the last time she had a one night stand this good. Maybe never. 

When they finally parted, Riley pulled on a black silk robe and headed to the kitchen to make coffee for them both while Kalei showered. 

She nearly had a heart attack when she realized she wasn’t alone. Desi sat on one of the barstools looking pissed as hell, and Riley instantly regretted ever giving that woman a key. “How long have you been here?” she demanded. 

“Too long.” 

“Pervert.” Riley turned her back on her unwelcome guest and resumed her coffee mission. 

“I take it you had fun last night,” Desi said coolly. “Considering you brought it home with you.” 

“I did.” Riley smirked. “Coffee?” Desi shook her head. 

Before she could say anything else, Riley’s fun entered the kitchen. “Oh,” Kalei said, noticing Desi. “Am I interrupting something?” 

“Nope,” Riley said sweetly at the same time Desi growled, “Yes.” 

Kalei’s gaze flicked between the two women, clearly confused about where to go from here. “Uhh—” 

“Why don’t you give us a minute.” Desi gave him an icy smile. 

Riley whirled on her friend, glaring. “You don’t tell him what to do. He is my guest. You, on the other hand, are not.” 

Hands raised in surrender, Kalei backed off anyway, stuttering, “I’m gonna go.” He made a beeline for the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. 

“You didn’t have to be so rude.”  

“You know why I’m here?” Desi snapped. 

Riley sighed, crossing her arms. “Why?” 

“Because I got home from work at three in the morning and found Nikki in my bed, with my girlfriend. And then I got in trouble for waking them up because apparently, Nikki had just calmed down from her rage fit because you ditched everyone during your little girls’ night!” 

Taking a sip of her coffee to hide her annoyance, Riley replied, “Nikki literally watched me buy a new box of condoms when we went shopping the other day. She shouldn’t be surprised.” 

Desi rolled her eyes. “She’s not mad about you hooking up with some guy, you idiot. She’s mad because you were supposed to be showing the new girl the ropes and then you just left. I suggest you put on your big girl pants and apologize before Nikki decides to replace you.” 

“She can’t.” Riley leaned back against the counter. “The Five Eyes are my team.” 

Desi raised an eyebrow. “With that attitude? Not for much longer.” 

“So what, you’re here just to scold me like you’re my mom?” 

“No. I’m here because I’m your friend, and because everyone else thinks you need to be knocked off your high horse.” 

A beat. “And you? What do you think?” 

“I think you need help. I think prison affected you way more than you’re letting on, and I think you still hold a grudge against Nikki for getting you arrested in the first place, whether you realize it or not.” 

Riley was silent. If those words had come from anyone else, she would’ve been seeing red, but it was different coming from Desi. There was more...weight to them. More truth. Desi wasn’t the most forthcoming person in the world, but she also wasn’t a liar. 

“Okay,” Riley said slowly. “What do you suggest I do about it?” 

“Talk to someone. Preferably a therapist.” Desi sighed. “But if that’s too scary, you can start by talking to me. I’ve been where you are.” 

“What are you talking about? You’ve never been convicted for any of your crimes.” 

“I’m talking about PTSD, Riley. I have it, and I’m willing to bet you do too.” 

Riley caught her shoulders caving in and quickly straightened up. Don’t show weakness, she reminded herself. “You don’t talk about it.” 

“I talk about it with Sam.” 

It was Riley’s turn to roll her eyes. “Whatever,” she snarked.  

“It’s not whatever, and you know it.” 

Riley was over this conversation. “Can I get back to the very hot man in my bed now?” 

Desi almost looked sad as she stood. “Please, just...think about what I said.” She walked out the door without another word, leaving Riley with nothing but Desi’s echoing words as company.

*****

Riley sat across from Jill on her couch, laptop mirroring the schematics of the Louvre onto the T.V. Slouched into the black leather cushions, Riley’s casual posture didn't match the way her eyes narrowed as she studied the screen. It looked like she was pouting, but Riley didn’t care. Beside her, Jill did the opposite—sitting up straight, eyes calmly taking in the information on the screen. 

"How would you do it?" Riley asked. 

"Huh?"

Riley turned her attention to Jill. "If you were planning to rob the most secure museum in the world, how would you do it?" 

Jill pursed her lips, thinking. She stood, stepping closer to the T.V. "I would do it on a crowded day for more cover. The bigger the crowd, the better. And I wouldn't take something crazy famous that people would immediately realize was missing.” I wouldn’t take the French Crown Jewels, she clearly meant. Riley ignored the implied questioning of her judgement, giving Jill a free pass, but only because she was new. 

“Go on,” Riley urged. 

“The way I see it, there’s two ways we could do this. The first way, we do it in broad daylight, disguised as employees. Make up some documentation that the item needs to be moved for some reason. By the time someone figures us out, we’ll be long gone.” 

Not bad, Riley thought. But she knew firsthand that Jill’s plan wasn’t as easy as she made it sound. “And the other way?”

“Cut the power, create chaos, grab it and run.” 

A small grin curved Riley’s lips. “I like your style.” A plan started to form in her mind. Cutting the power would not only provide darkness as a cover, but it would also disable all of the security systems in place. All they’d have to do is get out unseen before the power was restored. 

“So how do we put the jewels on the black market?” Jill asked, sitting back down. “It seems to me that we might as well just tattoo ‘I did it’ onto our foreheads if we’re going to be that obvious.” 

Riley smirked. “Don’t worry about that. I can keep us completely anonymous. We’ll get our money with no one the wiser.” 

Crossing one leg under her, Jill said, “So you really don’t have an ulterior motive, do you? This is just plain old doing crime for money.” She fidgeted with the hem of her jeans as she spoke. 

“Yep. I like it that way. All I have to lose is a shit ton of money I don’t need.” 

“But if you’re the insanely talented hacker Nikki said you are, then why don’t you work for the government or something?” She pushed up her oversized glasses. “Why not use your skills for good?” 

“I have no interest in wasting my life behind a desk.” 

Pressing on, she said, “Then become a spy or something. I’m pretty sure the CIA hires nerds like you.” Eyes widening, Jill realized her mistake as soon as the words left her lips. 

“Nerds like me, huh?” Riley toyed, enjoying Jill’s discomfort. The blonde’s confidence was always so short-lived. “I’m just a common criminal,” Riley said in a low, confident tone. “I get my rush from stealing stuff. Do you know where the CIA gets it’s rush?” Jill shook her head. “From toppling foreign governments and premeditated murder.” A pause. “I’m a lot of things, Jill Morgan, but a murderer is not one of them.” 

Jill seemed to think it over for a few seconds before murmuring, “You might not be a murderer, but you are anything but a common criminal, Riley Davis.” 

Silence. 

The moment passed, and Jill looked more confused than ever. Riley fed her empty answer after empty answer, but it seemed the new recruit saw right through her facade to the impenetrable wall between the real Riley and the world. For a long time, that wall was her only source of safety, and Riley wasn’t too keen on taking it down. Especially not with someone new.

Clearly Jill hadn’t figured that out yet. “What am I missing?” she probed. Jill studied Riley like she could see right through the wall if she just looked hard enough. Riley didn’t like it. “I know why I’m here. You’re still trying to decide whether to trust me.” She paused. “But what you haven’t done is give me a reason to trust you.” 

“You trust Nikki,” Riley said matter of factly. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.” 

“That’s true. But Nikki isn’t the one walking around like the living embodiment of a loaded gun.” Riley arched a brow in challenge, and surprisingly, Jill didn’t back down this time. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out you’ve been gone for a while, and I bet your friend leaving the team had something to do with that. So tell me, what am I missing?” 

Sucking her teeth, Riley shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

With way more authority than she actually had, Jill said, “I’m going to refill my water bottle, and when I get back I expect an explanation.” 

“And when you don’t get said explanation?” 

“Then I will walk out that door and rat you all out to my friends at LAPD.” Taken aback by the threat, Riley said nothing. The coldness in Jill’s eyes and the set of her jaw made Riley think she wasn’t bluffing. Riley managed to school her face into neutrality, but her hand twitched, and Jill saw it. And suddenly they both knew Riley was backed into a corner she couldn’t get out of—not without this becoming very messy, anyway. 

Perhaps she had misjudged Jill completely. 

The thirty seconds it took Jill to fill her water wasn’t enough time for Riley to improvise her escape. Begrudgingly, she settled for the truth. “You want to know where I’ve been? Fine. I was in prison for the last two years. I’ve been out for almost a week.” 

“Why.” It was more of a demand than a question.

“During our last job, Nikki and Leanna—who you’re replacing—got caught. I bailed them out. Everyone else made it out just fine, and I got arrested.” 

Jill’s expression softened. “You sacrificed yourself for them,” she said, almost in awe. “Do you regret it?” 

Riley swallowed. Her pre-prison self would’ve rescued her friends—her family—every time, without a second thought. But after prison...she would rather die than go back. Jill looked at her expectantly, awaiting an answer. 

Telling Jill wasn’t the same as telling the others. She’s practically a stranger. But the others...telling them would make it all real. So in a rare moment of honesty, Riley finally admitted, “Sometimes.” 

A beat. “Thank you for telling me.” 

The air was thick with the murky truth Riley had revealed—and the implications that went with it. Confessing didn’t make her feel any better. Mostly Riley just felt like she’d lost something she could never get back. 

“So in a big crowd, huh?” Riley said to break the tension. 

The unreadable expression lingered for a moment before Jill finally looked away with a muttered “Uh, yeah.” She mindlessly pushed up her glasses with her middle finger. A nervous habit, Riley realized. Jill babbled, “I heard that some designer is renting the Louvre for an afterparty during Fashion Week. Apparently they’re unveiling some diamond and sapphire jewelry set at the party, in the same room that holds the French Crown Jewels. I think that it’s super tacky comparing something new to something so old and beautiful, but supposedly the new jewels are worth millions.” 

A thought began forming in Riley’s head. “How many million?” 

“Hundreds.” 

Nodding her approval, Riley said, “That’s not a bad idea, Blondie.” 

Jill seemed almost comically lost. “Idea?” she questioned. “What idea?” 

“Since you all hated my crown jewels plan, why don’t we get the next best thing?” 

Her eyes widened in understanding. “Oh.” 

Riley asked, “Where did you hear about the party anyway?” Jill chewed her lower lip, hesitating, but Riley didn’t have much patience these days. “Well?” she demanded. 

“Nikki.” 

Of course that’s who she heard it from. Nikki kept up with the fashion industry like her life depended on it. “I see,” Riley said. So much for escaping awkward conversations. 

“You should talk to her,” Jill blurted. “I know things are weird between you right now, but they won’t get better by doing nothing.” 

Riley hated how small her voice sounded when she whispered, “I know.”

~ Tag List ~ (let me know if you’d like to be added!) 

@macrileyedits / @hellishrose / @incorret-macgyver-quotes / @mylifequotesshowallofthem / @thecarrieonokay 

[marveloussupernerd]

Ice Cream - Vanderwood

Uhm so... this idea started w this being abo seven. Then about Unknown. And then about Vandy. Just to clarify, I know lots of different pronouns are thrown around for Vanderwood, but I’m playing the safe route and going by he/him because that’s what the creators said 😀 no judgement if you hc otherwise though! Sorry this is probably gonna be OOC bc I have not played another story so my interactions w him have been slim to none

Summary: You were just kind of... depressed today. With the hacker at large, Seven and Mary Vanderwood III have been tasked with watching you through security cameras. Kinda rough when you won’t leave your room and there aren’t cameras in there. Vanderwood tries to cheer you up

PSA: this lowkey deals w mental health but not explicitly ? Inspired by me bc I get depressed~ esp when I am PMSing (which I am doing now) and genuinely can’t get out of bed and do things (ppl are iffy on mental health so just to say I have been diagnosed and was given birth control to help... which honestly has helped a lil). So I thought this would maybe help me and hopefully some of you, Jesus Christ I’ve prob lost so many of you w all these announcements

You just... couldn’t get out of bed. You had been stuck inside for a few days now, watched over by Seven and Mary Vanderwood III via security cams. But not getting to go outside and have human interaction kinda sucked. And then all your work was stressful too. You just didn’t want to move. And so you didn’t.

You got dressed though. That was a good start. Granted it was in something that could also be considered pajamas, but it felt nice to change your clothes. Felt productive. You went back into bed.

How long had you spent in bed, scrolling mindlessly through social media and watching stupid YouTube videos? You looked at the time; it was 1 pm. You were lucky you had today off, but had hoped to be more productive today. Oh well.

Your video was interrupted. A call from Seven. It was probably important.

“Hey Seven!” You picked up, bringing your voice to its typical cheery state. “What’s up?”

“Are you okay?” The voice on the other line asked. You jumped; it was deep, much deeper than Seven’s, and very serious.

“Are you using a voice modifier?” You giggled. It felt nice to talk to someone.

“Huh? Oh, no. This isn’t Seven.”

You paused for a minute, raising an eyebrow. Your voice caught in the back of your throat. “Are you... the hacker?”

“No!” The voice sounded urgent.

“Tom? Seven’s childhood friend?”

“I’m not fully convinced he exists.” The voice replied, an edge to the voice making it sound like a joke.

“Honestly? Me neither.” You paused, trying to think of who it could be. “I fold. Who are you? And how’d you get Seven’s phone!?”

“Giving up that easily?” The voice was teasing you now. “I thought you’d do more than two guesses.” You huffed out a sigh, making sure your annoyance was heard. “Come on, who would have access to Seven’s phone?”

That literally made no sense though. “...Mary Vanderwood the III?”

“Is he calling me that to you too now?” The voice asked, clearly annoyed. “My name is not Mary Vanderwood the III, and I’m not Seven’s maid. I just go by Vanderwood.”

“Hi Vanderwood,” you greeted. “You’re... a dude?”

“Yes.” He sounded annoyed still. “I don’t know why he’s said all this stuff.”

You giggled. “Well, back to the beginning of the conversation. Why’d you ask if I was okay? Is anything suspicious happening?”

“You just... you haven’t left your bedroom yet.”

“Oh” was all you could say.

“Oh? Are you okay?”

“Yeah of course!” You figured you might as well explain yourself. “It’s just, uhm, I haven’t really wanted to get out of bed and be productive. Sort of a mental block.”

“Oh,” his voice was much more understanding now. “That sucks.”

“Yeah... I think it’s because I haven’t interacted with people in a while. Just kinda holed up in the apartment. Hard to stay motivated.” Why were you telling him all this? He just wanted to know if you were okay. He wasn’t your therapist. “Oops! Uhm, sorry. Didn’t mean to unload that all.”

“You’re okay. I’m... sorry to hear that.”

“I’ve dealt with it before so like... it’s fine. It’ll pass. There are way more pressing matters right now,” you brushed it off, shrugging even though you knew he couldn’t see you.

“Do you-“ he coughed. “Do you like ice cream?”

“Yes?” What a change of topic. “Who doesn’t?”

“Well, if you want something to do, do you wanna get ice cream? If you’re feeling up for it.” He sounded almost awkward. It was kind of sweet.

But still, more pressing issues at hand. “I don’t know if I should with the hacker and everything. Everyone has security but me and so I-“

“I work with Seven. I think I can protect you.”

“Think?” You teased.

“You know that’s not how I meant it. I know I could protect you if need be. If you don’t want to though that’s okay.”

“No!” You shouted. You covered your mouth immediately, embarrassed from your outburst. “No. I think that’d be really nice.”

“I can pick you up outside the apartment in like ten minutes? You don’t have to worry about getting dressed up nice or anything...”

This was all so sudden. “Oh, I guess you do know the address, huh.” You were more saying it to yourself than him. “Wait! What do you look like? So that I don’t get picked up by the hacker or anything.”

“Uh...” he seemed so confident, but very uncomfortable describing himself. “I’ve got brown hair. Kinda long? It goes down to my shoulders. You know what? The lining of my jacket is leopard print. That should help.”

You were silent. Leopard print?

“Don’t make fun of it.” You could hear the scowl in his voice. “Ten minutes. See you then.” He hung up before you could say goodbye.

He did say not to look nice. Which made sense, in retrospect, because he had seen you for the past few days lounging at home. There was no need to try to impress; he already knew how you looked on the norm.

So you grabbed a jacket, your phone, and your wallet (with pepper spray attached to it for good measure), and headed out.

You kind of felt like a hooker, standing out at the curb waiting for a car to drive up and get you. But, you pushed those thoughts out of your mind. You were getting real human interaction today thanks to Vanderwood.

He pulled up in a very standard car, definitely not one of Seven’s babes. He rolled down the window and called your name.

“Wait! Show me the lining of your jacket!” You requested. It felt ridiculous but it was important. You laughed nonetheless, as did he. He pulled the jacket up, showing the intricate pattern. You grinned and got in the car.

“Hi. Nice to meet you in person,” you started, looking over at him. He kept the window down as he drove, the sound from the car loud and the wind blowing through his hair.

“You too,” he shouted, trying to talk over the wind. “Nice day out, huh?”

You leaned your head slightly out the window, the cool breeze a nice offset to the warmth of the sun beating down on you. “Mhm,” you hummed.

Luckily the ice cream shop was only a few minutes away. Good thing too; you weren’t sure what to talk about. You benefited from the fact that most of your words were carried away with the wind; the conversation starters had sucked anyway. You just focused on his surprisingly good driving and the feeling of the sun.

He got out of the car and you quickly followed. He didn’t wait for you, just kept walking to the order window. You scrambled to catch up. “So what’s your favorite?” He asked, sensing you by his side without even having to look.

“Oh, uhm, I’ll have cookie dough. Always a solid choice. How about you?”

He turned to you, a smile on his face that contrasted frankly with the harsh lines of his features. “Dark chocolate raspberry.”

“I can’t tell if I’m surprised or if I expected that.” You let out a little ‘hm’ and shrugged your shoulders. He went up and ordered for the both of you.

“Oh, uh,” you reached into your wallet, but he brushed you off.

“Relax. I can pay for a $3 ice cream cone.”

Your eyes widened. You hadn’t realized that may insult him. “Oh! Uh, that’s not what I meant to insinuate. I’m sorry.”

He glanced over with that smile of his, brown eyes lighting up. Why did it make your heart flutter? You had literally just met the guy. You were such a goddamn simp.

He grabbed the ice creams and handed you yours, his gloved fingers brushing against your bare ones. It wasn’t even skin-to-skin contact! Why did you feel this way from something so small? You wanted to die right then and there. He suggested you eat in the car to maintain a low profile and you nodded, not trusting your own voice.

Were you supposed to talk? Or eat your ice cream? Or both? Your mind chose for you, as words stumbled out of your lips before you could even stop them. “So is Vanderwood your real name?” Idiot. Of course it isn’t!

“God no.” He sounded hard about it. It was hard to take him seriously while he was licking an ice cream cone like that. You tried to hide your laughter. “No, don’t laugh.” His voice wasn’t hard this time. He was almost begging you to go easy on him.

“No I’m sorry! I wasn’t laughing at your name. It’s just... it’s kind of funny when you sound all mad and annoyed but you look so cute eating your ice cream.” No!!!!! Did you just call him cute? This was going AWFUL. You should have stayed home.

“Well, you can make fun of my name. I obviously didn’t pick it. It’s stupid.” Maybe he hadn’t heard the last part of what you said, considering he didn’t bring it up? But why was he blushing?

“It’s not that bad. You could be named Mary Vanderwood the III,” you teased. He rolled his eyes. “Can I give you a nickname? Maybe make it less insufferable?”

“What, you think we’re going to be talking all the time now?” He had a point. Why did you... do any of this? It was so embarrassing. You stared at your ice cream, praying you didn’t blush or shake your leg or do anything to show how much you felt like an idiot. He nudged you, causing you to glance up at him, and he smiled. “I’d love a nickname.”

“Wood.”

“Ha ha,” he laughed sarcastically.

“V! Oh wait... we can’t do that.” Poor V. You had almost regifted his name. “Vandy!”

“Vandy?” He questioned, trying out the name. “I’m not seeing it.”

“I am. Vandy. That’s the one”

“It’s too...cute.” His cheeks flushed red again. He pushed some of his hair out of his eyes. “I’m not letting you call me that.”

“You don’t get to pick your own nickname,” you stuck your tongue out at him. “I think it’s very fitting. It’s cute, you’re cute...” why were you doing this to yourself? You must have hated yourself.

“You’ve said that twice now. That I’m cute,” he mentioned causally, biting down on his cone, the rest of the ice cream gone.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s probably just my toxic masculinity.” It sounded like a joke but he also sounded serious? There were so many mysteries surrounding him.

“Well, if it helps. I think you’re quite handsome too. But that’s a lot of syllables to get my point across.” You were a bit more confident this time. If he was genuinely worried about his image, why wouldn’t you help reassure him.

“Uh, thanks.” He pushed back his hair, pausing midway. “I’m sorry, I’m really bad with gratitude. I genuinely appreciate it, especially coming from you.”

“Well it’s not like I’m lying,” you shrugged. You had finished your ice cream. “Uhm... maybe we should get back. Who knows what Seven’s been up to since you’ve been gone.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.”

The drive back was just as silent as the drive there, the both of you enjoying the sun and the wind again. He turned on the radio this time. It played 80s hits.

He parked in front of the building. “I hope that helped you feel a little better. I mean, I had fun,” he explained. You could tell he was forcing the words out, forcing himself to express some emotion.

“It helped a lot. For real. Thank you Vandy.” You touched his arm gently.

“Can I have your number?” He asked, a small smirk forming at the corner of his lips. “So that I don’t have to call you through Seven’s phone again,” he justified.

You smiled, nodding, wordlessly taking the phone from his hands and putting your number in. Why were your hands shaking? Was he genuinely interested in you? Or was he just a nice guy?

You handed the phone back. “Thank you again.” You smiled, opening the car door.

“Wait!” He exclaimed. You turned back towards him, leaving the car door open. “Can I... kiss you?”

You shut the car door again, nodding eagerly. He pressed himself against the center console to reach you, using one hand to balance himself and the other to brush the hair out of your eyes, cupping your cheek as he closed the distance between the two of you. Your eyes fluttered shut, focused on just how warm and soft his lips were. It was... really pleasant. He didn’t maintain the kiss for long, although you seemed to have lost your concept of time.

He pulled away, hand still on your cheek, smiling that smile again. “Thank you. I hope I made your day a little better. You certainly improved mine.”

Your fingers grazed his own, intertwining with his for a moment as you opened the car door with the other hand. “You did. I’ll look forward to seeing you again maybe?”

“For sure,” he was more flustered now. “Ah, I should probably make sure Seven hasn’t burned down the house. Have a good night.” He regained his composure, winking at you as you exited the car, and driving off, wind still blowing in his hair.

Vandy stans don’t drag me maybe he was OOC but also I wanna think he’s a little less confident in a romantic situation ? Idk. I hope you all liked it tho tyy

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Seventy Five

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

November 22nd, 2000

“Toby!” Remy exclaimed, running to his brother and hugging him tight. “Oh, God, Toby, am I relieved to see you!”

“Hey, Rem!” Toby exclaimed, turning from where he had been talking to Vanessa to hug Remy. “It’s so good to see you! How’s college been?”

Remy’s stomach churned and he groaned. “Oh, God, I don’t want to talk about it,” he complained.

“Fair enough,” Toby laughed. “I feel the same way after midterms. Have you made any friends, at least?”

“I mean, I guess...” Remy said. “Although he made me his friend more than I made him my friend.”

“Still! A friend! That’s progress!” Toby said excitedly. “What’s his name?”

“His name’s Emile, and he’s—”

Remy was cut off as his mother called them all to the dinner table. “You can explain about him more after dinner,” Toby promised. “I’ll love to hear all about him.”

  November 22nd, 2002

“Oh, my God, Emile, hon, breathe,” Remy said with a little laugh, placing his hands on Emile’s shoulders and gently shaking him.

Emile was not, in fact, breathing like Remy requested. Emile was bawling on the couch having just watched the finale of Courage the Cowardly Dog. “I-I-I don’t want it to be over!” Emile wailed.

“Want it or not, it’s over, hon, you’re gonna pass out at this rate. Please. Breathe,” Remy requested.

Emile took in one deep breath, then another, and Remy gave him an encouraging smile. “Good. That’s good, hon.”

“I feel dizzy,” Emile breathed.

“Yeah, well, you hyperventilated for a good fifteen minutes, I’m not surprised. Should I get you some water?” Remy asked.

“Please?” Emile asked softly.

Remy kissed Emile’s temple and went to the kitchen, grabbing him a glass of water. He walked back over and Emile took the water with a small “Thank you,” taking small sips as his hands ever-so-slightly shook.

“Are you like this when any cartoon you like ends? Because if so, then I might need to get you a designated sobbing corner in our apartment,” Remy teased.

“No, I’m not like this every time,” Emile huffed. “I’m just like this with the ones that mean a lot to me.”

“So, all of them,” Remy filled in.

Emile stuck his tongue out at Remy but Remy just grinned shamelessly. “Listen, I don’t freak out over every last cartoon I’ve ever seen,” Emile said.

��Oh, I’m sure,” Remy said. “You have your calm moments, totally.”

“Remy!” Emile laughed. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“I’m trying to be realistic while also being lighthearted,” Remy said with a shrug. “You get really obsessed with all things cartoons, Emile. I would not be surprised if this happens again.”

Emile pouted, but Remy counted that as better than a scowl, and therefore a win. “I’m not a child, Rem,” Emile said.

“Of course you’re not a child,” Remy said, blinking. “You’re my boyfriend, and a wonderful man, and a massive geek, but you’re not a child.”

Emile was continuing to pout and Remy sat down next to him on the couch. “Is this post-cartoon withdrawal or is this a serious self-esteem issue about you being seen as a child?”

“Probably a mix of both,” Emile said reluctantly. “I just...everyone likes to joke about me getting obsessed with cartoons, and just being...like a giant puppy, or something. And yeah, most of the time that doesn’t bother me, but is that all people see me as? Do they only see me as an overgrown child who just needs to...grow up?”

“I can tell you right now that’s not the case, Emile,” Remy said with absolute certainty. “I mean, sure, cartoons are generally made for children. But liking them doesn’t make you a child. You’ve seen what happens in the adult world, and you’re training to become a therapist to help people with the real world being far, far too much for them to handle. You know exactly how depraved the real world can be. And you use cartoons to remember that good can triumph over evil, that at the end of the day, friendship and family make everything better, and that even in our darkest moments, there’s hope. You don’t simply use them as an escape from the real world, you use them to look at the real world in a different, more positive light. And that’s...honestly, that’s one of the most mature things I can think of. Proving to the world that you won’t be beaten down, that you’ll keep looking for the good in everything. You’re not a child. Sometimes, you like childish things, but liking childish things doesn’t make you a child. I should know. I’m a grown adult who lives vicariously through comic books.”

Emile laughed. “I guess you’re right,” he conceded. “It’s just...hard to remember sometimes. And I know my family always means the teasing about me loving cartoons in good fun, but after a while...it wears on me, and then something happens, like one of my favorite cartoons being cancelled, and I cry over it, and I ask myself, am I really that child that everyone says I am?”

“No, hon, you’re not a child,” Remy said. “Think about it this way: everything my mom says is wrong, and my mom called you a child and ‘stuck in the past.’ Still feel like that has any basis in truth?”

Emile blinked. “...No,” he admitted. “But I really don’t think I can use your mother as the basis for making me feel better most of the time. Usually, she just makes me mad.”

“That’s fair, she drives me up the wall too,” Remy said with a grin.

Emile laughed, only slightly hysterically. “You know, we’re having Thanksgiving here this year,” he said.

“Yeah?” Remy asked. “With your parents. What’s your point?”

“What if your mother comes back?” Emile asked. “Are you ready for that?”

Remy shrugged. “If she comes back I’ll refer to your mom as my mom until she gets the message to leave, and we don’t let her through the door for literally anything,” he said. “Like, my mom scares me, but your parents have gotten her to back down without too much trouble before. If worst comes to worst I can hide behind your dad.”

Emile laughed. “That doesn’t sound like a very solid plan, Rem,” he said.

“Well, I mean...I don’t have a solid plan. I’m not, like, getting nightmares over Thanksgiving but I am admittedly anxious enough that I don’t like thinking about it if I can help it,” Remy admitted. “I’m not really ready to go head-to-head with her. Your parents can act as a buffer, at least a little bit, and I know you won’t put up with her hanging around the apartment, but like...I’m still nervous.”

“That’s understandable,” Emile said with a nod. “Are you ready for Thanksgiving otherwise? I mean, my parents agreed to get the turkey, but do we need to go grocery shopping?”

Remy blinked. “I completely forgot! That’s what I was going to do before I found you sobbing your eyes out on the couch. Emile! We need to go grocery shopping.”

Emile laughed and nodded. “All right, good to know. Should we head out now?”

“Um. Yeah. We have six days, so everything we need should be there and not bought out, with the benefit of it not going bad before Thanksgiving.”

“Then we’d better head out,” Emile said, finishing his water and standing up. “We don’t want to miss out on the cranberry sauce because I was bawling my eyes out about Courage.”

Remy laughed, but his mind was whirring as he grabbed his coat and shoes. His mother was probably going to show up on or around Thanksgiving again, to try and take him back to her house. And much as he would like to see Toby again, he didn’t have his own car that he could use to drive away once he got contact info, so he had no chance of leaving if he went with his mother. And not coming back home, never seeing Emile again, that wasn’t an option. In fact, if Toby found out Remy had left the love of his life just to see Toby again, he would probably be calling Remy bone-dead stupid for the rest of time.

Emile brushed his hand against Remy’s as they left the apartment complex and headed to the grocery store. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Toby,” Remy admitted. “I just...miss him and wish I could see him again. Not enough to go with my mother anywhere, of course, but I still miss him.”

“We’ll find him,” Emile promised Remy. “Dice said he had a couple leads last time we met, remember? It’s not much, and it will probably take some months to get everything figured out and find out which lead is going to lead us to him, but we’ll find him. We’re closer than ever before.”

“Yeah,” Remy said, but he wasn’t feeling as confident as Emile sounded.

“Remy,” Emile said. “We will find him. I know you’d love to see him by Christmas, or your birthday, or someday soon, and it bums you out that isn’t possible. But one day, we’re going to find him, and he’s going to give you a big hug, and you’re going to give him one back, and you two will keep close. Like, I can’t see a time where he isn’t a phone call away, once we find him. Even if the two of you didn’t talk for months, I have no doubt you could just pick up the phone and chat again like the two of you had never stopped talking in the first place. Just from what you’ve told me of him, he wouldn’t throw away his second chance. He would hold it as close as he could, and he would never, ever let go.”

Remy nodded with a sad smile. “That does sound like him,” he sighed. “I just...I don’t know. I wish he could be here for the big things, and the little things. Like, Christmas is going to be a pain, just because I’m going to think about him no matter what with all the emphasis on family and friendship and camaraderie and staying together no matter what. Like, I’d kill to just have the option of calling him, even if I didn’t actually do that. And it feels like Toby is just...a huge focus on our conversations nowadays, and I don’t mean for that to happen, but it just kinda...does.”

“Well, the holidays are coming up, which means you miss him more. That’s normal, Rem,” Emile said, placing a hand on Remy’s shoulder. They walked into the grocery store, and Emile grabbed a basket. “We’ll talk about him as much as you need to, and when the hurt ebbs away a little bit, like it usually does after the holidays, we’ll have room to talk about other things.”

“Like what?” Remy asked. “What do we normally talk about when I’m not obsessed with Toby?”

“Normal life stuff. Work, school, friends. Whatever crazy project you want to try whenever you have the time. Whatever small thing has gotten into my hair and refuses to let me go free until you help me work through the knots.”

It felt like Emile was trying to hold something back from him, though. “What aren’t you telling me, Emile?” Remy asked, his eyes squinted.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Emile lied.

“Emile,” Remy insisted.

“Remy, trust me when I say it’ll be much better as a surprise, okay?” Emile said. “I’m working on something for your birthday, and it’s taking a while so I started early, but I’m getting everything set up, slowly but surely. And it’ll be ready in time for your birthday, and you’re probably going to be chattering about it non-stop when it comes to pass. But right now, it’s not ready, and I want to surprise you. So can we talk about something else?”

Remy groaned. “Oh, you’re no fun, Emile. Fine. What boring thing do you want to talk about that doesn’t involve my birthday?”

Emile looked around the store. “Where do we go first? What ingredients do we need for Thanksgiving dinner?”

Remy hummed and said, “Well, we need the cranberry sauce, and stuffing, and ice cream. I talked to your dad, and he’s bringing a pie over—”

“—Because of course he is,” Emile finished.

“—So we don’t have to worry about that,” Remy said. “I think we should pick some rolls up, or at least some dough and bake the rolls ourselves, just because that’s always a nice add-on, and then we need to figure out the gravy.”

Emile nodded. “Sounds good,” he agreed.

Remy started pulling Emile around in the search, but in the back of his mind the gears were still whirring like crazy. What exactly did Emile have planned for his birthday? What would take so long that he’d have to start in November?

And would it ruin Remy’s plans to go out and buy a ring for Emile?

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

It hurts. The more I think about it, the more I try to figure it out, the more that it hurts.

I’m not the kind of person that he wants. I don’t know if I’m the kind of person that anybody wants, not really. So, maybe I don’t know what it’s like to be loved in return, but it’s enough to know how it feels to really love someone. There are a lot of moments where I wonder if I’m the kind of person that’s meant for love, I wonder that about life sometimes too. It’s not about me deserving it or not, it’s about compatibility. I know what I want and I don’t want to compromise it for someone else. I want to live where I want to and live how I want to, I don’t need another person to sway that. Who knows, though? Maybe this is just my attempt at trying not to care that Jack doesn’t want me too, that my own best friend can’t love me.

And the thing is, I’m not mad at him. I don’t hold it against him. I couldn’t do either of those things if I tried. I just understand, and wish it was different. I really thought I was over him, and I don’t know what to do about any of this. I’m not really sure what it’s going to be like when I hang out with him next. He was supposed to come over tonight to watch more of our show, but ended up not being able to make it. I’m kind of glad, I feel like I’d act really weird around him right now. Everyone’s supposed to go to the beach at some point this week too, and I think I’m probably gonna stay home. One, because it’s probably going to be Tuesday and I have a much needed therapy appointment in the middle of the day. And two, because I can’t stand the thought of getting into a car for more than an hour or withstanding a day where people can actually see me.

In case I didn’t mention it, the agoraphobia is getting worse. My therapist says it’s a problem now. I haven’t left the house in probably two months, and that was just to go grocery shopping. The trip to Trader Joe’s was overwhelming enough to make me decide not to go again. Not to mention, getting in the car makes me feel like I’m gonna throw up. Ever since the accident we got into in February, my car anxiety has gotten worse. Needless to say, I’m still not gonna get my license any time soon — maybe ever, if I can find a way to live like that. We have to go to a restaurant tonight for my sister’s birthday and I really, really don’t wanna go. I’m gonna try and see if I can stay home. I know that’s not the healthy option, but sue me. I’ve been having a rough time.

That’s not the point right now. Jack has a few days off of work this week, so he’ll be over eventually and I’ll have to figure out how to act like my latest crisis involves me probably still being in love with him. I’ve been trying to ask for his advice without actually telling him the situation. So far, he just thinks that I’m second guessing my feelings for Lani and I’m trying to deal with an incident from a few years ago. I was vague when I explained it, I mostly focused on the girlfriend part of it all.

The thing is, I’ve been really tempted to just tell him the truth. There have been more than a few times in the past two days that I’ve almost texted him out of nowhere and been like: hey, I might probably kind of definitely sorta totally still love you. It’s been getting harder to reign in impulses like that, and I don’t want the consequences that’ll follow if I end up acting on them. I don’t want things to get awkward, I don’t want him to get distant, I don’t want things to change.

I said once, in an old letter, that things would be easier if I knew I didn’t have a chance with him, that way I could move on. I’m gonna come out right now and say that I was dead fucking wrong. It’s so much harder to know that I don’t have a chance with him. My mind will wander to what if’s and hopeful daydreams, and I have to remind myself that it’s literally never gonna happen. He’s interested in his coworker and she’s interested in him. If he’s happy, what else can I ask for? If he’s happy, I can suffer in silence for as long as it takes to get over him. I shouldn’t be selfish by feeling jealous or mopey.

Maybe I should tell him. Is that really stupid? On the one hand, I don’t want him to get suspicious about how weird I am and figure it out. On the other hand, I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable around me if he knows. Mom asked if I told him how I felt and I told her that I did years ago, but not this time. I told Bella about my predicament and she said pretty much the same things as Nikki.

I wish that he’d be mean to me. I wish he’d make me cry or break my heart or do something that could make me get over him. The little slivers of hope that I get from the “nothing’s off the table” comment is enough to keep me going apparently, and I still wish he’d told me that hell would freeze over before he’d feel the same way. What if he did feel that way about me and never said anything? What if he thought I’d gotten over him and didn’t wanna start me back up again? What if there was a chance and I missed it?

I talked to my mom about the whole situation for like two hours and I think it just really set in that this might never go away. She said that, based on how I’ve been talking about Lani, it doesn’t seem like the relationship will go anywhere. She also said that I shouldn’t ruin my friendship with Jack even if he somehow felt the same. She talked a lot about meeting new people and I made it really clear that doing that is one of the last things I want.

I came to a kind of realization, and it really hurts. I don’t want love if it doesn’t make me feel the way he makes me feel, and I'll probably never find a connection like that again. Even Mom said it, that I'll never be able to find a person that makes me feel the same. She said I might find someone who makes me feel different, but still good, and I don’t want that. I don’t fucking want different. I know how loving someone feels, I don't want that to change.

It'd just be easier to be alone. I don’t wanna meet new people and feel uncomfortable for months or years before really getting to know them, before they really get to know me. I don’t wanna put that work in if they won't make me feel the way he does, if it isn’t worth it, because what would the point be?

If these feelings could just go away, I'd be content with keeping the friend group I have and never meeting new people. I would be content with never having a partner too. The only reason I want one now is because it's him. The moment I got into a relationship with someone else, I didn't really want to be in it anymore. I don’t think there will be anybody who will live up to him, and I don't know how to accept that.

And I’m trying to keep myself from doing something really impulsive and stupid like telling him about all this bullshit, because I just want to know. I wanna know once and for all if there’s a chance or if there isn't, but I can't ask. What if he just said him having feelings for me was a possibility because he wanted to be nice? What if there was never a chance and he just couldn't bring himself to be mean? Would I even feel better if I knew it wasn't a possibility? Would it make me feel worse? Who knows, because I clearly don't.

I don’t think I want anyone else. I know I could change my mind, but I truly don't want to do the work it'd take to get to know someone new if it wasn't a sure thing we'd have a connection like that. Mom compared it to all my trial and error with medications, and that just further solidified how much I don’t wanna do that. It took seven fucking years to get my meds right and I was so close to giving up that, if the latest one didn’t work, I was just gonna say fuck it and let the bipolar do to me whatever it wanted because I was so sick of trying only for things to fall flat.

I think I’d just rather be alone, and that I’m only thinking about relationships right now because I love him too much to not daydream about it. The other thing is, even if (a huge enormous big large giant galactic if) he felt the same for me, would we even act on it? Could we even risk destroying our friendship if things went badly? I don’t know if I could, unless I was sure things would be okay and I’m not sure, I can literally never guarantee that.

I brought it up with my sister, Hannah. I asked if I told her I was probably breaking up with Lani and she immediately guessed that it was because of Jack. I guess I’m more obvious than I thought. She said she’s been thinking about it because he’s been over so much lately, but I didn’t even realize my feelings for him again until this week. So, hopefully, I’m actually subtle. I guess we’ll see when I next hang out with him. I debated the idea of just lowkey ignoring him for a while, but I don’t want him to think I’m pissed off or annoyed with him. Plus, I love hanging out with him. I hope I’m not awkward.

It’s just a lose-lose-lose situation all around. There’s no chance? Lose. There used to be and now there isn't? Lose. There is a chance and we destroy our friendship? Lose. There's literally no good outcome for this, except the completely outlandish and unrealistic one, and that will absolutely never happen. Because, in what world would things ever go perfectly? In what world would someone start dating the person they’re with forever at twenty-fucking-one and have things never end poorly between them? Maybe it works for some, but I’ve never been that lucky.

The only thing I can do is sit with this and pray it will pass. It took me three years last time, if I can pretend I got over it at all, and I don’t know how I can cope with another three if I’m gonna feel this shitty the whole time. I really thought I was over him, and I don’t know what to do about any of this.

Love Always, Just Nick 06 | 20 | 21

[wherevermyway]

step out! do what you want (chapter ten)

pairings: reader/bang chan/han jisung, bang chan/han jisung side pairing: seo changbin/lee minho (referenced) rating: explicit | 18+ warnings (read please!): big fat warning for ambiguous HINTS of suicidal ideation, character deaths, mental instability, post-traumatic stress, profanity, use of firearms, graphic depictions of violence (fist fight, gunfight), blood, lots of smoking this chapter, mentions of sex, mentions of drug use, angst, drug dealer!au/organized crime!au. also, don’t drive this fast on the highway. word count: about 9,300 also on my ao3 here chapter/series navigation

chapter ten: je vois la fin avant le début | i see the end before it starts

recommended tracks: black swan by bts, can’t you see me? by tomorrow x together we go by stray kids, 777 by joji, the end/undead by hollywood undead and zero 9:36, simon says by nct 127, turn back time by wayv, begin by bts, tôt ou tard by eli rose, ew by joji, another day by stray kids. playlist can be found here.

note: I can’t believe this is almost done (thank god). I’m gonna warn you one more time: this story is dark as fuck and, if you thought chapter nine was bad, ten is also bad, and eleven is worse. eleven is going to have really triggering content (very explicitly labelled in several places) in it so please don’t hate me. I’m also turning off taglists for these last two chapters because I’m not comfortable tagging people due to the content.

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

It would seem that, even though you’re back in the real world, returning to reality is proving to be difficult. Since returning to Christopher’s apartment, you’ve had a couple of panic attacks that you felt made both Christopher and Jisung questioned their relationship with you. Most of the time, things were fine, but there were moments and entire days where they treated you like you were a fragile piece of pottery with a big, neon warning label slapped on it that said “Danger! Will shatter if mishandled!” in fat, ugly, blocky, black characters.

After screaming and crying at your therapist for an hour and a half, you decided that you wanted to be alone and would take an alternative route home, sneaking out the back door so that Christopher didn’t see you as he waited out front in his car. You peeked through the glass front doors, seeing his car parked there, right on time. It was hard to make out details from so far away, but it looked like he was staring at his phone, mindlessly scrolling along.

Perfect.

You smiled to yourself as you turned away from the front door. The last time you were here, you recognized a service entrance towards the back of the building that appeared to be unlocked. Timidly, you make your way towards it and jiggle the handle. The door popped open with ease, and you walked through, quickly bolting through the alleyway and make your way towards the Mojeon bridge in Cheonggyecheon.

The walk to the bridge wasn’t very long, so you took the long way, weaving in and out of various backroads and alleyways. You loved taking in the environment of small shopping stalls and the scurrying of busy folk. What you had enjoyed the most was the ambient noises of the city life around you. It was night and day in comparison to the past five or so months had been like, trapped in the hospital, then trapped in Christopher’s apartment, leaving only to go to your thrice-weekly therapy appointments.

It made sense why you felt so lonely. Christopher had been keeping himself busy, constantly coming to bed not long before the sun came up. You knew he wasn’t purposefully avoiding you or Jisung, but something about it didn’t sit well with you, likely because it felt like he was just avoiding handling the loss of Changbin, now stuck with all of the stress of dealing with the family.

Jisung had to have been feeling it, too. Neither of them were going out on collection runs or handling deals; they had left it to Seungmin and Jeongin, as well as just sending jobs back to the hyung-nim. Jisung would occasionally spend a few late nights in the studio with Christopher, and he would always come back to bed more frustrated than he was before he went to go assist his superior.

There was one night a few weeks ago where you went to lay down early, settling into a book that you weren’t really committed to reading, but what the fuck else did you have to do, cramped up in this apartment? All three of you were tense from being cooped up inside, save for your therapy appointments. Jisung and Christopher were arguing about something, their voices travelling through the open studio door, bouncing around the open living room and kitchen, finally making its way in through the bedroom door.

It was impossible to completely make out what they were arguing about, but you really didn’t care at this point. Everything was all about hierarchy and other bureaucratic nonsense that had been completely upended with Changbin’s death. Jisung came angrily padding into the bedroom, a scowl on his face as he grumbled and flopped down on to the bed face-first. He let out a long, drawn out, frustrated groan into the blanket.

“You gonna be okay, Sungie?” You put your book on the nightstand, adjusting your position so that you’re able to run a calming hand through the younger man’s hair. “Sounded like you two were disagreeing about something again.”

Jisung huffs, then rolls over onto his back. “I'm never gonna be cut out to be a leader, am I?” He turns his head slightly to look up at you. “Chan-hyung has a hard enough time, and I never wanted to do this, but now I don’t have a choice.”

You roll your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, and smile at him. “You would be a good leader if you wanted be, but I think this entire situation has been stressful on everyone.”

A scoff leaves Jisung’s lips as he turns to face you full-on. “You’re starting to sound like a therapist.”

“Go figure,” you sarcastically grumble as you roll your eyes.

“You’d be good at it,” Christopher’s voice travels through the doorway, startling both you and Jisung. He walks into the room and worms his way around both of you on the bed. “I’m sorry,” he sighs out, “I’ve been so stressed this week with all of the exchanges of power and sheer amount of work that needs to be done. Jisung,” he sits up on his heels, draping his face over his junior. “I’m sorry if I made it seem like I was mad at you. There’s no excuse for that kind of behaviour and I’m sorry.”

Jisung softly smiles, grabbing Christopher’s face with both of his hands. “You can be a real jerk sometimes,” he croons softly, “but I know you don’t mean it, that you’re not taking it out on me, y’know? It’s been a long, chaotic few months. We’ve all had our moments of panic, and you’re unfairly shouldered with handling the family almost completely by yourself. “

Christopher sighs, turning his head to look at you before he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into an embrace, both of you unceremoniously flopping onto your sides. “How about I ignore all of the stuff with the family tomorrow,” he says, pulling you up against him tightly with one arm, reaching out to Jisung with the other. “We can have a day with just the three of us. Get some bad takeout, watch horrible movies, just kind of have a lazy day around the house?”

“I like that idea,” Jisung excitedly nods, then turns to look at you. “What do you think, bunny?”

You were happy with the idea, but you couldn’t find yourself to share the same level of enthusiasm that Jisung did, like you would in the Before Time, as your therapist coined it. Before, you would have jumped at the thought, with both you and Jisung likely driving Christopher somewhat mad. But now, things were just muted and toned down. Mellowed down, like food you would eat when you had the stomach flu. Everything now just emotionally felt like lukewarm, runny juk, when you were used to explosions of flavour and texture on your emotional palette.

“You okay, baby?” Christopher sits up, turning to look down at you. The expressions on his face and Jisung’s face fall flat with concern and nervousness. “Are you going to that headspace again?”

Suddenly, you come back to your senses. You couldn’t have them worry about you, after all. There was already enough, much more important stuff for them to worry about. Honestly, you were just some woman who got strung along for a wild ride, and now had to deal with something a bit more difficult than a modelling shoot being cancelled. You could handle this.

“I’m fine,” you say with a fake smile plastered on your face. That was one good thing that came naturally to you because of modelling: faking emotions well enough, for a short period of time, faking it so well that anyone would believe you. “I just got distracted with thinking about what we could do.”

Jisung flushes, clearly misinterpreting your intention. “Oh yeah,” he breathes out, “it’s been a while since the three of us…” his voice trails off as he alternates looking at you and Christopher, the blush on his face deepening as he awkwardly shifts around.

The blond-haired man rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Yeah, but,” he sighs, “that’s okay. It’ll happen naturally when we’re ready for it to happen, right?”

Luckily for you that night, the three of you were able to share an intimate moment together for the first time in literal months. It was fine and was fun, albeit muted like everything else lately, nowhere near how chaotic it was at the beginning of your relationship. At least you could get them off of your back for a little while longer.

As you reached the touristy area of Cheonggyecheon (when did you get here?), your phone buzzed twice in your pocket and pulled you from your hazy daydream. Nervously, you pull the phone out of your pocket, giving it a quick glance. Nearly all of the texts on your phone are from Christopher, unsurprisingly. There was nobody else, only Christopher and Jisung. Those were the only people you had now; everyone else either abandoned you, hated you, were outside of Korea, or had died.

16:47 | Running late? Figured you’d be done by now. 16:58 | Where are you? it's been a half hour 17:05 | seriously baby where are you?

His texts start to seem more panicked, his texting habits clearly more frantic.

17:12 | I’m gonna call you again if you dont respond in the next couple minutes 17:14 | ok I am legit worried 17:19 | what are you doing? 17:21 | baby where are you 17:24 | the office told me you already left 17:28 | this is not funny 17:28 | turn your gps back on 17:29 | jisung and i are out in dt seoul looking for you 17:31 | call me as soon as you see this 17:31 | i saw you read these 17:32 | baby please

It’s been over an hour since your appointment ended, and your phone won’t stop buzzing. You jam it back into your hoodie’s pocket and continue to ignore the barrage of calls from Christopher. He clearly got a hold of Jisung, because you’ve also started receiving texts and phone calls from him. A smirk creeps up on your face as you reach the Mojeon bridge. You quietly pace up to the middle of the bridge and poke your head over the railing.

It happens without even thinking. Almost mechanically, you take your phone out of your pocket and drop it down into the stream below you. It was almost ironic, honestly, that this was right above the spot where you got shot during Changbin’s funeral. It was a good area for your phone to die alongside where your sanity did.

You can’t help but cackle at yourself, earning some choice stares from passersby. There was no rhyme or reason to why you were doing this, but it felt good. The rushing water beneath the bridge was oddly calming as you stared at it over the railing. There was always something about the water that helped you feel grounded and calm. With all of this chaos around you, you needed something to stay constant.

As crazy as it sounded, the thought of jumping into the stream and letting it carry you out to the Han river did pass through your brain, but you managed to talk yourself out of it. “No,” you say aloud to yourself, “I couldn’t do that.”

The screeching of tires from the street adjacent to the walkway pulls you out of your thoughts. You turn your head towards the noise and see Christopher jump out of his car, haphazardly parked halfway on the sidewalk. He runs to you, yelling your name a couple of times, a horror-stricken expression on his face.

Your heart is about to explode out of your chest as you see him running at you. Part of your brain is telling you to run, but it would appear that your muscles have forgotten how to operate themselves.

Christopher slams into you, causing you to take a couple of steps back as you narrowly avoid being knocked down on to the concrete. His arms wrap around you so tightly, you’re afraid he’s going to pop your lungs. “Oh my god,” he cries out, “oh my god, where the hell have you been?” He puts a hand on the back of your head, gripping your hair, lifting his head to kiss yours with several small pecks, and you can feel his body twitch as he starts to cry.

“A walk,” you manage to quietly squeak out, “I wanted to go for a walk.”

Christopher pulls back, releasing you from his embrace and taking a step backwards. “A walk?” His bloodshot, glossy eyes open wide, his face red as tears streak down his face, and he shakes his head. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I would have -“

“I’m smothered,” you flatly say, not really able to allow yourself to process any emotions. “You and Jisung both have both been treating me like I’m just going to fall apart if you even look at me.” Christopher stares at you in disbelief as the pedestrians around you pointedly avoid getting close.

“Lover’s quarrel?” A hushed whisper travels on the wind.

“Youth always out here with their petty drama,” another whisper follows.

You and Christopher stand there, staring at each other for a while. He eventually runs his hands through his hair, turning to look down the stream as he wipes the tears off of his face. “A walk,” he whispers, repeating back to himself. “Smothered.” He sighs heavily and turns back to you, his brows furrowed in frustration.

“I thought you had been kidnapped, or that you ended up dead somewhere. Do you not understand that there are people out there that want us to suffer or, god forbid, kill us? You were shot right here the last time we were here, for fuck’s sake.” The tears continue to fall down his face as he puts his hands on his hips. “I don’t want you to feel like this anymore. I don’t know how to help you with that, but,” he pauses, dropping his hands from his hips as he takes a step closer to you, “if I could take away all of your pain, I would do it in an instant, even if I had to take it all on myself.” He pulls you into his chest by your hips and wraps his arms around your waist, a bit more gently this time.

“I can’t do this without you. You, me, Jisung: we’ve all gone through so much shit in the past six months and we need each other.” His phone starts ringing, but both of you deliberately ignore it. “Once we’ve dealt with Minho and Hyunjin, Jisung and I are gonna leave the family. I’ve got some connections in Australia that would make it easy for us to move there. Nobody would know us. We can get out of all of this and leave this behind. How does that sound?”

A hint of a smile creeps up on the corner of your face. “It's a good idea, Christopher, but,” you say, staring at a confused police officer standing over Christopher’s car, “you’re about to get a ticket and you might wanna deal with that first.”

“What?” Christopher gasps, pulling away from your embrace as he grabs your wrist and turns to look at the scene unfolding. “Oh, goddammit,” he whines, pulling you along as he walks towards his car. “C’mon, let’s deal with this and go home.”

The encounter with the police officer is uneventful. Christopher uses his charming charisma to talk his way out of it, even name-dropping some high-level official that he knows. Once the two of you are back in the car, he makes his way to an open parking spot and parks, pulling out his phone. He taps the screen a couple of times, and Jisung’s voice comes through the speakers of the car.

“Did you find her?” Jisung panics over the speaker, sounding as if he was nearly crying. “She isn’t answering my calls or my texts and I’m worried and I haven’t seen anything out here and I -“

“Sungie,” Christopher says, calmly, interrupting Jisung’s panicked word-vomiting, “I’ve got her, it’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry, Sungie,” you say, not really sure if he can even hear you.

“Oh my god, bunny,” he exhales, “are you okay?”

You open your mouth to say something, but Christopher interjects. “She’ll be alright. Go back home, and we can talk about it when we get back. We’ve got some things we all need to discuss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung says with a deep sigh. “I love you, both of you.”

“We love you too,” Christopher smiles as he says it. He presses a button on the steering wheel, hanging up the call, then turns to you. He embraces your hand with one hand and grabs your chin with the other. “Do I need to take you back to the hospital?”

You shake your head.

“Okay, but if that changes,” he pulls you closer to him, and he rests his forehead against yours, “I need you to tell me. I can’t lose you, too. Promise me that you’ll tell me.”

“I promise,” you speak with feigned confidence. Liar.

“Good,” he tilts your head up with his hand, then gently kisses you on the lips. A repetitive chime comes from the centre console of the car, startling both of you, and Christopher rolls his eyes, letting go of your jaw and reaching out to press another button on his steering wheel. “Jisung, I swear, we’re -“

“Hyung,” Felix’s voice comes through the car’s speakers, cutting Christopher off. “Minho-hyung knows where we are. I don’t know if he’s coming here, but he knows where we are and I know he’s found out about Hyunjin and he is beyond furious.”

“Shit.” Christopher’s expression instantaneously sours and his brows furrow. “Did you call the hyung-nim?”

“Yes, hyung. He’s the one that told me. Can’t spare any extra bodies to protect us, though.”

“Alright,” Christopher tightly grabs his face and runs his thumb against his jawline. “You’ve got enough gear there? I’ll pick up Jisung and bring Seungmin and Jeongin with. We’ll be there in a little over three hours.” He lets go of your hand to grasp the gear shift, shifting out of park and into drive, merging his way into traffic.

“I do.”

“Understood. Call me if he shows up before we get there. I know there’s another group connected to the family that’s somewhere in Daegu that can probably help you out, but it’ll be the nuclear option and I don’t want to do it unless we absolutely have to.” Christopher deeply sighs, looking into the rear view mirror for a moment before focusing back on the road. “Hyung-nim’s already mad enough at us as is, but I’m not losing another brother today.”

“Will do,” Felix says with confidence, then cuts the line.

Christopher has a serious look on his face as he focuses on the traffic. He pushes yet another button on the steering wheel and tells the AI of his car to call Jisung. The trilling of the connecting line fills the car and everything feels tense.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?” Jisung’s voice comes through the speakers.

“We’ve got a problem with Felix and Hyunjin,” Christopher says calmly, but clearly concerned. “Minho knows they’re in Daegu and I’m assuming he’s on the way there.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” Christopher grits his teeth and exhales with force. “I’m on the way to pick you up. Call Seungmin or Jeongin. Have them both meet us at the apartment, alright?”

“You got it.”

“I don’t want her to come with, but,” you hear Jisung whispering to Christopher in the studio as Jeongin and Seungmin grab a few things from the studio and bring them out to the kitchen counter.

“She ran off, Jisung,” Christopher quietly bites back, “I can’t spare any of us to stay out of this just to watch her. You know that Minho is -“

Jeongin interrupts your eavesdropping as he sits down next to you on the couch. “It’s a nice view, isn’t it?” Part of you is upset that you’re socially obligated to socialize now instead of eavesdropping, but at the same time, you didn’t want to know how much you were inconveniencing Jisung and Christopher.

“Yeah,” you honestly agree, turning your head to look out the window. “I’m not sure how Christopher managed to get a property out here, but it’s impressive.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve chatted with each other.” Jeongin turns to look at you, a slight frown tugging at his lips. “Hyung had mentioned you were having a hard time coming to terms with everything. I know we don’t really know each other well, but you can always reach out to either me or Seungmin if you need to talk to someone different for once.”

“It’s true,” Seungmin perks up from the kitchen, walking into the living room and popping a couple of grapes into his mouth before he sits on the chair opposite from you. “We’re more fun than them, anyways.”

You smile at their words, continuing to stare out at the skyline. How was it that they had gone through all of this and came out seemingly alright? Why was it just you that had difficulties coping with everything? Why did you have problems with every little thing lately, but everyone else was doing so much better than you?

Christopher and Jisung come out of the studio, both of them visibly frustrated, but Jisung at least tried to hide it as he walked into the living room. Christopher grumbles something under his breath, darting off through the kitchen and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

“Hey,” Jisung awkwardly says as the door slams, closing his eyes tightly and sighing. “Are you all ready to go? We’re running a bit behind, so Chan-hyung is a little frustrated.” You knew that was a lie, that Jisung was just trying to keep the peace.

Seungmin lifts his eyebrows and cocks his head towards Jisung. He smirks, almost like he wants to make some sort of comment, but he shakes his head. “Yeah, I think we’re fine.” He turns to look at both you and Jeongin, then looks back to Jisung. “Hyung gonna be alright, or…?”

Jisung rolls his eyes, waving his hand dismissively in the air. “Yeah, you know how he gets. He’s just,” his eyes subconsciously dart to you, then to the floor as he stumbles over his words, “he’s got a lot to deal with right now. You know?”

Jeongin turns to look at you, gently placing his hand on your knee. “Are you ready?” You take a second to catch your breath, then timidly nod your head and he stands up. “Alright. I think we can get out of here.”

A loud clattering comes from Christopher’s room. The four of you exchange panicked glances with each other, and Jisung takes a step toward the bedroom, stopping as the door flies open. Christopher steps out of the room, now wearing a button up shirt and a thin tie, both in black. You notice he has black gloves on as he adjusts his necktie. There’s also an unlit cigarette in between his teeth, which you knew was a bad sign. He doesn’t bother looking at anyone before he grabs his car keys off of the island in the kitchen and making his way to the front door, slipping on a pair of black loafers. “Grab the shit and let’s go.”

Christopher chain-smokes for nearly the entire way to Daegu. He specifically asked you to sit in the passenger seat next to him, and you believe it’s so he could anxiously hold your hand. For the first forty or so minutes, until you get past Icheon-si, the air is so tense, nobody says anything. The bright LED of the dashboard reflects on Christopher’s face, illuminating the panic he’s trying to suppress as he takes another drag off of his third cigarette.

152km/h. That’s what you see when you turn to look at the big, bold digital letters reflected on the console. It felt much faster than you anticipated, and now you knew why, since the speed limit was 100. “You’re speeding,” you quietly say without thinking.

“Felix needs us,” Christopher says, his voice terse. “I don’t give a fuck about the speed limit. Nobody’s on the road right now.”

“Chan-hyung,” Jisung perks up from the back seat, pulling himself up with your seat to be in between you and Christopher, “you should probably slow down a little, at least. 150 is really fast.”

“Not happening.”

“Hyung,” Seungmin chimes in, “I don’t mean to overstep, but Jisung is right. We’re going to be no help if we -“

“Would all of you shut up?” Christopher shouts, letting go of your hand, flicking the end of his cigarette out of his window as he grabs another one from the open pack and the lighter in the cupholder. The speedometer slowly ticks up to 160 km/h, and the numbers change from blueish-white to yellow. “Nobody else is dying today, not if I can help it. We’ve lost too many people already. One person was enough. Changbin was enough.”

He lifts the cigarette to his mouth and his hands tremble as he flicks the black lighter a couple of times before the flame comes to life. The cigarette smoke always smelled terrible at first, until you got used to it about a minute in, but it wasn’t something you were overly fond of. Maybe once all of this was over, you could convince Christopher to stop smoking for good.

His left hand takes the cigarette from his mouth and he leans his elbow against the door, nervously rubbing his fingertips against his forehead. “Fuck,” he whispers under his breath. There’s another awkward silence as you feel Jisung let go of your seat, relaxing back into his spot. Jeongin whispers something that you can’t quite make out, and Christopher holds down a button on his steering wheel. “Call Lee Felix,” he says as the AI chirps at him.

“Calling, please wait.” the AI responds.

175 km/h. The numbers are now orange.

Christopher grips the steering wheel harder and harder the longer it takes for the call to go through. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grumbles under his breath, eyes nervously darting between the centre console display and the road. “Fucking pick up, Felix.”

180 km/h.

“Yes, hyung?” Felix’s voice fills the car and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thank god, you picked up,” Christopher loosens his grip on the steering wheel just a bit, bringing the cigarette to his mouth and taking a drag from it. “Any word yet?”

“Not yet, hyung.”

“Good,” he exhales, and a cloud of smoke leaves his lips and is violently pulled out of the car through the window. “We’re on the way there, just drove past Icheon-si.”

“Icheon-si? Hyung, that’s…” Felix starts to say with a hint of concern in his voice.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been going a bit over the speed limit,” Christopher scoffs, “as it was kindly brought to my attention. Should be in Daegu in about two hours at this pace. Call me immediately if anything changes, understood?”

“Yes, hyung, but -“

“If you’re about to scold me, I highly advise against it.”

190 km/h.

There’s a momentary pause over the line. “Understood, hyung. My apologies for stepping out of line.” Felix’s voice sounds slightly dejected, but it’s barely noticeable.

“See you soon.” Christopher curtly ends the phone call by pressing the button on the steering wheel again.

200 km/h.

The display is bright red and there is a soft ding that brings Christopher’s attention to the dashboard. “Fucking shit,” he says, and the car slows back down as he moves his foot off the gas pedal. “I’ve never gone that fast before. Holy shit.”

You look at him, reaching a hand over to his hair, brushing it back behind his ear. It had gotten shaggier and curlier over the past few months, his dark roots starting to show more and more obviously as time went on, but it didn’t bother you. In fact, part of you was curious to see what his natural hair colour looked like.

“It’s going to be alright,” you softly whisper, rubbing your thumb against Christopher’s temple. He grabs your hand with his right hand and smiles.

“Thanks, baby,” he doesn’t look at you, but you know he genuinely appreciates the little ways you remind him that you care. He pulls your hand down from his face and gives it a quick kiss before he returns it to your lap, only letting go so he can hold the steering wheel when he ashes his cigarette.

145 km/h. That was tolerable.

It takes maybe an hour and a half to reach the safehouse in Daegu. The building is old, like it had been abandoned a while ago. Siding had started to peel off of the side of the building, making it look dilapidated.

“I recognize that vehicle,” Seungmin says with concern as Christopher parks the car.

“I do, too,” Jisung chimes in, and reaches for his phone. “Nothing. Have you heard from Felix?”

Christopher pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen as he turns the car off. “Shit,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening his door. “Minho just got here. Let’s go.” The five of you get out of the car, Christopher and Jisung out in front of you, hands on their pistols as Seungmin and Jeongin are on either side of you.

“Stay behind us,” Jeongin whispers as you go up the stairs of the building. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but Minho gets violent very quickly. He’s unpredictable; not to mention, he’s got to be exceptionally angry, given the severity of the situation. Both he and Hyunjin are good shots, so try to stay out of the way.”

You approach the top of the stairs, the sounds of shouting coming through the slightly ajar front door. Christopher throws his hand behind him, and everyone stops moving. He cranes his head around the doorframe, then walks in.

“Minho,” he says, as Jisung follows him inside. “You need to step back.” Seungmin and Jeongin follow their superiors inside, and you can’t help but poke your head into the doorway.

“Oh, of course,” Minho turns around at the sound of Christopher’s voice, laughing sarcastically. “Channie has to show up and save the day. What a hero, right? Or is it that maybe you wanted to have a little revenge on Hyunjin for taking away our Changbin?”

The way that Minho spoke made your stomach turn. Something about it made you feel like you were watching a dark psychological thriller film, like you needed to take a shower.

“We decide together,” Christopher calmly says. “Trust me, I understand how angry you are at him, I really do.” Minho takes a couple of steps towards Christopher and his eyes widen, almost like he’s ready to throw a punch at his superior. The three men around Christopher take their pistols and aim them directly at Minho as Christopher tucks his pistol back into its holster and lifts his hands up. “Changbin was my best friend. I’ve known him for almost half my life at this point. Trust me, I get it.”

Christopher turns his head, looking at Hyunjin, who wavers a bit where he stands. “I’d want to make him suffer, too,” he turns back to Minho, “but you know that Changbin wouldn’t want that.”

Minho scoffs, closing his eyes and shaking his head, tilting it down. “Yeah, I know. Changbin was always the level-headed one out of all of us when it came to the family.” He lifts his head back up and a dark expression covers his face. “Changbin isn’t here anymore, though. So, if you and the boys don’t mind,” he turns his head back towards Hyunjin, “I’m gonna get revenge with my fists.” He lifts one of his hands in the air, “Don’t shoot me, though, I’m just gonna beat some sense into him, mano a mano.”

Christopher sighs, turning his head a bit back towards the men behind him, waving his hand dismissively to indicate that the guys should holster their pistols. “Let him,” he simply says, then moves to adjust his necktie. “If it gets bad, we’ll step in.” A part of you didn’t believe that Christopher was being sincere. With how much he cared about Changbin, it was likely he wanted to see Hyunjin suffer, but didn’t want to be the one to deal with it.

“No the fuck you won’t,” Minho snaps as he walks towards Hyunjin. “Pretty boy is mine to deal with.” He grabs the collar of the younger man and shoves him up against the wall. Felix takes a couple of steps around the men, walking over to Christopher and whispering something unintelligible from this far away.

“You know this is your fault,” Hyunjin says with a cocky look on his face. “If you never fell for Changbin after Shanghai, you know we’d be at the top now.”

Minho takes one of his fists and brings it to Hyunjin’s cheek, it slamming against his cheekbone with a thump. “If you hadn’t gotten so goddamn cocky,” he grips the collar of Hyunjin’s shirt again, shoving him into the wall a little firmer, “we wouldn’t have fucked up that deal. The Triads were fucking pissed at you and that’s on you. I wouldn’t have gotten shot if it wasn’t for your shitty fucking bravado.”

Hyunjin scoffs, drawing his head back a bit and colliding it with Minho’s with a heavy thud. Minho lets go of Hyunjin’s collar and grabs his head, moaning out in pain. “Fucking hell,” he grumbles with a slight slur.

“You were such a coward. Still are,” Hyunjin says, grabbing his forehead as he knees Minho in the stomach. “Temporarily left the fucking family because your precious Binnie was so worried about you. You really thought you were just gonna leave, go somewhere and start a happy family?” He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “As if. No one makes it out of here sane or alive.”

Minho growls as he reorients himself upright. He draws his arm back and literally leaps at Hyunjin, his fist colliding against his face again. This time, however, they land on the floor and throw fists back and forth until their faces and knuckles are bloodied. “If you never got involved with that fucking Triad girl,” Minho spits blood down onto Hyunjin’s face in anger, “we would never be here. Changbin would still be alive, the two of us would be out, then you could have had it all. But you went and flew too close to the goddamn sun, you fucking traitor.” Minho pushes himself to his feet and reaches for his pistol.

A chill runs through the air as Hyunjin calmly stands up, drawing his pistol in response. “It’s not my fault,” he says coolly, then turns to glare at you. “If it wasn’t for her,” he nods in your direction, then turns back to Minho, “Changbin wouldn’t have died. All I wanted to do was to give him a little warning shot so Minji and I could get out of there. But, you know your precious Changbin. Always had to be the brave, strong hero.” He squints his eyes and cockily smirks. “You loved that about him and you know that.”

Christopher tenses, sensing the shift in tone, and he grabs his pistol, motioning for you to get back, but it’s clearly too late to intervene.

It happens in an instant, time slowing down like the time that Christopher got shot in front of you. You see Minho’s arms raise up, aiming his pistol at Hyunjin, who responds in kind by aiming his pistol at Minho. However, he’s a bit too slow.

Minho fires his gun once, square into Hyunjin’s shoulder. The younger man shrieks and recoils, but manages to fire a shot into Minho’s stomach before he collides into the ground. The older man falls forward, crashing into the floor like a rag doll. Blood flies everywhere, painting the room and the men in splatters of deep crimson.

Hyunjin weakly coughs a couple of times. “Idiot,” he groggily whispers before his head rolls away from you.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Minho coughs out, thick blood coming up from his throat. Felix immediately moves towards Minho, but the older man shakes his head once. “Let me fucking die.” The younger man stops in his tracks, nods, then moves to Hyunjin. He pores over the long-haired man, reaching up to his throat, letting out a deep sigh, shaking his head.

Minho lazily rolls onto his back, staring up to the ceiling. “I know you never would have wanted me to get revenge,” he scoffs, more blood coming up and spilling down his cheek, “but you knew me better than that. You were always the, ah,” he coughs a couple of times, “always the wiser one out of the two of us. I might have been older, but you were smarter.” He closes his eyes and lets out a shaky sigh. “I love you so much. You made me so much better. Sorry, baby. Hope you’re there on the other side. Heh. Hope there’s an other…”

A creaky groan comes from Minho, and that’s the last noise he makes. The room falls silent and nobody moves for a while. A few tears fall down your face. Minho may have been flighty and impossible to understand sometimes, but he showed you nothing but compassion and kindness when he first met you.

“Hi, I’m Lee Minho,” the memory of his introduction replays in your head. “Changbin’s probably talked about me by now.” You remember the way he softly smiled as he offered a slight bow to you. The way he looked at Changbin while he was half-drunk and high off of ecstasy, the way he whined at Changbin and pulled him into an embrace when he was half-asleep the next day. “Cuddle me and make it better.” There was no way he was truly a bad person, not by all of his interactions with you. He just loved Changbin and didn’t know how to appropriately act about it at times.

Your knees painfully collided into the ground and you just started sobbing. Sure, Minho had moments where he was absolutely insane, but the memories you had with him physically hurt as they passed through your head.

Daegu. You were in Daegu. You probably weren’t far away from where he and Changbin were for the Colourful Daegu Festival a long time ago. How happy they must have been when they were tripping on acid and listening to music. God, how much they must have loved each other. All of the happy memories they had, only to end in pain and misery and literal fucking death.

“Don’t let Channie intimidate you,” you remember him telling you the day that Christopher came home from the hospital, not long before Changbin brought him home. You were both on the couch, aimlessly talking about life as Jisung took a nap in the bedroom.

“What do you mean?” You had asked, turning to look at Minho.

“He’s a little intense sometimes,” he continued, folding his hands together and bringing them to the back of his head. “but he cares. Once he gets close to someone, he gets protective and it’s endearing. It’s usually just a bit intense at the beginning. I mean, you saw how he got when he found out you and Sungie had been together, but he cares. and just doesn’t know how to show it sometimes.”

You cocked your head to the side and mumbled in agreement.

“I remember when he found out that Changbin and I were dating. Wow,” Minho sighed as he rolled his head up to look at the ceiling. “Man, was he pissed. He yelled and yelled and totally reamed me. ‘First, you get shot for him,’ he said to me, ‘now you’re in love with him? With my best friend?’” Minho smiled at the memory. “That’s how I knew he really cared about Binnie. He wasn’t mad at me, he was just protective of his best friend.”

“Huh,” you mumbled out, then leaned back up against the couch, staring up at the ceiling with Minho.

“He gave me his blessing eventually,” Minho continued, “but he told me that if I ever broke Binnie’s heart, he’d break my kneecaps in two and make sure nobody found me at the bottom of the ocean.”

Your eyes widened and you turned to look at Minho in terror.

Minho tilted his head towards you and smiled. “Real charmer, ain’t he? Very endearing type. He falls fast. Probably loves you already, just doesn’t know how to say it. Be ready for it to come completely out of the blue.”

You run your hands through your hair, rocking back and forth as you sob so hard that your throat started to ache. Someone takes a few steps towards you, then bends down, pulling you into their arms. “It’s okay,” Jisung’s voice whispers in your ear, “it’s gonna be okay, bunny, I promise.”

Liar. Everyone was a fucking liar.

“I’ll take care of this,” Felix quietly says to Christopher as you and Jisung sit on the middle of the staircase. “Don’t worry about it, hyung.”

“You sure?” Christopher flatly questions, his voice devoid of emotion. “I can call the hyung-nim and -“

“Hyung,” Felix presses. “Do you know how many bodies I’ve dealt with over the years? All the time in nursing school? It’s fine. It’s just another part of the job. Besides, the hyung-nim is still pretty miffed at us. Can’t imagine how happy he’s gonna be to hear that two more of us are gone.”

Christopher sighs, and you hear them slap each other on the back. “Thanks, Felix.”

“Not by blood,” Felix starts.

“By the code.” Christopher finishes their pact with a deep sigh. “I want you to come back up to Seoul when you’re, ah,” his breath hitches as he speaks, “when you’re done. Alright?”

“Understood, hyung.” Felix says. “You’re buying the drinks, though.”

Christopher lets out a strained chuckle as he comes down the stairs. “Yeah, yeah.” He slowly approaches you, sitting down on the stairs behind you and Jisung. “I’m sorry you both had to see this. I’m sorry this went so badly so fast.”

“Chan,” Jisung turns his head over his shoulder, looking up to Christopher. “Are you going to be alright driving back to Seoul tonight? There’s the other safehouse, or I can drive down to Busan; it’s only an hour or so from here.”

“No,” Christopher says, probably shaking his head like he did when he pretended he wasn’t bothered by something. “I don’t mind. Just gotta stop somewhere, get an energy drink and another pack of cigarettes and we’ll be fine.”

You lift your head up from your hands, staring off into the horizon as the sun starts to come up. It felt like you had been here for an eternity. A burning, gnawing sensation burned in your stomach as you mentally pictured Minho laying on the floor, blood spilling down his face. A cold sweat broke out over your skin and your body started to tingle everywhere.

Oh, shit.

You were going to be sick. You bolt up to your feet, running down the last couple stairs and prop yourself up against the railing as you spill the contents of your stomach on the pavement, painting the ground in a disgusting shade of green.

“Ah, baby,” Christopher whines, coming up behind you as he rubs his hand on your back, pulling your hair back in a loose fist with his other hand. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

Liar. Everyone was fucking lying again.

Footsteps trail up the staircase, disappearing into the building as you hear Jisung say something to Felix. Your stomach retches again and searing acid comes up and splatters onto the ground, causing you to cough in a panic as it felt like your throat was closing. The cycle repeats itself a couple of times, and by the time you’re almost sure you’re done being sick, Jisung is on the other side of you, rubbing your lower back and handing you a cold bottle of water.

“It’s okay,” he lies, because everyone’s lying. Nothing was going to be fine. Nothing would ever be fine ever again. “When you can, take a drink of this. We can take as much time as you need.”

You snatch the bottle out of his hand with disgust, standing upright and breaking the seal of the bottle, taking a swig of its contents. The pH of stomach acid fluctuated between 1.5 and 3.5, you randomly remember from your university days. Water was neutral at 7. The way the water burned going down your throat made it feel like it was at a pH of 1.

Everything felt like battery acid. The way the stomach acid burned as it came up, the way the water felt as it went down, the way that everyone was lying to you, the way that life seemed to absolutely abhor your guts - literally and metaphorically. Even though you knew that Christopher and Jisung were doing their best at just trying to console you, their hands felt like battery acid burning into your back.

You sighed as you tilted your head up to look at the sky. The sun was coming up, but there was still a deep shade of violet far off in the distance, white spots spattered against the technicolour backdrop. A single red spot in the distance caught your eye. Huh. Wasn’t that supposed to be Mars if you saw a red star?

A red star. A red spot.

Wait a second.

Oh shit.

“Don’t we need to go to a convenience store?” You say, turning to Christopher, trying to sound as calm as possible as you do some mental calculations.

“Yeah, how come?” He responds, tilting his head in confusion.

“I’ll grab the stuff for you. I wanna grab a snack and some things to drink for the ride home.” You lie, a fake smile plastered on your face. “It’ll let you and the guys talk about family stuff for a minute without me, you know? Not like I can run away if you’re right in front of the store, right?”

Christopher’s face falls into a frown and he shakes his head. “I guess that’s fine. Jisung’s going with you, though.”

Shit.

“Chan,” Jisung says with a scoff, “I’ll just wait outside. She’ll be fine.”

Christopher glares at Jisung, then turns away, rolling his hands in the air. “Fine, fine,” he sighs, walking towards the car, “if she runs, you’re going after her.”

Jeongin gets off from the trunk of the car, shoving Seungmin’s shoulder and startling the poor man. Must’ve been nodding off. “C’mon, Seungmin,” he quietly says, “looks like we’re getting ready to go.”

“Is something wrong?” Jisung says as he steps in front of you, calculatedly avoiding your artistic addiction to the pavement. “Something doesn’t seem right.”

“It’s just a lot to process,” it’s a half-truth, really, “figured you guys could use a minute to yourselves and I could use a minute to myself.

“You’re not gonna run, are you?” Jisung sounds concerned as he tilts your chin up to look you in the eyes.

“I’m not, I promise.” For once today, you were telling the entire truth.

Jisung doesn’t really pay attention to you as you wander around inside the convenience store. You grab a couple of snack foods off the shelf, not really thinking or caring about what you grabbed, too busy focusing on the real reason you were there. You walk around the store until you reach the more household-like items. Nervously, you roll your eyes up, checking to see if Jisung was still staring off into space.

Luckily, he still wasn’t paying attention. You eye a box, snatching it off of the shelf, then spin on your heel and grab a few drinks from the cooler behind you. As you walk up to the counter, you ask the clerk for whatever stupid brand of cigarettes that Christopher smoked, trying to hide the box from Jisung’s line of vision.

The clerk eyes you with judgement and shakes her head. She rings up all of the items, saving the box for last, but you grab it from her before she can place it in the bag and you shove it in the pocket of your hoodie. She cocks her head in confusion, then decides it must be too early to really question anything. “₩21,050.” You pull out a few bills from your pocket and slip them to her. She hands you some change then asks, “need the washroom?”

You turn to look at Jisung, who’s staring at you now. “Y-yeah,” you stutter out, “lemme just give this stuff to my boyfriend real quick.”

“First door in the back, to your left. Good luck.” The clerk scoffs, then goes back to her coffee.

You take a couple steps to the door, opening it and passing the bag off to Jisung. “Gonna use the washroom, be back in a second.” He opens his mouth to say something, but follows you into the store.

“I trust you,” he lies, otherwise he wouldn’t be following you, “but you know that Chan would kill me if I didn’t follow you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you tuck one of your hands into your front pocket and open the door. “I get it, just give me a minute.” You slip through the door as Jisung stares at you in confusion.

06:32. You make a mental note of the digital display as you get back into the car and slide your seatbelt on.

“You look a little pale, baby,” Christopher says as he rubs his finger on your face. “I know today has been a lot, but are you alright? You sure you wanna go back to Seoul today?”

“I’m fine,” you lie, swallowing down some of your panic. Subconsciously, your eyes dart to the clock again. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day. Long month. Long year.”

Jisung sighs from the back seat. “You can say that again.”

Christopher leans in to kiss your cheek, then unwraps the plastic from the pack of cigarettes in his hand. He pulls one out of the package, lifting it to his lips as he rolls down the window. “Everyone ready?”

Nobody really says anything, so Christopher shrugs his shoulders, lighting his cigarette before shifting the car into drive and making his way through the streets of Daegu. He takes in a long drag from his cigarette and lets out a sigh.

06:34.

“What a fucking year,” he says, not really expecting anyone to respond. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do if something else happens to us. I just wanna get out of the family, you know?”

Jeongin chimes in, “Yeah, I think I’m about ready to call it quits, too. Maybe go back to school and get a degree in something. Be a productive member of society instead of whatever this is.”

Seungmin laughs. “I feel you on that. Kkangpae isn’t really a marketable skill on a resume, is it? Imagine how that interview would go. Yeah, I have some good business skills, sir, but you don’t wanna know how I learned them. I can tell you how much a single dose of molly will go for on the street, though. Did I get the job? When do I start?”

The guys laugh, but you offer a polite smirk as your keep your eyes trained on the clock. 06:36. Why was it that when you wanted time to pass faster, it always seemed to go slower? Why was life so paradoxically cruel sometimes?

“Chan-hyung and I are pretty good at music,” Jisung perks up, “maybe we could become some idols or something? I’ve got the face for it.”

Christopher snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, like that would ever happen. I don’t want that kind of life, sounds too busy. Besides,” he looks over at you, then back to the road, “I don’t think they’d take too kindly to the fact that I’m already dating not only one, but two, people. Really wouldn’t like the fact that one of them is another dude.”

06:38.

“Good point,” Jisung says, probably rolling his eyes. “Life is a cruel mistress, isn’t it?”

“I just don’t get it,” Seungmin says, “like, why is it anyone else’s business what people do in the space of their own homes? If it doesn’t hurt anyone, who cares?”

Jeongin scoffs. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want people to find out about your collection of -“

“Shut up!” Seungmin pleads with a whine, cutting off the younger man. “Why the hell do we live with each other again?”

06:40. Good enough.

You tilt your head to the side, pulling out the piece of plastic, pretending you’re looking at a piece of string. Your face falls when you eyes see a bright pink cross staring back at you, as if it were another way for life to slap you in the face.

“You alright?” Jisung’s voice startles you as you jam your hand back into your pocket.

“Y-yeah,” you sputter, “just thinking about how life really is cruel sometimes, you know?”

You were pregnant and you were definitely not okay with the idea of that.

“It’ll be okay, though,” you say as you stare out the window.

Everyone’s fucking lying.

a/n: surprise! i literally cried writing this chapter too. chapter eleven is probably about halfway done as i post this, so hopefully you won’t need to wait too long for it. just a heads up, there will be triggering content in the last chapter, and it will be clearly labelled. the epilogue, step out! see you in the next life will briefly cover part of the ending of chapter eleven if you’re curious but don’t want to read it. thanks for sticking around for this wild ride. can’t wait to see you next chapter.

edit: mano a mano means hand to hand, not man to man btw. just found that out lol.

[writers-block246]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - The Light Amidst my Darkness

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4,

Warning: Mentions of mental illness. I tried to present Bucky’s challenges as accurately as possible. However, if anyone has some suggestions as to better portray his illness and resulting therapy, please lmk! (I researched to depict his struggle with mental illness and the type of therapy he would recieve as accurately as I could). Curse words are also included.

Notes: Italics are thoughts and emphasis. Set before Infinity War and Endgame. Slow burn.

——————————————————————————

Chapter 5:

You were worried.

James hadn’t shown up to any of your recent sessions, and you had yet to glimpse those striking blue eyes.

What do I do now?

You were struggling with how to approach the subject. On one hand, you wanted to give him his space. On the other, however, you were worried that time away from your consistent sessions would only be detrimental.

To put it simply, you were running out of ideas.

You were already taking more strolls around the compound in hopes of seeing him. What I would do if I did run into him still remained a mystery, though. You dared to go to Fury, subtly inquiring over his whereabouts, and yet, according to the Director, no one had seen the sergeant. (Fury then told you to get your issue solved quickly. Although, his orders were a little more crude). You even went to his favorite coffee shop, though you suspected he wouldn’t be gracing it with his presence anytime soon.

Now, you were left with one option.

Steve Rogers.

Initially, you did not want to ask him for help because of his close relationship with James. You had even discussed confidentiality with Steve before. At this point though, you were willing to cross the confines of your profession, as long as it was for James’s well-being.

Whether you liked it or not, it was time to find Steve.

Sighing, you stood from your chair, ready to begin your journey to find the Captain.

And then a knock sounded at your office door.

Could it be...?

It wasn’t.

But it was the next best thing.

Standing at your door was Steve Rogers, in all his Captain America glory.

Huh, I must’ve summoned him.

The two of you made eye contact.

“Have you seen James?”

Well, so much for his help, you thought.

At the same time, both of you had inquired the same question of each other. Steve looked panicked, and you sighed. “No, I haven’t. Not since his last outburst.”

Steve was visibly upset. “I was hoping he had came back, but I should’ve known better. He’s stubborn as a mule.”

You snorted. “You got that right. Come on in.”

With that, Steve stepped around you and into your office.

Both of you taking a seat, you relayed to him what had happened during your last session.

Steve sighed. “I know he’s hard on himself because of what he’s been through. But he seemed to be doing so well with you.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Though to be completely honest, I was waiting for something like this to happen.”

Steve raised his head. “You were?”

“Definitely. It’s common, expected even, for patients with great mental trauma to act out and separate themselves from others. But with his background, handling the situation is very difficult and delicate. I mean, the first issue would be to find him, and no one, not even you, has seen him. Hell, we are literally dealing with an ex-assassin, here. I wish there was like—a book, or a manual over him, ” you gave a non-humorous laugh.

Steve looked thoughtful. “I might just know where he is, now that you mention it. Honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner,” he mumbled half to himself.

He stood, purposefully ignoring your confused expression.

“You’ll see him, soon,” he confidently stated as he strode out of the room.

Well, okay then.

Bucky didn’t know what to do.

You had to hate him now. He knew, he knew, his behavior was absolutely horrid. You had to fear him at this point. You had to see him as the monster everyone else did.

But oh, how he didn’t want you to.

He wanted, so desperately, to hide his outbursts from you. He had talked to you about them, yes, but he never wanted to actually show them to you.

He didn’t want you to leave him once you saw how bad he could really get.

The funny thing, though? You didn’t even look scared. You just sat there, waiting for him to finish. But it had to be a mask, right? You had to be scared of him. After all, everyone else was. The only time you showed any emotion was when he had called you a liar.

He didn’t mean it.

He was just so angry after his run-in with the man in the coffee shop. The stranger (and, really? A stranger had affected him this much? Pathetic) had confirmed his worst fears and destroyed one of his favorite places all in one go. And he didn’t know what to do. Where to go. Except to you. He had went to you for comfort (because you were his only true source of consolation, if he were to be honest), but the time spent making his way to you only served to make him feel more angry, more confused. His emotions came crashing over him like waves in the storm he is, and by the time he reached you, the only form of communication he could use was taking his frustration out on you. He couldn’t help himself, he just needed a release, and you were the closest person to direct it at.

And he knew, knows, you aren’t a liar. After all, you

truly didn’t think he was a monster. Or, at least, you didn’t before.

I’m sure you think differently now.

Even after everything, he still wanted to go back to you. To continue as if nothing ever happened. To have you comfort him. But he knew that was impossible.

Sighing, he strolled along the book store’s aisles, noticing a familiar head of blonde hair.

Steve.

James sighed, his friend truly did know him well. Maybe too well.

“Hey, Buck.”

James looked up from the book in his hands. “Couldn’t just leave me alone, could ya, punk?”

Steve smiled. “You know I can’t.”

Bucky sighed again. “I know why you’re here. Just spit it out already.”

“You need to go back. She really helps you, Buck. Don’t throw that away over one incident.”

“Incident?” James scoffed. “I destroyed her office.”

“Bucky, she’s a trained professional. She’s used to dealing with her patient’s emotions, good or bad. Hell, it’s her job.”

James looked down at his feet, shaking his head. “She has to hate me now. Or at the very least, not want to come anywhere near me.“

Steve laughed.

James whipped his head up. “What?” he snarled.

Steve laughed again. “It’s quite the opposite, pal.”

James looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“She’s been looking all over the tower for you, Buck. She’s been asking after you and everything. Even faced Fury’s wrath just to see if you were okay. She wants you to come back, pal.”

James gave a shaky breath. “She does?” he asked meekly.

“Yes. And you want to go back, too. Don’t deny it, I know you. Just do us all a favor and continue your sessions.”

A solemn look crossed the sergeant’s face. “The things I said to her, Steve. I—I don’t know if I can face her after that.”

Steve sighed. “Buck, look, I know you’re beating yourself up over it. But, she’s a trained professional, like I said. She’s used to outbursts and angry patients. She didn’t take anything you said to heart, not really. And she’s already forgiven you for it. Even though, and I quote, you “didn’t do anything that needed forgiveness.”’

James laughed shakily. “Yeah, that sounds like something she would say.”

Steve smiled. “So, it’s settled, then? You’ll go back?”

After a moments deliberation, James nodded.

Steve slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Alright, then. You’ve got an appointment.”

For the past few hours you had been busying yourself with work, trying to keep your mind off of James and whatever the hell Steve was up to.

Did Steve find him? Will—can—he get James to come back?

You had never been so tied up with a patient before. Sure, you worried over all of them and wished them the best. But this—this was different. You wanted—no needed—James to come back. You needed to make sure he was okay. You needed to see his smile again (and what a beautiful smile it was). You needed to make sure you didn’t lose a close friend, one who you had gotten to know very deeply over the past few months.

He wasn’t just a patient to you anymore.

And you were worried.

So, like any other healthy individual (ironic because of your profession), you dived into your work. You were so fixated on your task that you almost—almost— didn’t catch the timid knock on your door.

Your hand stilled on your piece of paper.

It’s him.

You just knew it was. You could feel it.

What do I do now?

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and called for him to enter.

This is it.

He had become very comfortable with you over your time together. To the point where his silent steps has turned confident. Now, however, it seemed to be his first session, with how bashfully he entered your office.

“Take a seat, Mr. Barnes.”

“Bucky.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I think we’ve been through enough together that you can call me Bucky.”

Swallowing, you nodded. “Okay, Bucky. How are you doing today?”

He looked baffled. “So you’re just gonna pretend my whole scene didn’t happen?”

You smiled. “Look, Bucky. I’m used to that sort of thing. I deal with it, sometimes, on a daily basis. It happens. You were upset, and you acted on it. It’s as simple as that.”

He shook his head. “People don’t throw shit and cuss out their friends when they get mad.”

Laughing, you said: “Well, some do. But with your history of mental distress, it’s totally normal for you to get overwhelmed and need an outlet. I’m fine being that outlet, Bucky. I am your therapist.”

He frowned. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

Always so blunt. Gotta admire that, though.

You smiled once more. “No, Bucky. I was never mad.”

He looked a little shocked. “You weren’t?”

“No. Like I said, your behavior was totally normal. I’m not going to get mad at you when I completely understand where you were coming from.”

He snorted. “I take it Steve told you what happened.”

“Yes, and I’m glad he did. It helped me better understand what was going through that head of yours.”

He looked a little uncomfortable at that last statement, not quite ready to divulge his feelings. He needed a little time to get readjusted, and you were pretty sure he was still worried that you were mad at him. So, you changed the subject. “Anyway, where did Steve find you today?”

“A bookstore,” he quietly replied.

Your face lit up. “The one on 75th?”

He looked up in surprise. “Yeah. Have you been?”

You sighed blissfully. “Yes! It’s like my favorite place. Right after Fort Washington Park.”

He looked contemplative. “Hmm, I’ve never been to that park before.”

You smiled. “I highly recommend it. I love to just sit and read. A little break from all the chaos around here, ya know?”

He smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I think I get what you mean.”

You frowned. “You’re not part of the chaos, by the way. In fact, you make it all the more bearable.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he scoffed.

“I’m not lying, Bucky. I truly never have.”

He looked down at his lap. “I know.”

Relief settled in your stomach. You were so glad he didn’t truly think you a liar. Just as you had expected, those words were just out of anger—not at you.

You grinned. “Good. And I never will. I don’t make it a habit of lying to my friends.”

Because if there was one thing Bucky Barnes needed in this world, it was a friend.

-Admin Cheyenne :)

More chapters on the way!!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #306

i’m v talkative today so pardon my jabbering below.

What is the strangest type of candy you have eaten? I think I've had one of those lollipops with a bug in it before as a kid? I don't remember. What would be your most ideal profession? A freelance photographer. But I'm honestly starting to lose hope. Have you tried those coloring books for adults? Yeah; it's funny you mention 'em, 'cuz a family friend got me one for my birthday earlier this month. What is a topic you definitely don't want to talk about with anyone? I don't like talking about my sexual history, doesn't matter who you are. It's just uncomfortable. What was your first gaming console? An Atari. Is there something you're eagerly waiting for? What is it? *SLAMS FISTS ON TABLE* MAY NEEDS TO FUCKIN' HURRY. My tattoo appointment is set then. :''') Do you/have you ever belonged to an organization? If so, which one? I was a Girl Scout when I was young. What is something you're very passionate about? Nature conservation, gay rights (equal rights in general, really), the pro-choice movement, and then there are less "important" things like certain hobbies interests and such. I'm sure there are more big ones that are just slipping my mind right now, considering I feel passionately for a shitload of stuff. What are you studying or what was the last thing you studied? I majored in Art & Design with a focus on Photography in college. But guess who dropped out. What was the last present you gave someone? I don't know... I mention enough that I don't have a source of income where I can really buy anything. I think the last thing I did was a Christmas gift for Mom a year or two back of a drawing I did of our late dog Cali, whom she absolutely adored. Do you enjoy plays? If so, what was the latest one you saw? Not really, no. What was the last thing you achieved? PHP has helped me focus on little victories, so prepare for an underwhelming answer haha, but it's something. I Facebook messaged an old friend I really wanted to catch up with, and everyone in group cheered for me. :') It was really heartwarming. What a shocker that this program is really helping me once again. What is something you would like to achieve at some point in your life? I would love love love to take at least one "famous" or award-winning photograph. It'd be such amazing validation that I'm talented at something I love so much. What is one philosophy you have regarding life/living/purpose? That's... difficult to answer seeing as I'm trying desperately to find my purpose. I do try to live by this old quote a therapist said once: "Deal with life, or life deals with you." I think it holds an incredible amount of depth and meaning in such a short phrase. How would you design the inside of your own home? I don't know the details of it, really, besides that shit is gonna look like a Halloween house year-round. I can imagine wanting black furniture, too, and having loooots of decor expressive of what I love and find comfort in. Gotta make a house feel like a home just for me. What is a band you remember liking from your childhood? Backstreet Boys, duh. Do you ever get mad at people for not having the same opinion as you (i.e. abortion being wrong/right, meat-eating being wrong/right)? Two things: it depends on the topic, and "get mad" is the wrong term for what I feel. It's more disgust; ex., I'm repulsed by anti-gay rights people and want absolutely nothing to do with 'em, but I'm not like, mad at them. Do you edit any of your pictures? In what ways? Oh yeah, and it definitely depends on the raw photograph. I edit depending on the mood it emanates; like if you've seen my roadkill photography versus nature shots, there is an extremely distinct difference in editing style and vibe. I'd say in general though, I tend to like to brighten my photographs and add more vibrance. If you like to take pictures, what is your motivation? God, I could write an essay on this. I just love and am so thankful for the fact we can literally freeze time forever with the click of a button and look back on fantastic sights, beautiful moments, memories... It's just magical to me, and I adore contributing to that art. Would you ever consider living anywhere cold? Well yeah, that's my preference, actually. What is your absolute favorite food? The spicy shrimp fritas from Olive Garden, jfc. Would you ever wear snake-skin pants, or other animal clothing? Fuck to the absolute hell no. What foreign country would you like to go to for a shopping spree? Idk, considering I'm not well-versed in the artistic creations of other countries. Perhaps India? Japan? I dunno. If you met your favorite musician, what would you ask him/her? I'm asking for his fucking autograph and a hug while I smile my face in two AND cry lmao. What do you spend most of your day thinking about? I ain't gonna bullshit nobody, my PTSD. In some way or another, he's lurking in that head of mine through memories, flashbacks, wonders of what could have gone differently... but thank God it's no longer in the forefront of my mind after my first PHP. I've come very, very far, but especially when trying to blank out my mind to fall asleep, parts of PTSD strangle my brain until I'm just finally out. I really hope that changes someday. Where is a busy place you would like to go to? Yikes, nowhere, really. I like to avoid busy locations. Do you think video games cause people to become violent? Absolutely not. You are responsible for the decisions you make; music, games, movies, etc. have no deciding voice in stupid shit you do, and it's bullshit that people blame art and entertainment for such things. Vocabulary: What was the last word you learned? I'm unsure. Have you or could you build your own site? Absolutely not from scratch. The closest I've gotten to that is my photography website, but it was through the assistance of Wix. What's the best thing you can cook yourself? Scrambled eggs, haha. I do make some bomb eggs at least. Are there a lot of graffiti around your neighborhood? No. Do you have a hobby that forces you out of the house? If so, what is it? Nature photography. Would you stop eating meat, if you had to raise and slaughter it yourself? Absolutely. God, I want to go vegetarian again... Besides English, what other languages can you speak? I can speak a very little bit of German. Took four semesters of it in high school and became very good at it, but lack of practice has pretty much ruined that. Besides English, what other languages can you read? I can read German well; as in, I can pronounce most words I see, but that doesn't mean I understand what is written. Do you think you could make it as a chef? Gordon Ramsey would deadass kick me off his show on day one, lmao. What's your favorite kind of tea? It marvels me JUST how many tea and coffee questions are in surveys. Anyway, I don't like tea. I am an embarrassment to NC culture. What thing/person/happening has made you the happiest you've been? lask;dfjal;wekrjwe What's the most freeing thing you've ever done? Stealing my happiness back from someone who had no right to hold it all in its entirety. That shit's mine. Do you think today's kids are really impatient? Most, probably, but in some ways I can understand it - at least, in the sense that with the assistance of modern technology and advancements in satiating our wants so quickly, kids just expect it. I definitely believe that patience is something to try to be deeply instilled in everyone, though. I don't have an ounce of it (in most situations) and wish I did. Have you ever tasted birch sap? No. How about the young buds/shoots of spruce trees? No. Which edible flowers have you tasted? One of my favorite Southern experiences is finding a bunch of honeysuckles and tasting the honey (is it technically even honey??). Tastes amazing. My family's hairdresser lives down a beautiful path that sprouts a massive amount of them, and as kids, my sisters and her two boys would go tasting them while our parents talked for so long, or if we were waiting our turn. Good memories. What has been your worst restaurant experience? I'm not sure, really. What's the most immature, adolescent thing that still makes you laugh? "Inappropriate humor type jokes." <<<< They can get me sometimes, too. Have you ever had a life-threatening condition? If so, what was it? No, thankfully. Have you ever had a custom print done on a shirt? If so, what was it? I don't believe so, no. Besides making a tye-dye one in HS with our school colors. Wasn't my idea and never wore it, haha. Do you ever read other people's survey answers? It depends on the person. If it's a friend, absolutely, because I love learning usually obscure things about them I wouldn't have known otherwise. If it's a user I don't know from wherever I got the survey, sometimes, depending on how short the answer is and my eyes kinda just scroll over it. Do you like daytime or night time better? Why? Daytime, especially mornings. I'm generally happier when there's light around. What's your highest level of education so far? Some college. Describe your ordinary day: My average day is embarrassingly uneventful. It's sitting on the laptop doing shit on various sites, none of which are actually important, and playing WoW, which is also without true substance, save for social interactions with my friends on there. I spray Venus' terrarium everyday multiple times as well to keep the humidity up, and obviously eat and handle that kinda bodily needs stuff. Would you ever have a UV tattoo? Ugh, that'd be so dope. I've seen some awesome ones, but idk if I'd get one, considering when am I actually going to be under UV light?? Like I wanna be able to see my tat. What is the brand and color name of your favorite lipstick? I have one black lipstick, but it comes right off so I don't even like it. I only ever put it on to take pictures. What do you like on your tortilla? Just ham and cheese. How about inside your pita bread? I've never had pita bread, actually. What do you like in your burger? It depends on where I'm getting the burger. My basic is cheese, ketchup, mustard, a bit of mayo, pickles, and a light sprinkle of diced onion, but sometimes I add bacon and take away the onions. How about on your pizza? I have three I tend to pick from: pepperoni, jalapeno, or meat lovers. Do you work better alone or in a group? Alone, definitely. Which body part would you not mind losing? I'ma be extremely honest, with just how horribly weak my legs are, I could live without them, I guess. Not saying I want to by any means, it's just exhausting using them. Ideally, I'd take away something minor, like a finger or something. What common saying people use is absolute BS to you? “'Everything happens for a reason.'” <<<< Fuckin' colossal "same." I won't rag on people who believe it, especially if it gives you courage to keep moving forward, but I don't believe it in the slightest. If it were so, I'd like to talk to whoever is in control of those "reasons," please. What is the most interesting thing you’ve read or seen this week? I had no idea elephants were pregnant for two years, like holy shit, can you imagine. It was in an article I saw on Facebook about a mother and daughter elephant who are both expecting and doing well. Wonderful to hear. What’s the most useless talent you have? Ha, I'm a master in the arts of catastrophizing and jumping to conclusions involving people hating me in one way or another. What’s something everyone looks stupid doing? I'm one of those people who hate dabbing done by anybody, like you look like you're just smelling your armpit. Which kids’ movie scarred you for life? I wouldn't say "scarred me for life" by any means, but when I was little, I was terrified of the Wicked Witch from The Wizard of Oz and even had nightmares about her. It sucked because my little sister was obsessed with that movie, haha. In one sentence, how would you sum up the Internet? A source of incredible knowledge but also hate and misinformation. What would be the most ridiculous thing for the government to make illegal? I literally dread the idea of Roe vs. Wade being reversed. Banning abortion would kill so many people with operational uteruses and cause absolute pandemonium. How many friends do you have on social media and how many of them do you know for real? On Facebook, I have 124 friends, and I'd say I know most of them "in real life." However, having been on the Internet since I was so young and befriending loads of incredible people, a good chunk are "online friends." Hell, I'm more interested in their lives than most "real" ones. Long-distance friendships are so valid. What fact amazes you every time you think of it? Lots of things, generally regarding the stupidity of humanity. What’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done? Probably going to the beach w/ my old friend Colleen. We had zero plans of doing it, but she just called me one morning and asked if I wanted to go, and off we went. It was a fun day. What has taken up too much of your life? I'ma be real, WoW. I don't think I'm addicted to it like I once was seeing as I go through spans where I barely want to play it at all and don't, so I truly am capable of not playing it, but rather it's just the most entertaining way to kill time in my life. I just don't like how much time I've invested into a game over six or seven years regardless. Where do you not mind waiting? Uh, nowhere lmao. Is there an app you hate to use, but still use every day? No; why would I use it if that was the case? Who is the funniest person you know? My friend Girt is fucking hysterical. What three words describe you best? Complex, passionate, and creative. What makes you think you’re smart? Lol who says I think I'm smart? Who inspires you? Korean Jesus. Okay on a serious note, not just him, of course, but he's #1 in an entire universe of ways. Do you aspire to be like somebody else? If so, who? No; I want to be my own authentic self. How did you meet your best friend? YouTube, back when it had more social aspects. Which one of your accomplishments are you the most proud of? I want to say my recovery, but like... I wonder a lot if it's "enough" to be proud of with how scarred I still am? I still struggle with a lot and feel like I could be so much better by now if I tried harder. If I'm completely honest with myself, I think it's finishing high school in the top percentile of my graduating class. There was a ceremony for the handful of us and all, and I cherish my plaque probably too much. Reminds me of a time when I knew what the fuck I was doing. What's the strangest thing you ever did as a child? Thinking I had "animal powers" where I could invoke the traits of certain animals at will, like what the actual fuck, Brittany. What did your mother teach you? Christ, a lot. Dad didn't do a lot of the raising, honestly, so much of my core values and whatnot were instilled by my mother. She taught me to care for and be nice to others, respect myself, try my best in everything, and most importantly that she is always there for me and my sisters no matter what and can tell her absolutely anything. She was very serious about us going to college and saving sex for marriage when we were younger, but she diverged from those ideas as absolutely necessary with experience. I'm extremely lucky with who I call my mom, overall. What did your father teach you? Eek... Read above. Not a lot as a kid (save for riding a bike and playing softball); most he's taught me has come following reuniting with him after my parents' divorce. I remember we went to lunch once and talked about my breakup, and he talked to me about sometimes, you just have to let people go in order to be happy, like with him and Mom. He's very serious now about ensuring us girls know that he is always there for us and will help us in any way he's capable. What makes you feel powerful? "Powerful" isn't something I really feel, if I'm being real. What are you ready to let go? It would be inexplicably fantastic if I could let every speck of Jason go in both my head and heart. What is your most bizarre deal-breaker? I don't really find any of my expectations and limits as "bizarre?" They're all valid to me. Well wait, idk if you'd find it strange that I absofuckinglutely would not date someone who hunts, but it's not to me. That's a difference in a very serious value to me. Would you rather be hated or forgotten? Hated. God, I don't want to leave this earth having given just nothing. I can live with some people hating me for whatever reason. What’s the biggest personal change you’ve made? Accepting my bisexuality, probably. That's something that I consider pretty big for two reasons: 1.) I could end up with a woman forever, and especially 2.) I was originally homophobic. I still have difficulty in fathoming how I ever was. What are some of your short-term goals? PHP is finally starting to make me build these again. I want to get better at selfcare, draw, write, and read more, I want to drink a lot more water, exercise way more... Lots of things, really. What is the weirdest thing about you? Uh. I dunno. Probably that I RP meerkats, which is a very obscure RP niche for sure.

[thebookofus-depravity]

Skinny Bone Jones

Skinny Bone Jones

Chapter 1 

Chapter 2 coming soon!

9k words

This is my baby Park Jaehyung and an AU in which y’all are dealing with the coronavirus together in LA. Jae grew up with Y/N and you were childhood friends. You stayed close but haven’t seen each other in ages. Now you’re both back.

 Teeth rotting fluff, possible smut in future chapters (lets see if I have the balls to post it), Y/N has a strong proclivity for a certain guitarists hands. And honestly, who can blame her? TW: Confrontation with a nasty old ex, Coronavirus,  Quarantine, overbearing parents.

...

This fucking sucks.

Closing your laptop, and shoving it off of your lap to the side of your bed, you are struck by exactly how warm the underside of your Netflix Machine was in contrast to the chilly room. Well, 3 hours of To Catch a Predator in, and sure, your old 2011 Dell dinosaur is going to be a little mad at you. I've got to do something today. Anything. 

Week 3 of your quarantine is coming to a close and on this breezy LA Thurs-Fri-Turday (who the hell knows anymore) you can feel the last tendrils of your sanity escaping with the setting sun. It just doesn't stop setting. And rising. And setting. And rising. Tortuously slow some days and before you can even get out of bed the next. Not that you get out of bed much.

Alright. That's it. I'm gonna do something. I have to. It's time to make some art, bake some cookies, go for a run, tell someone around me how much I value them, topple the patriarchy. I am going to get up and do something with my life and damned if I get in my own way again. I am unstoppable. I am formidable. I am inevitable. 

Rising from your rumpled bed clothes with the steadfastness of a slightly anemic Viking (whoa I’m woozy, I shouldn't have stood up so fast. Shit, when's the last time I ate?) you cross to the large bay window that faces the street. You throw your curtains open, ready to face the day, only to be faced with… stars starting to twinkle at you out of the inky blackness. Dammit. I'm gonna have to defeat systemic oppression tomorrow. 

Squinting from behind your glasses, you see that the stars are not stars at all but helicopters blinking down at you. You haven't seen real stars since your trip to Big Sur last summer. Although you moved to LA when you were 7, you have vague recollections of the Korea that you loved as a young child. Your parents had picked up and moved to the States after years of struggling through VISA's and citizenship red tape. Your mom and dad had originally meant to get married and have you in the US. The land of opportunity. 

You now chafed slightly under that blanket of opportunity as you are far too aware of the responsibility you have been given to make the absolute most of it. From the ripe old age of 8 you had been conditioned to follow your dreams to their fullest. As long as those dreams were to become a doctor, lawyer, or marry a CEO. Your parents cared about you greatly and you knew that. They only want security for you, happiness comes from security. Now 25, you can't quite remember the last time their overbearing nature had been quite this...potent. You were in your final year of medical school at USC and there was nowhere to run.  It was time for you to begin your foray into the 'real world' of residency. The same post-undergrad 'real world' that you had watched all of your non-premed friends crash land into. They had all distanced themselves from you, both figuratively and literally; intentionally and inadvertently. Divorced, Beheaded, Died: Divorced, Beheaded, Survived. You had watched you friends get married, have kids, sabotage marriages, buy houses, do well, do poorly. And here you were in some kind of bubble both safe and isolated from all of the uncertainty beyond the classroom. 

Jokes on you, Jessica, now we're all screwed, you find yourself thinking for the upteenth time over the past month. You had been watching the Coronavirus since December and knew exactly what was to come. You did all that you were capable of as a not-quite certified medical professional and tried to convince people of the reality of the threat, convince them not to panic, and to exercise a reasonable level of preparedness. Well, that didn't work. You found yourself sunk into a deep well of frustration and futility at the action and inaction that was being exhibited throughout the States. For the first weeks of quarantine you found yourself glued to your phone, helplessly watching the tragedy unfold and the stupidity that was ensuing. By week 2 your empathy had burnt out and you knew you couldn't watch that world anymore. K-drama's it is. After completely obliterating Crash Landing on You, Itaewon Class, and rewatching Descendants of the Sun for the eighth time just because it's so. damn. cute!, your parents started to get a little concerned. 

Your stomach growled and you realize you, in fact, haven't eaten since early this morning. As you consider what the consequences of emerging from your cave of a bedroom might have, you resign yourself. Five minutes later you are hovering in the kitchen with a bowl of leftover whateverthefuck in hand, you turn to see both of your parents at the bar stools staring at you with a look of concern that you haven't seen in years. Shit, I keep forgetting, they think I'm functional.  Your parents had shipped you off to Health Careers College Prep school, a boarding school in Sacramento, when you were 16. Upon graduation there with your high school diploma, nurses aid, and dental hygienist's certificates, you immediately started at USC premed. You hadn't lived at home since your Jonas Brother's phase. As much as your parents loved you, they didn't really know you. This had been overwhelmingly obvious when the USC campus closed and you returned home to open arms and your bedroom frozen in the clutches of 2009. Your parents had welcomed you home with tearful hugs and a new gift for your room. I know how much you love that Kevin- boy. And your room is so old. Come. Come. Already wary and wondering who the hell is Kevin? you allowed yourself to be led to your old room and set your bags down with a deadened thump. You tried so hard not to laugh, You really did.  They're trying so hard. But like, Where did they even find this monstrosity? You had been staring up at the largest poster of Kevin Jonas that you had ever seen every night for 3 weeks and it was starting to get to you. 

Regardless of the decor (purple fuzzy lamp shade included), there were so many parts of living at home that were so foreign to you.  Although everything was completely the same, you were worlds different and it was disorienting. Your bed seemed smaller, the walls shorter, the colors dimmer. Everything that made that house your home was still there, only you had changed. It was like you were in a coma and had just woken up, the rest of the world unchanged but with 10 more years under your belt. Your therapist would tell you that you were reverting into a childlike state because of trauma and surroundings. Hush, Mollie, I don't need that right now. I need food. 

Food was honestly what was keeping you sane and civil. Your parents own a pho shop just down the street that was still taking carry out and delivery orders for pho, crawfish, whatever they had lying around. You had been helping out in the kitchen and with deliveries since you had been home. As freeing as the drives have been, you really come alive in the kitchen. You had been watching your mom make pho and dumplings for years and although she sent kimchi to your apartment every month or so, you missed your moms cooking. And her kitchen. You immediately took to cooking just like you had when you moved off of USC campus and into an apartment with some friends. You had 12 burners! That all worked! A convection oven! Two of them! Kitchen Aid's! You had no problem opening up shop at 8am every morning to prep the dough and get the stock boiling and all of the other things that her mother and father had been doing for the past 20 years. 

Returning to your room after rinsing out your bowl and chopsticks, and exchanging goodnight's with your parents you sit on your bed and tell yourself to go to bed. You have to be up at 7am for the kitchen. You need to chop scallions for the pork and chive dumplings so it has time to coagulate. Come on, Go to bed. No phone. It was a pitiful attempt, really. You had been pulling med-school grade all-nighters since your junior year of high school and nothing was stopping you now. Turning on your side for easy access to your charger, you plug your phone and coast through Instagram, Youtube, Twitter, Tinder for an indeterminate amount of time before your eyes start to get heavy. Instagram was just filled with all of your peers from USC recklessly meeting up with friends for picnics and drives and all of the other things they thought they were free to do because they were young and healthy and beautiful. Fuck off. Youtube provided a lovely escape from the actual outside. Mikey Chen showed you around TaiPei's street food scene, Binging with Babish gave you a new hand pulled noodle recipe to try, Bon Appetit made you glad you weren't Claire Saffitz. Tinder was a joke but an adequately funny one. Instead of your bog standard USC fuckboi's you were able to talk to fuckboi's from Korea, Dubai, Indonesia, Guatemala, Brazil. How fun. You had downloaded it 6 months prior after yet another guy in your department was just 'too busy, i'm sorry' to make the date that you had planned. You generally tried to avoid Twitter as it was just an echo chamber of panic and 24 hour news cycles and didn't do much for your anxiety. See, Mollie? I'm being smart. 

You flick open the little bird app and scroll for just a minute. A particular notification picques your attention. Jae tweeted. Well, Day6 tweeted, but we all know who runs their twitter. Your throat tightens with nerves as the post loads. You worry about him more than you'd like to admit but with tours cancelled and travel suspended, you know how hard it can be for people whose livelihoods revolve around entertainment and travel. The post loads and you let out a sigh of relief to see Jae surrounded by his band mates and smiling. Brian starts speaking Korean and delivers his message about their newly acquired tiktok. Brian gestures for Jae to speak and Jae delivers the same message in English. Ah, he went back to blonde. It looks good on him. Wait is he- oh god, he's wearing a crossbody fanny pack. Jae, you're old. Stop. Shifting to get more comfortable, you let the video loop a few times before closing the app. Jae's okay. You roll over onto your side and set your phone to the side. Jae's voice echoes through your ears for the next few minutes but you resolve yourself against it. I'm not getting fucking tiktok. I'm a grown ass woman. That app is for 12 year olds. And Jae. Resolved, you burrow into your Jonas brothers duvet cover for the night. 

Sweating and on the verge of tears, you wake with a start. The dream was already slipping from your consciousness with a blessed haste but the uneasy feeling that the nightmare gave you seemed to coat the inside of your skull and taint it's entire contents. A thin light filters through your still open window and your eyes creak open. Morning? Sure, why not? Rolling over, you flick open your phone and are greeted by an all too unfamiliar, 5:17am. It's too damn early. Even for you. You still have an hour or so to kill before you have to get up but you didn't fancy the idea of trying to go back to sleep after that dream. Propping yourself up on a few of the approximately 67 pillows that litter your twin sized bed, you open your phone. 3 new emails from USC congratulating you on your graduation and asking for some documentation of something or another or evaluation of some class you hadn't thought of in weeks. Skip. 2 emails from residencies that you had applied to before the coronavirus urging you to reapply in the fall. Great. You couldn't even bring yourself to feign concern over the missed opportunity. 1 email from Twitter informing you that Jae had tweeted. Again. You follow the link to another video of his side project EaJ. You had been following his new releases and you were surprised by the tenderness and vulnerability that they showed. He was always such a funny guy, it was the only side that he really showed much to the media. Sure, fans got glimpses at concerts, but not many knew just how deep the well ran in that man. 

Today's Tuesday, apparently. The next episode of How Did I Get Here? comes out today. I'll have something to listen to while I food prep. You never admitted to yourself how pleased you were when he started the podcast. You missed hearing his voice on a regular basis. Hollered up into your window, whispered between giggles in the back-most church pew, hurled across crowded hallways. Of course, the voice was different than it is now. Pocked by pubescence and the LA accent, you remember a far squeakier Jae. He was the first person you met when you moved into the neighborhood at 7 years old. He was 9 so of course, he took it upon himself to show you exactly where you could and couldn't go and what taco trucks would give out fare for free to little kids on weekends.  You remember those years fondly as finally having the big brother you never had. Skinny Bone Jones, you called him. He stood up for you when the kids in middle school called you smelly for bringing kimchi in your lunch. He called you smelly just for being you. He was well liked in school and by extension so were you. You had the cool big brother. You were more than happy to play second fiddle and be his backup. Tagging along to parties, helping him record his yellow post-it note covers on Youtube, letting him know when his hair looked stupid.

 And so it stayed until Jae actually made it on KPop Star. As much as you loved him, you didn't think he would ACTUALLY make it. Sure, he could sing. He had a beautiful voice but that wasn't enough. The boy danced like a drunk chicken and was 6ft tall and 120lbs soaking wet. He didn't even know Korean. What was he thinking? He was thinking he was going to prove you wrong. And he did. You watched as Skinny Bone Jones transformed into Park Jaehyung with a perfect balance of immense pride and terror. You knew you wouldn't lose your friend entirely but during his trainee days he had very limited access to the outside world, and you just weren't a priority. Honestly,  you would've been offended if you had been. He has a mom, dad, an older sister, bandmates, college. It only makes sense that the steady stream of communication turned into a trickle. It wasn't until Every Day6 that you were more of an insistent presence in his life. You burrowed your way back into his inbox with the tenacity of the annoying little sister that you were. You were worried. You watched him on After School Club and in the deluge of content that Day6 was serving their slowly growing fanbase. He looked tired. You once again rekindled your relationship but it was different now. Instead of you leaning on him for social support, you became his confidant. He was struggling. Burnt out, and questioning so many things, he didn't want to go to his bandmates because he didn't want them to worry. His parents would pull him immediately if they knew exactly how rough his condition was, his 'friends' from college had proved fake. He now had Alpha Phi Omega blocked because they wouldn't stop asking for favors: Day6 tickets, Twice merch, Got7 tickets. He felt alone but you reached out and he was able to lean on you. The trials passed and he was happier than ever and Day6's growing popularity meant good things for his lobster funds. 

You stayed in contact over the years and shared with each other the going on's of your lives. You had even managed to go to the Gravity World Tour date in LA. Jae got you backstage and you were able to meet the rest of his bandmates that you had heard so much about. It was an act of God that you managed to keep your composure. I mean sure, he's just Jae but you're still backstage at a concert for the first time! Your cheeks still redden when you remember how Jae caught you ogling at YoungK. Heart in your throat, and voice barely above a whisper YoungK had walked directly over to you and asked what you were doing backstage. After a solid 15 seconds of pointing listlessly at your Press badge and making just the strangest of noises that were meant to approximate speech, Jae finally caught wind and rushed over, knocking your sense back into you and introducing you to the members. 

Oh! Y/N! It's so nice to finally meet you! Jae talks about you all the time, I'm so glad you were able to make it! Your cheeks inexplicably reddened further to a violent shade of pink but the boys slowly defanged themselves in your mind. They're truly lovely people and you're glad Jae has them. That being said, you still can't quiiiite look Brian in the eyes and Jae thinks it's hilarious. 

The Gravity tour feels like ages ago as you shrug on some jeans and a tee shirt for your walk to the shop. August 2019 at the Novo may have only been 8 months ago but it seems like a different reality. The Novo will be closed for the forseeable future and concerts are cancelled. That stings but not as much as the radio silence from Jae. First it was his tour schedule that rendered communication difficult and now the virus. You know he's busy and it's been a weird few months for the entertainment industry, but a 'Hey I'm alive.' would be nice. From his podcasts and twitter you've been able to keep some thread attached but you feel it stretching thin as the months stretch on. You really don't want to be annoying. You're sick of feeling like a fan. Yeah, you support Jae and Day6 and would call yourself a MyDay, but that's not all you are. You know him. You dragged him through the mud when he convinced you to try sledding down a muddy hill on a trash can lid. You set up his camcorder for his covers when he still had that stupid swoopy hair. You posed as his angry girlfriend when a crazy fan wouldn't leave him alone.  You're starting to feel like just a fan and not a friend and it's only exacerbated by the glee that you feel when you get the notification from dive studios that How Did I Get Here? has updated. I miss my friend. 

Not bothering to flip the sign on the front door from closed to open, you shoulder open the front door of the shop after fumbling with the keys. Tying an apron securely around your waist, and flicking on your noise cancelling headphones to a comforting thrum, you wash your hands and begin to chop the largest pile of scallions you've ever seen. Crunching through the pile, you start Jae's podcast and everything is gone but him. You can almost imagine him in the room with you, perched on the counter talking your ear off about the Mandela effect or how weird elbows are or something equally as ridiculous. Today he's talking about soul mates. As you listen to him joke and banter and pontificate, your eyes well up. It's just the scallions. You know damn well it's only partially the scallions. You miss Jae. And you're in the middle of a pandemic. And your family barely knows you. And you're not sure if you even want to be a pediatric oncologist. Fuck. Jae's words turn into white noise in your ears as you toss your headphones to the side and place the knife on the butchers block, perhaps more aggressively than necessary. You pause the podcast and let yourself sit in the feeling. You're lonely and sad. See Mollie? I'm letting myself feel things. Making room for every emotion. You cast your mind around and recall all of the little wounds that prick a little too deep today. You feel a squeeze in your abdomen and your eyes shoot open wide. Shit, my period. I've got to be PMSing. Even Jae recognized the trend in your emotions before you did. The week before your period, you were notoriously mushy and weepy and indulgent. Well, that's one mystery solved. I'll be okay. Mollie's voice echoed through your brain with her familiar argument that hormones only heighten the emotional distress, not fabricate it. These feelings are valid and aren't fake just because you're hormonal. You steadfastly ignore that point, wipe your eyes, and pull your headphones back on. You finish up the pile of scallions and a few other morning chores before the podcast ends. It's Jae's sign off that sends the bowl of mandu filling that you were holding clattering to the floor. "I'm coming to you from my childhood home, so if the audio is a little finnicky… blame Byron." Jae's home.

…

After sweeping up a pound of pork, beef, mirin, soy sauce, and chives and disposing of it, you stare at your phone- hands shaking slightly. Jae. What the fuck. You rip off your apron and your mind races. Should I call him? Should I go see him? I can’t believe he’s right here. 2 houses down. Fuck. Your rational brain knows that it’s okay to feel excited about Jae being home. But the sneaky little bitch that lives in the back of your brain is telling you that if he wanted to hear from you, he would’ve called. You feel a little bit of yourself fragment at that, but you push it to the side. You open up your phone and slide over to his contact in your phone. What greets you is your last text conversation.

Jae: I’m so glad you had fun, Y/N! But if you ever look at Brian like that again, I might have to put a ban on you at our concerts. His head was way too big.

Y/N: Look at him like what?! I didn’t do anything and you know it! 

Jae: Of course you’re didn‘t. You totally weren’t drooling over my bassist. 

Y/N: Fuck off.

Jae: Gladly, love. ;)

8 months ago. Sure you’d DM’d quite a bit since then and called a few times. But it just seemed so sparse. You don’t want him to just humor you. You’re an adult and perfectly capable of being alone. You’re not going to text him just yet. 

You finish up your morning chores and head back to your house, pausing for perhaps just a little too long in front of the sandstone house with the tan shutters and shoes out front. You knew that house so well. You knew how much weight the tree outside the upstairs bedroom window could hold. You knew where the kimchi refrigerator was tucked away in a back corner of the garage. You knew there was a blonde boy in there that you wanted nothing more than to run inside and get a hug from. 

You shower and let the hot water run over you, hoping it will relax the knotted up muscles in your back. It’s not like I can go see him anyway. We’re in quarantine. He probably just got back to LA and just hasn’t gotten the chance to-. You run the same conversation over and over in your head until you can’t take it anymore. You need someone else’s voice in your head. Curling into your covers, you sigh and go to the App Store. A few short minutes later and you hate yourself more than you ever have. Tiktok. Here we go. You watch the video of Day6 introducing themselves to the social networking platform once, twice, three times until your eyes start to ache. All of a sudden you’re met with a new post that pings up. Your breath catches in your throat as you see Jae standing in his living room, attempting to keep up with Amber Liu’s dance challenge. You can’t help but giggle as he flails to the left, to the right, oversized black hoodie always falling into his face. BM would be proud. Express not impress. You find yourself shocked at the weight that he’s gained. He looks healthy and happy. You remember the conversations in middle school about how much he hated being skinny. The evenings in the weight room in high school. Failed doctors appointments. He looked good before but you see that in recent months his chest has been swelling and not just with pride. His shoulders sit a little bit broader than you ever remember in the past and you’re happy for him. Good for you, Jae. 

You like the tiktok and let it loop a few more times before sighing heavily and opening your messaging app.

Y/N: I got TikTok for you, ya little shit. 

You chuckle but leave the text unsent. You’ll think of something better later. You toss your phone to the side in the face of the mountain of laundry on your bed that needs to be taken care of. As you hang the last of your shirts, your phone pings. You pick it up to a notification from Jae.

Skinny Bone Jones: Language! 

Skinny Bone Jones: Do you think Amber approves? 

You feel a flare of indignation wash through your limbs at the mention. Apparently it had sent. Oh well. As the thrill of a reply ebbs out of you, it is replaced by a rising indignation. How dare you?! Not tell me you’re in town and pretend like you didn’t?! Really?! 

Y/N: I don’t really care what Amber thinks.

Maybe that was a little snippy. You love Amber, truly. But how can he have time for TikTok but not me?

Skinny Bone Jones: Yeah? Do you still care what I think? 

Your heart catches in your throat. So he’s caught on that you’re pissed. 

Skinny Bone Jones: Y/N, can I call you? 

You swipe up to the phone icon and call him on auto pilot. Talk to me, Jae.

“Y/N?” you hear Jae’s voice.

“Jae.” Your voice comes out whispier than you meant it to. You try again.

“Jae! How are you?”

“Oh, y’know, just got off a plane that smelled like bleach and got to my house that isn’t really my house anymore, left my guitar to be sanitized, was “strongly encouraged” to make a TikTok by my company, and then got my head bit off by my best friend. Just quarantine things.” There is a touch of acid in his voice but Jae mostly sounds tired. Your empathy comes surging back and you sigh.

“I’m sorry Jae. I just- I didn’t know you were in town until I listened to your podcast this morning. I was a little hurt that you didn’t call or anything.” 

“Look, kid. I just got home. I’m a diva. You know I require at least an 18 hour period of naps and boba to function properly. I’m a KPop Star now.” You laugh at the callback to your irate spiel a few years ago about how fame had changed him and he was a diva and  just ‘wasn’t the Jae you knew’ anymore. It wasn’t his fault he was allergic to everything and turned down all of your food suggestions.

“Jae, you’ve been a diva since day one.” You quip back, tension resolving as you fall back into a familiar playful banter. 

“And don’t you forget it, Y/N.” There's a slight pause before Jae continues, 

“This diva is really sorry he didn’t call you. It’s just been a lot the last few days. The tour just got cancelled. And our album comes out in a few days. Our team has been going crazy trying to figure out how we’re supposed to publicize in this climate and I just-“ 

“Jae. Chill. When I preordered mine last week, it was the most popular album on the site. It’s gonna sell. Don’t worry too much.” There’s a beat of silence in which you can hear the air whoosh out of Jae’s lungs.

“You-You preordered Demon?” Jae sounds shocked but endeared at your admission and you laugh. 

“Of course? I’m really pumped to hear that sexy, soothing voice of Wonpil’s. Maybe I’ll even get a Dowoon photo card this time! I keep getting Jae ones in my other albums and I give them to my little cousin.” This isn’t entirely true. You have 3 of Young K, 2 of Dowoon, and 1 each of Wonpil and Sungjin. You’ve been waiting for a Jae photocard for ages. You would die before you told him that, though.

“You little shit. If you don’t want to see my face, why are you following Day6 on TikTok?” Jae ribs back.

“Brian. Duh. He’s fine as hell.”

“Yah! Haven’t you found a boring ass Orthopedic surgeon or some shit, yet? Why do you have to terrorize me like this?” 

“Why? Haven’t you found a Twice member that’ll marry you yet, Skinny Bone Jones?”

“I’ll have you know, I gained 10 pounds the past 8 weeks! I’ll be big as BM soon!” You can picture the expression of childlike pride in his face even if you can’t see it. 

“You look really good, Jae. I’m proud of you. You’ve been working really hard.” The sudden sincerity catches the both of you off guard and you clear your throat.

“Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot.” A comfortable silence is followed by a lengthy conversation recounting the previous weeks, the various states of the other members, your own eviction from college, and the status of the shop. 

“You know, Y/N, if you or your family need anything I’m more than happy to help. I mean I know how hard it can-“ You cut him off before he can go any further.

“We’re okay Jae, honest. I know you’d be good for it but we don’t need anything right now. Business is good at the pho shop and we’re okay.” 

“Okay, okay. Just know I’m here.”

“I mean NOW I do, no thanks to youuu,” you wheedle, whining about his failure to let you know he was in town. 

“Come on, Y/N, I said I was sorry!” He laughs but you can hear the desperation of sincerity in his voice.

“I know, Jae. I’m just kidding. I just really missed you.” 

“I missed you too Y/N.”

You get off the phone upon the realization that you needed to go to the shop and prep for the dinner deliveries. Sometimes you abhorred that you were “essential”. You run downstairs and tell your parents the good news about Jae and inform them you’ll be back soon. 

“I know you’re excited, Y/N, but remember we can’t be going and visiting people like that. Only essential work.” You roll your eyes slightly but assure them that you know. As if you hadn’t been telling them the same thing for weeks. I had to convince you not to go play mahjong in the park, eomma. You might be excited, but you’re not stupid. 

You had just started filling the mandu when you hear the bell over the door chime. Pardon me, are you stupid? We've been closed for weeks, why do you think it would be okay to just walk in? You wipe your hands on your apron and start to walk to the counter.

"Hello? I'm sorry, we're only open for call-in deliveries." You round the corner and lift your head from your hands to see the form of the gangliest, tallest, loveliest man you've ever seen in your life.

"Special delivery." Jae remarks smoothly, arms open wide in invitation and head cocked to the side as if he was bracing himself for the crash landing that was to come.

"Jae!" you yell, and launch yourself from behind the counter and into his arms. His arms fold around you and everything else melts away. Your face burrows against his chest and you inhale. He smells like home and cinnamon. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes with the tide of emotions that wash over you. Jae's hand cups the back of your head into him and he hugs you just as tightly as you hug him. You press yourself into him with everything you have and in the deafening silence and warmth all that you can think is I love you.

"Y/N" He whispers, not loosening his grip on you.

"Mmph." you respond weakly.

"My shirt's wet." You jump back from him a bit and see that he's correct. Your eyes are leaking. All over his white shirt. Oops.

"Oh! I'm-I'm sorry." You laugh a bit and swipe at your eyes before patting at his shirt in futility.

"It's okay, love. Come here." He welcomes you back into his arms and you wrap your arms over his neck this time. 

"I missed you." You whisper, voice cracking a bit. 

"I know you did." You jump back from him. Bitch.

"Hush. I missed you too, you idiot. Why else would I be standing here right now?"

You cast your eyes around in a panic. He's here. He's right here. In the store. Here. He shouldn't be here. He should be in quarantine with his family. You're unessential to him. 

Sensing the realization in your eyes,  he pushes past you, walking to the back and puts on the latex gloves hidden behind the counter. 

"I figured it was about time to get a 'real job' like everyone keeps telling me to." He smiles smugly and picks up the knife to start chopping the bok choy. You stand there in shock for one second, two seconds, three seconds until you realize he’s about to cut his fingers off. 

“Jae! Stop!”

“Look, Y/N, I don’t care what you say, I’m going to do this. I want to help. And I’ll be damned if I’m not allowed to see you in the time I’m finally here-“ 

“No, Jae. Stop. I know I can’t argue with you. I’d be thrilled if you’d work with me. But Brian is gonna kill me if I let you cut your damn hands off.” 

“I… what?” 

“You’re a guitarist Jae. We can’t have you cutting off your pretty little fingers. And if you keep chopping it like that, that’s exactly what you’re going to do.” 

Jae looks down at his hands and stretches his fingers wide as if considering them for the first time. 

“Pretty?” 

You roll your eyes, but unbidden, your eyes are still trained on his hands. They really are pretty. 

“Just. Let me show you.” You show him how to tuck his knuckles up against the blade and chop in smooth rocking motions so as not to take off his fingertips. 

You work in relative silence for the next hour, packaging meals and portioning combos as your mom and dad peek in and out to pick up the orders. You can feel a warmth flowing through you as you take in your surroundings. The loneliness of the past weeks leeches out of you and dissipates into the warm atmosphere, homey smells, and murmur of conversation. It’s almost as if your limbs wake up bit by bit, like a tree waking up after a long frigid winter. You feel yourself stretch and shine and the bubbles of contentment flow through you. By the time the last combo is out the door, you find it really difficult to take the smile of your face. 

Jae seemed to be in the same boat. On more than one occasion you caught him staring at you. Every time you caught him he just shook his head and laughed in that infuriating way of his. But you really couldn’t be irritated at him. It was impossible. He was your happy fairy, even if you wanted to kick him in the shins every two minutes for saying something dumb. Mom and dad said goodnight to Jae in the same way they have been since he was 10. “Tell Mrs.Park I say hello and don’t be a stranger.” Right after they leave and you’re washing the last dish, while Jae sits on the counter telling you about production for Day6’s new album, the phone rings. Before you can tell Jae not to answer it, he’s already taking the man's order. Fine. One more can't hurt. You weren’t anxious to end this day and return to bed alone, so you welcome the post-closing distraction. Cobbling together a plate from the leftovers you were about to bring home, you grab your keys and beckon Jae to follow you. 

“No need to bug mom and dad, we can take this one.” 

As you walk outside toward where your little yellow bug is parked, you feel Jae move behind you. You can feel his body close to yours and you stiffen instinctually. You’re not used to skinship anymore and you can feel the blood in your veins carbonate as Jae’s breath ghosts across the back of your neck. You stop dead in your tracks, eyes wide, flush creeping up your neck as you feel his hands- those damn hands- ghost along the side of your left arm. You squeak when his fingers brush against the back of your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. Your world spins. Fuck is he holding my hand? Do I want this to happen? He’s so close to me. Can he hear my heartbeat? 

“Jae-“ you begin to say, with absolutely no idea as to where the statement would go after. 

Luckily you don’t have to think of any sort of decisive move because Jae immediately snatches the keys from your now limp left hand with a cackle, running ahead to the car. 

“I’m driving!” You little fucking- oooh! 

You’re thankful for the cool evening breeze and dim street lights or you were sure to get a ribbing for the blazing red cheeks that you were sporting. You climb into the passenger's seat with the food on your lap and do your best to sink into invisibility. It doesn’t work. You’re convinced that he can hear your brain jackhammering away at the night's events. 

Did I want that to happen? Did that happen? He was so close to me. He felt so warm and the way he touched me. Running your hands over your arm, you could feel his touch like it had raced a burning path down your whole left side. Do I… like Jae? 

You glance over at him now and again as he puts the car in drive and begins the route to the destination. Jae, of course, is jabbering away about how everything has changed since he’s been gone and, “Omigod, is that ANOTHER pinkberry?” You find yourself nodding along passively while actively trying to figure out what the hell was going on in your brain. Much like his podcast, his voice became white noise by which you asked yourself questions you weren’t sure you wanted the answers to. Of course I love him. But do I like, like him? Never in your life have you felt more like a horny, confused teenager but as you glance over and watch Jae with one hand on the steering wheel, wind blowing through his hair, you know one thing for sure- Jae isn’t a kid anymore. And he isn’t your brother. 

It isn’t until you pull into a neighborhood about 10 minutes later that you remember that you’re here on a delivery. Yanking yourself from your reverie, but with unease still firmly lodged in your thoughts, you address the task at hand. 

“Jae, where are we?” 

“Uhhhh, 3051 Driver Rd.” 

Driver Road. You know this neighborhood but you can’t quite place where. If your previous safari into your possible romantic interest in Jae wasn’t jarring enough, you feel panic rising through your system like so much bile. Why do I know this neighborhood? Jae, unaware of any turmoil on your part, pulls up to the house in question and when your headlights wash over the yard your heart sinks into your throat. You’re going to be sick. 3051 Driver Rd. This is where Sean lives. 

You had met Sean Avery in your sophomore year of premed and had fallen head over heels in love with him. He was tall, attractive, ambitious, and he wanted you. You were star struck. It wasn’t until a year of ‘dating’ later that you unearthed the whole messy truth of his long string of side pieces and general douchebaggery. If that wasn’t enough, in the past year you heard the report of him almost catching a case with a high school senior in the area. You knew now that he was nothing but a predator and a coward. You had managed to avoid him since your explosive breakup but now it seemed you had very little choice.

“Sean fucking Avery” you seethe in the seat next to Jae. 

“What did he do to you?” Jae asked, taken aback by your sudden vitriol. 

“Shit, that wasn’t in my head was it?” Jae laughs a bit but sobers up quickly at your expression.

“Y/N you look really pale, are you okay? I don’t know your history with this guy but hey, you don’t have to deliver this. I’ll do it. Don’t you worry, love.” Jae places his hand on the top of your head and ruffles your hair a bit in an attempt to be comforting. The attempt helped. Your heart pricks up a bit at Jae’s term of endearment but it feels more deadened than it should. You’re sick of feeling like this. Of letting Sean steal your joy from you. It’s been too long for that shit. Pulling yourself together a bit, you shake yourself out of your head and steel yourself. 

“No, Jae, I’ve got this.” Jae looks at you with slight concern but shrugs nonetheless.

“Alright, well, I’m going with you okay? This dude really must’ve done a number on you if this is your response. And I’d like to see the bastard.” Jae’s eyes glinted with something dangerous that you’ve never seen in him before and it causes the same fire in you to spark. Let’s do this. 

With Jae by your side, you march up to the door with the delivery order and set it on the front steps. The doorbell is deafening in the still night and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You jump as the door swings wide and a pathetic looking man sporting a robe and a beer belly peeks from the inside. All of the breath that had been waiting in your lungs released and you feel your head go a little bit light with the realization that this was the man that you were in love with. 7 years later, gone was the debonair gentleman who could sweep you off your feet. In his stead stood a balding, fat, stiff man in boxers and a moth eaten robe. He grunts in acknowledgment of  the presence of other humans but it’s obvious that the Neanderthal hasn’t recognized you. He retrieves his food and goes fumbling in his robe pocket for his wallet. He fishes out a card and hands it to you. You take it from him and process the payment. 

Declined.

“Sorry, Sean, your card- it declined.” 

He huffs and makes a sound in the back of his throat that you can only describe as gross as you hand it back to him.

“It what!? What do you mean declined?” He stumbles forward a few steps and you automatically flinch backward into Jae. Jae’s hand comes up to your shoulder to ground you, a reminder that he’s still there. Sean’s movement wafts a smell of body odor and brown liquor. He always was a mean drunk. You decide to cut your losses while you can and keep the transaction as minimal as possible. No games.

“Your card, Sean, it declined. Do you have an alternate form of payment?” Sean whips open his wallet and roots around for a minute before retrieving a few crumpled up bills. He extends the cash but before you can swap his card for cash, his arm whips back. Looking at you sideways, suspicion drips from his slurred speech,

“How do you know my name?” 

Shit. Fuck. Dammit. 

You watch helplessly as the cogs turn in his inebriated brain and recognition washes over his face.

“Y/N! It’s you! What do you want from me now, bitch? Trying to take my money now too? Get out of here!” His voice steadily rises in volume and you can feel the walls of your panic closing in on you. Suddenly Jae steps in front of you, arm outstretched to the belligerent man. 

“You’re talking to me now. You’re done with her.” Jae holds himself with a confidence that you had only seen from him onstage. 

“Just pay for the food and we’ll be going.”

“And who the fuck are you?” Sean spits back, as if Jae were something distasteful that he had found on the bottom of his shoe.

“I’m Jae. Y/N’s boyfriend. Now I’d really love to take Y/N home tonight before it gets too much later. So if you can just pay for your meal, we’ll get going.”

Sean crumples up the bills and throws it into Jae’s chest. 

“Good luck with that bitch, kid. You’re gonna need it.” And with that he retreats inside and slams the door shut behind him. 

Jae immediately rushes to your side and wraps you in a big hug. Although similar in mechanics to the hug earlier that day, this one was far different in intent. You could feel it in his soul, that hug was meant to squeeze all of the fragmented pieces of you back together again and hold them until they stuck. You can feel your heartbeat slowing to match his and your breathing slowly regulates. 

Mollie is gonna have a lot of fun with this one.

Jae escorts you back to the car and there’s a thick silence that you can’t quite bring yourself to cut as he puts the car into drive. You know he is forming his own story of what happened between you and Sean in his head and you can’t tell if that’s better or worse than just reliving it and telling him the whole story- cops and testifying and court and all.

Once out of the neighborhood, Jae heaves a sigh and chuckles a bit. 

“Well he seemed lovely.” 

“Uh huh. He’s a real peach.” 

Jae looks over at you with an expression of dual concern and amused what-the-fucker-y. Did that really just happen? 

There is a beat of silence and solid eye contact before you both start cracking up. Unable to restrain yourself any further, you both dissolve into a kind of healing, deep belly laughter that shakes the entire car. Pulling up to your house, Jae throws the car into park and then turns to face you. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything, you know? It’s not my business. You’re my business. But asshats like him aren't. Just that I’m around to keep them away from you.” 

You sigh deeply, still recovering from the laugh attack, before giving him a brief bulleted list of the sheer shenanigans that Sean had pulled on you all those years ago. You watched as Jae’s face contorted over the course of the story, hardening into yet another study in fierceness that you were yet to see from him. 

“I really am okay, though Jae. He had me pretty fucked up for a little bit but honest, I’m okay. I did the therapy, I fought my battles. I just hadn’t done the last closure step of actually looking him in the eye and saying goodbye and good riddance. And I probably never would’ve if it weren’t for tonight.” You reach out and grab his hand instinctively. 

“Thank you, Jae. I really appreciate you doing that with me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“You would’ve gotten your ass handed to you is what you would’ve done.” Jae states, deadpan.

“Jaeee!” You laugh, hitting him on the arm. 

“Oh, so now you can throw a punch? Okaaay, nice.” This little shit. 

Banter aside, Jae takes the key out of the ignition and gathers his things to get out of the car. As he closes the door, you hear him mutter “You need to pick better guys. You’re too great to end up with someone like that.” 

You don’t have any kind of answer to that, but you feel a lightness in your chest as his eyes burn into you. Jae walks you to your front door and all you can hear in your head is an echo of Jae’s declaration of “I’m Jae, Y/N’s boyfriend.” Is that what I want? 

You end up at your front door far too soon and the twinkling of the helicopters in the sky signals to you that it’s more than time for Jae to go home. Your heart sinks into your stomach at the thought of him leaving and you inwardly groan. 

Jae gives you one last hug goodnight and you know before he even releases you that this isn’t enough. Not even nearly. Your feelings, whatever they may be: love, like, general affection, haven’t been correctly quantified and expressed. This has been the best day you’ve had in months, and he was the deciding factor. You were grateful to have him there on your front door step, in his arms. But maybe, just maybe, if you’re able to express to him exactly how you feel about him in this moment, he’ll be able to help you out and translate exactly what this feeling means for your future together. Without thinking about it too much, you retreat from the hug and angle your face up to his so that your noses are almost touching. You sit like this for just a second. That sickening second that would allow him to retreat and tell you you’re an idiot for even thinking it. But he doesn’t retreat. Instead, your lips are brushing against one another in just the barest of whispers of a kiss. His lips are so soft. It’s over in an instant and as the chilly night air cuts between the two of you, you are all too aware of how disproportionately warm your face and neck have become. You smile up at Jae and he carries a similar, if not slightly more shocked, half smile. 

As if reading one another’s minds, you both understand that it’s wise to let one another think about the night's proceedings before any further rash decisions are made. In an attempt to preserve the spell of the night sky and the kiss and the chirping cicadas, neither of you say another word to one another but instead exchange content smiles that convey more than a goodnight ever could. With a slight bow of his head and a glide of his hand down the length of your arm, Jae walks backwards down your front steps and slips into the night, shaking his head slightly, trying and failing to conceal his smile. You watch him from the porch as he skips up to his house, before slipping into the warmth of your own home.

...

GIVE IT A LIKE IF YA LIKE

FEEDBACK IS MY LOVE LANGUAGE

[quietpoeticheart]

The Coffee Shop: Part Three

Summary: Bucky is a retired military veteran suffering from PTSD. He meets Avelyn, a headstrong entrepreneur, one day at her cafe with Steve and then everything changes.

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Black! OC

Word Count: 2350

Warnings: Angst, Slight violence, Anger, Language

A/N: Another day, another chapter, this one got finished a lot quicker than I expected. I wrote it in a day but idk when the next update will be. Bucky is back this chapter and we meet a new character. Happy reading

PREVIOUS PART

For the rest of the week, ever since her mother called, Avelyn had been existing in a state of dread.

She knew that being invited to family dinner was nothing but a ploy to convince her to give up her shop and go back to the life she'd left and because she was never going to do that, she understood that nothing good was going to come out of going but she didn't exactly have choice.

She couldn't disobey a direct order from Ava especially when it meant putting her coffee shop on the line.

As Avelyn sat in the small kitchen in the shop, waiting for the batch of brownies she was making to finish, she wondered if maybe her mother was right. The shop didn't get much business, this was her third day in a row without a single customer coming in.

Maybe, this life really wasn't for her. Sure, she may have been twenty six years old with her own business but does it count if she pretty much still lives off of her parents money because her business is a complete and utter failure. Maybe she was better off going back and working for her parents.

"No, don't think like that. You know what it's like working there and you're not going back, no matter what. Even if you have to sell the coffee shop and get a regular job, you're never going to give the satisfaction." She thought to herself.

Then the chimes on the door jangled noisily signaling someone's entrance. Avelyn sighed, and walked outside to the front, only to see Bucky standing there looking some combination of anxious and upset, with a scowl etched across his features.

"Hey Bucky." Avelyn greeted cheerfully. She took a moment to run her eyes appreciatively up and down his figure.

"Avelyn." He said in a cold, clipped tone, taking a seat on a stool by the cash register. Bucky wasn't in a good mood that day, not that he ever was in a good one, he was simply in more of a bad mood than usual and he wasn't particularly interested in leaving the safety of his apartment to come to this ridiculous coffee shop with the overly chipper owner to see what she had to tell him.

Avelyn was a beautiful girl, there was no doubt about that. She wasn't particularly thick but she had curves where it mattered. Tall with long shapely legs but still nowhere near his height and smooth russet colored skin that seemed to always have a glow despite the ever present coating of flour over it. Her eyes were a simple brown, the color of gingerbread with flecks of gold that sparkled when the sun hit them and a siren like allure that lured him to drown in their depths. Her hair however, was quite literally her crowning glory. Thick, springy, glossy charcoal curls that seemed to defy gravity to float around her head like a halo or the branches of a tree extending to the sky, that bounced as she walked.

He was extremely attracted to Avelyn since he first saw her that day with Steve, but he still found her incessant optimism and almost hyper like eagerness to be annoying and rather exhausting.

"What can I get for ya today Bucky?" Avelyn asked. Her voice was beautiful, her cadence soft, melodic and lilting, with an almost vaguely British accent. Her speech lacked the brusqueness that most New Yorkers possess and to Bucky it was a refreshing change.

"You can tell me what it is you wanted to see me for." Avelyn was taken aback by the coldness in his voice. The times he'd been to her shop before, he'd never spoken to her like that. He was usually aloof but mild-mannered but now, there was an edge to his voice that almost scared her.

"Also, you have chocolate on your face." He sneered snidely. Bucky really wasn't intending to be this rude but he was just so frustrated that he was projecting it onto Avelyn.

A look of horror washed over Avelyn's face. "Shit, the brownies." As she bolted to the kitchen, Bucky tried to reel in his anger, using the techniques his therapist taught him. As he was taking deep breaths in and out, Avelyn returned, holding two plates in her hands. She eyed him curiously but said nothing. She simply set down one of the plates in front of him "I brought you a couple brownies. They're a little crisp but they're still good."

Bucky nodded his thanks and bit into one the brownies, praising the heavens that she didn't ask him about what she saw.

"So." Avelyn began, "The reason why I told Steve to let you swing by, is because I want to offer you a job."

Bucky froze, a brownie halfway to his mouth.

"You want to what?" He asked, thinking he didn't hear her correctly.

"I want to give you a job."

Bucky stared at her like she'd gone mad "Doll, you barely look like you have enough money to keep this place open and you want to give me a job?"

Avelyn nodded slowly.

"Why?"

The answer to that question was quite obvious.

She liked him but because she couldn't say that, she went with the next best option, twisting the truth.

"I know you've been looking for a job -"

Before she could finish, Bucky interrupted her, "How do you know that?" He growled.

The way his voice dropped to a such a low, almost gruff timbre could almost be considered sexy, that's of course if he wasn't looking like he was five seconds away from murdering her where she stood

"Um...Steve told me." She said, her voice a hair above a whisper.

Bucky slammed his hands down on the counter, snarling "And you decide to give the poor cripple a job out of pity."

"N-n-no it's not like that." Avelyn stuttered. She could see that Bucky was getting upset and that's not what she wanted.

"N-n-no it's not like that." Bucky mimicked, his blue eyes, now dark enough to be black, swirling with anger  "Then what's it like Avelyn."

"He said you needed a job and I offered, that's all." Avelyn was getting frustrated now, all she was doing was trying to help him and he was acting like an asshole.

"I don't need your charity or your pity. I don't need it okay. I don't need your stupid job." Bucky roared, slamming his hands down so hard that, the marble of the counter split and the plates with the brownies clattered to the ground, shattering into pieces.

That was the last straw for Avelyn.

"Okay, you what I've had it. You know what your problem is, you're ungrateful. You take advantage of Steve's kindness, you deliberately make him worry about you and he gives of himself to you but you don't reciprocate. I know you have your problems but you rather hold onto them and use them as crutch to excuse your bullshit instead of working on them and trying to become a better fucking human."

Bucky stood in awe, no one had ever spoken to him like that before, even before the war. He was always the guy that people respected either genuinely or out of fear and Avelyn yelling at him like he was nothing but a five year old did not sit well with him."

"You think the way that you see yourself as nothing but a useless cripple is the way that everyone sees you and you push everyone away because of it even when people are trying to do things that are for your fucking benefit, like giving you this job. I was simply trying to help you."

Bucky grabbed Avelyn's chin in his and and lowered his face to hers "I didn't ask for your help."

Avelyn slapped away his hand "Fine James, you don't want my help, don't take it. It doesn't make a difference to me anyway. I'm sorry for caring about you."

"I didn't ask you too." Bucky said coolly. He was already beginning to regret his behavior but he'd rather die than to forsake his pride and admit that he was wrong to Avelyn.

"Get the fuck out." Avelyn yelled. She'd had enough, Bucky was clearly not the man that she thought he was and she wasn't going to waste her time trying to help someone who didn't want to be helped. He was all looks and no personality and she wanted no part of that.

"What did you say?" Bucky couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I said, get the fuck out."

Bucky started intently at Avelyn, his eyes raking over her face. Her usually delicate features were set into a hardened glare and he could feel the anger radiating from her. She looked so gorgeous when she was mad, it made him feel so –

"I'm waiting." Her words interrupted his thoughts.

Bucky tore his eyes away from his figure and walked through the door, regret building in his chest as his heart sank, because he knew that he'd fucked up with one of the few people willing to give him a chance.

Avelyn stared at Bucky as he left the coffee shop and sighed. She understood how Bucky felt, there were times when she felt misunderstood and like an outcast but that didn't in any way excuse his behavior.

He wasn't allowed to treat her like shit because he was in a bad mood. Lord knows she'd let enough men get away with that because they were good looking but she wasn't going to let James Barnes be another one of them. The only thing left to deal with now was the bad mood he'd put her in.

As she wondered what to do, her phone began ringing. Sidestepping the mess on the floor that she'd eventually have to clean, Avelyn went into the kitchen and answered her phone without looking at it.

"What do you want?" She snapped.

"Well hello to you too bitch." Came the voice of her best friend Morgan.

Morgan Stark had been her best friend since kindergarten, a friendship that had only fueled her parents' business rivalry with the Starks even more. Morgan and her parents had never cared that Avelyn was the child of their biggest competitors. Tony and Pepper loved her like she was their own, considered her family, and that was something that she was always grateful for. The Starks were like her parents and Morgan, her sister.

"Oh hey Morgan. Sorry about that, I'm just salty." Avelyn apologized. She was doing the exact same thing that Bucky just did to her and she felt like crap.

"That's fine. What's wrong?" That was the one thing she loved most about Morgan, she was always so understanding. She could be a bit much at times because she was Tony's daughter but she also shared his big heart.

"So you know how I told you that Steve asked me to give Bucky a job, well, he came by today and I offered him the position and he lost it. He got angry, he was yelling, he cracked my counter and I yelled back at him, kicked him out and now I'm just mad. I actually thought he was a nice guy but clearly not."

Morgan sighed, she knew how Avelyn could be when her feelings got involved in situations and made the conscious decision to not mention to Avelyn that she didn't really know Bucky well enough to be the best judge of his character.

"Oh Lynnie, I'm so sorry that happened. What are you gonna do about it?"

"Probably just tell Steve that he didn't want the job, he probably won't be surprised." Avelyn was despondent, she'd really wanted to help Bucky and she felt like an utter failure but then again there's only so much she could do. You can't save someone if they don't want to be saved.

"Well, I have the perfect plan to make you feel better. Some of us are going clubbing tonight, you should come." Morgan may have been slightly taking advantage of the fact that Avelyn was moody to convince her to go out with them.

Ever since Avelyn opened the shop, a year ago, she'd been scarce and most times Morgan only saw her if she came by the coffee shop which she actively avoided because the entire place reeked of depression and broken dreams, not like she'd ever tell Avelyn that.

She knew how hard her best friend had worked to open that place and often tried to encourage her to let her give the shop a social media shout out but Avelyn refused because she was so determined to do it on her own, sometimes forgetting that she people who loved and supported her.

"You know what, why the hell not? I'm in. Where are y'all going?" Avelyn wasn't particularly a party person, but she was in need of a distraction from what had happened that day and going out with was the perfect pick me up especially since she hadn't seen Morgan and the rest of the girls in a while.

"We're going to Moonshine Cabaret." Avelyn winced when she heard the name, the place used to be one of her favorite clubs but now all it held was bad memories but maybe tonight she could replace them with better ones.

"Who's coming with us?"

"Shuri, Natasha, Peter and Thor."

"Okay." Avelyn was okay with the people who were coming, because after her breakup and decision to step away from the socialite life, she'd lost some friends and interacting with them never ended nicely.

"I'll pick you up at nine, make sure you wear something nice. Bye Lynnie, love you."

"Love you too Morgs." Avelyn hung up the phone.

Maybe this day would have some good to come out of it after all, she just hoped that she didn't run into her ex at the club or this day would get even more sour.

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

Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Criticism is welcome. The taglist is also open.

NEXT PART

[aaronhart93-archive]

nurse aaron || aaroman

Discord thread featuring: Aaron & @romanbeckett

When: October 14, 2020

Where: roman’s apartment

mentions: @quentindelancret @malakhai-ozera (briefly @alison-haynes)

Description: aaron takes care of roman after the assault, smut ensues, they have words about going to khai’s opening

Trigger Warnings: mentions of hate crime/physical assault, self blame, injuries, smut

Aaron

Of course Aaron got way too much food for Roman. He was never going to eat all of it anyway, but Aaron hoped that something he got for his boyfriend would appeal to him. Aaron hadn't gone into the office since the accident, and had his assistant taking care of a lot of things for him. He'd get most of the pressing work matters done with Roman was sleeping, but Aaron tried to stay awake with Roman when he wasn't sleeping. Which meant that Aaron had gotten barely any sleep since he got that text from Quentin. Aaron walked into Ro's apartment and set the reusable shopping bags on the kitchen table. He walked into the bedroom with the smoothies he'd gotten for them, in hopes that Roman could stomach at least this. he took one look at his partner and frowned - he looked like a hurt puppy which in some ways he was. He forced a soft smile. "Delivery!" He tried his hardest to sound chipper.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman had been napping a bit, trying to get sleep whenever he could with the help of his pain medication. He stirred though when Aaron walked in with some smoothies, managing a small smirk as he pushed himself into a more seated position, even though that really fucking hurt. It was only his ribs and spleen that were bruised, but it felt like his entire insides had been thrown in a blender. “Hi handsome.” He cooed, wanting to show his boyfriend that he was more than appreciated.

Aaron

Aaron frowned because even if Roman wasn’t showing him that he was in pain, he knew that he was. Aaron sat their smoothies down at the bedside table and sat down at the edge of the bed next to his boyfriend. He rubbed his thigh and smiled, but his blues eyes were sad. “I got you a smoothie.” He picked up the the plastic to go cup and held it out to the actor. “There’s, err, kale in it. Among other things.”

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman watched Aaron as he sat down and rubbed his thigh, hating that sad look in those piercing blue eyes. They were so beautiful, they shouldn’t even be sad. “Thanks babe.” He snorted softly, finding it adorable that he seemed so lost when it came to Roman’s love for kale. “You’re the best.” He took the smoothly, and then tried to sip on it to make his boyfriend happy. “What did you get?”

Aaron

Aaron smiled lightly when he took a tiny sip, relieved that he was at least attempting to eat something. “Of course.” He grabbed his own smoothie and looked at it for a second. “Um, Some tropical fruit blend.” He told him, taking a sip of the sweet blend. “How are you feeling right now?” He asked, even though he probably asked him like that less than an hour ago. “What do you need?” His hand was pressed firmly into Ro’s knee.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman nodded when Aaron answered his question, not having really been focused on the smoothie as much as what he wanted to talk about after. It just felt weird to dive head first into the hard shit. “Honestly? What I need is to talk to you...ehm.” He took in a deep breath, and swirled the straw in his drink. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did to your concern. You’re right. I need help.” He admitted, pressing his lips together after. “I don’t want you to worry about me the way you do. You shouldn’t have to.”

Aaron

Aaron nearly choked on his smoothie when Ro admitted he needed help. Ans thank fucking god for that, because if roman didn’t need help before the attack, he certainly did now. That was for sure. “Oh.” He set his smoothie back down and squeezed his thigh. “I...I’m never not going to worry about you. For the record. But it would certainly ease my mind to know that you’re getting help.” He wasn’t really sure what else to say. “If you gave it a real try at least.” He looked at his boyfriend mangled face, but smiled. Actually smiled this time.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman nodded, and looked down at his smoothie when Aaron said it would ease his mind to know he was getting help. He was smart enough to know that any kind of recovery couldn’t be accomplished by doing it for someone else, but that didn’t make him want to do this for Aaron and Des any less. He was just very aware of what could happen if he continued on the way he did...what he could lose. “I promise I’ll shop around for a therapist as soon as I’m able.”

Aaron

When Aaron initially had started getting help, Roman and Des were pretty much his only motivation for going to rehab. He didn’t want to help himself. He didn’t think he needed it. Or deserved it. He thought that maybe appealing to that part of Roman would convince him to go. Like it did Aaron. “You pick any therapist you want. As long as you like them. If you don’t, we’ll get you a new one. Doesn’t matter if your insurance covers it or not. I’m just...” he was grinning now. “Really happy you’re doing this.” He told his boyfriend, leaning in to kiss him on the forehead.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

The fact that Aaron was smiling, really covered a world of hurt. Roman would do anything for that smile. It seemed sometimes, the exact same as Des’. There really was nothing better than seeing Aaron in Des. He had a fascination with the way kids could hold their parent’s likeness. Maybe it was because he’d never really know what that was like for sure. Instead of being envious, he lived through others, and maybe that was bad in its own way as well, but it didn’t feel like it. “I’m glad you’re happy. That’s what I want. Always.” He admitted while flicking his eyes back over to his boyfriend. “I don’t want us to ever leave things the way we did again...on a fight like that. We need to cool off and have space, but I don’t want to go out mad. We can go to a different room instead. Or something. I dunno. Is that too much to ask?”

Aaron

Aaron’s smiled faded slightly. He looked down at his hand on Roman’s knee, thinking back to how he left the apartment before and how he felt like his whole world was ending when he got that message from Quentin. He was most definitely never leaving things on a bad note ever again. This never would have happened if he didn’t. “No. No, it’s not too much to ask.” He told him, rubbing Ro’s arm ever so gently. “I promise I’m never gonna leave you like that again. I’m sorry. When Q texted me...Roman...I...” thought you were dead. “My mind went to a really terrible place.” He admitted, pressing his lips together.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman moved to sit his smoothie on his bedside table when Aaron got emotional, feeling almost guilty that he’d brought it up to begin with. But, there was an elephant in the room that they needed to address, a tension of unsaid words between them that Roman would have rather’ve gotten out sooner rather than later. The actor reached to cup the smaller’s cheek, thumb swiping his cheek as he smiled through the pain. He always knew he’d loved Aaron, but maybe now somehow it was more than ever. “I’m okay. We’re okay. I’m not going anywhere, Aaron. I love you.”

Aaron

He knew deep down that Roman was right, but right now it was hard not to think so morbidly. Still, Roman’s words comforted him. Aaron snuggled his cheek into Roman’s palm and placed his hand over the taller’s as he listened to him speak. “I love you.” He whispered, then moved his hand to press a kiss into his palm. Aaron crawled into bed next to his partner carefully and motioned for him to cuddle into his chest. “And for the record. I really want to fuck you right now.” He snorted. Because he did. And he normally would at this point if his boyfriend weren’t so fragile.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman snuggled up to Aaron like a child to it’s teddy bear, which was really nasty, but fuck, he just really loved his boyfriend okay?? He groaned when the smaller mentioned wanting to fuck him, because just the mention of it made him want to pull his hair out. “Me too, dammit.” He sighed, and then turned his head to look up at the other with a smirk flirting at the corner of his lips. “I can think of something I can do though.” Roman reached to rub Aaron’s thigh, slowly inching his way up towards his crotch. “If you’ll let me, daddy.”

Aaron

Roman's little groan was so fucking cute, and made Roman chuckle. He was glad they were both suffering at least. He chuckled lowly then bit his lip as he smirked up at him, squirming a little when he ran his filthy hands up his thighs. "As long as you let me." He slid down to get on his level and kiss him, softly at first. He pulled back ever so slightly. "Is that okay? Am I hurting you?" He rasped, just waiting for the go ahead to kiss him again because ugggh this was killing him.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman knew that Aaron would constantly ask if he was okay at this point, but he didn’t care. His focus right now was being with his boyfriend, and making him feel good after days of him stressing and being worried to death over Roman. “You’re not.” He assured the smaller before he was nipping at the other’s lips, and reaching into his boxers to wrap a hand around his cock. Ro began to pump slowly, jerking off his lover in a way only he knew how, thumb swiping through the precum at the head when it appeared.

Aaron

Aaron took that as the green light to press their lips together again with a little bit more intensity this time and being extra cautious with out he was touching him. "Just tell me when it's too much." He whispered. Odd considering that Aaron had literally hit and choked his boyfriend in bed before and now he was being timid with him. Aaron groaned on the actor lips when he felt his hand on his cock. Aaron's hand slowly slid from Ro's torso into his pants to do the same, sliding his hand around his huge cock and thumb working at his tip like a pro.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman nodded, though he didn’t think he’d actually say anything. He was tough, and he wanted to sex up his boyfriend. Nothing was going to come in between that. His breath hitched when he felt Aaron’s hand on his length, trying not to thrust up into the touch because his torso just wasn’t up for any kind of movement right now. He focused on his wrist for a moment, stroking the smaller male better than Aaron could ever do himself. That wasn’t meant as burn, it just was what it was. Roman knew how to pleasure his man, he only wished it could be his mouth.

Aaron

Why did Roman give him the best hand jobs ever? Of course, no other man had touched Aaron but he sure has himself and it certainly didn’t even come close to how Roman touched him. “Roman. Fuck.” Aaron cursed under his breath and called out for his lover. in a moment of passion, he flipped to straddle his boyfriend. Carefully so as not to hurt him. Her gently tore off his pants and ducked down to blow him. Because after everything his man had been through, he deserved it. Aaron skillfully swiped his tongue along Ro’s length, sliding his tongue through the slit and licking up his pre cum.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Of course Roman enjoyed blow jobs from his boyfriend, but there was something about getting one right now, in this way, that was a little bit exciting. They weren’t really supposed to be doing this, right?! He was being a bad, bad boy. Okay, I’m done. “Baby...” he sighed, looking down at Aaron with a lifted brow as he tried his best to once again keep his hips down, because as much as he’d love to fuck up into the smaller’s mouth, he knew that would hurt like fuck. “Feels so good.” He sighed, and closed his eyes, a sight for sore eyes as his mouth hung open.

Aaron

Aaron pressed his hands firmly down on Roman’s hips to keep them down, but quickly pulled back because he was afraid he was hurting him. His mouth popped off Roman’s dick for a brief moment. “Sorry. Are you okay?” Chances are Roman was fine, and he was just going to get upset that Aaron stopped blowing him, but he couldn’t not check in. He knew they shouldn’t have even been doing this in the first place.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman winced when Aaron pushed his hips down, and then watched as his poor, terrified boyfriend pulled off his length to ask if he was okay. That was a way to kill the mood, be in pain, and worry the shit out of your significant other. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He assured the smaller, looking at Aaron with a defeated expression, because he was already starting to lose his erection. Wow! Yet another great mood killer. “I’m sorry. I’m ruining this.” He shook his head, and then pulled a hand to his face, rubbing over it with frustration.

Aaron

Aaron let go of him quickly and sat up. “I’m so sorry. Fuck.” He hissed. She sat back in his hips and let out a very heavy sigh. He noticed a sad look on Roman’s face, then his gaze moved to his dick. Aaron rolled off of him and sat up next to him. Maybe their weren’t gonna suck each other off tonight, but he was still be gentle and PG-13 with him. He leaned in to kiss him gently on his shoulder, then started sucking lightly on his skin while running his fingers along his arm.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

“Don’t be sorry.” Roman was quick to respond, turning to look at Aaron with a defeated expression. He hated making the other male feel anything negative, so of course he was feeling guilty as well. As always. Roman always felt guilty, even in situations that were far from his fault. He did managed to smile softly when Aaron kissed on his shoulder, instantly feeling warm and fuzzy from the gesture. “I love you. So much.” He whispered, turning to look at the other as best he could from this position.

Aaron

Aaron just hummed in response on his skin in response. He probably should stop sucking on his skin like that this if they were going to keep their hands off of each other. Which apparently they had to because clearly couldn’t help throwing each other around a little bit. He looked up at him with bright blue eyes when Roman told him that he loved him. He smiled up at his boyfriend. His heart still swelled every time Roman said that to him. “I love you too.” This was still so wholesome. “What do you need? Ice? Water? Anything.” He pecked Ro’s jaw sweetly.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman couldn’t help but smirk when Aaron so sweetly asked what he needed, and then pecked his jaw like that. Really, they may have their disagreements from time to time, but Ro truly felt lucky to be with the other male. Aaron had a past, and a business side to him that could he unfavorable, but the man that was laying next to him right now was the best person he’d ever known. The real Aaron. “No, babe. I’m okay. You know what I want?” He asked, and reached out to grab his boyfriend’s cleft chin, his favorite feature. “For you to stop worrying, and kiss me.”

Aaron

First of all, he was never going to stop worrying, but this moment was so fucking cute and he didn't want to ruin it. Aaron smirked. "Cheeky." He mumbled, mocking the Brit's accent before gently pressing his lips onto his boyfriend's once again. "I love you so much." He told him, before kissing him again. Aaron hated the idea that Roman was literally almost taken from him. Maybe that was dramatic, but that was how he felt. He just wanted to stay in bed with him for the rest of their lives. Seriously, if it were just him, Roman and Des in the world - he'd be so fucking happy because they were all he really needed.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman of course happily kissed his boyfriend back, he’d asked for it after all, and wanted to try and get a little bit back in the mood. He wasn’t sure if that would be possible or not, Aaron was probably scared to death now to hurt Ro in some way. Which was hilarious since they normally did that on purpose in the bedroom, but of course the actor understood this was different. “You okay?” He asked as soon as they pulled away, looking into Aaron’s insanely blue eyes while placing his hand at the back of the other’s neck.

Aaron

Aaron smiled softly and nodded as his hand sat gently on Roman’s shoulder. He was honestly really content. Besides the fact that his boyfriend was injured. That really bothered him, but it was impossible not to be happy around Roman. He pressed their lips together again, and gentle trailed his fingers down his man’s tattooed chest and back around his cock. Aaron didn’t think it would take long to get each other hard again, considering they were essentially sex addicts. “You like that, baby?” He asked under his breath.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Ro chased the kiss as soon as they were making out again, licking into his boyfriend’s mouth when an interested hum. He was already getting back into the mood again, even before Aaron touched him, and then proceeded to ask if he liked it. Ha. Naughty. He knew how much the dirty talk got to Roman, and the actor couldn’t even pretend to not be effected by that. “Yeah.” He responded easily, turning to let his lips land against Aaron’s cheek, and then nuzzled his way to the man’s neck so that he could kiss, and suck at it while the smaller touched him.

Aaron

Heavy breaths escaped Aaron’s lips as Roman worked on his neck and he slowly leaned his head back down o give his boyfriend more access to his whole neck. Fuck. His favorite thing. Aaron kept his focus on pleasuring Roman though, no matter how distracted he was by the neck kisses. “Roman.” He mumbled his name between heavy sighs as he continued to concentrate jack off his partner, rubbing his fingers over the tip occasionally.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman loved hearing his lover start to lose it like that, especially knowing it was because of something he was doing to make his brain short circuit. Ro knew he was being extremely distracting, yet the hand on his cock was still working magic. Fuck. He wanted to buck up so badly, but he knew he needed to relax as much as he possibly could in this situation. “Aaron.” The Brit said the other name’s as well, this time deciding to wrap his own hand around the man’s length so that he could pleasure him as well while he continued to work on a mark at Aaron’s neck.

Aaron

Finally. The mood was back and Aaron was horny as ever. His cock perked up almost right away when Ro started touching him. He knew it wouldn’t be hard for these two to get back into the mood. They were Aaron and Roman after all, and they fucked like animals daily. Multiple times a day if they had the time. “Baby...” Aaron moaned almost inaudibly before cursing under his breath like a sailor. His mouth gaped open as he felt Roman’s pre cum drip onto his hand. Aaron’s hips bucked up, of course, to meet his lover’s movements. He could barely help it. But he tried to keep them down since Roman couldn’t. It was only fair.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman’s breaths were now coming out audible, and ragged, his pupils dilated enough to cover most of his iris’. He was so turned on, Aaron’s hand was working magic. Normally he wouldn’t be such a huge fan of a hand job, but he had to admit, being limited like this to the point of desperation was kind of hot. “Feel good baby?” He asked while leaning in to kiss along the other’s jawline now, nipping at him, and then nuzzling his ear while Roman’s thumb traveled through Aaron’s precum to rub at his sensitive cock head.

Aaron

Aaron’s cock was throbbing around Roman’s hand. They were magical. Truly out of this world. Have you seen those things? Roman was going to bring him over the edge with just his hands. “Mhmm...Fuuuck.” Aaron let out a loud moan in response. He leaned down to kiss Roman, forcing his tongue inside of the actor’s mouth as he worked Ro towards an orgasm.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

You know what? Say what you want, but a good fucking hand job with a hot makeout session was really just too good for words. Ro missed sex, yeah, but this was good too. It got them both off, and it was hot as fuck!! It’s not like he could complain. Roman chose to bite at his boyfriend’s lips as he got closer to his own orgasm, only bucking up slightly to signal that, though of course he chose not to go too overboard. “Aaron!!” He managed to mumble against his boyfriend’s lips as he worked him over still as well, hand getting lazier as his pleasure began to build, and within the next few seconds, he was cumming into the smaller’s hand with a string of moans, and whimpers.

Aaron

When Aaron could tell the actor was close, he reached to play with his balls with his free hand. He smirked, proud of himself, when Roman came, soaking his hand with his cum. It wasn’t long after that until Aaron was cursing and pressing his head into the pillow behind him as he reached his climax, calling out for his boyfriend as he did. Staring at the ceiling for a moment, he could hear them both working to catch their breath. “We...” Breathe Aaron. “Made good use of what we had. If I do say so myself.” Aaron got them cleaned off as best as they could, but there was cum all over the sheets. “Whoops.” He snorted.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Yeah, they definitely did what they could with what they had, but made an insane mess. Roman didn’t even realize how much of a mess they made until he was coming down from his high, and feeling around. He wrinkled his nose at that, because as much as he didn’t want to move, they were gonna have to clean up. “I’ll change the sheets.” He muttered, leaning over to place a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek before he was rolling out of bed as best he could, wincing to himself at how uncomfortable he was. Still, that didn’t stop him from stripping the bed, a sweat breaking out on his forehead as he tossed the sheets into the washer.

Aaron

The mess was actually a little hot. They had been so desperate for each other, that they didn't even really think twice. Aaron tried to insisted that he be the one to strip the bed and throw the sheets in the washer, but Roman just kept going. He helped him strip the bed as best as possible before he was off to the washer and dryer. Aaron went to go grab a fresh pair of sheets, and made the bed. Now, they definitely needed to get all cleaned up. At least Aaron wanted to find any excuse to take a bath with Roman. "Do you wanna get in the bath? Or would that hurt too much? Would the shower be better?" He asked putting the last fresh pillow case on.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman smirked as soon as he walked back into the bedroom, watching his boyfriend from the doorframe for a moment. He just liked watching Aaron exist, which was disgusting, but there was something about watching Aaron be domestic, and do the simplest fucking things that really got him feeling soft. “Ehm...definitely shower.” He admitted while rubbing lightly at his side. Roman had definitely probably pushed himself too much, but he wasn’t about to say that. Aaron was cautious enough as it is, and he didn’t want the other to feel like this was his fault in any way.

Aaron

Aaron turned to see his boyfriend at the door before he asked him if he wanted to shower, which startled him a little because he really just snuck up on him. How long had he'd been there? Aaron nodded in understanding. They'd have the rest of their lives to be boring and sit in the bath together. His eyes dropped to Roman's side where he was rubbing his body. "Are you okay? Fuck." He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. "Maybe we shouldn't do that again." He said, defeatedly.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman looked like a kick puppy when Aaron said they shouldn’t do that again, because that’s definitely not how Ro felt. He shook his head, and walked over to the smaller male with both hands at the man’s sides. “I’m fine. Listen, it was mostly from the sheets, it’s okay, I promise.” He tried to assure Aaron, and then cupped both his cheeks with a small smirk. “I love you. Let’s take a shower now. Yeah?”

Aaron.

Those words comforted Aaron. For sure, but he was still a little apprehensive about the whole thing. That wasn’t really a conversation they needed to have now anyway. “All the more reason you should’ve let me down the sheets.” He let a small smile creep across his face as he put a hand over Roman’s on his cheek. “Yeah. We’re gross.” He scoffed, leading him over the bathroom so he could start the shower and get the temperature just right for them.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

“What’s the saying though when you get hurt? Rub some dirt in it?” He smiled, and then followed behind Aaron when he moved to start the shower. “I’ll be fine. I’ve gotta start moving, doing things. I’ll be okay.” He wrapped his arms around the smaller’s middle, craning down so he could place a kiss on the smaller’s bare shoulder. He snuck a few ones there, and up along the side of his neck as his thumb brushed against his stomach. “How would you feel about going to Khai’s new restaurant this week? The grand opening is in a couple of days.”

Aaron

Aaron hummed as the taller kissed him like that. He closed his eyes to enjoy the moment as his hand reached behind him so that he could run his fingers through Roman’s curls. This moment was almost perfect. Until Roman brought up Khai. Really? Why now? He opened his eyes and dropped his hand, frowning slightly. “Uhh, will you be up for that?” He asked. Roman would most likely be perfectly fine just going to sit and eat at a restaurant. He just didn’t want Roman’s first outing after getting better to be at Khai’s restaurant.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman’s heart dropped a little when Aaron moved his hand, and seemed to get upset at the question. Genuinely, Ro hadn’t even thought of how Aaron would feel about him wanting to go to Khai’s new restaurant, but now that he could sense the shift in mood, he felt dumb for not knowing. “Yeah. It should be fine. If I get uncomfortable, we can always leave. But I figured it would at least be nice to get out and try some new food. Don’t you think?” He moved to step into the shower, and then pulled Aaron in with him.

Aaron

Aaron cleared his throat, letting Roman lead him into the shower. He let the hot water wash over him for a few seconds, thinking on Roman’s words and thinking of exactly how to express the way he felt about this. Why was Roman still so obsessed with Khai? It was fucking infuriating. He was being dramatic, but sometimes that was how it felt. Aaron pressed his lips together. They did like trying new food, and not going to the opening would be a really bad look for Aaron. “Is it a place Des can go?” He asked.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

Roman knew Aaron was already over this conversation, making the actor wish he would have just put off asking until the last minute. Maybe that was bad, but Ro really really hated confrontation. “I mean. It’s a restaurant slash club, so I dunno.” He admitted, now feeling even worse about this. Should he be feeling bad? He didn’t even know. It’s not like most of Aaron’s establishments were kid friendly. “Are you upset with me?” Roman asked while glancing over at his shampoo before grabbing at it to start lathering up his hair.

Aaron

A restaurant slash club? “Okay. So no she can’t go.” He said flatly. Like obviously. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, and took a slow, deep breath. Why did Roman always ask him if he was upset at him like he was trying to make him feel bad? “No.” It wasn’t a total lie. He wasn’t mad at Roman. Just at this whole situation. “I’m not putting Des on Ali since she has the twins. I’ll go if I can find a babysitter.” He said it like it was going to be hard. Aaron and Alison had an extensive list of babysitters that they paid a lot of money to hang out with Des. He motioned for Roman to turn around so that he could massage the shampoo through his hair.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

“Okay.” Roman responded flatly, feeling like the biggest asshole in history now. Roman turned around to let Aaron take over with his hair, though now he was just pouting like a baby. As always, Ro couldn’t help the fact that he was naturally dramatic. It felt like it was just in his blood. “If you don’t want to go, you can jus’ tell me.” Roman finally said, not wanting to make this worse, but it also felt impossible to keep to himself.

Aaron

Aaron wasn’t going to be that asshole partner. The one who refused to go out, then insisting that his partner go secretly hoping he doesn’t, then being all mopey about it. Not to mention, he wasn’t going to let Roman go to Khai’s restaurant without Aaron there. He’d flirt with Roman way too much. Not that aaron’s presence has ever stopped him from doing that before. “It’s not that. I just need to find a babysitter, and I’m worried about you. I’d much rather have a night in with you.” They’d been doing that a lot lately though, and getting out would probably be good for the both of them. He knew that.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 ✩

“I’m sure we can find a sitter, and don’t be worried. We’ll jus’ be sitting down.” He tried to assured his boyfriend, turning around as soon as Aaron was done with his hair. “Baby.” He reached out to grab his boyfriend’s hands, weaving their fingers together as he brought them up to kiss on each digit. “It’ll be a fun night out. I promise.” He tried to assure the smaller. “We don’t even have to stay that long. Just get some dinner, maybe talk a little, and we’ll come home.”

Aaron

Aaron’s blue eyes watches Roman place a kiss on each of his fingers. He let a small smirk grow across his face because that was too damn cute. Aaron moved his hand to the nape of Ro’s next so that his thumb could graze across his cheekbone. “Okay.” He gave him a reassuring smile. He still wasn’t too keen on the idea of going, but Aaron didn’t actually mind finding an excuse to dress up anyway. He leaned in to kiss his baby softly as he pet Roman’s cheek with his thumb.

Roman.

Roman dropped his shoulders in relief when Aaron rubbed his cheek, and then seemed to let go of whatever negative energy was holding on to him. Of course Ro was a hippie in the fact he really believed he could feel energy from other people. He knew immediately what mood Aaron was in at all times, which was probably annoying, but also very helpful. “I love you, okay?” He reached to cup both of his boyfriend’s cheeks, and then pulled him in for a soft, slow kiss.

Aaron

Aaron actually watched Roman's shoulders fall, now realizing how stressed out he was about that conversation. Did Aaron actually cause him that much stress? Hearing those words, he smiled softly and exhaled. He needed to hear those words. He also just really loved hearing Roman say that to him. "Okay. I love you, too." He said before their lips were pressed together in a deep, meaningful kiss. He wrapped his arm around Roman's waist, and ever so gently pulled him a little closer towards him.

[aerithagainstabusers]

The problem with Jaclyn Glenn’s video

So y’all have probably at least heard of Jaclyn’s video on Eugenia where she attacks Shane and people on the discord know my opinions on it, but I have to make a public post about this because I’m mad as fuck.

All this video did for me, was show Jaclyn’s selfishness. She forgave Greg for mocking her at her lowest point and was being friendly with him afterwards, despite him still harassing her. (Blaire got an apology around the same time - she forgave him and was civil with him during their livestream but she never befriended him). 

Also, as another anon pointed out? She was laughing and joking and being his buddy while he was still harassing her... all because he was mocking her ex. Yes, what Richie did to her is disgusting and she can laugh at jokes at his expense until the day she dies. But when it’s coming from a man who mocks your friend and is only doing it to get in the pants of my our other friend who is barely legal? Yeah, that’s pretty shitty. And it’s honestly why I stopped watching her. 

I thought maybe it was just one moment of weakness since it was involving Richie, which is a wound that probably still hasn’t healed so I let it slide, even though I didn’t want to watch her content anymore, but this video about Eugenia? It exposed her for what she is and that she doesn’t care about Eugenia.

She’s basically proved Greg right. Again.

By making that video, Jaclyn has put Eugenia at risk. 

Firstly, her being angry at Shane for making the video light-hearted missed the whole point of why Shane made the video. The video wasn’t HERE’S THE NITTY GRITTY  TEA ON EUGENIA. It was similar to what he did with Jeffree - he was asking her about her experiences and sharing however much she was comfortable with (Eugenia didn’t even say what her ED was because that was still too raw for her. I think that’s enough to show that she isn’t in the mindset to fully talk about this).

He didn’t push her into anything. Shane made sure that he didn’t say anything bad by talking to a therapist who specialises in EDs and also? Shane has one himself. While he doesn’t have the same one was Eugenia, he understands and he’s empathetic. It’s not a surprise that Eugenia would want to open up to him and have him help her with her return. 

By attacking and demanding that she share more, the stress could cause Eugenia to relapse. Eugenia is delicate right now. I’m not saying to baby her, but you need to be careful. And Jaclyn is currently riding a bull in a China shop while shooting a machine gun.

Also, Jaclyn bringing up Eugenia’s mother is the worst possible thing she could ever do. One thing about abuse victims? They don’t talk about the abuse. And you cannot publicly call out their abuser. Because all that does is give the abuser control. And before any white-knights go “BUT PEOPLE TALKED ABOUT EUGENIA’S MOTHER BEFORE WHY IS IT BAD IF JACLYN SAYS IT”, it’s bad because Jaclyn knows. Other people were just theorising before and were probably right. But Jaclyn knows. And her calling out Eugenia’s mother like this is giving her more control. And it could very easily lead to Eugenia’s mother clamping down on Eugenia and cutting her off, making a relapse incredibly likely. That’s why when people are staging interventions they make sure the abuser is away and that the victim is safe. Screaming about the abuse in a public forum is incredibly harmful and is literally putting the victim at risk.

Another point is Jaclyn forcing Eugenia to get help. One thing that we constantly heard in defence of Eugenia before this “we can’t force her to get help. She has to want it”, and thankfully, Eugenia did realise she needed help (which she admitted herself that she realised that she wasn’t healthy). But it could’ve gone disastrously.  If you force someone into recovery especially with something as tentative as ED? It can easily lead to resentment. Eugenia could’ve easily not complied with recovery and she could’ve shut people out because it feels like a betrayal and she feels like she can’t trust anyone.

Now, if Jaclyn did this out of genuine concern for Eugenia? That would be forgivable... but her video made it clear she and her bf and friend they only cared about how it hurt them. It wasn’t “Eugenia, I’m so scared for you. Please look after yourself” it was “this is hurting me.” It was all about Jaclyn, Jaclyn, Jaclyn. She monetised the videos. She’s deleting any kind of negative comment. People are calling her a hero and saying she saved Eugenia. She made a long video then quickly unlisted it and made a ‘better’ short video defending herself. 

Sound familiar?

She’s acting like Greg. If Greg wasn’t acting like he cares this is how he would act. 

And she’s made it clear that she’s just doing this for clout and ass pats for letting people say she saved Eugenia. She isn’t saying “don’t praise me, I did what I felt I had to do”. She even liked Blaire’s post saying she’s the reason Eugenia is alive.” 

She just wants to be seen as a hero, and she used this poor girl to do so. 

Jaclyn and her stans, she didn’t save Eugenia. Eugenia saved Eugenia. No one else. 

Eugenia didn’t even talk shit about her. When Eugenia talked about people who bullied her, no one thought it was about Jaclyn. Everyone assumed it was about Onision and others like him. Jaclyn didn’t even wait a day to make a video. Oh no. She couldn’t wait until Eugenia was used to being back in the spotlight. Instead, she started drama again when Eugenia, for the first time, was getting positive attention online. Drama that would just put a massive target on Eugenia’s back.

All because Jaclyn felt offended that Eugenia chose to trust in a man who has suffered an ED too and is known for helping people’s reputations by showing them in a kind light without whitewashing their mistakes. Jaclyn’s just mad she didn’t get to do The Return of Eugenia Cooney video since she felt entitled to it since she’s convinced she saved her.

Jaclyn Glenn is no different from Greg. And y’all can’t see it because she made some funny videos about him.

She’s fucking trash

[chain-unchained]

June 27

After a nearly three mile walk from the nearest functioning bus stop, an exhausted Shane finally returned to Pelican town; it was Friday, the day he and his therapist in Zuzu City had set for their weekly sessions. The trip wouldn’t be quite so bad if the bus that old Pam used to drive still worked, but it had broken down some years ago and the town didn’t have the resources to get it fixed, so that unfortunately meant quite a walk to get to a bus that did work. 

It still felt awkward and kind of shameful for him to walk into that office, even though the staff there were all very friendly and understanding—not to mention the therapist, who was quiet, unassuming, gentle but firm in his suggestions to Shane to help his recovery, both from the alcoholism and the depression, along.

Shane had always known that it was going to be hell, giving up alcohol cold turkey like he was; at first, the therapist had suggested weaning, but Shane knew himself well enough that he wouldn’t be able to help himself if he had even a drop of drink and insisted on cutting it off completely. Even then, he couldn’t have fathomed the toll it would take on his body, mind and mood—the first few days were the most hellish. He had the shakes, a piercing migraine that wouldn’t go away no matter how many aspirin he took, he was physically ill several times, and sleep was a far-fetched concept.

He felt really bad for Jas and Marnie, who had to deal with all of that and the piss-poor attitude that it brought with it, though he played it all off as just a severe flu bug. Maybe it was stupid, maybe he could have really used the support during the beginning, but he wanted to get through the worst of it of his own willpower.

Today was the first day that he hadn’t woken up feeling like absolute shit. In fact, he almost dared to say that it was manageable; his head didn’t feel like it was splitting open, and it didn’t take him an hour to muster up the strength to get up out of bed. He had managed to make an actual breakfast with the extra eggs that Charlie and the girls laid for them that morning. And hell, the walk to the bus station that morning actually left him feeling pretty damn good, even though the trip from it back to town that evening felt a bit less so. Having had one of the better days he’d had in a long time, Shane decided that today was a good day to tell Marnie and Jas what was going on.

Adjusting the shopping bag that he held in his hand, he tucked the other hand into his shorts pocket and strolled leisurely through town; the sun was beginning its descent from the sky, staining the crystal clear sky a fiery orange and red hue. On the way there, he stopped outside Pierre’s and checked the bulletin board on a whim. Sometimes someone would post a note about a free piece of furniture, or Pierre would leave a notice about an upcoming sale. His sales never reached the 50% off that Joja regularly offered, but at least Pierre’s stock was quality and worth the higher price.

“... Oh, that’s right.” Shane murmured to himself as he checked the calendar that hung next to the bulletin board. “The Luau’s coming up soon… Need to dig out those stretchy shorts and get them washed soon.” Next to the Egg Festival, the Luau was probably his favorite festival—it was a festival literally just centered on eating food, what wasn’t there to love about that? ‘Maybe I should give Ashe a heads-up.’ He pondered, turning on his heel and heading south towards the road leading home. Every household was expected to contribute both an ingredient towards the Luau’s main centerpiece, the potluck stew, and a cooked dish, and he didn’t want Ashe to be left in the dark if no one else thought to tell him about that since it was his first year in town.

He owed a lot to the kid, that much was for sure. If Ashe hadn’t been so stubborn and bullheaded about befriending him, there was a real likelihood that Shane wouldn’t be there that day. A real likelihood that he would have rolled right off that cliff like he’d fantasized about. For some reason, Ashe never gave up on him, and he never let Shane give up on himself.

Without realizing it, he was already standing outside the door to the ranch; he’d been so lost in his thoughts that his legs had just carried him to where he needed to go on their own. Pausing to bend down and rub at his knee which had started to ache from the walking, Shane opened the door and stepped inside. “I’m back.” He called as he pushed it closed behind him; as expected, the shop was empty, and he presumed that Marnie and Jas were in the kitchen given the smell of steak that filled the air.

“Oh, welcome home Shane.” Marnie greeted, looking over her shoulder as her nephew came into the kitchen; Jas looked up from her coloring book and waved a little to Shane before going back to her very serious business of perfectly coloring in her favorite princess from the Welwick Court. “Goodness, don’t you look happy?”

“Do I?” Shane moved over to the table and ruffled Jas’ hair lightly, unaware that he’d had a big, goofy grin on his face since he’d walked in; it felt good to be home and not be drunk or hungover. “I guess you’re right. I haven’t felt this light in… Yoba, I don’t even know how long.”

Marnie pulled the last searing steak from the frying pan and stuck it on the baking tray with the rest to go into the oven to finish cooking. “Let me guess…” She pondered, turning to look at Shane fully as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Gus had a clearance sale on canned beer?”

The comment stung a little, Shane couldn’t deny that; he didn’t blame her for thinking that, though. He’d kept her and Jas in the dark up til now, and as far as they knew he’d just gone off to work like he did every Friday. “Hah, good one.” He managed a half laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck, his grin becoming quite sheepish. “No, actually. I’ve been drinking sparkling water instead of beer… and I feel great.”

His words made Marnie freeze, her eyes widening in surprise; even Jas stopped coloring and looked back at Shane with eyes wide. To be honest, their reaction was bittersweet. It felt good to be able to say that to them, but at the same time, he had to realize how badly his behavior had affected them in order to elicit such a reaction. “Really?” His aunt managed to ask after a moment.

“Yeah.” Shane confirmed with a nod of his head. “… Y’know, sometimes I forget that I really do have friends.” He murmured, his face softening as he spoke. “People that care about me. And it’s okay for me to rely on them. It doesn’t make me weak.”

After a moment of silence, Marnie smiled and nodded her head in agreement. “That’s exactly right. I’m proud of you for realizing that.”

“Took me long enough, huh?” Shane turned his attention to Jas as he set the shopping bag on the table for her. “I’ve got something for you, kiddo.”

“Huh?” Jas blinked, looking up to her godfather for affirmation; when Shane nodded encouragingly, she pulled the bag closer and reached inside, pulling out an unassuming, plain looking box. Her little brows knitted together as she lifted the lid, and the contents practically made them fly off of her face as her eyes went wide again. “Th…. These are real bunny-jewel slippers!!!” She squealed. As if to confirm that it wasn’t fake, she ever so carefully lifted the shoes from the box and turned them over in her hands; sure enough, they were the real deal, and they were even her favorite color—purple. “B…. but these are so expensive!” She looked to her godfather in disbelief, feeling somewhat guilty that Shane had dropped so much money on a present just for her. “How did you afford them?”

Shane smiled and patted her head. “I’ve cut back on an expensive habit, so I’ve got a lot more spending money now.” He explained, glad that he was able to finally give her a proper gift—even if it was nearly a month past her birthday.

“…. Okay….” Jas looked back to the shoes, running her fingers over the sparkly tops.

Seeing the change in her demeanor, Shane knelt down to her level so he could speak to her as an equal. “Jas… I’m sorry about what happened before.” He murmured. As difficult as apologizing was, she deserved at least that much. “I said some stuff that really hurt you, and I should never have let you hear that from me.”

Jas froze a little as Shane spoke, going completely silent as she just stared at those twinkly shoes in her hands. “When I said those things… it’s not because I wanted to leave you or hurt you.” He continued, struggling a little with how to explain it in a way she could understand without sugar coating it. “It’s not your fault. I wasn’t feeling well because, uh… my head is sick, and it makes me feel sad and tired a lot… and…” His brain fizzled out, and after a few moments of silence, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I barely understand it myself. It’s hard to explain… but I’ll tell you about it when you want me to, okay? Right now, I just need you to know that I’m working hard to get better. And it’s okay if you’re sad or scared or mad at me. Take as long as you need to feel how you feel.” He smiled, even though he knew she wasn’t looking. “I’m not going anywhere, squirt. I’m gonna work extra hard to be here for you.”

“….” His words were greeted with just more silence, as Jas’s little frame began to quiver slightly in her chair.

Concerned now by her continued quiet, Shane’s smile faded. “Jas? You okay--?”

Almost before he could finish speaking, Jas suddenly flung herself at him, knocking over her chair as she wrapped her arms around him and let out a heartbreaking wail of relief. She didn’t care if Shane drank, she didn’t care if he didn’t buy her the toys that she wanted—all she ever wanted was to hear him say that he wasn’t going to leave her too.

“Whoa—” Shane was nearly knocked over himself, managing to grab onto the table to steady himself before he folded the sobbing child into his arms. “It’s okay, just let it out.” He murmured with a smile, holding her close as she buried her face into his chest. Of course, he didn’t like to see her cry like that, but at least he knew that they were tears of happiness this time.

As she watched the scene unfold, Marnie couldn’t help but wipe a few tears from her own eyes, smiling as she saw the person that she knew Shane had always been deep down. It meant the world to her that Shane finally saw enough of his own worth to start getting better.  

“Do you want to put on your new slippers?” Shane gently asked Jas, once her sobs had quieted; with a sniffle, she nodded, lifting her face from his now soaked shirt as she did so. He set her on her feet and picked up her chair, waiting for her to sit back down in it before he helped her to put the slippers on. “So, what do you think?”

Jas extended her legs out in front of herself so she could judge them on her feet. “… I love them.” She said with a slight hiccup, unable to stop the happy smile that came onto her face. “And I love you, Shane~ Thank you for getting these for me…”

 Dinner that night was one of the most peaceful they’d had in a long time; Shane actually sat at the table and ate with them, rather than taking his plate into his room like he always did. He reminded Marnie about the Luau, and they talked about an upcoming seminar on livestock regulations that would be held in Zuzu City a few days before the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies.

“I’m not quite sure what to do about that, to be honest.” Marnie admitted as she cleared away their finished plates. “I was going to ask Jodi if she’d be willing to watch Jas while we’re away, but during aerobics on Tuesday she mentioned that she and the boys were going on a family trip to the carnival. And Penny has that class that she’s been looking forward to taking for months now…”

“I don’t need a babysitter, auntie.” Jas pointed out as she finished the coloring job she’d been working tirelessly on all evening. “I’m eight years old now, I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, we don’t doubt that for a minute kiddo.” Shane leaned back in his chair with a smile. “But someone has to keep an eye on you to make sure no one tries to steal you away.” He thought for a moment, rocking back and forth slowly on the back legs of the chair. “… Hey, why don’t we ask Ashe to watch her?” He suggested, looking to his aunt as the idea struck him.

Marnie turned the faucet in the sink on and began to fill the left half to soak the dishes. “You know, the idea did cross my mind.” She admitted, turning around to look at Shane pointedly—she hated when people did that, it was so bad for the chair. “Do you think he would mind?”

“Well we won’t know unless we ask.” Catching the look she was giving, Shane promptly set all four legs back on the floor. “I was going to talk to him about the Luau tomorrow, I’ll run the idea by him then too.”

               “Alright. I’ll leave it to you, then.” Marnie glanced at the clock on the wall. “Alright, little lady. It’s bedtime. Let’s go get a book picked out—”

               “I want Shane to read to me tonight.” Jas insisted emphatically, much to their surprise. “Please?” She pleaded, looking to her godfather with the biggest puppy-dog eyes she could muster.

Momentarily stunned by her request, Shane managed to smile. “Sure, squirt. It’s been a hot minute since I read a book, though, so you might have to help me out.” He got up from his chair, looking to Marnie as Jas took hold of his hand; with a smile, Marnie nodded her head, and Shane led Jas out of the kitchen towards her room.

Neither of them could remember the last time Jas had asked for Shane to put her to bed. It did Marnie’s heart a lot of good to see the two of them bonding again, and she found herself unable to wipe the smile from her face as she washed, dried and put away the dishes. By the time she was done and pouring herself a cup of coffee, Shane returned to the kitchen, reaching around her—“’Scuse me, I’m just going to be rude real quick,” he said with a grin—to get a cup for himself.

“So, how did it go?” She asked, sitting down at the table with a novel of her own to read a little before bed.

“It went fine.” Shane poured what was left into his cup and rinsed the pot under the faucet. “She kept trying to put off going to sleep, though. ‘That story was too short, you gotta read me one more’ and all that jazz.” He took a drink of the bitter brew.

Marnie smiled and took a sip of her own. “… I want you to know I’m real proud of you, Shane.” She said after several moments.

It was something Shane hadn’t expected her to say. “I haven’t done anything worth being proud of yet.” He insisted, setting his cup on the counter. “I’ve still got a lot of work to do before that happens. I didn’t want to say anything until today, but the last few Fridays I’ve been going to see a therapist in Zuzu. I just… wanted to prove to myself that this is something I could do before I got anyone’s hopes up, y’know?”

“So that ‘flu’ you had a few weeks ago wasn’t really the flu, I take it?” Marnie guessed shrewdly, to which Shane held up his hands in surrender. “Normally I don’t appreciate being lied to, but I’ll let it slide this time.” She set her own cup down and opened the book before her. “Does Ashe know?”

“Yeah… to be honest, he’s the main reason I was able to get help in the first place.” Shane admitted with an awkward laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck. “For some reason, he just never gave up on me. I owe him a hell of a lot.”

“It’s real sweet how close the two of you have gotten.” Marnie gave him a warm smile. “I’ve never seen someone melt that heart of yours like he has. You should let him know how you feel at the Moonlight Jellies~”

Her suggestion puzzled Shane, her intent flying right over his head. “The… Moonlight Jellies? Wwwwhy that festival specifically?”

“Because it’d be all the more romantic, of course.” Marnie looked back to her book and turned the page slowly. “Of course, I can understand not wanting to wait that long to get together. I still remember my first romance and how impatient I was… ah, to be young and in love again.”

“Roman—lo—” Shane sputtered, his face turning red as it clicked in his head what she was getting at. “Marnie, come on, you’re reaching here. I appreciate what the kid’s done for me, and… well, maybe there is something there, but I’m way too old for him don’t you think? And that’s not to say that I have no idea if he even thinks of me like that, or if he even swings that way to begin with—”

“Shane, when you live as long as I have and work in a business like this,” Marnie interrupted his protests casually, “you learn to be a real good judge of people. Trust me, you’ve got more of a chance than you think. I just see how well the two of you get on and the side of you that he brings out. Give it some thought.”

Unable to think of what to say to that, Shane quickly finished off his coffee and set the cup in the sink. “I’m going to bed.” He announced as he cleared his throat. “Good night, Marnie.”

“Night, dear.” Marnie waved her fingers at him over her shoulder, hiding a laugh at his quick exit. Even if nothing came of it in the end, she at least wanted to make him aware of his feelings.

[lilsherlockian1975]

I need to unleash about my family and, unfortunately, I must do it here. Else I explode!

Feel free to ignore me but I could really use some love and support. It’s under the cut...

Backstory: About two years ago, I got into a HUGE fight with my oldest sister regarding my mother and her finances. I will admit, I’d made some mistakes. Let me be clear: I wasn’t spending her money - far from it - I had neglected to pay her property taxes at the house she all but abandoned when she moved in with us 7 years ago. Honestly, I lied to my sisters the handful of times they bothered to ask about it (they were more than happy to just ignore most of what was going with her and let me ‘deal’ with everything). I was overwhelmed and refused to admit that I needed help. 

**I hate to fail. Hate it!! Especially in the eyes of my family.**

So, I blew them off, “Yeah, all taken care of” when frankly, I had no idea what was going on with it. I didn’t have access to mom’s checking account was not (am still not!) on it, even though she has asked me to do so several times. It’s too much. I have enough on my plate to take on her money as well. 

I take care of her entirely alone. Not just a bit, I literally do everything for her except feed her and light her cigarettes (although on bad days or if it’s windy, I sometimes do). At our old house, she could at least get around, somewhat on her own, but not here. Someone (90% of the time me) has to wheel her from room to room and outside to smoke. 

Since moving, she seems to be in the beginning stages of dementia (I have a Speech Therapist coming over this week for an assessment). She has good days and bad. Sometimes, on bad days, she forgets how to walk - and when I say walk, I mean transfer from chair to wheelchair or wheelchair to toilet and so on. Last night, for instance, after her bath, she suddenly forgot how to stand and pull up her diaper at the same time. I was forced to hold her full weight of 200lbs and pull up the diaper at the same time. She put all her weight on my left shoulder, dead weight. I managed to keep her from falling, but because she’s so short (about 5′1″ and I’m 5′11″) I had to drop to my knees and brace her like I was changing a toddler. I thought she’d dislocated my shoulder but in now I think it’s probably just a pulled muscle. We’ll not talk about my knees, which aren’t in good shape from years of abuse, playing sports.  My point is: this is fucking hard. I quit my job to do this and it affects every aspect of my life, my marriage, my family. My typical day starts at 7.30am. If I’m lucky, Mom’s still asleep when I take H to school, but she’s always awake when I get home, yelling my name: Liiiiilllliiiiaaaan! In a sing-song voice. I HATE my name. Please never call me Lillian. Ever! I help her out of bed and into her wheelchair - about half the time she’s either soaked the bed (thankfully, my brilliant husband bought her a water-proof hospital mattress and it can be cleaned easily with bleach - but the laundry is another story), peeing through her diaper or crapped herself - no matter what time I get her up. We wheel into the bathroom and I clean her. If it’s bad (a nasty poo): Bathtime! If not, I still have to clean my mother’s bottom and girl-bits (repeat that about 4 to 5 times a day). She wants her meds next (my mother LOVES taking medicine) then wants to smoke, so it’s off to the porch. While she’s out there, I prepare her breakfast (usually an Ensure, some fruit and something sweet - old people love sweet things because those are the last tastebuds to ‘die’, or so I’m told). I’ve also been giving her some tea to replace the craptastic Diet Rite that I now refuse to let her have (she’s still mad at me about that one!). She’s usually good for about an hour or so, then it’s back outside for more cancer sticks. In between her smoking trips, I’m cleaning, doing laundry and P’s homeschooling (which is basically at an end, but he’ll be doing a smaller summer program too). Sometimes she naps, sometimes, when her bipolar is flaring, she calls me over and over, just for attention. I understand, it’s part of her and there’s nothing she can do about it. Then lunch (and clean up, because she always drops food) smoking, bathroom, smoking, bathroom. Dinner - clean up. Smoking, bathroom, smoking, bathroom. She’s suddenly refused to read - the only thing I remember actually doing from my youth - and now obsessively watches CNN. I feel responsible for this; I’ve turned my conservative, fundamental Christian mother into (and I’ll quote my beloved father on this one) a Pinko! She’s a liberal all of a sudden. Whatever. Every other day, she gets a bath. Once a week I wash and set her hair. I have to apply eye treatments, help her with her nebulizer, and administer her meds (if not, she overtakes them). I also try to keep her mind engaged, hoping it will stave off any deterioration that’s happening, talking about current events, reading my (not smutty) stories, asking any questions I can think of to make her brain ‘work’. She goes to bed at 10 on the dot every night and FINALLY, I can be alone with my husband if we manage to get the boys to leave alone, that is. 

Why would I do this? And, why am I bitching? I asked for it, right?

I’ve only mentioned this once before, and just recently broached it with my psychiatrist (because he figured it out, the sneaky bastard! “Lillian, did your father pointedly ask you to take care of your mother before he died?” - Internally: Of course he did, you sadist! Out loud: “Yes, he did. And I promised him I would.” - “What did he say? His exact words? I know you remember them.” - I really don’t want to do this... “Someone will have to take care of her, Lillian, she’s never taken care of herself. Never balanced a checkbook, never pumped her own gas. I can’t leave not knowing she’ll be okay. I love her too much...” I’ll never forget it. That man’s devotion is why I’m so fucked up! “And you feel like you can’t let him down?” Fuck me! Now I’m crying!)

I don’t know if he had similar conversations with the other kids (three of them, all much older and none of them with kids at home! Frankly, I don’t care. ALL of them make significantly more money than me and Mr Lil - we are practically destitute compared to all of them!) but I got her and she’s mine. I do this because it’s the right thing to do.

Now, to my current frustration, finally. Gin, my oldest sister, is selling mom’s house for $10,000. It may be worth more, but this is not my problem. Mom’s agreed to it and I don’t want to be involved. Her day to day care is my problem, not her money. I don’t touch it other than to reimburse us for what we spend on her, and nothing more. Mom, on one of her better days, told me she wants to pay me for caring for her, but I’m afraid about the backlash from the family. Mind you, she (alone!) makes more than we do as a family of 4. She also wanted to give us $2000 toward the house. I refused it for the same reason. She doesn’t know this, thinks I took it.  Gin has access to her account - she put herself on the account - she did this even though mom wasn’t really comfortable with it. Today, she texts me & our other sister in a group text, telling me to send a $3000 check to pay off the back property taxes (that she was supposed to be taking care of since I failed to... um, she failed as well, what do ya know?!). I text back, ‘can mom pay that much at once’ - she says, ‘yes’ - I still have to buy mom’s meds and a new walker this week and all her normal expenses, so I ask Gin how much mom has in her account. Her response? ‘Enough, Lillian. Just send the check.’. 

I ask you, how is that suppose to make me feel? It’s like she doesn’t trust me with the amount. Like I’m gonna go nuts and buy myself somethin’ French! But the idiot doesn’t realise that I have the account holder in my living room. I have mom call the bank and find out. She’s got well over $6000. How is that not enough to know that I’ve not been thieving from our mother?!  I’m so tired of being trusted to wipe her ass but not with anything else! I work my ass off for her - never going on vacation, never really taking much (or any) time for myself while the others take two, three, four trips a year. I can’t leave her alone and just go shopping or have a day out with my family. The other night, we wanted to go out to eat and try the new Mexican place in town. Mom didn’t want to go. We couldn't leave her, so... nope. Pizza again. When the four of us went to see End Game, my mother-in-law came to sit with her, not either of my sisters (and certainly not my worthless brother who, admittedly, lives 3 hours away but hasn’t phoned ONE TIME in the last 7 years to check on her... or me!). They couldn’t be arsed. Gin has promised over and over to ‘take her for the weekend, every two weeks’ to ‘give me a break’. It’s happened once, the weekend we moved. Never before, never again. She’s never really thanked me, even though she told our sister that she has. After returning mom after the move she told me that she told her husband, “Lillian deserves sainthood for doing this every day. Mom exhausted me and I only had her for two and a half days.” It was the only (I’m not even exaggerating) time she’s ever even mentioned how hard this is.  I don’t want anything from them. I don’t ask for their help because I know they won’t give it (my middle sister actually said, ‘don’t ask me to help with mom, I won’t do it’) but how about not making me feel like a dirtbag? How about, I don’t know, saying, “Hey, Lillian, Mom has plenty of money, you should pay yourself a bit every month. You work hard to make her quality of life really good and deserve it.” Or even a simple, “Thank you. Thank you for taking care of our mother, we appreciate that you do it and we don’t worry about her safety and wellbeing.” No one has EVER said this to me. Not once. 

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 4

Despite my throbbing head, Friday flew by. I tried not to check my phone every 38 seconds, but failed. I wanted him to text me, but he had to do it first. I don’t play by “The Rules” usually (hmmmm, given my dating history, maybe I should try) but out of sheer anxiety I never call or text first. It doesn’t mean that I don’t bite my nails while waiting, however. And more than once I’ve basically bitten a whole finger off waiting for a message that never came. I tried to distract myself at work by helping in the office in between appointments, explaining some procedures to Rose’s replacement (I’m sure telling her the total wrong thing). At lunch I decided to take a walk to occupy myself, but ended up sitting in the tea shop seven doors down eating a chocolate croissant and sipping Earl Grey. I was wearing ballet flats - there’s simply not enough arch support for a walk. Plus, my afternoon appointments didn’t need to see me sweaty. It was in the best interest of my patients. I was a woman of the people.

That evening Carly and I went to see Kinky Boots on the West End. It was my favorite and Carly had gotten box seats through someone at work. We sang like ninnies throughout the show, laughing and carrying on. Afterwards we hit a swank gastro-pub she’d heard about. As we settled in and were chatting about our days, she dropped the bomb I knew she’d been dying to ask, “So, Niall?”

“Nope.” I rolled my eyes at her.

“Yep. Spill.”

“Well yes, young Niall. He’s a friend of a friend. Perhaps you’ve noticed him at quiz night. Blonde thing, Irish?”

Biting into the olive in her martini, she stuck her tongue out at me. “Seems like he’s more than a friend of a friend. You two were almost snogging last night.”

“I was just playing with his hair. It was innocent. I do that to Paulie all the time.”

“Paul doesn’t practically drool on your boobs when you play with his hair. And he doesn’t look that cozy, either.”

“Stop.”

“Z,” she started. “He rea-...”

“No, Carly. I said stop.” I knew my irritation was evident. I had no poker face - anything I thought or felt was always on display. “Listen, he’s really nice and all the other stuff. But it’s nothing. NOTHING.” She tried to interrupt and I held up my hand. “Don’t. I will not get my hopes up. Because every time someone shows me interest I get a little excited, and I am not doing that anymore. It never ends well, and I’m not putting myself through it again. Remember Adam?” I took a long drink of my martini (Ketel One, extra dirty) and stared at her.

“Right. He was a dick.”

“He was a dick who lead me on for two months and then Aaron found out he had a girlfriend in Leeds. And before him there was Sam, and, um, Robbie. In college there was Dave. High school was Sean. And Kyle The Worst.  I’m not doing it. Short of Niall Horan tattooing my name on his ass, I will not believe this is anything more than friendship.” For emphasis, I smacked my hand on the table, startling the tables around us. I eyeballed people who were looking, and stuck my tongue out at a kid about 7 who was staring. Like a sensible human being, he stuck his back out at me.

I’d been unable to get over my hissy fit with Carly, so we called it a night after one drink and no dinner. She hugged me outside of the pub. “Sorry, Z. I didn’t mean to upset you. But don’t shut him down. Friend or whatever, I think he’d be a good guy to keep around.” I nodded at her and hugged her back. I wasn’t mad at her really - she said the same things I would have said if the tables were turned. But Carly didn’t have my history with men, so she couldn’t understand where I was coming from. Sigh. I dug around my purse and found an emergency Valium in my container of miscellaneous pills, swallowing it as the cab sped towards my flat.

I slept late Saturday and Sunday mornings (okay, I sleep late every weekend) and ran errands. I’d begrudgingly let Hannah talk me into hot yoga on the condition that we got pancakes afterwards. I spent the rest of my free time on laundry, had dinner and wine at one of the other therapist’s in my office’s house, and caught up on paperwork. My friends all avoided any mention of Niall - I was assuming Carly had made everyone aware of my meltdown Friday night and they were tiptoeing around me. I was okay with that, though. I didn’t post on Instagram, but went on a few rants on Twitter. Nothing exciting happened, not that I expected it to. Sadly my philosophy on life was to set low expectations and never be disappointed.  

Monday began earlier than I expected when my texts notifications dinged at 6:30 (my alarm was set for 6:45 - those 15 minutes make a huge difference). Having been raised to believe that no good came of late night or early morning phone calls, and having adapted this to texting as well, I fumbled for my phone, knocking it off the nightstand. Trying to get to it as soon as possible (Did someone need bail money? Had my sister-in-law finally snapped and murdered my brother?), I fell off the bed. Happy fucking Monday.

Niall. The text was from Niall. I rubbed the tiny knot rising on my forehead (which I knew would swelll into a goose egg by the time the morning was over), and opened it.

“Dragged everyone to quiz night . Not the same without ya !

“I’m shite at the science questions-wish ya were here Z .”

Holy fuck beans. I was wide awake now. As I processed this info, another text came in.

“Oh, and it’s trivia night here . Not quiz night . Americans ;) .”

That was flirty. It was definitely flirty. There was a wink emoji. I took a screenshot of the conversation and sent it to Hannah.

“HELP!”

“HELP!

“HANNAH LOUISE GET UP! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!”

“omg. he texted you! he’s flirting! that’s total flirting!”

“i’m totally squealing for you, btw”

“Right? Me too!”

“what did you say back?”

Fuck. I needed to respond.

“I haven’t. Shit, what do I say?”

“be clever.”

“Oh, that’s helpful.”

“z, it’s 6:40 on a monday morning. you’re lucky i’m awake.”

Okay, I can do this. I carried my phone (like it was my precious baby) into the kitchen while I started my Nespresso. I tried typing in several witty answers and deleted them before I could hit send.

“Sorry, my friend. You hit the quiz night goldmine with us on your first try. And damn those dirty Americans :)”

When I didn’t get a response in a few minutes, I gave up and started to get ready for the day. In the shower (washing your hair actually causes ideas to get loose, I swear) I thought of several comebacks that would have been much better. Damn. No response as I gave my hair a quick blow dry (then gave up and put it in a bun), tossed on my fast weekday makeup (BB cream, a quick swipe of eyeliner, and mascara...lipstick could be done on the tube), and tossed on a pair of gray khakis and a navy sweater. Nothing. Bullocks. I reminded myself that this was the exact reason I didn’t want to get excited about Niall in the first place-it was too easy to get caught up and let my emotions get dictated by someone else. With a concerned effort, I turned off my phone and tossed it in my bag.

When I finished with my 3:00 appointment, one of the part-time admins was standing outside of the treatment room we’d been in. “Zoe, you need to call a Hannah back as soon as possible. She’s called three times since lunch and sounds like she’s really upset. I hope everything is okay.”

Damn it, Hannah, you drama queen. I went into my (tiny) office and retrieved my phone, turning it on. 14 texts from Hannah, 8 from Paul, 2 each from Jess and Carly, and 1 from Brian. She’d sent in the troops. As I scrolled through, I saw one more I’d missed in my initial perusal - Niall. First things first, though: Hannah. I called her extension at work and she picked up, “Jesus Christ, are you okay?”

“Wow, that’s a professional way to answer the phone. I’m fine. Turned my phone off this morning.”

“Did he not text back?” People were shouting numbers behind her and the mere idea of it gave me a rash.

“Not right away, and I didn’t want to keep looking at the phone. Just checked it since you freaking called the hounds out on me. He responded.”

“And?”

“And what? I didn’t read it yet. I called you before Scotland Yard showed up at my office.”  

“Well fucking read it!” her high pitched voice pierced the line. Ouch.

“I’ll text you shortly. Call off the posse, I’m safe.” I ended the call and stared at the phone a minute. Here goes nothing.

“I did hit the jackpot for quiz mates . Brains and beauty .”

I gasped. Literally gasped. And dropped my phone, narrowly missing my mid-afternoon San Pellegrino. Beauty. BEAUTY. But mate. But beauty. But mate. Gah! This is why my spinster plan was a good idea. Copied the text and sent to Hannah with my own “WTF?” note.

I hammered out a quick response, “Yeah, Paul’s quite the catch. You did well.” It was almost 7 am in Los Angeles (thanks, Google, because time zone math always tricked me). I didn’t figure Niall for an early riser, so back in the bag went the phone and I went into my 4:00 with Elliott, one of my favorite kids.

On the tube home I couldn’t resist and looked again. Nothing. So I did what any sensible person would do and ordered eggplant parmigiana take away. I got into my flat, changed into an old t-shirt - pants were totally optional in my house, took out my contacts, and plopped my ass down with my dinner. My Netflix and chill date was Italian and delicious. A little saucy, though.

At 9:30 my phone dinged with a text. I was half asleep and could feel the pattern from the sofa pillow indented in my face. I grabbed it and saw a text from Niall.

“Paul is a nice looking chap . Not who I had in mind, tho .”

Well fuck this, I was no good at playing cute. Trying to come up with a way to come and ask him if he was hinting at liking me, I heard another ding.

“Want to facetime? I’ll turn on the Lumineers and sing to ya .”

Oh, fate, you’re a cruel mistress. I didn’t even want to know what I looked like right now. There was marinara on the front of my shirt, and I’m sure some on my face. I highly doubted that my makeup had lasted for 14 hours. And I had dragon breath. (I know, he wouldn’t be able to smell it because we hadn’t invented that technology yet, but I’d know.) I pondered if I could put him off long enough to take a shower, get a blow out, and properly contour and highlight my face. Instead I opted for a coy response.

“What fun would your singing be if I couldn’t play with your hair?”

“I’m not really up for FT right now - Monday slug night. Talk, though?”

One minute and 43 seconds later, my phone rang.

I finally hung up the phone at 00:18, GMT. My cheeks hurt from the smile I was rocking. At one point I'd laughed so hard as Niall told me about being chased by stadium security guards on his Segway that I got the hiccups. He, in turn, laughed so hard he had a coughing fit. “We’re a right mess, aren’t we?” he said as we both calmed down, an occasional chuckle between us. “Suppose we are. But at least we’re entertaining.” By this time I’d abandoned the living room and crawled into bed, almost purring when my back hit the mattress.

“What are you doing?” he asked in almost a whisper.

“Getting comfy. Just laid down in bed. It’s my happy place.” The silence on the other end of the line was obvious. Did I just freak him out? I wasn’t trying to get all sexy times, I just got into bed. My shirt and panties were still in place, for God’s sake. “Uh, I didn’t mean happy place like sex. Well, I mean, I guess that happens here, too, well, has happened here, but I’m just, um, laying down. Ya know, it’s late and my bed is warm.” The babbling.must.stop. “I just really like to sleep.”

His chuckle calmed my nerves. “I like to sleep, too, Z. I guess I was just thinking about you gettin’ cozy in your pajamas.” The tiny yelp noise I made echoed through my room. And the phone. But before I could get awkward, Niall beat me to it.

“Not perverted. Well, maybe a little.” I could already see him pulling at the front of his hair while he tried to explain himself. He let out that damned adorable chuckle again and continued. “I just think you’d look cute curled up in a big bed with lots of blankets. Probably one your gran made ya or something like that.”

My heart was beating so hard I thought it was going to explode. Unable to handle the sweetness, I laughed and said, “Do you have a camera or something in here? I thought you weren’t being perverted?” And I pulled the quilt my Grandma Bechtel made me in elementary school up closer to my chin. It scared me (in a good way, not a Jamie Dornan in The Fall kind of way) that he could imagine a scenario that was basically right on.

“I’ll keep my perverted thoughts to myself, promise. At least for now.”

Okay, well I’ll be good and goddamned if my panties weren’t on fire. “You’re testing my restraint here, Horan. I’m a good girl.”

“I have a feeling anything I say here is going to lead us down a bad path.” His voice had dropped an octave, though, and I could practically SEE the sexual tension in the air. “And, for the record, uh, I think you’re a very good girl, Z.”

Struggling to keep my heart from actually packing up and abandoning my chest, I managed to respond.  “I think I should say goodnight, Niall. Or good afternoon in your part of the world.” I barely recognized my own voice. It sounded a little higher and throatier than usual. Oh my god. It was my horny voice. I wasn’t usually in a position to actually listen to myself.

“Yeah I guess it is late there. You go and enjoy your beauty sleep. Not that ya need beauty sleep, I just mean I hope you sleep well. You’re already beautiful. Just, uh, sweet dreams, Z.”

Wow.