#and my brain is just like 'oh we're alone now!! perfect time to fucking kill ourselves'

[oh-mother-i-cannot-weave]

being home all alone by myself really fucking sucks

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 16 first part thoughts (through defeating Dragon and Defiant interlude) cause it seemed likely there is going to be something major happening in the rest of the arc and I might as well split it here:

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

MY BABIES ARE FIGHTING!!!!!

I might not have made the best choice in adopting both Taylor and Dragon

Ok so it's not technically my babies fighting. It's Taylor fighting simple AI Dragon created. But close enough.

Drone robot fucked up a perfectly good barbecue. That's just criminal.

I love that the robot sent after Bitch was basically designed to get fucked up over and over. Work with what you have.

Also Bitch was so willing to listen to Skitter! Not just listen but "come up with a plan like you usually do, we’ll make it happen"! She fucking trusts her so much! GAAAAAAAYYYY!

You put Skitter in charge and she is just instantly "Ok we're going to attack the Wards, the Protectorate, the PRT, and some of Dragon's robots. All at the same time. Cause I always gotta go BIGGER!"

I will give her this though - solo teleporting into the middle of the Protectorate and Wards (except for Clockblocker) and having Trickster swap her around while she just FUCKED SHIT UP? That was badass.

And throwing herself out the fucking window? TWICE? I'm very glad Trickster was on point there cause I would have fucking murdered him if he dropped my daughter.

Piggot trying to be all high and mighty and superior. Fuck off lady. You just a cop. You're like, the worst cop. I already called you out for having a full blown villain internal monologue in your first interlude. Some of the PRT might be trying to do right. Maybe. But you are just evil.

I will give Piggot one thing. She is good at what she does. It's just that what she does is not "leading the Brockton Bay PRT and Wards to better take care of the people of the city", but instead "be a terrible and manipulative person who would absolutely set of a nuke if she thought it would kill enough capes".

Also Trickster don't be an asshole. Being disgusted when Piggot admits she's fat and doesn't sound ashamed about it. Fuck off with that. She's a terrible person, there are so many better things to attack than her appearance.

Like the fact that she upset Tattletale! She made Tattletale sad! FUCK PIGGOT I HATE HER FOR THAT ALONE NOW!

Sticking a bunch of glass in some doors and riding around town on them oh my god. These are like, the scariest super villains in town. And they are door surfing. I love it.

Azazel is fucking fancy! I'm sad it got melted down in the end.

Dragon just needed a guy badly cosplaying as a DS9 starship for a few minutes and then she builds infinitely better shit than he ever could. Cause she is awesome.

Ok so I know it was technically being run by an AI that Dragon built but I'm counting it as Dragon. For one reason.

Skitter asking Azazel stupid questions until it broke was just a little sister annoying their older sister with really stupid questions! She starts off with some somewhat reasonable ones and just gets wild with it. It was perfect. That is the type of fighting I can tolerate from my daughters.

I'm a little worried about Imp clearly crushing on Regent. He hasn't had the best moral character in the past.

Wasn't expecting them to just *have* the city after beating Dragon. Definitely wasn't expecting that to happen mid arc.

“She’s out of it. Tattletale broke Skitter when she said we won” - GAY. Look sure there's lots of reasons Skitter would be distracted after hearing that the city was theirs and they had won. But Tattletale said it and there's something about a girl you like telling you "we won" that can just stop brain from working. Besides I wasn't getting enough Chatterbug content this arc so I'll find it wherever I need it.

So coming into this arc I had been making lots of jokes about Monarch referencing Skitter vs Dragon (both were controlling lots of minions, want to control the city, they're siblings cause I adopted both of them so they fight for the crown, etc) but Dragon is out of the city for now. So I really should have been focusing on Coil vs Skitter. Which is what I expect the rest of the arc to be.

It'll be fine.

I'm sure there won't be any issues at city hall with her dad. Nope.

PRT squad interlude (Piggot interlude round 2) thoughts:

Nilbog is terrifying but god his power is wild.

I had Left 4 Dead in my head the entire time. First thing they killed was a boomer. There was a spitter later as well. And they got the swarm once they shot the flare up for the evac.

PRT is endlessly badly managed. Given the unknowns they could have been more careful and used a better strategy. If they have the resources to wall off the town they have the resources to have done things better.

There is no way Thomas Calvert isn't Coil (more specifically becomes Coil). There is NO way. It has to be him. I don't technically have any proof but I know. It's him. (The way he is described, the way he talks, just everything about him. I could write up an entire post just on why I'm 100% positive he is Coil.)

I already knew Piggot was a horrible person to be running the Brockton Bay PRT and the Wards so this interlude didn't really give new information there. But it does just lock that down on an extra level.

Frank Miller's Armsmaster interlude thoughts:

I'm very sad I had to have this interlude from his perspective instead of Dragon's perspective. But I'll live.

Sucks to be this small town.

PRT failure again. It was made clear that the police of this town in no way expected the SH9. But the PRT knew when SH9 left BB and had a loose idea of their potential travel speed. And they knew SH9's M.O. in this situation of staying to back roads and hitting small towns. So every police department in every small town within a certain distance of BB should have known to be on alert. Like ya they aren't going to be able to stop the Nine, but they might be able to reduce losses a little. PRT is just bad at it's job. (Almost like Alexandria doesn't have the right priorities.)

I KNEW DRAGON WAS A TRUE TINKER! I HAD ALREADY MADE IT MY HEADCANON THAT SHE TRIGGERED WHEN LEVIATHAN ATTACKED NEWFOUNDLAND AND I'M SO HAPPY IT'S REAL!

Plugging my ears when I Was Insecure So I Made My Stick Even Longer Man talks about playing "ten by ten" with my robot daughter. Look she can do what she wants, no shame, but I do not want to hear about it from him if I can avoid it.

Of course Dragon knows about Cauldron. I should have expected that she did. My daughter is brilliant (and also maybe doesn't have a concept of privacy so gets all the information she can without explicitly doing something illegal and goes has a little bit of a "Big Sister is watching you" vibe).

[fictionalmenaremytype]

Percy Jackson Episode 6 Spoiler!!!!

Percy Jackson episode 6 highlights:

- In Percys' dream, the way Kronos has embodied Percy's old headmaster has so much messaging behind it! It shows that he does not necessarily has more power than Percy, but due to fear of wronging him, he is more powerful.

- The breaking of the fourth wall...shudders!

- Annabeth you're so clever with that prism look at you go! But where tf did u get that from?!?!

- SEAWEED BRAIN

- The first Iris Message!! The way Luke's demeanour immediately changes from hopeful to slightly scared before he covers it again when they say they know who the thief is.

- LUKE HOW DARE YOU BLAME CLARISSE!!!!

- Their argument about what was when is so accurate and shows just how much stress and how abnormal this situation is for everyone.

- "Monday you died in the river." Luke must be so confused...

- "When did you turn into an old married couple?" Annabeth's look is so 'my brother needs to stop meddling with my love life' its actually funny. Luke knows, he's going to go tell Silena. Percabeth was the true bargaining tactic. (Iykyk)

- Ooooh they've already started to mention May?!??!

- Awww Grover helping the animals escape! I always forget about that.

- "this seems dangerous" "they'll be fine..." "I meant the people."

- Annabeth's sass about the Lotus flower! He really isn't observant.

- " You were like 2 seconds ahead of me" sure

- LEVITATING?!?!? Perfect song! It bridges the gap between the older and younger generation. I could imagine this playing in an arcade and a casino separately let alone together.

- "Did you read the Odyssey?" "The graphic Novel. It counts" Yes!!! This is a PSA that Audiobooks and Graphic novels are books and don't let anyone tell you otherwise! (I'm looking at you, year 5 teacher, who told me they didn't count)

- WISE GIRL

- The way Walker said WiseGirl endearingly? Sir knows what he did!

- Don't believe him Grover!

- "if I tell you something do you promise not to make fun of me" "Dude..." it's Giving 'I am never going to make things easy for you, Seaweed brain'

- I was unsure about Lin as Hermes bit I'm not now I think it actually makes sense. I know a lot of people said he's not slutty enough to play Hermes who has the most or second most amount of kid at camp but Hermes doesn't need to be slutty. He's a charmer because he's funny. It's like Joey Tribiani's sister Gina said "you'd like him, he's real funny". And like Joey every child of Hermes to their parent would just be screaming "If you like him you laugh!!!"

- Lin how dare you remind them of their trauma!!!

- HE DID THE DISNEY VILLAIN EYEBROWS

- "Then I feel a lot better about stealing his keys" "exactly...wait what?!?!" I cackled this is brilliant!

- "You picked Hermes' picket???" "I'm multitalente." YES YOU ARE QUEEN!!!

- The Lotus flowers as thing you breathe in is so sinister! The more I think about it the more funked up it is.

- The whole pumping the Lotus flowers thing through the air is so smart! But I find it so ironic that Disney, who are known for putting different smells around restaurants to make you buy their food, are portraying this as evil.

- "Man, Grover got really old."

- FUCKING RUGBY TACKLES GOAT MAN

- Grover in Vr gear is the strangest thing to see

- All those cars from different decade puts things into perspective Jesus.

- "Are we late because of me?" "It's okay, we're going to be okay." Percy stop telling people things are okay when they aren't!!

- Hermes left them a note !!!!!

- PERCY CANT DRIVE OH MY GOD. I know he's 12 but this is still so funny. Truly what it's like to drive a car for the first time with no experience.

- ROAD RAGE PERCY OH MY GOD!

- The way he's looking at Annabeth so accidentally scrapes the car up the wall. He was doing so well until that!

- Oh my god that car scared me I was like, no way are they going to kill Annabeth off before the end of season 1.

- "it's easy to forget what's important when you're alone." Foreshadowing for a certain person on a certain island??

- That nymph (Nereid? Nyad? I get them confused.) Is so scary...more scared of her than I am of Kronos can't lie. Shes beautiful but I'm scared.

- Four Pearls woooh

- I didn't think before that the episode are too short but now I'm starting to. There was so much crammed into this one that there wasn't much time to digest anything before the next thing happened. I'd say there was roughly the same amount that happened in this episode and the last but the last felt more cohesive because it was all about Ares and what Ares needed them to do. I don't know. This probably isn't my favourite episode, but it's still really good.

Spoilers for the snippet at the end of the first credits.

- How is Percy staying behind if they have the right amount of pearls?? This will probably be answered, but I'm just worried that it won't completely make sense.

[luhcifermuses]

━━ ⟢ ( 𝕄𝕀𝕃𝕆 𝔸ℕ𝔻 𝕁𝕆ℕ𝔸ℍ ) a playlist

A PLAYLIST BASED ON MILO AND JONAH'S DYNAMICS

GORGEOUS TAYLOR SWIFT

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine I feel like I might sink and drown and die You're so gorgeous I can't say anything to your face (to your face) 'Cause look at your face (look at your face) And I'm so furious At you for making me feel this way (this way) But what can I say? You're gorgeous

CLOSER NINE INCH NAILS

you tear down my reason (Help me) it's your sex I can smell (Help me) you make me perfect Help me become somebody else I wanna fuck you like an animal I wanna feel you from the inside I wanna fuck you like an animal My whole existence is flawed You get me closer to God

BAD IDEA RIGHT? OLIVIA RODRIGO

And I'm right here with all my friends But you're sendin' me your new address And I know we're done, I know we're through But, God, when I look at you My brain goes, "Ah" Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts) Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah) Should probably not I should probably, probably not I should probably, probably not Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

LACY OLIVIA RODRIGO

Smart, sexy Lacy I'm losin’ it lately I feel your compliments like bullеts on skin Dazzling starlet, Bardot reincarnate Wеll, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist?

I WISH YOU WERE SOBER CONAN GRAY

Nineteen, but you act twenty-five now Knees weak, but you talk pretty fly, wow Ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed Take me where the music ain't too loud Trade drinks, but you don't even know her Save me 'til the party is over Kiss me in the seat of your Rover Real sweet, but I wish you were sober

HEATHER CONAN GRAY

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester But you like her better Wish I were Heather Watch as she stands with her, holding your hand Put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder But how could I hate her? She's such an angel But then again, kinda wish she were dead as she

GOOD LOOKING SUKI WATERHOUSE

ou adored me before Oh, my good looking boy Play casino holes of my eyeballs Roll the dice on my thighs You stop for breath and I sped up Just to impress you

TEAR YOUR APART SHE WANTS REVENGE

I want to hold you close Skin pressed against me tight Lie still, and close your eyes girl So lovely, it feels so right I want to hold you close Soft breasts, beating heart As I whisper in your ear I want to fucking tear you apart

LOST ON YOU LP

When you get older, plainer, saner Will you remember all the danger we came from? Burnin' like embers, fallin' tender Long before the days of no surrender years ago And will you know?

USE ME PVRIS

You can use all of me Take a hint Baby breathe I can do all you need Take a hint Baby breathe And use me Ooh, ooh Light as a feather Your body's a tether I can wait here forever But I know you want it now Killing the pressure

TAKE ME TO CHURCH HOZIER

Every Sunday's getting more bleak A fresh poison each week "We were born sick", you heard them say it My church offers no absolutes She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom" The only Heaven I'll be sent to Is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well A-, Amen, Amen, Amen

MIRRORS JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE

It's like you're my mirror My mirror staring back at me I couldn't get any bigger With anyone else beside me And now it's clear as this promise That we're making two reflections into one 'Cause it's like you're my mirror My mirror staring back at me Staring back at me

RIBS LORDE

We can talk it so good We can make it so divine We can talk it good How you wish it would be all the time The drink you spilt all over me "Lover's Spit" left on repeat My mom and dad let me stay home It drives you crazy getting old

MIDNIGHT RAIN TAYLOR SWIFT

Rain, he wanted it comfortable I wanted that pain He wanted a bride I was making my own name Chasing that fame He stayed the same All of me changed like midnight

ICARUS BASTILLE

Look who's digging their own grave That is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death Look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it And what will you have left? Out on the front doorstep, drinking from a paper cup You won't remember this Living beyond your years, acting out all their fears You feel it in your chest

DO YOU LOVE ME YET? NOTHING BUT THIEVES

Do you love me yet? I'll make myself a fool for you Do you love me yet? Just tell me what I've gotta do Do you love me yet? Do you promise I'll be hitting it soon? Oh, if I can stop fucking around, I'll be worth a fortune Do you love me yet?

THE GREAT WAR TAYLOR SWIFT

All that bloodshed, crimson clover Uh-huh, sweet dream was over My hand was the one you reached for All throughout the Great War Always remember Uh-huh, tears on the letter I vowed not to cry anymore If we survived the Great War

NDA BILLIE EILLISH

I bought a secret house when I was 17 Haven't had a party since I got the keys Had a pretty boy over, but he couldn't stay On his way out, made him sign an NDA

GOVERNMENT HOOKER LADY GAGA

I'm gonna drink my tears tonight I'm gonna drink my tears and cry 'Cause I know you love me baby I know you love me baby I could be girl (Unless you want to be man) I could be sex (Unless you want to hold hands)

HONEY WHISKEY NOTHING BUT THIEVES

Black-hearted angels sunk me With kisses on my mouth There's poison in this water The words are falling out This air is getting so thin Go down, go down, go down The honey whiskey's kickin'

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

idk if it’s just me but the flashfam is like the only one that feels like a realistic family? idk just like oh yeah they could be people in real life. obviously minus the superheroes and weird time travel and slow aging stuff but it’s just. idk my brain is fried from school today but it just makes me happy like they’re just some family. They meet twice a year for the holidays or for a family reunion in the summer. They get into fights but love each other at the end of the day. it’s soft and it makes me happy

Yeah!! I love how they don't really have defined roles because I find that very realistic to real life. Like, yeah, Barry and Iris are Wally and Ace's uncle and aunt but they're also parental figures but sometimes they're also like their older siblings. And Jay is like everyone's dad and everyone's grandfather at the same time. Bart is Max's son, his grandson, his nephew, his mentee, and all of that and more at the same time.

They blend barriers and leap outside of their defined roles to fill the gaps and be there for each other. Jay and Joan were Wally's grandparents until Barry died and Iris left and then they stepped up and fulfilled the paternal role Wally needed. They did the same thing for Bart as well.

Max has, on multiple occasions, dropped his lone wolf act to tirelessly train young speedsters because he doesn't want to watch them get killed. He trained Jay, Johnny, Wally, Jesse, Bart and Jenni all while he kept up the attitude of 'i don't want to get emotionally attached to anyone and I'm better off alone'. Then Jay would come around with puppy dog eyes or Wally would accidentally freeze himself in time or Bart would just exist and then Max would sigh and drop everything to help them.

And even Wally pre character development, we're talking childish to the max and not at all prepared to parent, was ready and willing to change everything about his life to take in Bart. Iris didn't let him of course because that would've been a time bomb but just the fact that 21 year old Wally saw a kid with superspeed and went 'fuck I guess I'm a dad now?' it's just....

Or Barry and Iris taking Avery in with zero hesitation. She lived with them and they had family game nights together. Barry named her as his heir. And she was just a random kid with superspeed they met.

And yeah, they go off and they do their own thing but they're always there for each other and they'd do anything for each other and their love isn't perfect by any means (I mean, look no further than Wally and Bart) but it's real and it's always growing and changing

It's just all so real. The blending of traditional family roles and the imperfect love is just so human

[slashingdisneypasta]

Human!Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: What The Fuck Now, Freddy!?

Notes:

This is not inherently romantic, at all. Or sexual. Just... Freddy being a bastard, and you are caught in the crosshairs- and are forever linked with him because of it.

I've been listening to Lizzie, a lot lately- and this is inspired by 'What The Fuck Now, Lizzie!?'

Also- I'm thinking this will have a part 2. Due to the ending not being quite enough. Maybe a part for the court proceedings!

Plot: Many will know the story of that terrible day Krueger essentially snapped- killing his wife, Loretta Krueger. She saw the basement, they say, and he didn't like that. Their daughter saw the whole thing and suffered a traumatic response to seeing the sight of her mother, strangled to death, by her father- and forgot the whole thing.

But if she were to remember something, one day.

She may remember something no one knows about that day, aside from Freddy himself.

She may remember, that someone else was there.

She may remember you.

//

Alternatively- you're being blackmailed by Freddy who found out you, another supposedly Plain Jane in Loretta's 'mothers club', is cheating on your husband and calls you up to help deal with the mess he made. Because who else did he have?

Warnings: Okay lemme see, its basically a potluck of triggers. Hm. Murder, swearing, cheating (You, on your husband. Not with Freddy), getting rid of a body, a child gets traumatised (Obviously, Kathy/Maggie), Freddy himself, mention of the basement and all that entails, reader with a very questionable moral compass. Look, I think if you can watch Freddy's Dead, you're good here.

I'm just heading out the door, to go grocery shopping - or, at least, that's the story I tell my husband. When really I don't do the grocery shop until the day after tomorrow. He never notices... - when the phone rings. By very nearly tripping over my feet in my endeavour to catch it before the ringing stops, I manage pick up the phone with very little injury besides an achy, slightly twisted ankle. "Hi! Hi, sorry, I'm here. Hello?"

Pouting, I sit down at the kitchen table; Rubbing my poor ankle to sooth the pain, which would soon diminish anyway. Still- I'm sorry, ankle. I'll try to chill.

When the voice on the other end reveals who it is who's called the house, I lose all need to be pleasant. Damn. I really need to memorise this goddamn number... so I can not answer it. "Whatcha wearin'?"

"Thank god Harrison didn't answer this, you fuck." I deeply roll my eyes. Thank god Har's out. No, this is not my mister, not the man I was going to meet just now- but its bad, enough. In an entirely different way. Its stupid, blackmailing, son of a... hundred maniacs. "What do you want?"

"What a way to answer the phone, Y/N. Gee, seems like every time I we talk, I'm learning how you really aren't in the right place, are you? Cheating on your poor husband, swearing... These aren't really signs of the perfect suburban house wife, is it?" Gritting my teeth, I keep from lashing out. I've learned, if you stay real quiet, Freddy wont have anything to pull from and will get bored quick. "Why so silent, hm?"

"... " Oh, fuck me. I cant help it. "Wondering where you get off judging me on being 'suburban', actually."

"Anywhere I like, thanks."

Oh... oh. Gross?

He doesn't see the disgust tearing my face into two perfect halves right now, but my silence must be enough as he laughs. The sound is directly into the phone, and harsh on my poor eardrums. Ugh... "Oh for gods sake... What are we? Fourteen years old?? Come on- why'd you call?"

"Uhhhh... " Quickly, midway through that drawn out 'um' sound, Freddy's voice transitions, and gets a whole lot darker. Something deep in his chest dislodging, to make it so. Perhaps, his heart. "Well... you might wanna come and see for yourself."

"Uh, I don't think so. I have somewhere to be right now- "

"Oh well you don't, anymore." And its clear what he isn't saying- or else I'll tell Harrison about Carter and set your life on fire. "Tell your boy toy you're takin' a reign check for the day. I think you'll last. In fact... after you come over here, you might be out of the game for a couple a hours at least- maybe days."

Hold on, hold on Freddy what the fuck- "What!?"

"... Believe it or not, I didn't actually mean for that one."

Moron.

~

Nevertheless, no matter how just... off setting, Freddy is, I had to when he asked. I had to jump when he said so.

Because if not, then he would tear my life apart.

So here I am, about to knock on that big red door he lives behind, wondering what I'm walking into. Where's Loretta? Where's Kathy? How long will the visit be? I told Carter I'd be an hour or two late- any longer and I wont see him at all today. Which would absolutely suck.

Just after my knuckles come down on the wood the first time, a hand comes down on my shoulder and I immediately jump out of my skin... then slowly look around.

There's Freddy, a cheeky grin on his face. It does nothing to set my nerves at ease. "Ugh... Why are you out here?"

"We're going to the backyard. Lets go." Taking me by the shoulders, he marches me around the side of the house, instead of through it for some reason, and into the familiar backyard. I've been here numerous times, as Loretta likes to hold our club meetings here - Barbecue's, tea's... that sort of thing. Just to let the kids play together and so the adults can enjoy some adult conversation. Its a nice yard... but depending on what her horrid husband is about to show me, it may not be considered as such anymore... - , but I'm now starting to develop a sick feeling in my stomach.

Honestly- I don't know much about Freddy at all. Yes, I went to school with him, but that doesn't mean much when he was a freaky loner kid the whole time. I remember he killed the class hamster once- that's about the only splash he ever made in the news pool; But it definitely stuck.

Yes, Loretta cleaned up his image a fair bit since getting married, but now he's blackmailing me, and as far as I know I'm now alone with him.

Suspicious of him suddenly, I slip out of his grip with a dirty look flashed his way. Don't touch me.

He just rolls his eyes, leading me around some hedges.

And then everything stops.

Him, me, the air; The air around me, the breeze, the breath in my throat.

There lays Loretta, on the ground. If I was really really naïve, I could imagine she were sleeping... or passed out, at least, due to the way she's sprawled out. No one would lay down like that willingly.

But... her eyes are open.

For a moment I'm tempted to kneel down; Take a closer look. Find out how, myself. Is she bleeding anywhere that I cant see now? Are her lips turning blue? If I moved some short red hair out of the way- would their be marks on her neck yet?

But then I come to my senses...

And freak. The fuck. O u t.

"What, the fuck, did you do!?" I whip around, looking at Freddy now which entirely new eyes. I mean, before I sure wasn't fond- but now I'm filled with something new, looking at him. Something a lot worse, something that makes me want to run. Run, and hide, and stay there.

And all these, even though he hasn't really changed. He still wears a mischievous smirk, stony blue eyes eating up my reactions... like always. But this time its just so so much worse. "Made some dead weight- now you're gonna help me get rid of it. So!" Finally, though its been only a matter of seconds, he turns his gaze off of me and I'm glad. That gaze is far too heavy. "Ideas?"

Only for a moment am I lost for words, struggling to push anything out. "I... I'm sorry??"

His gaze returns to mine, but this time my eyes are hard as his are dark. "Help. Me. Get rid of her. Fucking. Body. Or do you want your dirty laundry aired for the whole community to hear?"

Before I can help myself, I let out a sharp laugh, only succeeding in making Freddy's scowl deeper. "Freddy- this secret's a lot bigger, then mine. Sure, I might get divorced- but you're going to prison!" Does he get that? He's g o i n g to j a i l. Crossing my arms, I try to avoid looking at my ex-friend's body. I cant. "I'm sure as hell not gonna be in there with you, for being an accomplice."

I really cant look at her... I can only focus on Freddy. And that takes a lot of energy- its taking everything in me, in fact. Everything I have. But I have to. If its him or her, there's no choice.

But... then a creepy smile spreads across his face- a vast polarity to the frustrated glower of before. It makes my blood run cold.

"Ohhhh..." He looks almost ferocious, even in his composed state. Like a monster. Like any moment a fanged, inhuman creature is going to burst out of him and I'm going to wake up, and this will have been a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. The kind where that creature haunts me for a long time, after its over. After this over.

He's going to haunt me.

"You must think this is my first time... " My heart turns to ice, mouth hanging a little open... what the fuck have I found myself a part of!? Suddenly all the children's disappearances on the news lately come to the forefront of my brain... "Sweetheart, give a man his dues. I'm a hard working kinda guy... " I watch his gaze flicker to a door - the back door? No... The basement door, - and when a filthy smirk pulls at his mouth, my heart flies up into my throat. God, it makes me feel sick. I want to be violently ill. "My first was my adoptive Dad... pretty sick, huh?"

The fact that he didn't say anything about the basement, makes my imagination go wild. I swallow it down, though.

I just need to get out of here, and never think about this again.

And to do that I need to help Freddy get rid of this goddamn body- and... probably... testify at court... As the panic starts to finally rise up in my, right up to fill my throat, I immediately take in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Okay... " No time to freak out. Now's the time for action.

Gaze flickering to Loretta again, I try to acclimatise to the sight. I think its a lost cause, though. "How did you get rid of him? Your Dad?"

"No, that's not gonna work. He was a drunk dead beat, and I just had to tell the police some guy's he owed money to came over to the house." Freddy grins happily at the memory, but then just as quickly, scowls at his poor deceased wife's body- that certainly cant fight back. I just tack this onto the long list of reasons I hate him. "Lore's such a goddamn goody goody- we cant do the same thing. You don't think I woulda thought of that??"

"Hey." I snap, hands braced on my hips as I flash a glare his way. "This is not the time to get defensive!"

"Whatever... "

Then- suddenly, something occurs to me. Confused, I look around; A deeply horrified feeling disturbing my stomach. "Hold on... Where's your daughter?" Seeing no sign of her anywhere, I definitely start to panic again- especially when I look to Freddy and just see a pert look in his eyes as he looks back at me, a smile that strikes something horrid inside me. My eyes narrow. "You sick fuck- where the fuck is she!??"

"Under the bed."

"What the fuck does that mean!?" I exclaim, frustrated and freaking out. He did not- he did not! Killing your spouse is one thing, but the kid?? Your own kid??

I don't wait around for him to be cryptic some more, and rush right into the house to look for her. Under the bed, under the bed, under the fucking bed...? Which fucking bed!? Forcing ferocity out of my voice, I carefully call out to Kathy. Hoping to god she answers. I try to sound normal. Maybe a little bit cheerful; Excited.

But my voice wobbles.

"Kathy?? Sweetheart, its Y/N! Are you hiding? I have something for you... " ?? You have something for her, Y/N?? God... now you have to figure out some kind of treat.

You know what? Whatever. We'll figure that out later.

Lets just hope we aren't searching for a corpse. I'd definitely be sick, seeing a child... the way Loretta is...

Shaking my head and clenching my fists, I try to focus on Kathy.

I check under the bed in the guest room because it comes into view first and she isn't there, then her bedroom and she isn't there either... and get a sick feeling as soon as I enter the last bedroom. Freddy's and Loretta's.

God, I've never been in here before but its like a museum peace now. A horrible one. Like if you would walk into the Titanic... or the Borden house.

"Kathy? You in here?" Flicking on the light I kneel down on the ground, and check under the bed.

And something immediately crashes over me, as the sight of her covering her eyes down there. It isn't exactly relief, because this whole situation is still phenomenally fucked up for her, but I am selfishly glad to not have to see her body... crumpled, just like her mother.

"Hey sweetheart," My voice quivers slightly now, but I quickly swallow. No. No. Now, you must be strong Y/N. "Its just me. Your Daddy was looking for you, and couldn't find you! It got him worried!"

"I... I don't wanna see Daddy. He hurt Mommy." Kathy doesn't remove her hands from her face, and stays firmly by the wall- too far away for anyone to grab. My heart sinks.

Slowly straightening up again, I try to take that piece of information in. Turning to the doorway, I see Freddy there. he must have followed me. I didn't even notice. Slowly, and quietly ferociously, I say; "She saw?!"

He has the good sense to look embarrassed, even if it is just to make fun of me. "It was spur of the moment... " He shrugs. "I didn't have time to get a babysitter!"

What a fucking excuse. For gods sake.

I'm definitely dealing with a psycho- if that was even a question before now.

Swiftly, I look down under the bed again, because I'm afraid that if I continue to engage with him- I'll scream, and I'll lose my breath, and I'll scare Kathy even more. She's at the forefront of my mind; That's all I can think about.

But what to do with her after I get her out from under this bed, I don't know. I cant give her back to her father... but I cant hand her over to the police either because that would involve telling them about Loretta, and... Freddy will definitely kill me, for that.

This is a nightmare of a situation.

I'm just opening my mouth to say something - what, I don't know yet, - when she speaks, instead. "Is he there?"

"... Yes." I wont lie to her; That would be treating her with not nearly as much respect as she deserves.

When she takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes, as if just trying to keep herself together, my heart clenches. God... and to think I might not have picks up Freddy's call today. I would have been leaving her with this. For the first time today, I'm morbidly glad I came.

She speaks in that loud, hissy way that kids think is a whisper. "Can he... can you please make him go away?"

Immediately I straighten back up and look to Freddy again, my eyebrows raised halfway up my forehead. Like well? "Get out."

"I don't think you're in a position to make demands here, bi- "

"Do you want Kathy to live down there now!??" I snap, trying not to be scared. Not really feeling scared, actually. Just happy to have a reason to tell him to get the hell away from me.

A deep frown creases his mouth, deeply unhappy about the situation, but steps back. I only hear him step out of the way of the door, but its good enough. Quickly, I get up and close the door - fighting with myself not to slam it, - and lock it.

Then I return to the floor, and see this time Kathy has uncovered her eyes. She looks so small, smaller then she actually is, and she looks like she's shaking. Little red bows and piggy tails in her hair are messy from crawling under the bed. "He's gone, sweetheart. And I locked the door."

She just nods, so I take the silence as a chance to offer my hand to her. "Take my hand, sweetie? Come on out from under the bed. Its cold down there, and no one wants you getting sick." I need to upkeep the family friend bit, I need to sound caring and collected. I need her to trust me.

Her big eyes, not Loretta's colour or Freddy's, look nervous as hell. And she shakes her head.

Taking a deep breath, and I conjure all the sincerity as I can. And mean it. My eyes soften and I try really hard, to resent myself as someone trustworthy- which is hard, seeing as I've never really been that. I mean, I'm cheating on my husband. I told Carter today the same lie I told Harrison when i knew I was going to be late. The only person I think who knows the truth behind all my lies is Freddy. That says something about a person, that the only person who knows them is a psychopath.

But I want to, I need to, be good for this little girl. And there's no time for me turn my life around so it has to start with this. How fucked is that?

"... I promise, I'll take care of you. He wont hurt you."

After a few whole minutes, in which I stay silent because yes she's a child, but she's still thinking, she crawls over and takes my hand, letting me lead her out. Crawling into my lap as I cross my legs under her, she buries her face in my shirt- hiding. "You promise?"

Taking a deep breath, because I've really done it now, I offer my pinky for her to see if she turned her head. I know Freddy's listening to all of this through the wall, but I try not to freak out. "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear." She peaks out from my shirt, and curls her little finger around mine. Okay... "Y/N... I'm scared."

"Yeah... Me too, sweetie."

What am I going to do?

[palmtreesx3]

Alright.... Please buckle up for my dissertation - and don't read this whole thing if you haven't read the fic.....just don't.

First...why is it that all I could do in my brain was hear this playing in the background the whole fucking time? BOTH sides. Steve and reader, just....feeling it. going THROUGH IT. Both feeling victims of their own circumstance until they each shook up one another lives. Wanting just to go that last mile and say what they want but always getting interrupted - by their own intrusive thoughts or literally by someone else....like fuckin' Eddie.

Moving on...

We're doing compliments right now, because so much of that was reader's whirlwind of jumbled thoughts and emotions and reading what you wrote - describing the feelings and somehow making the internal chaos going on for so much of this chapter sound so fuckin' poetic was so real. I felt it. I felt like I was reading her racing thoughts and .... it put me right in it.

Side note: I KNEW IT. I KNEW HIS FUCKIN DAD..... all those calls in your bonus features ..... I wanna be a fly on the wall with those calls - whether they were his parents or her..... but at the same time I don't. I'd knock his Dad's teeth out. Stop interrupting your son's impeccable bubbles of balcony sex and fall boyfriendism, you twat.

I could blabber on about that heartwarming time in the kitchen at Friendsgiving, or how clutch Eddie is as a friend dragging us out of our feels, or how impeccable the addition of Murray was at this stage (like..Murray with the chest hair joke? Are you kidding me?!) but I digress. I have shit to say and I'm doing it under the cut to avoid spoilers.

I just want to gush about how you made these two. How they're going through the same shit different ways. Steve just wanted to be saved from what other people want for him and all she had to do was say anything to make it all stop. You made the GUY WHO BELIEVES IN LOVE AND WANTS IT SO BAD BE IN AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE!>!?>>23.21,m3O@!)O*&@^!*!(!UR$@(@(*@) Criminal. CRIMINAL. And I know we don't get his POV but, I feel like that had to hurt him just as much as convincing herself that love doesn't exist hurts the reader. Like, he had every reason to believe that all the shit she believed about love was true as he sits there facing an impending arranged fucking marriage....but he just...doesn't. He knows.

AND IT MADE THAT FALL BLURBY YOU WROTE BECAUSE IM INSUFFERABLE EVEN MORE PERFECT. Like...wait a damn second, that's all he fucking WANTS! That was all so boyfriend.... And that was probably KILLING HIM knowing it was all going to get tossed out the window for a crock of bullshit from his DAD? ugh.

And the last thing I have to say is really about how I just love how much he was inspired to be authentic. The way his clothes, appearance, posture changes in his various states of influence... but how reader feels soft when he's not putting on the act. the way he hides things and puts them out of sight for self-preservation...all the things that tangibly represent what he wants and can't have...but reader sees them anyway and validates them. the way he is just so close to being the man he wants to be the whole time, all he really fucking NEEDED WAS HER! Oh my god.... The clothes and the quitting the job all savage like that and ..... yes YES STEVE. For someone who wasn't much of her own authentic self that whole time, she still made him want to be his. And Jesus....I would definitely call that love.

I'm traveling for work this week and I know I'm re-reading all of this. And every time I come back to re-read it (because I will), you know where you'll find me (ahem...right in that ask box being annoying about it for the 100th time)

Thank you @superblysubpar for sharing this. It was a beautiful story - really it was - but what's even better is that you can really feel that it was made with heaping loads of love. You should be proud.

masterlist | the music

19.7k words | Sorry freaks, no smut this chapter - but the series is 18+ and so is my blog so skedaddle on out of here if you're not!

A/N: I have a really long one here - so I'll just say thank you once again and that I love you. Also, another special thank you to @sweetsweetjellybean and @loveshotzz💛💛

chapter warnings: very brief mention of religion (but not reader participating or believing in one in particular) | small mention/description of reader's maternal death and cancer symptoms | teeny tiny spoiler for the ending to the movie 'when harry met sally' | use of dialogue from the movie 'My Best Friends Wedding'

Why do we want to believe in things like fate or destiny - divine intervention? Why do some put their faith in religions with blind following? Why do we look to the stars in moments of despair, when we’re desperate for hope, when we’re lost? 

We seek out answers from something we can’t see but we want to believe in. Whether it’s a fortune cookie in your take out, a penny head’s up on the sidewalk, a community of like minded souls coming together for prayer or worship, or a horoscope you read on your morning Instagram scroll - the reasons have to be the same for choosing to believe, for the hope that starts to rise in you for the promise these things try to offer. 

We look for solutions to problems. We need reason. We need purpose. We need to feel like we’re not alone. We need confirmation that it’s all gonna work out even though nothing can really guarantee that. 

When you look up at the stars that work hard to shine through clouds and a full moon, your chest rises with air trying to fill your lungs and you wonder if they’re up there. Your eyes blink up at that indigo sky, searching. Steve sits next to you and Leigh waves, whispering their hellos. His hand rests next to yours on the plaid blanket, he clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. It’s all too stiff, too on edge, and you hate it. That attempted deep breath is unsuccessful, lungs deflating as it catches in your throat, and your thoughts wander back to the stars again. They wander to him, and them, and seek answers. 

What if they are up there, watching, like it’s one of those movies your mom was always putting on and your dad and you boo’d at from your spot playing cards. When he walked in with her with that on her finger, your mom would have gasped, she would have paused the movie, she would have yelled at you and your dad about the plot. She would have thrown popcorn at the TV and declared there’s something going on, he couldn’t, no way - there was no way. She’d have calmed herself down, rationalized there was still time left, gone to the pantry for more chocolate, kissed the top of your head and your dad’s cheek as she passed. By the end of the film, her prediction would have been right, she’d be crying and sighing at the couple who got their happy ending.

So could Steve declare his feelings for you here in a dramatic scene? Tell you it was all a big misunderstanding - that he’s sorry, that it was a rocky road but being together is worth fighting for? Could you leave here, hand in hand, as a top forty song plays and the credits roll? 

Of course not. 

Because this isn’t a rom com your mom would have loved. Life is not a movie full of soul-mates and cosmic connections. People like your parents are the exception to the rule. The couples who make it work - the ones who don’t let the trials of life take their love away like Allie and Noah, Kate and Sam, or Westley and Buttercup, are fictional characters. They’re stories to escape into when the despairing reality of yours is too much to read or write anymore. It’s exactly why you don’t like most movies or stories like theirs. Because eventually, the movies end, the credits do roll, and you have to face real life once again. Love like that doesn’t exist off the big screen, and you’re just kidding yourself when you fall into their traps. 

Knowing this simple fact of reality doesn’t stop the hope though. 

That painful, aching hope that clings to your skin like honey when you can feel the heat from his arm even through the sleeve of your sweater - like your bodies burn hotter when closer together - too close to the sun. It feeds the hope that your brain tries to squash away but your heart thuds harder for. The what if, what if, what if replacing each beat of it. Hope that makes you want to cry out ‘please let this just be a bad dream’ to the universe. Hope that tries, but can’t escape the gnawing pit in your stomach that’s growing wider, threatening to swallow you whole. Hope that makes you wonder why this can’t be a story - why can’t you just be the grandson, yelling at his grandfather that he can’t be telling it properly? Someone is getting the story wrong. He can’t be marrying her, you’re just sure of it. Screaming at him, at someone, to please, just get it right. 

You wonder if someone were watching, would they be feeling the despair you are? Is this the moment? That scene in the movies is always the gut punch - for the audience and the character. It’s meant to hurt, make you hold your breath. Made to be dramatic - yell at the screen, break your heart, make the character in the action get back up and fight. They’re moments made to ignite that hope - but really, it’s the double tap - coming right after the feeling catches flame, that’s made to shatter you completely. 

The moment that extinguishes the what if for all it’s worth. When the audience’s heart's already breaking for the grandson, only for the grandfather to ask who says life is fair? Where is that written? When the knife is entering your chest, but the mask falls and the killer turns out to be someone you thought you could trust. When you’re untethered in space only for your last moment of consciousness to be watching a friend cut the cord. The person who sucker punched you is now kicking you when you’re weak, taking it one step too far, leaving you crumpled on the mat. It’s all enough to make that fight, that urge to be angry instead of scared or hurt, disappear. It’s enough to knock you down so hard, you can’t possibly get back up - the hope is extinguished, and the story seemingly over. 

Robin squeals quietly, pulling Leigh’s hand across you to admire the ring, knocking Steve on the shoulder and saying something about the Dingus doing good. Your gaze flits down to the brown sugar and apple donuts in your lap, convinced you’re about to get sick right on top of them. Not because he’s marrying her, but because instead of being angry with him, you feel like you’ve been squashed, you’re hurt, you’re betrayed. Despite your better judgment, despite the past several years, you’ve let a man make you some pathetic, sad, heartbroken, and weak version of yourself. 

When Leigh’s hand retreats from Robin’s, lifting and curling a piece of hair behind her ear, diamond sparkling in the moonlight as she smiles over at Steve, your story’s end is written, and you need to accept it if you ever want some semblance of normalcy to return. You can’t lose him and them. But when Steve’s pinky brushes yours and you look over, his eyes resemble the broken beer bottle from the football game all those weeks ago. Shattered emerald and amber, cutting you to shreds with each shard of glass as he murmurs, “Can I tal-“

“I’ll be right back!” You whisper-shout, cutting him off and squeezing Robin’s shoulder as you get up. 

She yanks on your wrist, halting your attempt at an exit. Her eyes narrow as she interrogates, “Where are you going?”

Swallowing harshly as her blue eyes peer directly into your soul. She can probably smell the desire to run on you. Remembering your vow that Steve won’t take them away from you, a not quite a lie falls from your lips as you gesture to the concession food trucks, “You don’t have those cinnamon roasted almonds. They were my mom’s favorite and the smell is driving me crazy. Promise that’s all.”

“I swear to god, if you don’t come back, I will literally come stand outside your window on the sidewalk and scream-sing Monster Mash until someone calls the cops and I’ll drag you down with me.”

Her eyes blink, features incredibly serious despite the amusing threat. Your laugh mixes with Leigh’s and you ignore the shared moment, tugging your wrist free. “Would expect nothing less Robin.”

She motions she’s watching you, fingers to her eyes then yours, lips twitching in the corners before she turns back to the screen. 

Your feet feel heavy as they drag through the damp grass, and come to a stop to wait in line. It shouldn’t be a surprise after ordering when you hear his voice behind you. It floats through the air, soft, barely audible over the popping kettle corn, “I really didn’t know you’d be here. I wouldn’t have…” he sighs, settling on restating, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Your shoulders fall and your eyes stay focused on the truck. You’ve had time, since that night on the sidewalk, but your hurt still sits fresh under your layer of armor - tender like an open wound you need to keep protected. Your palms slide further under the sleeves of your sweater, clinging to the garment like the shield you’re willing it to be - you don’t want to fight with him anymore, no matter how hurt and angry you are. 

So the tone you respond with aches to sound indifferent, if not a tad harsh, reminding him you’re mad and pretending there isn’t any spark of hope within you still. It’s over, it has to be over, and all it ever was to him was something to kill time - fun and no strings exactly what you wanted. So your words are really just a reminder to yourself, another layer of the wall you need to keep up around him, “It’s fine Steve. Would have been nice to get a head’s up,” your shoulders shrug, “But, well, that’s probably too generous for the girl you were just fucking while waiting for the one, right?”

The people next to you clear their throats and you can’t find it in yourself to care, to be embarrassed. 

Steve moves in front of you, his face filling your vision. He shaved - no more scruff you like. His jeans are dark again, with fresh, new creases, and a light blue sweater pulls across his chest and shoulders. He’s picture perfect, his polished uniform in place.

He shakes his head, eyes bouncing between yours as he asks, “Is that really all it was?”

Your shoulders shrug again, because it’s easier. It’s easier to try to deny, to ignore the flutter the question causes in your stomach. Easier to bite back the words that try to form on your tongue. Because of course that’s not all it was, at least not to you. You wouldn’t feel the way you do right now if that were true. But what’s the point in telling him that though? What happens? Can you forgive each other for the words said, that, no matter how true, can’t be taken back? Things like this only end in heartbreak - because what happens if you tell him how you were starting to feel - does that change anything for him? And even if it did, that means a broken engagement, it means complicated truths coming out, it means attempts at forgiveness. And even after all of that, life won’t give you a guarantee. There is no promise of zero fights, of nothing bad ever happening. There is no happily ever after where the possibility of a break up, of losing everyone you’ve grown to care for deeply, doesn’t exist. 

So yes, it’s easier to not say any of that, because you know. This isn’t how life works. This isn’t a movie. No one is immune to life’s misfortunes. These sorts of open-ended questions and complicated emotions that come from his simple ask are unmeasurable and unreliable. Wondering and giving into those feelings only open you up to be used as a target for someone else’s shooting practice. You’ve known this, but you allowed yourself to forget, hating it was Steve who had to remind you. 

Which is why you look away from his eyes as you say, “I believe that is what was established a few weeks ago at that party Steve. You were there, remember? You were dressed as a pirate.” 

His head drops, hands running through his perfectly styled hair as he laughs, breath shaky, like the laugh is covering up any feeling in his voice. “So, that’s it? We’re just gonna act like none of it happened? You don’t wanna talk. You run away every time we get a chance to do so, a beer in my face and-“

Your hand rising in the air cuts him off, his mouth clamps shut as you make eye contact with him. “You deserved that and I’m not apologizing for it.”

He takes a step closer to you, his hand reaching towards you, then back into his hair, second guessing himself. “I’m not asking you to, and I’m not apologizing for what I said either.” Steve swallows, hands on his hips as he looks at the ground then back up at you, “What I said wasn’t a lie.” 

He breathes out the next words, both of you staring at each other with the weight of what he says hanging in the air between you.

“You couldn’t tell me.”

Your hands shake from the confrontation, from his request you left unanswered that night. The emotions that still want to bubble over, the time apart did nothing to cool either of you down. That what if, what if, what if that replaced your heartbeat grows louder, but your brain only shuts it down harder. If you hurt now, how will it feel if you keep feeding the flame only for him to extinguish it again?

The beat of your heart and those hopeful words thud in your ears as your head shakes and your voice tries not to, barely audible as the words leave your lips, “I don’t want to do this anymore Steve. We’re just going in circles. You’re getting married. You didn’t tell me. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you were really my friend while you were clearly getting engaged this whole time?”

Blue light flashes from the screen, catching the corner of your eye and illuminating his, their gaze bouncing over your face. Your bodies move closer like they can’t help it, like they know they won’t be this way again. Steve’s tongue darts over his bottom lip before his breath blows out, your name a whisper on it. The way he says your name with that look in his eyes, chests almost touching, it’s easy for your head to tilt with familiarity. Your breath out is his breath in, and it’s even easier to forget the last time you were this close. Sounds other than his harsh swallow and your heartbeat fade away. Time freezes, just a little, and the air pulses with a tangible possibility of hope. 

A shrill classic horror movie scream shatters the bubble. Your name is called, you blink, and take a step away. Guilt washes over you as you see your friends staring intently at the movie you’d practically forgotten you were there for. Leigh and Robin talk quietly and your eyelids flutter as you will whatever wants to escape down your cheeks away.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore Steve. I just want to go hang out with my friends. I need this to be over. Can it please be over?” You stare intently at the ground, one single tear slipping past your lashes. It feels like it rolls down your cheek for an hour before Steve finally answers. 

“Okay,” he quietly agrees. 

Your head nods once and you brush past him, barely choking out a whispered ‘by the way congratulations’ as you grab your snack. Hand swiping at the stray tear as you make your way back to the blanket slowly. 

When you sit back down, Leigh’s typing on her phone. She squeezes Robin’s hand before whispering a goodbye to everyone. She jogs over to Steve, cocking her head at him. He pushes his hands through his hair again, giving her a short smile. He runs his thumb and forefinger down the bridge of his nose, swiping under it with the back of his hand. His other extends towards her as she reaches him, fingers lacing together as they walk out. 

Robin’s shoulder nudges yours and your head turns to find her with eyebrows pinched together. She leans in and quietly asks, “Is he okay? Did he say something about leaving to you?”

Your head shakes, and you extend the bag to her with a tight smile. You will just keep lying to her. Steve and you will move on, and maybe, one day in the distant future, you’ll be able to tell her. It’ll all work out.

She mirrors your sad smile, the wrinkles in her forehead deepening as she takes a small handful and turns her attention back to the movie. Or she tries, but you watch as her eyes glance down to her phone every few minutes, until it lights up with his name and she quickly starts typing a response. 

It’ll all be fine. 

“Said ‘I’m fine’ but it wasn’t true. I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you…”

The pop song playing overhead makes your teeth grind, your skin itch, it pries at your armor. It clangs its melody like fists on the metal plates around your heart, screaming to let it in. 

Fuck Taylor Swift and her poetically relevant lyrics. 

You’re fine. 

“Mommy, why is that lady wearing pajamas?”

“Well, sometimes people, um, well maybe they’re sad or-“

“Not sad,” you call over your shoulder, but spin as you decide to face the stranger. The poor, unsuspecting stranger who is unprepared for the wrath of a person wearing blue, fuzzy pajama bottoms with ducks all over them, yellow smiley slippers, and holding several pints of Cherry Garcia in her arms. “Could just be sick. Or lazy. Could be a lot of different things, but sad is not one of them, and it’s rude to assume there’s any reason at all. I could just have wanted to stay comfy today, you don’t know!”

It’s almost laughable, if it wasn’t so humiliating or awkward. A practically audible record scratch kind of moment. Conversations of several other customers quiet then stop altogether. Eyes blink at you in concern and pity under too harsh of fluorescent lights, surrounded by neon advertisements and packaging trying to convince you the world isn’t shit as long as there’s junk food. The poppy beat overhead seems to play even louder, yet a pin could drop and people from another state would hear it. 

The mother’s hand runs through the small child’s hair next to them as she stammers an apology, “I really…I’m sorry, I just-“

“No, no, I’m so sorry. It’s fine…I…” You close your eyes and turn back around, mortified beyond a depth you ever thought possible. The pints of ice cream tumble onto the sticky counter-top, lottery tickets beneath it staring up at you and mocking ‘hey wanna test your luck even more?’. Your hand flies up into the face of the cashier as you grumble, “Not a word, Keith.”

The employee you’ve come to know on your late night and early morning snack runs snorts. His mouth closes, slurping his Mountain Dew through a straw as he rings up the ice cream. His lips leave the red plastic, squeaking it against the lid harshly, about to tell you the price you already know, when a bottle of wine is placed on the counter with a low thunk. A leather clad arm extends across your vision, a second bottle landing beside it. A deep and familiar voice from behind your shoulder calls out, “These too. But definitely not because she’s sad.”

Turning, you find Eddie just as you knew you would, his brown eyes the same as they have been since you met. Full of warmth that’s contagious, except now something darkens them, they’re colder. Reminiscent of how they looked in a bathroom that feels like you were in it ten years ago instead of a month. They’re kind, but they’re hurt, confused, and most importantly - disappointed. 

“Right,” you clear your throat and look away from them. Embarrassed, but adamant in your denial of the purchase and your appearance having any connotation with the emotion they all think you’re feeling. “These are not sad items.”

Despite the look in his eyes, Eddie’s lips twitch in a fight of a smile. He looks over your outfit and the hint of amusement disappears. His mouth turns down in a grimace. He faces Keith, hand waving across your form, “Right. Sad people don’t wear duckie pj’s to the store to buy ice cream and wine, they just don’t. People who ignore their friends though, they might…”

Honestly, the call out is nicer than what you deserve. You hadn’t dared to miss a text or call from Robin again, but all other group contact had gone unreciprocated for two weeks - convincing yourself it was easier for everyone that way. Biting the inside of your cheek, your eyes blink up at him apologetically, hopeful you can fix a small part of the mess you’ve made still. “Yeah. But if a person,” your hands wave as you speak, “Who isn’t sad,” you quickly tack on before continuing, “Did ignore their friends, it was probably for a good reason and she probably feels really bad about it and-“

“Jesus Christ, pay for your sad shit and get out,” Keith groans, snapping his fingers and then waggling them for payment. 

Eddie mashes his lips together, a genuine smile threatening to break as he hands over a bill. He salutes as he grabs the bag of items. “Keep the change, dude.”

“See you tomorrow, new shipment of Ben and Jerry’s at nine A.M!” Keith calls to your retreating forms. Eddie and you turn in tandem, flipping him off. 

“Mommy, what did that mean?”

Eddie snorts, his laugh finally bubbling out of him as you hide your eyes under one of your hands. The door swings closed behind you as the brisk November air does little to cool off your embarrassment.

His laughter trails off in a sigh and yours in a groan. When you peek at him from behind your fingers, you hold your breath as they fall to your side. Eddie’s eyes seem to poke and prod at you with their gaze, like you’re a frog laying open on a table for dissection. Like he already knows what he’s about to find, but he’s giving you an opportunity to just say it before he makes the first cut. 

Gesturing towards the bag in his hand, your eyes drop to the ground as you clear your throat. “Thank you, you didn’t have to pay. And I really am sorry for going radio silent. I’ll get better at that.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you risk a glance up. His brows are furrowed, meeting under parted bangs, brown eyes glued to your pajama pants. Eddie nods slowly, tucking his tongue into his cheek before clicking it against the roof of his mouth. Rocking back on his heels, the plastic bag swings at his side. “Sure. What are friends for?”

His eyes meet yours again finally, and as your lips part, he keeps going, his voice a little crisper than it’s been to you before. “Cause, we are friends. Right?”

Head nodding as your brows bunch together from the tone delivering the question. That and his gaze makes something under your skin itch, your feet restless against the pavement like a horse before a race. 

Hesitation heavy in your words as you respond, “Yeah, of course…listen, I have to get back but-“

“Great,” he spins on his heel, heading down the sidewalk like he was waiting for those exact words to leave your mouth, “I’ll walk with you, sad girl.”

Blinking at his abrupt interruption, hand still raised to take the bag from him, it takes you several seconds for his words to register. He’s already halfway to the corner, your apartment just around it and you have to take a quick few jogs to catch up with his long strides as you call out, “I’m not sad.”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie nods, flicking a zippo in his hand, converse scuffing against the sidewalk as he kicks a pebble, “And I’m the King of England.”

Tired of his tone and demeanor you didn’t invite or ask for - you don’t need this. Eyes rolling as you huff past him, your shoulder bumping his harshly as you do. Eddie scoffs, but falls back into step close behind you, not letting you get away. “Quite the attitude to have with the friend who just bought your sad girl treat, even threw in the wine.”

Your shoulders hunch at his words, eyebrows pulling together and face growing hot as you fiddle with the first key to the apartment building. “Well, I didn’t ask you to buy it and if you only did to just rub it in my face you’re not really my friend. And I didn’t ask you to come here.”

Eddie’s hand lands on the door above your shoulder as you push it open, arm blocking you from entering. “Quit the tough girl act, you’re not fooling anyone.”

Your skin burns at his accusation, hands balling into fists at your sides. “I’m not trying to fool anyone, Eddie, or do anything. I literally don’t know what you’re talk-“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you can keep trying to sell this shit to everyone else, but I’m not buying.” He points inside, “Let’s go.”

Face feeling hotter than when you were six and scolded in public, you stomp through the entryway, each step echoing across the old tile. As you turn to head up the stairs, if only to get away from his all seeing eyes, the realization of what your apartment looks like and how extremely not ready it is for guests has you pausing mid stride. 

When your gaze makes contact with his again, Eddie simply makes a statement. Flat, disappointed, and no question in his tone, “It’s worse than I think isn’t it.”

Before you can argue, before you can tell him to leave, the keys in your hand are snatched by swift fingers, and Eddie’s long legs are jumping up the stairs, skipping over several steps and disappearing around the landing. Chasing after him, the thundering of both of your feet is dulled by the faded and dingy carpet and the shriek of his name leaving your lips. 

Watching as he pushes the key into the lock, turning the knob, you sprint down the hallway. Your body barrels into his, but it’s too late. Eddie falters from your weight crashing into him, but he remains upright, although slightly hunched, as your body clings to his, trying to drag him down. The door swings open and he winces, and you drop to the ground, defeated. 

For the first time in a few days, you take in the state of your living space from an outside perspective. You watch as Eddie reviews it all for the first time - the take out on your counter, the empty beer bottles pushing the lid of the recycling up. The stack of Double O Seven DVDs on the coffee table. The couch covered in blankets because you’ve been sleeping there, your bed still sitting free of sheets in the other room. The bag of chips and the tub of frosting. It’s not a pretty picture. 

Eddie suddenly crouches, hands grabbing at you and you push him away shrieking, crawling into your apartment and away from him. Both of you swat at each other, hair flying in faces and grunting like you’re siblings fighting over the remote. 

 “Go-get off! What the hell is your problem! Eddie!”

He manages to grab your phone out of your sweatshirt pocket and you leap towards him, arms over his shoulders, you reach for the phone, and he holds himself up on his knees, arm extending it away from you. He manages to tilt it just right to get your face to unlock it and you growl, thumping on his bicep as he shoves you off. He presses the familiar green icon on your home screen while you accuse, “What is your deal? What the fuck are you-“

Eddie groans, holding up the screen displaying the last song you’d been listening to and getting to his feet. He points towards your bedroom. “Go put on some jeans. No more sad girl music. No more cheese out of the can. Field trip. Let’s go.”

Your hand holding a slipper that had fallen off in the scuffle points towards the open door, any neighbors paying attention getting a hell of a show. Your scowl meets his frown. “Um, you can go. Don’t basically break into my home and insult Britney and Easy Cheese in the same sentence asshole. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, they disappear under his bangs and he looks at you as if you’re the child you’re determined to act like. He sighs, voice dripping in drama as he heads into your kitchen, “I really didn’t want to do this, but you’ve left me with no other choice.” He spins the cheap metal cap off of one of the bottles of wine theatrically, flicking the cap onto the counter before turning the bottle upside down as he stares at you. “I’d get going. The ice cream is next.”

Your eyes roll as you scoff, “You’re not gonna do shit to the Ben and Jerry’s, you and I both know it.”

He starts on the second bottle, both ringed hands holding tight to each, red liquid splashing the sides of the sink. “I will literally drag you back out of here in your sad girl jammies to a very public place. I’m generously giving you the opportunity to avoid that embarrassment, but if you insist…”

Eddie sets the bottles down in the sink, stepping over to you in two strides, hands on your waist as he moves like he could toss you over his shoulder.

Your hands push at his chest. “Fucking fine! Give me a few minutes.” You start towards your room but spin sharply on your socked heel, one foot still in a slipper that skids as your finger points in his face. “Touch my ice cream and see what happens.”

He snorts, crossing his arms. “Big, tough words coming from a girl with chocolate frosting on her chest and ducks on her ass.”

You turn away from him, slamming the door on his call of, “If you ever want to see your precious Ben and Jerry’s again, you’ll be back out here in five minutes!”

When you make eye contact with the chocolate stain in the mirror, you have to suppress your groan. 

Eddie’s Jeep tires crunch over gravel before coming to a stop in a homemade parking lot. Tan dust kicked up and floating through the air partially obscures where he’s taken you. 

The entire twenty minute drive had been enveloped in stilted silence. He had managed to dump one of the pints while you changed, claiming to have thought you weren’t coming back out, and now he was on the receiving end of one of your finest silent treatments. His hand flexes on the gear, moving the car into park. As his jaw clenches while yanking the keys out of the ignition, you start to rethink your silence. There’s a part of you that wants, maybe needs, to run back to your apartment, lock the door, and never speak to him again. But there’s another part, far larger, and riddled with guilt, that made you follow him. 

Staring out the window at the dilapidated bar, your voice feels scratchy from the lack of talking as you push out, “What are we doing-” Eddie’s driver’s door slams, and the end of your question falls into the empty car, flat, as you blink at his back walking away from you, “Here.” 

As Eddie makes his way to the building, you hoist yourself out of the Jeep and begin to follow despite the cold shoulder. You’re willing to appease him and participate in whatever this field trip is if it means you can somehow get the apology you definitely owe him out - try to make things right for the mess you’ve pulled him into. 

A faint and familiar sound echoes in the quiet and practically empty parking lot. The distinct whip of a ball and the ting and harsh smack of metal meeting it, mix with the crunch of rocks under your rubber soles. Behind the tired and washed out brick building, chain link fencing rises, hinting further to what the sounds are and where they’re coming from. The large red letters above the doorway spell out “Murray’s” in distinct vintage lettering, hollowed out with unlit bulbs reminiscent of an old theater’s marquee lights. You pause beneath the sign, stealing a deep breath because something tells you Eddie has officially pinned you to the table, and the first inevitable cut of the dissection is imminent. Your fingers curl around the gray, metal door’s industrial handle and pull, and you step inside. 

Billie Holiday’s voice croons from somewhere deeper in the building. Voice and music crackling and staticky, like it’s playing off a real vinyl. The urge to find out why Eddie’s brought you to a place seemingly stuck in the past draws you deeper down the dimly lit hallway. Rich, red paint on the walls partially covered by framed photographs line the entire space. Black and white film prints of American icons, with individual golden lamps lighting up each from their spots attached to the frames. Your feet carry you past Elvis, Jackie Robinson, then Marilyn, and Michael Jackson before you enter a spacious and circular room. 

Red vinyl booths line the curve on one side, small round tables meant for two lit by glowing lamps scattered across the floor. A stage and space for what appears to be a dancefloor sit opposite of you, nestled between the booths and a bar running across the opposite curve. Speckled and worn mirrors behind the bar reflect the wide range of liquor bottles and the different glassware in a variety of shapes and colors, clearly thrifted antiques, hanging above them. Eddie leans against the bar talking to an older man, neither of whom spare a glance in your direction. 

This room’s photographs on the walls are covers of Life and Time, clippings from other renowned news outlets - all famous headlines like when man went to the moon and the JFK assassination, the Cubs winning the world series, spanning all the way to current events. As you spin, you see the vintage photo booth, much older than the one you and Steve took photographs in at Replay, and you push the memory away, focusing on the bulletin board next to it instead.

The flier for Corroded Coffin has your attention as the song crackles on it’s end notes, the next from the album playing softly. Billie’s voice sings the familiar lyrics of ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ and your heart drops into your stomach, palms sweating profusely. Why the hell are you here? Why this song? Why, why, why.

“Ouch. Who broke your heart?”

The unfamiliar voice asks the same question Eddie had asked you back in September, and this time you’re even more unprepared for it. Your head whips to the side, gaze looking over your shoulders that hunch. Your body turns to face them head on, but your arms cross in defense. The man Eddie had been chatting with now has his focus solely on you. Wire rimmed glasses frame eyes that stare intently at you as he wipes down a glass. His balding head of hair and the confidence he carries, along with the way he tosses the rag over his shoulder before leaning on the bar, has you feeling like you’ve suddenly entered a sitcom. 

Eddie continues to ignore you, one foot resting on the metal of stool as his ringed fingers crack peanuts. He avoids your gaze as you turn your frown on the man who seemed to have read your mind. You keep your voice as neutral as you can when you ask, “Excuse me?”

“Written all over your face, kid.” The nameless man, but you have a hunch the name of the establishment and him are one in the same, winces with his words. He pulls down three amber colored, short glasses, then a bottle of vodka. Before you can argue, he keeps going as he pours, “Well, maybe you’re not in love. Not yet anyway,” he muses to himself, “Or maybe he is and you don’t know how to let the poor sap down?”

His eyes lift from the glasses of alcohol to yours and he squints. Pausing before pouring the third glass, humming, “Wait, no, well…maybe.” Keeping his eyes on you as he tips back one of the generous shots before he breathes out with finality, “No.”

Eddie smirks into his own shot, as the man snaps in his face, but technically commands, “Name.”

Your mouth opens to stop this nonsense and analysis you absolutely didn’t ask for, but Eddie beats you to it. Eyebrows raised, mouth pursed as he offers up, “Steve.”

The man behind the bar hovers the liquor bottle above the now empty glass, blinking wide behind his frames. He sets the bottle down, pressing his palms to the bar top. Scoffing with an incredulous tone, “You’re kidding.”

“Excuse me!” You try to interrupt, but the man shakes his hands, ignoring your objection. 

“We’ll deal with that little slip in the simulation some other time,” pushing the third glass down the bar towards you as he continues, “So, Steve,” he laughs a little, licking his bottom lip, “Right. So he loves us, maybe, but perhaps it is us who loves Steve? Mm, tragic, because he doesn’t reciprocate? Or are we too scared to tell him how we feel?”

Your shoulders are up to your ears now, arms wrapping around yourself even tighter, trying to make whatever see-through, vulnerable shield this man can penetrate more resilient. Your gaze is harsh on the side of Eddie’s face, death stare glaring and attempting to burn his cheek with only your eyes as you ask again, “What are we doing here?”

“The cosmic question, isn’t it?” The bartender muses, pouring another glass for himself. He raises his eyebrows at Eddie in a silent question who shakes his head no. 

“I’m leaving.” You start to turn towards the door, but Eddie’s call behind you makes you freeze.

“Have fun walking back then!”

Your hands go to your pockets, searching, even though you know they’re empty. When you look at him, you see your phone in his fingers and his brown eyes that have turned to stone. “Yeah, I still have this. So either you can participate in the field trip, or you can walk all the way back home to your sad girl cave.”

“I’ll just have him call me a cab.” Gesturing to the nameless man with your solution. 

“Murray,” he offers with a toothy grin and head nod, confirming your assumption. 

Eddie laughs, cold, tossing a peanut shell on the bar, “Yeah? And pay for it how?”

You’ve been very, very, dumb, because it’s only now you realize the empty pockets would also mean you don’t have your wallet. Your eyes close in defeat. 

When you open them, Eddie is staring at you and it feels an awful lot like that scalpel is resting just over your heart, waiting for any final words. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he says, “I’ll take those quarters now.”

Murray rolls a tube across the bar to him, eyes darting back and forth between you two like he is watching a ping pong match. 

Eddie grabs the roll, storming past you and down a different hallway, out the back door of the bar. The chipping black paint flutters as the door swings closed, a slam as it meets the frame making you flinch. The final notes of ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ finish and you release a shaky breath. 

“And I suppose I’m to follow him and his mysterious quarters?”

Murray’s lips twitch and he raises his hands in surrender. Your sigh and step towards the door has him dropping his hands though, nudging the still full glass of vodka towards you. Figuring it’s his way of telling you to clean and sterilize the wound before the prodding at it begins, you take a step closer. Hesitating slightly, your finger wraps around the amber glass, a deep breath leaves you as you tip it to your lips. 

He nods his head towards you and raises his own glass, and as the liquid flows into your mouth, he toasts, “To Steve.”

The liquor sits on your tongue longer than you’d like it to as you glare at him. Swallowing it down, you blame the harsh burn in your throat for the prickle that’s forming behind your eyes.

Spinning on your heel to follow Eddie, Murray’s voice calls out quietly, making you pause.

“I’d tell him sooner, rather than later.”

Looking over your shoulder, he puts the glasses in a bin underneath the bar, not looking back at you as he quietly adds, “In my experience, there’s always space to dive deeper into the story. Things are often not what they appear to be. And well,” he chuckles to himself, “Harrington’s got a lot more going on under all that hair than meets the eye I think.” Your brows furrow as Murray looks up at you, patting his hand over his heart with a smirk on his lips, “And I’m not talking about the stuff on top of his head.”

Normally, the joke about Steve’s chest hair would have your lips twitch into a smile, a roll of your eyes, but instead, his words float through the air until they arrive in your gut, sitting heavy and dragging you down. They try to ignite that hope again, but you know it’s no use in letting it light anymore. 

Your feet push forward, stomping down the hallway without a word back. As the door swings closed behind you, your eyes blink, adjusting to the harsh sunlight you’d forgotten was shining outside. The sounds from earlier now connecting to what’s before you. Several enclosed batting cages sit just beyond a wooden and covered back patio of the bar. There’s two older men with their bags of gear sitting at their feet. Each drinking a beer at a small wooden table, rubbing their shoulders. Eddie is inside one of the cages. His leather jacket hung on the fence, a blue helmet squishing down his curls. The white cotton of his baseball tee stretches over his flexing back muscles as he swings at a ball released by the machine. 

As your feet scuff against the deck and then the gravel, you take another deep breath, mouth opening to just blurt out some sort of apology to him. Eddie stops the machine with a harsh smack to a button on the side of the cage. He comes out the door, holding the helmet and bat out to you, chest moving up and down with each ragged breath. He offers a closed lip smile as he says, “Your turn.”

“Eddie, I really don’t…” you trail off until you settle on just asking, “Why?”

“Would you just do it?” He frowns, tone annoyed as he extends his arms towards you further. 

Eyebrows raised in anticipation he nods once as you take the items with a huff and stomp into the cage. As you place the helmet onto your head, and stare down the machine, you exhale and press the button. It whirs back to life as your hands wrap around the bat and you step up to the metaphorical plate, Eddie’s voice calling from over your shoulder as you do. 

“So, wanna tell me why you’re sad? Talk about anything Murray said?”

Your fingers curl tighter around the grip, shoulders going up in defense again. Your jaw clenches before you grit out, “For the last time Eddie, I’m not sad. I’m fine.”

Eddie snorts behind you as you swing at the first ball released, missing.

Strike one. 

“Sure, figured that’d be your answer. So,” he sighs heavily and you hear the fence rattle like he’s kicking it, “Why’re you avoiding us again then?”

You knew this topic couldn’t be dodged forever. It’s true, you’d been pulling away again since Halloween, and getting the save the date was the nail in your friendship’s coffin. As the wedding looms in the not so distant future, it’s easier to pull away from him, from all of them, because you know that they were and always will be Steve’s friends first. Intentions of not letting Steve keep them from you seem futile now, when you know the history and depth of friendship you’re up against. You’re not gonna say that to Eddie though, so as the next pitch is released, you swing and stammer out a pathetic lie. 

“I-I’m not.” The ball makes contact, causing your forearms to vibrate from the bad swing. Your grip tightens so the bat doesn’t fall from your fingers as the ball pops up and behind you, rattling the fence. 

“Well that’s a load of crap. Wanna know what I think?” Eddie yells, not pausing for you to refute and sarcastically continuing, “Great, I’m overjoyed to tell you.”

Your heel digs into the gravel and your eyes narrow on the whirring machine, waiting for him to sink the scalpel into you, defenseless - trapped from running away from him, stuck in this cage with nowhere to go to avoid what he’s about to tell you. 

“I think you are sad. I think Murray was right and you don’t wanna admit it to him, to anyone, and especially not yourself. Instead of an easy fix of talking about it, you wanna sit in your pity and throw a party.” Eddie’s voice takes on a dramatic, high pitched imitation of you as the next ball is released and you swing, “I’m Y/N! Woe is me! I’m all alone! Nobody loves me!”

You miss the ball again, shoulders hunching in, desperate to make yourself smaller with each of the words that he shouts at your back. Turning to look over your shoulder, you glare at him. 

Strike two. 

Eddie leans against the fence, glaring right back at you with his eyebrows raised as you hiss, “You’re being an asshole.”

“Yeah? At least I’m an asshole who’s got friends,” he gestures towards you, “You clearly think you don’t.” You twist your toe in the gravel deeper, returning your focus to the machine and taking a deep breath as he keeps going. “I’ll have Murray pour you some more vodka and you can sit here and think about how your life is horrible. Truly tragic.”

Your eyes narrow from his bored tone, lifting your chin and elbow, adamant to ignore him. 

“You have nothing and no one.”

Another exhale, your chest rises and falls with a deep inhale and your shoulders relax. Straining to hear the hint of the ball being released instead of Eddie yelling at you. 

“Maybe you’ll get a cat one day, but ultimately you’re gonna die alone!”

SMACK.

Your bat meets the ball and it soars to the end of the cage and you spin on him. Face hot, your emotions bubbling and ready to explode. Anger mingling with adrenaline coursing through your veins from the hit, amping up how the words fall out of you in an angry cry. 

“Yeah! I am Eddie! And that’s what I want! So fucking lay off!”

“Why?” 

“Because it’s easier!” 

When he yells right back, without pausing, asking you for a reason, the excuse falls out of you easily. Your mouth closes immediately after the words tumble out in your scream, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as Eddie’s narrow. He shakes his head, volume lowering only slightly. 

“Nah, that’s just fucking running. And take it from someone who ran for a long time, it feels easy, but it’s the furthest thing from. Eventually, you are going to get tired, and your problems will be right on your heels. 

Facing the machine again so you don’t have to look into his eyes any longer, you shake your head no at him, letting a ball hit the end of your bat, popping forward limply as you try to speak with confidence. 

“I’m not running from problems Eddie, I’m just…it’s easier to be the one who does the leaving than to be the one who’s left, okay?”

The words float through the air, unable to be taken back, and their weight makes something in your chest squeeze and constrict. 

“That’s some next-level, glass half empty, pessimistic, depressing shit. And who the hell said anyone was going anywhere? You’re refusing to see that if you looked back for one second from the door you’ve been half out since you got here, that nobody else even has their shoes on.”

The squeezing in your chest only intensifies, his cut getting deeper as he searches for answers, and your bat hesitates halfway through your swing, sending a ball straight up into the air above you. You breathlessly ask, “What?”

Eddie waits until you look over your shoulder at him, emphasizing each word. “Nobody’s leaving you.”

His words hit you harder than your bat has hit any of the balls. It feels like one was pitched right into your gut, expelling all the air from your lungs and causing the tears that have been right behind your eyes to well up hard and fast. You spin to avoid his gaze again and square up for another pitch. 

Eddie doesn’t know that it’s not a promise anyone can make - life doesn’t care. 

Your head shakes, tears brimming on your lash line as you argue, “You can’t know that Eddie, not really. It’s better this way.”

SMACK.

A tear slips over your bottom lashes, trailing down your cheek as the bat makes good contact again and Eddie digs the scalpel in for his final cut. “Fine. Believe that. But you need to admit that you’re slamming the door on our faces and pretending like no one is still standing on the other side, knocking and asking to be let back in.”

The machine whirls, it wooshes with the release of a ball as another tear, and then another falls. Your vision progressively grows fuzzy, the world around you blurring as you swing again and his voice washes over you. 

“Did you know that Nancy is a freak just like you, and I’m sure she’d be happy to split some Cherry Garcia any time? God help you both for liking such a disgusting flavor.”

You let the tears fall openly, but silently, as you swing harder this time. The weight in your stomach - the knots that have been forming since the very first lie was told - twist and tug harder. 

“I know you’re not stupid enough to think I wouldn’t come have a beer with you, or take you to Target to get some new sheets or food that doesn’t have the Frito-Lay logo plastered on it.”

Another ball pops up and behind you as you clear your throat. Refusing to believe what he’s saying, you wonder if he can see the tears hitting the tan gravel beneath you and darkening it like drops of rain.

“And Robin! She’d love to watch Double O Seven with you. You should hear her Sean Connery impression. It’s terrible.” Eddie laughs a little and you twist the toe of your converse into the gravel, covering up a dark spot. 

“But no. Instead of any of that, you just gave up. You didn’t give any of us a chance. Steve Harrinngton’s dumb ass is the only thing to blame for all your loneliness, sadness, and problems. So keep ignoring the footsteps running behind you and the knocking, or open the fucking door.”

You want to believe Eddie, you really do. But what happens when you come to rely on someone, need the support to lean on, and they’re gone?

Your head shakes harder, a sob stuck in your throat as you barely murmur, “Eddie, I can’t.”

His voice is softer than it has been all day as he asks, “Can’t or won’t?”

More tears fall past your lashes. The last ball is pitched and you choke out, “I’m sorry.”

You don’t attempt to swing at this one and it hits the fence behind you. The machine whirs one final time then stops. 

“Yeah, me too.”

Heavy, suffocating, disappointment lingers in the air around you. 

It takes several minutes, even more tears falling quietly, for you to remove the helmet from your head and drop both it and the bat on the ground with a clang. When you turn around, swiping at your cheeks, Eddie isn’t there. 

Each drag of your feet inside is an active fight. Limbs heavy, heart even more so, because you know what awaits you inside before it’s confirmed. 

Murray looks up from a keg he’s tapping and simply nods to the end of the bar. Your phone and wallet sit there and you know the Jeep and Eddie will be gone when you push out the door crying. 

You’ve somehow done the leaving and were left this time. 

Strike three. 

It’s literally a symptom, or as some like to claim - stage - of grief. 

Denial. 

We lie all the time. We tell lies to spare or protect feelings, and more importantly, we lie to ourselves, instead of facing truths head on. 

Because it’s easier to lie - to avoid, to shut something down, or deny its existence when it’s too hard to look at directly. Which is interesting. Why has there not been some sort of evolutionary transformation from this reaction? And really, the longer you wait to face something, the harder the truth is going to hit you. The time you give a truth to sit untold, unacknowledged, it only grows larger. That truth takes hearty roots, and your avoidance in the form of lies, whether to yourself or others, or both, only allows it to spread more rapidly. 

Eventually, you will have to stop lying, to stop running, and that truth will have grown in strength. It has sprouted new truths or problems because your lies only fed it the fertilizer it needed to do so, and now it’s suddenly not the one thing you have to face anymore, but the multiple harder truths. 

Which may be why you’re still outside, staring up at Nancy’s brownstone, where all of your friends, or well, the people you hope are still your friends are-

“Out of the bike lane!”

You jump forward onto the sidewalk just in time for a man in bright yellow spandex to zoom past you shouting some sort of curse as you clutch the dessert in your hands tighter. 

Grateful you had a firm handle on it to begin with, it's one of the few family heirlooms you held onto along with the recipe it’s holding. Hoping to gain some sort of courage from deep within it, like your mom can offer you some through the dish, you make your way up the brick steps. 

The only reason you're here, the only reason you’re facing this day the way you’re feeling just so happens to be the one to open the door before you can even ring the bell. 

The door is flung open and her bright blue eyes fight to sparkle behind squinted eyelids that are almost shut she’s smiling so wide at you.

“Happy Friendsgiving!” Robin shouts louder than she needs to and holds her arms out in a dramatic greeting. She’s covered from fingertips to elbows in thick, orange goo, her clearly thrifted oversize old man sweater sleeves pushed up to her shoulders. You smile your first genuine smile in weeks as she goes to hug you and you both pause, rethinking it. 

“Fall in a pumpkin?” You quip as you balance the dessert in your hand to shrug off one arm of your coat. 

Robin wiggles her fingers and hands spirit and jazz style with a beam that shows off her dimple as she corrects, “Sweet potato casserole.”

“You fell in a sweet potato casserole?” Following her deeper into Nancy’s, you take in a long breath, the tight chest you’ve had since Eddie left you at Murray’s loosening with each word exchanged between you and her. But knowing you have to face him, Nancy, Steve and her, and continue to pretend nothing is wrong while around Robin, has the constricting pressure around your heart returning quickly. 

Robin rolls her eyes, turning and walking backwards and making a face at you. She huffs as she turns back around, “No. Steve is making his famous mac and cheese and apparently I was annoying him, can you believe it? So him and Nance put me on mashing duty to keep me busy like a toddler.”

“You said it, not me!” Steve calls, his wine glass stopping before his lips when he makes eye contact with you. 

Weeks of not seeing each other after the way you left things was going to be hard, you knew that. But you really weren’t prepared for how he looks today, or how it would affect you. 

He’s got a burnt orange, almost brown, thick sweater on with light wash jeans. You’re sure both are from the section of his closet you stumbled upon months ago. That part holding his clothes he doesn’t wear often for whatever reason. He looks comfortable, casual, content. Down to the tube socks on his feet and the worn brown leather of the band of his watch. Your chest aches a little as you wonder if it’s Leigh that’s gotten him to relax into this version of himself. Even his hair, longer than a few weeks ago, is different than you’ve seen from him. Far messier than usual - like it hasn’t seen products or been styled lately, and several days of facial hair evident on his jaw. He looks like a version of Steve designed to torture you - a Steve who you’ve only gotten glimpses of and you miss before you’ve even really met. 

“Hi,” he says quietly, smiling closed-lipped at you.

“Hi,” you offer with your own hesitant smile. Your fingers fiddle with the tinfoil over the edge of the dessert from your spot where you linger in the doorway.

“How are you? Do you…wine?” Steve stammers over his questions, cheeks turning pink. He spins and starts pouring you some without waiting for your answer. It gives you a small bit of relief that he’s as anxious as you are, neither of you knowing what comes next. Do you ever return to normal? And what is normal for you and Steve?

“Sure, yeah, good. You?”

Steve nods his head too quickly, spinning to face you again with the wine. “Good, yeah, thanks.”

“Good.” 

“Yeah.”

Steve blinks at you, hazel eyes bright under the soft glow of Nancy’s pendant lighting hanging above her island. As you stare at each other, unsaid words float in the air, it was silly to think it could ever just be over with him. You miss entering a room and not sharing this awkward, palpable, tension - when it was a smile or joke exchanged instead of forced greetings, a warmth and joy felt instead of dread. 

You hate that you don’t hate him. 

You hate that there’s this horrible ache in your chest, like words want to tumble out but you physically can’t say them - why can’t you both just apologize? Why can’t that save the date be ripped to shreds? Why can’t it all work out? 

“You two are acting weird.”

Robin’s voice bursts whatever bubble you were both in, and you clear your throat, looking down. Steve’s fingers adjust on the wine glass and he shakes his head. 

Steve stammers, “N-no, we’re g-”

“Good?” Robin questions, eyebrows raised, “Yeah I gathered that.”

Before either of you can say anything in response, Nancy’s voice calls from the front door, “Crisis averted! I found a bag!”

Her brown curls bounce against her cheeks as she jogs into the kitchen. Dressed up in black suede boots and flared jeans, her tan peacoat left open showing off a silky black blouse. She pauses, mid stride, bag of marshmallows held aloft and her smile faltering as her gaze darts around the room.

Feeling warm under Robin’s sudden perceptiveness, you’re grateful when Nancy springs into action, relieving the awkward tension. 

“Geez Robin, did any sweet potato end up in the dish? I left you alone with them for twenty minutes.”

Robin’s lips twitch slightly, eyes finally leaving Steve’s as she looks down at her hands, flexing her fingers, the orange goo becoming stiff and hard on her skin.  

Nancy gives you a look, her eyes narrowed in a question but smiles when Robin looks back up. She places the marshmallows on the counter and grabs her hand. “Well, Y/N, can finish up.” She directs her next words to you, head nodding to a pan on the counter, “Put those marshmallows on top and stick it in the oven. Steve, your cheese isn’t gonna grate itself. And you,” Nancy tugs Robin out of the kitchen, smiling sweetly at her, “Are gonna come get cleaned up with me.”

Robin’s entire face turns pink, freckles standing out on her skin, from the way Nancy stares at her intently, like no one else exists. You look down, hiding your smile when Robin coughs, sputtering out something that you’re sure is supposed to be a yes. She eagerly nods and Steve huffs loudly, which makes her turn to glare over her shoulder at him, but it quickly turns into a smile as you call out, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” to their retreating forms. 

Their footsteps fade and Steve reaches out with one hand, looking at the dessert as he asks, “I can grab that from you?”

As the door to her bedroom clicks closed, you breathe out an exhale, unsure of how much longer you can keep it all up. His eyes are warm as his fingers brush the dish and you pull it back from his reach a bit, whispering, “It’s really fragile.”

Steve’s eyes bounce over your face, setting the wine down, both hands reaching for the dessert as he promises, quiet and sure, “I got it.”

Your fingertips graze each other as he takes it, and the electricity of just one more touch from him is enough kindling for the hope to spark. The heat from his stare has your cheeks warming and his turning pink. Steve’s lips twitch slightly in the corners as he glances down at the dish, then back up at you. 

“So, this just from Mariano’s then?” 

Your eyes roll hard at his assumption, scoffing as you turn to rip open the bag of marshmallows and keep your back to him. “You would ask if it was from there instead of Jewel.”

Steve knocks the faucet off from washing his hands, shaking them into the sink and flinging water across the stainless steel before drying them. He sucks his teeth with a wince as he turns to the counter, his shoulder next to yours. “Yeah, okay that’s fair.”

You laugh quietly, popping a marshmallow in your mouth in between placing them haphazardly across the orange mixture. Steve sighs next to you and gestures to the dish. “See, this is why I asked. No way you baked something. Didn’t think you could do anything in the kitchen except keep your take out menus impeccably organized.”

“Impeccably huh? That your word of the day on the calendar Robin got you?” You toss another marshmallow in your mouth with a smirk. 

“Actually, no today’s word was assiduous.” 

The veins in his hands flex as he grates the cheese, and he gives you a look as he says the word with confidence and emphasis, eyebrows raised.

You stall, taking a sip of your wine and hiding your smile in the glass before asking, “What, am I supposed to be impressed or something?” 

He dumps the cheese into the pot and turns to you, cocking his head, tongue in his cheek before he frowns. “You’re not?”

Steve’s lips twitch, his facade breaking easily and you both laugh. Your shoulders relax further and so do his. Why does it have to be so easy with him, yet so hard?

“Actually, I think it will be you who’s impressed,” you start, making the marshmallows a little more purposeful and pretty for his sake. 

“Oh yeah?” 

You hum, nodding, “I made that pie from scratch.”

“No you didn’t.”

Looking up, you see him shaking his head. He makes eye contact with you and he shrugs, adamant, “Nope. No way.”

Your hands land on your hips as your tone turns indignant. “Yes I did! I made the crust from scratch, cold butter into flour and everything. Rolled it out, doctored up the filling in a pan on the stove. Brown sugar, the works.”

His hand stops on the second block of cheese, eyes narrowing at you as he questions, “Really?”

A laugh leaves you from the tone of his suspicion as you slide the pan holding Robin’s dish into the oven. “You sound like my dad when my mom made it the first time.”

Steve doesn’t say anything and your lip tugs between your teeth as you remember the moment between your parents. Maybe it’s the holiday, maybe you’re just tired, maybe it’s the few sips of alcohol that let the story fall out of you so easily. 

“She was really awful at cooking,” you laugh, taking a sip of wine and waving your hand in the air, “I mean like, awful. She could serve you a grilled cheese that was somehow burnt but the cheese was cold? She got better, but anyways, I really don’t know why she thought she’d be any better at baking…”

Steve’s eyes meet yours briefly as he takes his own sip of wine and you look away, grabbing some of the cheese and deciding to help as you keep talking. 

“I don’t remember how she decided to do this, but my dad was out of town for work, and she wanted to make him something special, and to her that was a pie, I guess? But she was adamant that it be from scratch. Made and baked with love. And so we did. We went and got all of the ingredients, and we destroyed the kitchen, but it was the most fun I’ve ever had with her. We listened to Dolly Parton and drank wine all day, totally got flour and butter everywhere, I told her about classes, and the guy I was seeing…”

Your eyes drift off the counter, remembering it was right before you knew she was sick and your chin trembles as a watery laugh leaves you, “And then my dad got home. Oh my god, his face. He, he…” you blink away tears as you start laughing harder, “He just dropped his duffle bag on the ground and shook his head looking around in shock and my mom yelled ‘We made you a pie!’ and my dad just raised his eyebrows and said ‘Sure looks like you made somethin’.”

The last words come out shaky and it isn’t until you feel a pressure on top of one of your hands that you realize you had been grating the cheese down to almost nothing, stealing it from him. Glancing up through blurry vision, tears continue to fall down your cheeks as Steve quietly asks, “But it was good?”

You snort, more tears leaving you as you shake your head no. “It was inedible,” you laugh harder, “Like raw, but somehow dry and clumpy, so bad.”

Steve squeezes your hand, eyebrows furrowing together as his confusion settles deeper in his face and he starts cautiously, “So…you…made an inedible pie for us tonight?”

Your head shakes more and you take a deep breath, laughter and tears slowing. “No, after that, she, um…” closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and push out, “She needed to keep her hands working…” 

When you open your eyes again, Steve’s staring intently at you, waiting. You wonder why he can wait patiently for this story, look at you like he’d wait an eternity for you to tell him the ending, but he couldn’t wait for you. But, would you have wanted him to? When you’re certain that the potential of losing him, all of them, completely, isn’t worth the risk. Would he have waited forever for you to change your mind?

Your voice breaks as you finish, “Her chemo…she started to get neuropathy, and making the crust and keeping her hands and brain busy helped. So she kept practicing until it was perfect. And now it’s one of the last things I have from her. The dish too, we went and searched for the right one…” Fingers of your free hand form quotation marks as you roll your eyes with a laugh, remembering her ridiculous insistence on it and the day of estate sales and thrift stores.  

It’s silent as the unsaid ending washes over you both, the importance - the weight - of the dessert and the story. The immediate need to take it all back rises up in you hard, wishing you could put the entire thing back inside yourself and rewind the last few minutes. The vulnerability leaves you cracked open and exposed to him and you’re not sure you can handle his reaction. 

“I’m sorry,” your brows furrow, “I don’t know why I just…”

Steve’s fingers wrap around yours tighter and he squeezes. Your eyes meet the moss and honey you want to avoid because you’re sure they’re looking at you with that look. The pitying one, the one that everyone gets before they tell you a sorry that doesn’t help. 

But Steve’s eyes shine with something stronger - admiration and amusement as he winces, “So, see, that story tells me that your mom practiced and practiced to make a perfect pie not you and-”

Your hand smacks at his chest lightheartedly, laughing around a protest. Steve holds his hands up in surrender, “Hey, hey, okay!” 

Both of your laughter subsides and he smiles, a genuine smile, one side of his lips twisted up as he looks at the pie then you. “I’m sure it’s great. I’m excited to try it. Thank you for telling me that…I wish I could have met…”

As he trails off, your fingers brush against his on the counter, your bodies shift closer, letting the story and laughter pull you into each other’s gravity once more. Maybe it doesn’t have to be hard - there’s a reason you can fall so easily back into each other. A reason you can offer up a story you normally keep close if he’s the one listening, a reason you can forgive. There has to be a reason your body wants to be closer to his, a reason you want to feel his lips on yours again. Maybe there are cosmic connections, unexplainable phenomena of the universe, fate and destiny and invisible strings. 

Hope flourishes inside of you, it catches on every bounce of his eyes over your face, the way his finger nudges against yours just like they did in that car ride to a lake so many weeks ago. It sparks and drifts into the air, it floats around you like embers from an actual fire as he breathes your name out and your body takes one step closer, making you chest to chest. One easy tilt of your head, one bend from his and maybe it’d all be okay again.  

The doorbell rings, making both of you jump apart. The reality of the situation hits you, like someone dumped an entire bucket of water over the hope as Steve looks toward the door and frowns. You keep letting yourself end up in this position and eventually it’s going to hurt so much you’ll never be able to come back from it. 

You’re not his, he’s not yours, and it’s too late. Another girl calls him baby, he calls her honey, and they go on and have the life you were certain you never wanted - all because you can’t let him in the way he wanted you to. This isn’t a movie, there is no rewind, there is no pause, and it’s time to move on. 

“I’ll go get that, you have cheese to…uh…” 

“Y/N, wait-”

You’re already out of the kitchen, speed walking to the front door. Dreading the girl you’re certain is on the other side, you start to pull your shoes back on. Maybe you could slip out with an excuse and leave. Your destiny isn’t Steve, it’s to always run, to always be alone. 

The door swings open and you look up from your crouched position, one shoe on. Eddie is standing in the doorway, holding a bag of Hawaiian Rolls and looking at you, eyebrows raised in wait.  

He holds open the door and gestures outside as he asks, “Should I leave this open?”

Your stomach swoops, thinking of the chance he’s giving you, the opportunity to do what you want, no questions asked. But your heartbeat thuds loudly in your ears at the opposite side of the coin - the other chance he’s giving you. 

A deep breath is exhaled as you shakily ask, “That depends…are you still knocking?”

Eddie shrugs. “Maybe. Only one way to really find out right?”

Nodding once, you stand. A limped step over to the door with one shoe on, and you close it. Your palm rests flat against the wood as you take another calming breath. The sounds of the others in the kitchen are muffled as you turn around and look up at Eddie. You kick off the shoe, take a step forward, and mime opening a door.

Letting a tear slip past your lash line, you shrug, standing in the metaphorical open doorway and hold your breath. 

He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Thank god, my arm was getting really tired.”

Another watery laugh starts to escape you and you wrap your arms around him in a hug. “I’m sorry. For everything, for dragging you into all of this and for leading you on and…and…”

He extends his fingers, counting his points as he sighs, “You forgot for being stubborn, for not asking me to be the Inigo to your Buttercup, for-”

“I’m sorry.” You force every ounce of meaning behind the words as you squeeze his waist tighter and he finally meets your hug, long arms wrapping around you. 

“We’re all good sweetheart, don’t sweat it.” He pats your shoulder and takes a step back, cocking his head, “But that’s not all…” he taps his finger to your forehead, “What else is going on up there? Why were you leaving?”

“Y/N, please don’t…” Steve trails off as he comes into the entryway. You duck your head and sniff quietly, hoping there’s no evidence of your tears that escaped and break away as Steve clears his throat. “So-sorry. I thought you were…nevermind.”

Steve turns quickly on his heel, back towards the kitchen where the sounds of Robin and Nancy arguing about something echo louder down the hall. Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes at Steve’s back, and gestures for you to go before him, quietly whispering, “We’ll chat later about that.”

“Why does it smell like that? What did you put in it?” Nancy is bent down, looking at the dish you placed in the oven. Her hair is damp, curls weighed down against her cheeks, but her sleek outfit is back on, sans coat, sleeves rolled up. 

Robin’s hair has a towel twirled on top of it, though she’s otherwise back in her jeans and sweater, her hands on her hips. “I don’t know! I did exactly what you said!”

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, tossing the bread onto the counter. 

“You don’t smell that?” Nancy shakes her head, hand held out to the air in exasperation. 

Steve’s back is to you as he dumps cooked noodles into his pot of melted cheese and Eddie shakes his head no. Your nose starts to wrinkle though the longer you sit in the space. 

Your hands raise, “I swear I just put the marshmallows on.”

It takes Nancy gagging on a bite she tries to eat of the casserole and Steve going through his spices next to his pot to realize Robin used paprika instead of cinnamon. A lot of paprika. 

She throws her hands up in the air as she storms out to the deck, where you’ve all decided it’d be better to eat, bundled up from the cold, than inside trapped with the smell. “You know what, I never asked to cook anything so eat you’ll eat your paprika sweet potatoes and like it!”

As everyone sits at the table, Eddie looks around and asks, “Shouldn’t we wait for one more?”

“What?” Steve asks him, tone a little sharp, sitting down in the seat across from you.

“Your fiance? Isn’t she coming?” Eddie prods, meeting Steve’s cold attitude with an equal sting and rolled back shoulders. 

“I’m sure she was earlier,” Robin mumbles into her wine glass, “Ow.” She glares at Steve who kicks her under the table. 

Nancy rolls her eyes as Steve shakes his head no, clearing his throat, “She’s…we haven’t…she’s with her family already.”

Robin sighs from her spot next to you and your eyes meet Steve’s before jumping down to your plate. The pressure around your heart squeezes even tighter - maybe it was only easy with him because she’s not here, and that is not always going to be the case. Your fingers itch, neck rolling from the tension. You want to get up and walk away, but Eddie’s knee nudges yours and your shoulders relax slightly. 

Nancy raises her glass, changing the subject, “Okay, before we dig in, I want to say that I’m very grateful for you all, and here’s to many more years of Friendsgiving.” She smiles at Robin when she uses the name. 

Robin beams, holding her glass up too, “Here, here! Now everyone take two scoops of the potatoes.”

Glasses clink and laughter shared, it's easy for you to believe Nancy. Easy with Steve smiling across from you and Eddie and Robin bickering about the food next to you, with her not there, to believe that you’ll be a part of their stories. Maybe - 

“So, Dingus, it’s time to spill all the details about Leigh.” Robin leans forward on the table, her eyebrows raised as Steve’s glass pauses halfway to his mouth. “We don’t know anything and you’re getting married in like five months.”

Nancy and Eddie’s bites and glasses also freeze, not so discreet looks at you from both of them. Nancy finishes swallowing and shakes her head, “Robin, we know enough! Let Steve-”

“No we don’t! I don’t know how you met, or if she’s moved in, and how he proposed and why on earth he didn’t tell his best friend! I have him cornered finally and you’re all gonna help me. Don’t act like you guys don’t want to know either!”

“Robin,” Steve starts licking his lips as he looks at her then you, “Can we not do this right now?”

“Time’s up bub,” Robin frowns, shaking her head, “I promise we like her, she’s cool. But you’ve been dodging the questions and me for weeks now. Start with the easy one, how’d you meet?”

Steve looks at you like he’s in physical pain and you look down at the liquid in your wine glass, swirling the red wine around as you wait for the story that is sure to kill you. You wish he’d just rip the band-aid off, get it over with.  

“We, uh, met through my parents.” Steve swallows a large gulp of wine. 

Your head whips up at the comment and Steve stares at you, frowning before he looks up at the sky. 

Robin’s brows furrow as she asks, “Your parents?” Equally shocked as you are. It isn’t a secret that Steve and his parents aren’t always on the same page. 

Steve rubs at his forehead, closing his eyes before he sets the wine glass down. He straightens, rolling his shoulders back, “Okay, it’s all going to come out anyways so…our parents set us up. It’s been arranged for awhile, we didn’t really date or anything, we’re getting married because that’s what we do. She’s from a good family and I’m from a good family, it makes sense. For business and life and…that’s it.”

The table is silent as Steve’s lips twist, waiting for someone to say something.

Your heartbeat isn’t loud in your ears, your stomach doesn’t swoop - it’s like all noise has left the planet. It’s like someone actually hit pause as his explanation and the last few months catch up with each other in your brain until they meet in a loud explosion. It’s an actual glass shattering sound effect. Heartbreak and hope and disbelief and anger swell inside of you like a wave ready to devour anyone who was stupid enough to enter the unpredictable ocean. 

It’s surprising to everyone, including yourself, when you’re the one to break the silence. The question leaves you so quietly, you weren’t even certain you asked it out loud until he looked at you. 

“So you’re not in love with her?”

As Steve stares at you, the table floats away, it’s just you and him. His mouth parts, but no response falls from it. You stand abruptly, chair scraping against the wood deck harshly as you push back, muttering something about needing to put the dessert into the oven. Your stomach that’s been twisted into knots for months feels like someone pulled one loose thread and it’s unraveling inside of you. A box of bouncy balls released, an unpredictable canon of confetti, trapeze artists, butterflies, boulders, and a deep ocean swallowing you. All of it, finally coming together and creating catastrophe. 

It’s like every single moment you’ve been angry with him is turned up to eleven, but so is every look and touch. Every single one feels like a lie, a slap to your face - he was just using you because he was indecisive, scared, afraid to give up his single life. Steve Harrington was just like every other man. Your entire last few months swirl around inside your brain, replaying every moment, every emotion like a favorite movie. But it’s like someone took that film and told you every single thing wrong with it. Like they pointed out how everything you loved was just covering up the real and horrible plot - bright lights and pretty sets to convince everyone they had a good time, when in reality it was cheaply made and not worth it. 

Your hands shake as you start to rip at the foil covering the pie, and his voice calls out behind you, “Please let me answer that question. Please let me explain.”

A scoff leaves you, eyes closing as you bite back, “It’s fine Steve. Clearly I was just some placeholder for you the whole time.”

“Placeholder?”

You spin, hands in the air as you search for words to make him see how much this hurts you. “Yeah, yes. Some, I don’t know. Last hurrah!”

“What?” The word comes out sharp, like he truly doesn’t understand what you’re saying. His cheeks are pink, his hair blown from the wind outside, eyes wide and blinking at you like you’re crazy.

“You heard me! I was just some fun fuck before you sealed the deal on your spoiled brat fate.”

Steve’s mouth falls open, then quickly closes, taking a step closer, hands clenched into fists as his brows furrow. His jaw tightens with each word, “I’m not a spoiled brat!”

Another scoff, a cold laugh as you wave your hand again. “Oh please Steve! You used me to bide your time and prolong the inevitable! You were just avoiding looking at the contract you signed!”

Steve stands over you, both of your chests rising and falling in time, the air inside the kitchen warmer from the oven being on all day and your words shouted at each other - the sparks leaping from your bodies and engulfing each other. 

“I didn’t use you! You offered! It was all your idea! I’m so sick of this-”

You shove at his chest and he grabs your wrists, as you mock him, voice dripping with fake pity, “Oh, poor Steve Harrington. I have to get married and say goodbye to my single life, but let me use this girl-”

“This isn’t about me, I have to make decisions that affect my whole family, I can’t just say no! And what was I supposed to do? The person I want doesn’t want me!” HIs voice cracks as he drops your hands, fire cracking and sizzling between you both. His admission, the chance to tell him he’s wrong, that you do want him, makes your heart beat turn rapid, like it’s actually trying to punch its way out of your body. 

You shake your head, pushing down the flames of hope threatening to burn you alive, pushing him away. “You saw an opportunity to postpone but not fully deny. It’s fine Steve, I get it. It was the safe option.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Grabbing the pie, you sob, “Security. Money. You couldn’t say no to them. And then when I offered to fuck you no strings attached? Man,” you scoff out another laugh around your tears, “You probably thought you won the lottery, huh?”

Steve grabs for the pie, his eyes wet as he shakes his head. Voice hoarse as he argues, “You’re so unbelievably wrong. I couldn’t fucking wait for you to maybe, hopefully, open up one day! I have to move on! And it’s not like she’s a bad person, and I don’t know why we’re arguing about this again, because clearly you’re with Eddie.”

You tug harder on the dish but Steve doesn’t release as you cry out, “Oh! No! Don’t even try that! Eddie and I aren’t together and we never were! You’re using that as an excuse! Tell me Steve. Tell me you love her, that you want to marry her.”

“I-”

“Is that what your future looks like? Huh? Ten years down the road, it’s her? That’s what you imagined and not your parents?”

“Y/N, it’s not that simple!”

“It is! What do you want, Steve?”

You need him to tell you and he needs you to tell him and neither of you will - because you’re scared, stubborn. Two suns burning too hot and close together, and it was inevitable for it to end this way. You both stood on the edge of that cliff and saw the end you’d meet and you jumped anyway. Was it worth it? 

“I can’t believe you two.” 

This is the moment. 

It wasn’t when he showed up at the football game with her. It wasn’t the party. It wasn’t the engagement.

It’s the look Robin is giving you both from her spot in the doorway. It’s the pie and the glass dish hitting the floor in shards of sapphire blue and orange peaches. It’s Steve and you both turning to her, shaking your heads no, saying her name in the same pleading way.

Her bright blue eyes turn to glass as she chokes around a tearful laugh, “I knew, I knew you both were hiding something, I just…why? Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

Nancy reaches for Robin’s wrist, “Robin, they didn’t mean to…”

Robin recoils, swiping at her cheeks. She looks at Nancy, then at Steve whose head falls, his hands in his hair. Eddie looks down too when Robin turns to him and she steps back again. “Everyone knew, huh? You all have been lying to me this entire time? Why? I don’t…” She shakes her head again and runs past you both, down the hall and slams the door. 

Steve starts to go after her when a small frame stands in front of him like she’s twice his size, hand pressing to his chest. Fury burns in Nancy’s eyes as she blocks the hallway. Her voice low and far more angry than you’ve heard it be before. “I think you’ve done enough.”

“Nance, come on, that’s not fair,” Steve steps forward again and when she stops him with two hands now, his voice turns sharper, “Don’t act like you’re the only one who cares about her.”

“Yeah, well you’ve got a funny way of showing it Steve.” Nancy looks at you, “I think you should leave. All of you.”

Eddie grabs your elbow, speaking quietly, “I can drive you home.”

Steve laughs, “Oh, I’m sure you can.”

“Steve,” you start and he interrupts you, hands running down his face. 

“No. It’s fine. It’s all my fault right? I’m the only one in the wrong?” He pushes past you, shoulder hitting Eddie’s hard and the door slamming even more so behind him. Pictures rattle against the wall, Nancy and her family's smiling faces tilted in their frame. The world turned off its axis. 

It’s Nancy’s quiet knock from down the hall, Robin’s shouted ‘leave her alone’ and Eddie’s sigh of ‘fucking, christ’. It’s that there you stand, the door closed behind him, the mess you made, literally, surrounding you. 

This, the consequences of all of your actions - is the double tap. 

You let the mess build, you let the avoided truths take deeper roots and spread lies to cover them up. All because you wanted the hope to stay - you wanted it both ways - despite telling yourself different, despite lying to yourself for months.

Now, it’s too late. You’re just a girl who isn’t in a rom com with a happy ending. You’re alone, and the hope that maybe you wouldn’t be for once isn’t just gone, it’s ripped from your fingers. 

The book is closed. The knife drips in the killer’s hand as the victim’s chest stops heaving. The spacesuit floats through a noiseless and lifeless galaxy. The body doesn’t get up from the mats and a silence falls over the crowd. 

“Fuck!”

Your hands smack the steering wheel, a sob leaving you as your forehead falls against it. 

You’ve been driving around for hours, hopeless. Your heart hasn’t stopped its erratic and hard beats since you ran out of Nancy’s. Somehow your body still courses with adrenaline, fight or flight still at war inside of yourself. Every time you think about the look Robin had on her face, every time you think about how much you hurt her, or how you may not see her again, you feel real, visceral, pain and panic. Your hands start shaking, the crying starts its cycle over from scratch, and you have to pull over until the snot sobbing stage settles into a calm, sort of silent cry. 

This is a mess, and it’s your mess. Despite wanting to put all of the blame on Steve, you simply can’t run from this truth anymore. It was you who came up with the plan. Steve was hesitant immediately, bringing Robin’s thoughts up right away. It was you who came up with the Red Hot Ranch code, who kept going. It was you who called it off and started it up again despite knowing how it would all inevitably end. It feels like you pushed Steve off the cliff and thought it was okay because you were diving after him. 

As you stare out the windshield, you know you have to stop running. Eddie’s words ring through the air.

Open the fucking door. Nobody’s leaving you.

You have to at least try, right? You have to apologize to her, to tell her it was all your fault so if she at least doesn’t forgive you, maybe you can offer a crack in the door to her forgiveness for the others. The others who simply got caught up in your lies, tripping over the tangled knot of roots they took.  

You’re certain Robin and you met how and when you did not by chance, the universe gave you each other for a reason. You’re certain that there are soul mates, they’re just not in the form you always suspect. And you’re certain that if you don’t try to make things right, you’ll be miserable and truly alone for the rest of your life.

Robin once told you that she was there, and that she would be there when you were ready and you hope the offer still stands. Maybe you can’t make everything right, you can’t rewind, but you have to at least try to make the ending bearable. 

When you turn the key in the ignition though, your car sputters. Your face twists into an expression of disbelief, only deepening when it does it again and your mouth falls open in shock when it suddenly starts to rain, mixing with snow that melts immediately on the ground. You laugh, looking out the windshield at the bleak and miserable sky, washing out the city in a dull gray. 

“Of fucking course,” you mumble under your breath. Getting out of the car, you sigh as you lock it. You shield your eyes as you stare up at the sky and laugh, “You’re real funny. Great joke.”

Maybe it was a sign from the universe that you needed to really work for it, maybe it was bad karma, maybe you really deserved it, maybe it was even supposed to be a blessing - washing away the past to clear the slate for the future. 

Regardless of reason, you don’t take the train, and you make the slow and wet walk back to where you came from. 

The buzzer for her place rings with no answer. You know that she’s home because the light is on, and you intercepted her take out. 

“Buckley I’ll keep buzzing, your egg rolls are getting cold!”

When she doesn’t answer again, you sigh, pressing your wet forehead to the cold brick and hold it down again, pulling out the big guns. “Okay, Robin, I, listen. I am so sorry. And if you want to hate me and never see me again, that’s totally fine, I understand. Because honestly, I am…I am scum for lying to you. I am pond scum. I’m lower than pond scum. I am the fungus that feeds on the pond scum.”

You release the buzzer and when there still isn’t a click of her responding your chin trembles. Maybe you really did fuck it up that badly and there is no coming back from this. It was silly of you to think she’d ever forgive you, especially when she has Steve. You’re about to set the food down and buzz again to tell her you’ll leave when the front door opens. 

“You’re lower actually.” 

A sob leaves you as Robin stands in the doorway, arms crossed over her favorite Hawkins Band sweatshirt. The fuzzy lime green socks with banjos on them that you got her for her birthday on her feet.  

You nod, swiping at your tears with a free hand. “You’re right. Lower than the fungus. I’m the pus that infects the mucus that cruds up the fungus that feeds on the pond scum.”

Robin’s lips twitch, but she rolls her eyes before they look at the ground. “Quoting Julia Roberts is really unfair. You know how much of a sucker I am for her. Cheap shot.”

A crack in the tightness in your chest starts to pry open as you whisper, “I almost bought roses and had this plan to blare classical music from my car but it broke down and…well, here I am anyways, asking for forgiveness and a chance to explain.”

She raises her eyebrows, waiting, and your chin trembles as your voice shakes, “Robin I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to lie to you about it all for so long. And there were so many times I wanted to tell you. I was selfish and wrong and scared I would lose you - that you’d pick his side and shut me out - but I’m here trying now…please don’t hate me forever. And don’t hate Steve. He did nothing wrong. Or Nancy, or Eddie. It was all me and I’m so, so, so, sorry, please let me explain everything and give me another chance to be even half the amazing friend that you are.”

It’s silent, for what feels like forever, until her eyes meet yours. Shining from tears and her nose wiggles as she sniffles, “You were going to Pretty Woman me?”

You nod, tears roll down your cheeks and mingle with the rain that coats them. 

Robin sighs, choking on her own tears as she laughs, “You just get me.”

She engulfs you in a hug and both of you cry into each other’s shoulders as she says, “I’m still mad you all lied. You’re not off the hook. I think giving me limitless veto power for movie nights is extremely fair and nonnegotiable.” 

Your body feels lighter than it has in months as your arm tightens around her as you agree with a teary laugh, whispering another apology while silently vowing to never let her go. It doesn’t matter what happens next, because at least you have her, and you know you always will. 

Robin trips on a heel as she emerges from her closet. Tilting your head at the dress she holds up, your nose scrunches as you shake your head no. 

She sighs, throwing it on the no pile and groans, “Ugh! This is hopeless!”

As she flops onto her bed with a huff, you laugh and swap places with her, “No, no, come on. Tell me again.”

Robin sits up, staring at her dresser with a furrow forming under her bangs. “I want to look professional, put together, but not like it’s an interview, you know? I want them to take me seriously, but I want to look like me. Ergo, I am doomed.”

Your fingers trail over her clothes, eyes searching again after they roll. “Ergo, you’ve been facetiming Dustin too much.”

A black dress catches your eyes, velvet and cinched at the waist. Pulling it from her closet you hold it up. “What about this? I’ve never seen you wear it. Is it new?”

Her head tilts, “Huh. I forgot I bought that for…” she trails off and looks at you with a sad smile. “Right. Yeah, you don’t think it’s too low cut?”

You shake your head no, taking a deep breath at her change of subject, thoughts drifting to if she bought it for the wedding or something related to it. Maybe you could ask, but you’ve sort of had a non-verbal agreement to not discuss Steve the last month and it’s been working. After explaining everything to her, including how you felt about him getting married, your complicated feelings, it just felt easier to not discuss anything relating to him. 

“Throw a nice necklace on, you’ll be perfect babe,” you make an a-okay symbol with your fingers, “The Wheeler’s aren’t gonna know what hit em.” You smile and look at the clock on her nightstand, handing the dress out to her, “Get to it though, or you’ll be late.”

Robin makes no move to get up, holding the dress in her hands and staring at it. 

She shakes her head no. “I can’t do this.”

Sitting next to her, the bed bounces lightly and you grab her hand. “You absolutely can do this. It’s just meeting the parents and siblings, all of whom you’ve met already.”

“But not as her girlfriend. When I met them she wasn’t even out. What if they hate me? What if I spill something? What if I order the wrong wine?”

Laughing, you hold her panicking face in your hands, taking a deep breath to encourage her to do so too. “Robin. Breathe.”

She does, her exhale shaky and you smile, head tilting as you let her face go, fixing a curl you smooshed. “You really love her don’t you.”

It’s not a question, but Robin answers anyway. She nods vehemently, words tumbling out of her like she can’t help it. “God so much it’s scary. But also not? I want to spend every second with her. I want to tell her about every dumb little thought that pops into my head and I want to hear what she ate for lunch every day. I want to wake up and fall asleep next to her and that’s insane! How can you love a person like that so quickly? Like everything in your body is screaming for it? It’s…it’s that kind of love I’ve only heard about before? That kind of love…” she trails off, maroon polished fingers covering her smile before she keeps going, “It’s easier than breathing. It is breathing, you know?”

As she says the words that prick at something inside of you, prodding on thoughts you’d locked away, her skin pales, looking like she’s going to be sick. “Oh my god I really can’t do this. I can’t-”

“Robin. One step at a time. Change your outfit, you can do that right?”

She laughs, head falling to your shoulder, a sing-song lilt to her voice, “We’ve been here before.”

“Yeah and look at what happened.”

Robin sits up, biting her lip, nodding once and standing. “Right.”

As she changes, you assess her jewelry box. Your eyes roam over the mirror of her vanity, smiling at the pictures. You pause at the one of her and Steve that’s new to you. He has his tongue out, her arm around him and your fingers touch the corner, an ache in your chest wondering what they were doing and what stories they’ll have from the day. 

“Have you talked to him?”

Her question startles you and your shoulders lift. Clearing your throat, you hold the necklace out to her. “No, um, I haven’t. He’s good?”

Robin starts to hook the necklace as she hums, “I think so. It’s hard to tell some days.” She hesitates, her face pinched into a familiar look to you, the one that looks like she’s physically holding words in, a true test for her. She bends down to buckle her heels as she asks, “Is it always going to be this way? Avoiding talking about each other? Seeing each other?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just need some time. I’ll be okay.” Shrugging with a smile, you grab your purse and coat. 

Robin’s blue eyes sparkle under shimmering gold eyeshadow and she tilts her head, a smile forming on her lips as she nods, confident in her words, “You will be. One step at a time.”

“Cute,” you muse, and take a step back. You twirl your fingers for her to spin and she rolls her eyes but obliges. The black velvet dress cuts off at her calves, hugging her curves in a sexy but modest way and the gold pendant on her necklace matches the blocky old-fashioned heels. You yell out, “Ow-ow!” 

Robin laughs, waving you off and grabs her phone. “Okay picture!”

“Ew, Robin no! You look so good and I am literally in my sweatshirt with the mustard stain on it.” 

She shushes you, “Tough tater tots toots.”

She pulls you in as you laugh, both of you easily falling into a goofy pose as she snaps a selfie. She nods her approval and grabs her coat, “Oh yeah, that one’s definitely going on the board.” She clicks her phone closed and you both head towards the stairwell. 

As you step out of her apartment building, Nancy is getting out of an Uber, an emerald peacoat wrapped around her and she stops, eyes only on Robin. 

“Hi,” she whispers, smiling, “Wow. You’re so beautiful.”

Robin’s face turns as red as her nails and you duck your head. “Well, I think that’s my cue to leave. Have a good night,” you squeeze Nancy’s hand, “Tell your brother and El hey from me?”

She squeezes it back, confirming she will, and holds the door open for Robin, then jogs around to the other side and you have to smile at her lack of wanting to scoot across the seat or maybe it’s just her old fashioned, secret romantic side coming out. 

As you start to walk away, you hear your name and spin back around, Robin is leaning out of the window, smiling wide as she asks, “Benny’s tomorrow? 10?”

“I expect a full report!” You cross your arms over your chest, fore and middle fingers crossed in a good luck to her that she mirrors as the car drives away. 

The walk to the train from there is short, your car still out of commission, and you pop your airpods in, debating how your evening will go. Eddie is already home for Christmas with his uncle in Indiana, Robin and Nancy together tonight, and Steve…

Before them, an evening alone like this never would have bothered you. Eating what you wanted to eat, watching what you wanted to watch - you got good at being alone, enjoying it actually. Now, there’s a funny little feeling that pulls at a thread inside of you, trying to unravel the work you’ve done. 

As you wait for the train, pulling your winter hat tighter over your ears, you watch a couple come up the stairs. They have shopping bags in their hands, dressed in warm, wool coats. Giggly, pink cheeks, gloved hands clinging to each other. They sit just down from where you stand against the railing when you get on, huddled together as they look at a map on his phone, and you wonder what their story is - where they were, where they’re going, and if they love each other. It seems like they do, and you wonder if it’s the kind of love Robin explained.

How can anyone love like that aside from fictional people in the movies? How can you love someone so deeply and intensely, without fear of it being ripped away?

But maybe people do fear it being ripped away, and they love regardless. Fear doesn’t make love disappear, it makes it stronger. Because what if that person is gone one day? What if you never told them how you felt? What if you never even got the chance to see if you could love like that? Isn’t it better to try than never know?

As you look out the train doors, the sky is turning a soft pink and purple. The sun is setting over the city in one of those perfect nights, slow, like each color being revealed is a purposeful brushstroke, hand painted. A sign. 

Sunsets. Steve. A good song. Steve. Your friends. Steve. Your family. Steve. 

Easier than breathing. 

An undeniable, unavoidable, unforgiving wave of heartbreak rolls over you. But it’s not alone, it’s hope, it’s questions and answers, it’s relief and clarity and you know what you have to do. 

You unlock your phone, a desperation and need to get all of it out now, fueling each press of your thumbs to the screen. Maybe the story is wrong, but you’re the main character, narrator, and author and you can change it if you just put in the work to do so. Tears begin to fall down your cheeks, and you let them, unashamed, finally free of the place you’ve kept them locked away. Pressing send on the message, you hold your breath, hoping she’s not already too preoccupied with Nancy. 

The train doors open and you rush down the stairs. Each step slams against the sidewalk, sending shocks up your spine, cold air filling your lungs as each stride brings you closer to him, but not fast enough. You have to try to change the story, you have to tell him.  

But when his location is just out of your reach, when you see him, you slow down. 

Steve stands beneath the gold twinkling lightbulbs of the old brick theater, the white marquee sign displaying the title ‘When Harry Met Sally’. He has a black beanie on, hair sticking out and curling slightly. A dark gray peacoat flutters against the back of his thighs in the wind, open to reveal the yellow sweater he has on and your feet come to a skidding stop. His phone is pressed to his ear as he looks up from where he was scuffing his Nike against the sidewalk and makes eye contact with you. 

Your heart beat has thoroughly been replaced again as your hands start to shake, each slow step to him stretched out and lingering, lasting for what feels like minutes instead of seconds. 

What if. What if. What if.

The phone slips, hand falling to his side. His brows furrow just under his hat and you want to reach forward and brush the worry away with your thumb. His greeting leaves him quietly, a puff of his breath and the word floating in the air just a few feet from you.

 “Hi.”

Gesturing with a trembling hand to the sign above that you can no longer see, fully under the gold lights, you blurt out, “Did you know that it came out in 89’? So technically it’s a bad 80s rom com. I was wrong.”

Steve shakes his head, the twinkle of the lights highlighting the brown in his eyes, warm and sweet and deeply confused as he starts, “What are you-”

“I was wrong about a lot of things, Steve. And I know I’m late in saying that. I know I’m late for a lot more, but I think it’s better to say it late, to say it now, than to never tell you and wonder for the rest of my life.”

Steve’s lips part, your name a whisper on them, but you take a deep inhale and prepare to get it all out fast and without fear of needing a breath akin to the way Robin speaks, just so you can leave yourself open and vulnerable despite knowing that it could, and most likely will, hurt. 

“I’m sorry if Leigh is inside or she’s gonna be here soon, but I have to tell you. I…Steve I’m sorry. I wanted to be friends with benefits because I was selfish. You were right. I wanted it both ways. At first, you were just this guy who was hot and funny and knew what he was doing and I didn’t want to lose that. But then, then I got to know you and that’s when it got complicated, because I really didn’t want to lose you then.” You swallow as Steve freezes in front of you, no longer stepping towards you and his shoulders hunch like he’s holding his breath as you keep going.

“I wanted you, but I was scared to commit, scared that if I did commit, I’d lose you all anyways. And I still am scared. Terrified,” you laugh a little as tears start to roll down your cheeks, “But I think being scared is worth it if I’m doing it with you. Because…” Inhaling, you take a step closer as Steve blinks at you, willing the words to keep coming.

“Because I think we could be something special if we gave it a real chance. And I think that we can’t know what’s going to happen, maybe it all blows up in our faces, but at least we tried and we’ll know and we won’t spend our lives wondering what if.” Tears blur your vision as you leave it all out there, words that feel like they’ve wanted to tumble out of you forever just keep coming, faster and faster, your hands gesturing wildly with each one, stepping closer and closer to him.

“And I want to try so badly Steve. I want to hold your hand in public and go on dates and tease you and make memories with you and I think we could fall in love, I think I was already starting to. Like real love. Like that undeniable, scary, kind of love, and I’m sorry you’ll have to wait for me to get there to say it, but if you give it a chance…I think we’re worth the wait. I don’t care that I’m saying all of this too late, I don’t care that you’re getting married because at least I said it and if you wanna stand up there and say I do to her in May then that’s fine, I can move on, maybe, I think, because at least I’ll know I tried and-”

“Woah, woah, woah.” 

Steve grabs your shaking hands, interrupting you. Cedar and mint hit your nose as you inhale, his cologne lingering on his scarf. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. One hand leaves yours, fingers curling under your chin as he murmurs, “I’m not getting married.”

“You’re…” you hiccup a laugh through your tears, “What?”

He tilts his head and clears his throat, repeating it as his thumb brushes a tear from your cheek, fingers squeezing your hand. “I’m not getting married.”

“You’re not getting married,” you repeat it again, quieter, letting the words sink in. 

Steve shakes his head no, the back of his knuckles brushing more tears from your cheek as he lets out a shaky breath. “I called it off the day after…after everything.”

“Oh,” you swallow, eyes blinking up at him under wet lashes as the reality of the extremely vulnerable words you practically just shouted at him sit unreciprocated still, unable to be taken back. 

Steve’s lips twitch on the right, like he’s fighting a smile, eyebrows furrowed deeper as he sighs, “Yeah. Quit my job too.”

“What? Steve, why, what-”

His fingers trace your jaw as he shakes his head again, rolling his eyes but the smile fighting on his lips wins. “This girl that drives me crazy basically quoted The Notebook scene at me and I decided I’d rather have the life I wanted, have her, or have nothing at all. But I didn’t think she felt the same way, and I wasn’t going to push her again.”

You smile, a laugh bubbling out of you as you shake your head, “You’re crazy about me?”

Steve laughs, his hat bumping yours as your foreheads touch. You drop his hand, both of yours pressing to the soft yellow material against his chest. His breath warm against your cheek as you ask, “So what happens now?”

He pulls away, forehead leaving yours and creating a small space between the two of you, you already want closed again. The lights make the green almost disappear from his eyes, golden, sunshine pulling you in and making you beg for more of it to light you up, a tether, your gravity, just like they’ve always been. 

Steve clears his throat, hands reaching up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing over the apples of them as he declares, “Well, rule number one, we tell Robin.”

“Deal,” you tilt your head, playing his game. Your hands slowly crawl up his chest, wrapping around his neck, playing with the collar of the coat as you throw out, “Pet names?”

Steve nods dramatically, pinching his eyes closed, “Oh yeah. So many.” He leans in, nose tracing up the line of yours slowly, foreheads knocking together as the tips of your shoes meet. “I’m gonna call you babe and honey loudly at the grocery store for no reason other than I can.”

“Yeah?” Your top lip hits his with the lift of your smile and question.

He nods. “Yeah.”

Steve’s hands cup the back of your head, tilting you open for him as he ducks down, mouth hovering above yours as he speaks like you’re the only two people in the world. 

“But right now? Right now I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Which bad 90s rom com you steal that one out of, Harrington?” You whisper against his lips. 

Steve smiles, gaze tracing the curve of your lips then meeting yours as he takes a deep breath. 

“You liked it.” 

And maybe the marquee lights twinkle above you a little brighter as you finally meet in a kiss. Maybe snowflakes start drifting down from the clouds lazily, covering everything in a fresh start right at the moment his hands wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer, your back arching from the passion of his kiss. Maybe a terrible top forty song blares out of someone’s car as it drives past, your foot popping off the pavement a little when he pulls away for a breath only to lean and kiss you deeper and slower. 

The universe can’t guarantee anything for you and Steve, but it is giving you a chance. There is nothing, not even love, that can keep away the inevitable struggle, heartbreak, or loss life will be sure to throw at you. Which is scary, but doing it together, his hand in yours, makes it less so. Yes, it won’t always be easy, but the hard work you’ll both put in when it isn’t, means it’s real. There is no one other than yourselves who can decide if your relationship could be like the movies. The two of you are the only ones that can calculate if there’s still time for a happy ending in your story. Only Steve and you can be certain that the fear of heartbreak or pain is worth taking the risk, because if you don’t, if you let the chance slip away, you’ll never know if one day you could have called it love. 

WCIL Taglist: @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii @silkholland @redbarn1995

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Part 6

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn't and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader 

Warnings: Angst, fluff, language. 

W/c: 1.9k ish 

A/n: I’m so sorry for this little baby chapter. I know its short, but I promise its sweet. Well, i mean, I dont really promise but I think it is... Thank you again to @cutie1365​ for editing this mess for me. 

“What the hell happened!?” Bucky’s voice thundered as he stormed into the room. His face was a bright shade of red and his chest was heaving. You couldn't tell if he had just come from a workout or if he was really just that mad.

“How could you let this happen?” He spat at Nat. Obviously it was the latter. Natasha raised her hands in defence.

 “Buck, calm down. No one was hurt and-” 

        “No one was hurt!?” He all but screamed. “Look at her!” He pointed to your crumpled body on the couch. Your face flushed pink as you tried and failed to look less pathetic.

“So I ask again, how the hell could you let this happen?” He finished, almost fuming. You could physically see Natasha shrinking under Bucky's glare. 

         “Stop it!” You tried to make your voice as full as Buckys but it came out flat and small. “It’s my fault. Not Nat’s. And I’m fine,” You tried to steady your voice but a cough escaped your throat which didn't help your case. 

“Please, Bucky. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.” You finished, looking at his defeated face and quickly back to the floor. 

“Embarrassed?” He repeated under his breath, but ultimately dropped it. You were thankful, but watching Bucky’s solemn face made you wish you had kept your mouth shut. You had never seen him like this before. The confident man now looked small and broken. You watched as he shoved his hands in the front pockets of his blue jeans and hung his head. 

        “Anyways, take it from the top Shuri.” Steve cleared his throat and spoke up, cutting the tension like a nuke.

         “Right, so, ah… Y/n would have had contact with Wanda at some point. Do you remember a moment you felt yourself absorb her powers?” She asked you. You were still so preoccupied watching Bucky sulk in the corner; you didn't hear Shuri say your name. She cleared her throat and spoke again, “Y/n?” you tore your eyes off the Super Soldier and turned to the rest of the group. There was a familiar warm blush that crept back into your chest.

        “Sorry, sorry. I’m just a little out of it.” You started shaking your head to clear your thoughts, 

“Yes, um, I felt myself absorb Wanda's powers on our way to the garage. I know we've been practicing control, but I didn't think any of it really. ” You apologised again. You couldnt believe how stupid you had been. Guilt riddled your entire body, you felt terrible. T’Challa had invited you into his home. Shuri had used every resource to help you and this is how you repay them? 

“Why didn't you say something to me?” Wanda spoke up suddenly. Her voice was so little you almost didn't hear her. 

        “I- I don't know. It came on so fast but it left. I thought I had it under control.” You explain, feeling suddenly nauseous again. 

        “But that's exactly it, right? You so obviously don’t have it under control. And that's why Shuri and I think it’s best you stay here until you do.” Steve solded. You nodded your head in understanding. Natasha didn't speak up this time. She only kept her eyes on the floor. 

“I understand. I’m sorry.” You spoke quietly, a tear escaping and running down your cheek. 

“What happened was a terrible accident. But an accident nonetheless. Let's try to focus on what's important in these times of strife. Things can be fixed easily, but people, not so much.” T’Challa’s deep voice spoke, alerting you to his presence in the corner of the room. You weakly smiled and thanked him. 

“There’s been enough sadness today. We have a tradition here, that after days like this we come together. It’s what makes us strong. My friends have prepared a proper Wakandan feast. Tomorrow the problems will still be there but tonight, we eat.” T’Challa announced, smiling at the team. He and Shuri seemed to be the only ones. Hesitantly, Natasha and Wanda followed them out of the room. Steve got up, and almost left before turning back and taking a seat on the couch across from you. Bucky watched his friend carefully from the corner of the room. 

“Y/n, what did you mean when you said you remembered something?’” He asked sceptically. You looked up at him and noticed he seemed concerned rather than angry. Your nerves subsided, only momentarily as you spoke.

“When I woke up, I remembered being in a small cement room. It felt wet, and cold. Maybe underground? I was in so much pain. I don’t think I’ve ever felt pain like that before. I don't usually remember in so much detail, but it didn't feel like a vision. More like a memory. And I remember a name…” You started. Your heart pounded in your chest when you tried to say his name. 

“Zemo.” You finally choked out.

Bucky's head shot up suddenly as you spoke his name. Steve looked at his friend and back to you wide eyed. “Are you sure?” He pushed, looking at you sternly. You nodded your head. You were positive. It echoed through your thoughts ever since you opened your eyes. 

“Do you know him?” You questioned. Steve mirrored your answer and only nodded. 

“This is good, Y/n. You're starting to retain memories.” He began, getting up off the couch and heading towards the door. Before he left, he turned back to you, all sympathy had melted away from his face. 

“T’Challa is a good man. He won't say what needs to be said,” He looked at Bucky who glared at him, but you could tell he wasn't going to stop him from speaking. “What you did today was careless. Someone could have so easily been hurt, or worse.” You nodded your head again and signed. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” You spoke quietly. 

“Good. See you at dinner.” And with that, Steve spun back around and marched out the door leaving you and Bucky alone. You could physically feel how uncomfortable he was, standing in the corner of the room. He balanced back and forth on his feet until he finally spoke. 

“Can we talk?” He mumbled, beginning to cross the room. You patted the couch cushion beside you but he took the seat across from you.

“Are you okay?” He voiced gently. You looked up at him. His eyes were soft and full of sadness. 

        “Yes, I’m okay. Just a little bruised up. I heal fast, though. Thank you very much, Hydra.” You forced a chuckle, but Bucky wasn't smiling. His stormy grey eyes bore into yours causing your face to heat up. You picked at your fingernails, physically nervous. 

       “I was really scared, Y/n. When Steve told me what happened, I swear, I could have killed someone.” He signed as you watched his hands clenched into fists. He took a deep breath and relaxed again.

          “I thought. Oh, God I thought…” He paused, staring at you before he finally got up and crossed the small space between the couches. In one swift movement he took your hand and pulled you up into his strong arms. He held you there for what felt like forever. Your hands rested on his chest, your mind going into overdrive as the smell of his shower gel enveloped you. The crook of Bucky's neck rested on top of your head as he slowly ran his hands through your hair. One of his fingers caught a knot and pulled, causing a improtue moan to escape your mouth. You felt his body stiffen at the sound. 

       Gently he unraveled himself from you, but his hands stayed on either side of your face. You were both so close now you swear he could hear your heart beating. And, of course he could, ‘Thank you very much Hydra.’ He thought to himself, causing a small smile to form on his lips.

        Before you could stop yourself you balanced on your tiptoes as Bucky met you halfway, pulling you in close. In a breath, his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss started soft, but quickly became needy. He tasted like mint and nicotine and something you couldn't place. 

         “God, doll. You're fucking gorgeous.” He moaned, taking a break from your lips and kissing a trail down your neck. You tilted your head back slightly and allowed him more access.  

           In seconds you had melted into him as your hands reached up and wrapped around the back of his neck and tangled in his hair. He brought your lips back to his, dominating you in a way that made you feel like, given the chance, the man could wreck you without a second thought. You gave a handful of his hair a soft tug, pulling him deeper into the kiss. He let out an audible growl causing your heart to jump out of your chest. You could have died right there and been happy. Everything that had happened this morning faded away and all you knew was Bucky. Nothing else mattered in this moment but the way his tongue slowly traced your bottom lip causing you to moan in pure ecstasy. 

       Finally you both came up for air, gasping for breath. His forehead rested against yours as you both attempted to calm yourselves. Your chest heaved as you tried to comprehend what had just happened. Before either of you could speak the sound of someone clearing their throat startled you both apart. You both clumsily tried to unravel yourselves from each other.

       “Okay, wow. Didn't mean to interrupt…” Natasha smiled knowingly, resting on the doorframe. “Just came to letcha’ know dinner was ready - but I’ll tell em’ you're busy…”

        “Uh, sorry, Nat, we're coming. We were just- uh-” Bucky started, running his metal hand nervously through his hair. 

        “Oh I know exactly what you were doing, Sergeant. Please don't explain it to me, you perv.” Natasha grinned, turning on her heel and exiting the room with a perfect hair flip. 

        Bucky looked at you wide eyed. You honestly didn't have enough brain cells after that kiss to fully comprehend what had just happened. One metal finger lifted your chin up to meet his gaze. The intimacy in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. 

        “I’m really glad you're okay, Y/n.” He spoke softly. His voice was raw and vulnerable and made your heart skip a beat. 

        “Me too.” You finally said. With that, he began towards the door. When he realised you weren't behind him he stopped, resting on the door frame where Nat had been moments ago. He reached out his right arm and gestured for you to follow. 

         “You comin’, Doll?” He asked, the familiar confident Bucky you knew was back. You smiled and nodded, practically dancing out of the room. 

         You were thankful for this little piece of happiness. It had felt like forever since you had felt this way. Despite everything, nothing could ruin this memory. Not even the ones that hid in the back of your mind, not yet strong enough to come to the surface. Or at least, that's what you thought...

.................................

A/n: Thank you so much for reading! I hoped you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Stay tuned for part 7! 

...................................

  @kalesrebellion​      

  @projectcampbell​

[sacredmouche]

Pavlovian Conditioning | Kageyama x Reader

Word count: 1.8K

Warnings: none

Genre: Fluff (?), College!AU

College!Kageyama x College!Reader

"Damn you, Kageyama! I've been doing this for TWO FUCKING MONTHS, and you haven't fall into my obvious hints that I like you!" is what you wanted to tell him for a long time now. You have been dropping hints to him and he doesn't seem to notice. Helping him with his homework voluntarily, asking him to eat with you during lunch (coz boi he eats alone all the time), and writing his notes when he falls asleep during class, those are some things you do for him that obviously say "I like you, Kageyama!" but you don't know what is wrong with this boy. Is he that stupid or just numb? You don't know but what you know is that you are not going to give up until he realize that you like him and make him like you.

Another day, another stress brought to you by being a college student with Kageyama not taking your hints on the side. What a great time to be alive!

Today is one of those days when you feel like not dropping hints to him, you're tired and you have something big carrying on your shoulders. You’re a leader of your research group for fuck sake.

"We're only freshmen but why the fuck do we have to comply with all these activities?" you whispered with unbelievable look in your eyes. A day in university just come to an end and you are in your favorite cafe with all your school papers on the table, waiting for the barista to call your name and sip on that delectable coffee you just ordered. Studying in this cafe is relaxing and the ambiance is perfect for you to focus, so it is a part of your day to stop by here and study.

"It's because you're a college student, stupid" a familiar voice made you raise you head and it was your childhood friend who study in the same university as you.

"Oikawa!!" calling him with tears in your eyes, nope you're not sad you're just happy to see him.

"Hey hey, don't tear up cry baby!" he pulled the chair in front of you and sat down, looking all the papers scattered on the table then looking at you in disbelief.

"What in the hell- this is a lot" you looked at him and gave him a look that says "I fucking know, right" then letting out a big sigh.

"Yes, great king this is a lot, but that's not all! I have a quiz on my major tomorrow, and I need to study three chapters," you complained, pulling your untied hair into a messy bun.

Oikawa did not speak but you still feel comforted with his presence, but then he opened the topic you really do not want to talk about.

"So how's it going with-"

"For customer y/n?" the barista cut him off mid sentence, great maybe he'll forget talking about him. Goddamnit Oikawa, y u gotta bring him up?

You stood up and went to the counter to get your order, doing everything slowly so he'll forget what he was about to say a while ago. But it's Oikawa we're talking about, he'll never stop until he knows the answer to his curiosity.

Reaching you seat and as soon as you sat down, he asked "So anyway, how's it going with Tobio-chan?"

You gave him a look that throws knives that could kill him.

"W-what? I'm just asking, just wanna know!"

"well... I don't fucking know what is wrong with him! He doesn't take all my hints and I do not want to tell him directly. Is he that stupid?" Oikawa laughed and you raised your eyebrow making him stop.

"Yes, he's stupid. You're a Psychology major why don't you use psychology instead of doing common things that common girls do. Then, bye! I gotta go, good luck with school... and with Tobio-chan!" then he made his way out leaving you confused and thinking.

Use psychology?

You shrug it off for now and just start working on your school papers that is due tomorrow and the day after tomorrow.

"I'm home!" you announced your arrival as soon as you stepped inside your house, going straight in your bedroom and changed into a pair of pajamas and comfortable shirt.

You set up your study table with your psychology book in it, a notebook, and some pens and highlighters.

You've been studying for half an hour and you just started on the second chapter out of three chapters, you don’t really mind sleeping late if you go to school with confidence that you’ll ace your quiz.

"Hmm, Classical Conditioning... by Pavlov. Okay okay. Hmm okay I understand" you muttered while reading the textbook definition of the term. Studying the three types of learning as indicated on your Psychology book, an idea – a brilliant one – came to the magnificent brain of yours. A smile forming in your lips as you continue your studying.

I bet this one will work so be ready Kageyama.

------

“Good morning Tooru-chan!” you cling your arm to your friend who’s giving you now a disgusted look, but you just gave him a wide smile.

“What’s gotten into you? Why do you look happy? Why are you happy? Are you okay? And why the fuck did you call me Tooru-chan? I’m older than you, you know?”

“Woah easy boy, eaaaasssy. Why flood me with questions? My mind is already flooded” flooded with thoughts of Kageyama.

“Flooded with thoughts of Kageyama” he said that earned a laugh from you, he looked down on you and furrowed his brows.

“It’s because of you that’s why I am thinking of him more than usual, idiot. You’re a genius. I complimented you, take it or leave it” You sassed and walked faster.

“Why? What? What are you talking about?” he asked as he ran to close the big distance between the two of you.

“You’ll know it, I’ll tell you when the time comes. I have 10 AM class, I gotta go. See ya!” You left him there, this time he is the one who is confused and thinking. Why is she so happy? Why did she call me a genius? Not that I do not think of myself as one, but why did she call me a genius?

Making your way to your classroom, you stopped by to a vending machine, buying two cartons of milk. This class is your major and Kageyama is in that class too, so it makes you extra excited to reach the room. This subject last for two hours but you don’t really mind since learning is everything, right? And you’re a flirt and seeing Kageyama for two hours is too much to make your heart go boom boom.

After the quiz, there was some time left so a little discussion took place until it’s time to wrap up.

Lunchtime. Okay, this will work. I trust you, Pavlov. Don’t let your bitch down!

“Uhh, Kageyama–”

“Damn!” his loud voice made you jump; you were stoned in your place. Heart beating faster with a little bit of pain, thinking that he was irritated by you. You are about to tear up and take your leave, but he spoke.

“Hey, you were saying something? I’m sorry, it’s just that I forgot to bring my milk” your eyes sparkled. Heart skipped a beat. You’re in cloud nine, thanking the Gods.

“Yes, uhh let’s eat lunch together and here, wait a sec” you rummage through your things to get that extra carton of milk you bought on the way here.

“Good thing I bought two milks, it must be destiny” you laughed and handed him the milk and it’s his turn for his eyes to sparkle, he was so touched because it’s milk, duh. He wouldn’t share his milk with everyone, but you shared yours. Now he thinks of you as a goddess… of milk, who give free milks to those who needs it.

“Let’s eat lunch” he announced. I am not going to let this opportunity slip, a goddess asked me out. He thought.

Yo what the fuck? He agreed! Yes, this is it. A love story will emerge.

The two of you made your way out of the classroom and walked towards the university cafeteria. Now, what to do? You don’t really know what to do now, you both are eating in silence.

Come on, brain I need you please don’t leave me hanging!

But your brain is not cooperating with you, lunchtime ended and you both parted ways. It’s okay, you feel contented, you ate lunch with him and tomorrow you are going to ask him again because giving up is not on your vocabulary.

You are so eager to make him like you, so you are pulling Classical Conditioning at him to make that happen, all thanks to Oikawa for giving you that idea.

-----

It’s been seven days since you started using classical conditioning. Giving him his daily milk, you bought at the vending machine, watching as his eyes go sparkle.

You noticed the changes of him. Whenever you showed up, a big smile is forming on his lips just like the smile you see when you bring him his milks, his face painted with happiness just like when he is drinking his milk, and how his eyes sparkled when you give him his milk.

You rummage through your things just like the past seven days and give him his carton of milk. You stretched out your arms and handed him the unopened carton.

“Here you go, Kageyama. Your daily dose of milk” you said as you sip on your own milk.

He eyed you and took the milk

“You don’t really have to do all this for me to like you” your eyes widened at his words. Shocked. Wondering if he knew it all this time.

“Huh?” is all you can say

“I know you’re pulling Classical Conditioning on me to make me like you, did you not realize that I am not going to like you if you do that?” Oh. It hurts. Pavlov, you let me down. I hate you. You thought. Standing there in front of him, waiting for him to say another word even if it pains you. He is so straightforward it hurts, right there in my heart. But what the fuck? I thought he was stupid. He understands what classical conditioning is when all he does is sleep in this class!

“How long have–” he cut you off mid-sentence

“You associated yourself with my favorite milk, it’s not you who makes me excited, it’s the milk” he continued. Why am I still standing here? Every word he’s saying hurts.

“But that will be the scenario if I don’t like you,” Huh? You looked up to him, teary-eyed. A confused look emitted through your eyes.

“But I already like you, your presence alone makes me excited. With or without the milk. So stop.” he confessed and all you gave him is a wide smile that is filled with pure delight.

Thank you, Pavlov. You did not let me down.

THANK YOU TO MY FAM @teentitannns and @gaydistriss!! I couldn't choose which character suits the plot and they helped me. Luv u.

[jacobseedvaas35]

A Love Like No Other

Jacob Seed X OC Ana Pearce

Warnings: Violence, Smut, Mention of abuse

Word Count: 1708

Chapter Two

Going back home was a bloody nightmare. Tim and Kelly went off their heads when Ana walked through the front door, not knowing that Blake was right behind her. They yelled in her face and Kelly had grabbed Ana's arm so tightly that she was sure there was a bruise already. The moment Blake walked in and yelled back at his parents, Tim and Kelly backed off, letting Ana get past.

"From this day forward, Hannah, Haley and Ana are allowed to leave this house whenever they want" Blake put his foot down to his parents. "They are old enough to look after themselves and do whatever. It's time you two, grew the fuck up".

"I've had enough of your tone Mr. We are your parents, you do not raise your voice or order us on what to do" Tim raised his voice.

"Listen here old man" Blake walked up to his father's face. "Lay a single finger on one of my sisters and I'll break that finger. You understand? If you wanted respect from your children, then you should have never abused them".

Hannah and Haley followed their siblings into Blake's bedroom, curious to know where they had gone.

"So? What does Hope County have for us?" Hannah asked as she sat down next to her brother.

"Other than forests, mountains and lakes. We've got a small town called Falls End. It has a bar and some clothing stores" Ana started explaining. "Oh and a lot of farms".

"And not to mention, a church for a religious cult" Blake smirked.

"Now we're talking" Hannah said. "Keep going".

"Yeah we met the leader. His people call him The Father but he said his name was Joseph Seed" Blake continued to explain. "He has two brothers Jacob and John and a sister, Faith Seed".

"Are they good looking?" Haley asked.

"Yes. The brothers were hot and Faith..."

"She was beautiful" Blake interrupted Ana, as he remembered Faith and her beautiful features.

"Wow. Someone's in love" Hannah joked.

"Joseph said he'd like to meet you two as well. Maybe our awesome brother here, can take all of us next week Sunday to another sermon" Ana informed her sisters.

Blake looked up at Ana and smiled, "my dear sister. Joseph said we can visit him anytime we wanted". He looked at his other two sisters and informed them that he was going to take them to Joseph's church tomorrow and get them to meet the Seed family for themselves.

-

That evening, with the help of her brother, Ana was able to leave the house to go and explore the forests that Holland Valley had. She walked through the forest, looking up at the trees and listening to the birds chirping away. The sun shone through the trees, helping her walk without having to worry about falling. As she continued to walk, she started hearing the sound of the lake's water flowing, as if it was a river instead.

"This is beautiful" she said to herself and started to turn in circles.

"You shouldn't be out here, all alone" a voice from behind her came. Ana jumped with fear and turned around to see the familiar man from the church, stand behind her and leaning against a tree.

"Hope County forest's might be beautiful to explore but the wildlife can be extremely dangerous" the man kept saying. "If you want to explore, you have to bring a weapon with you".

Ana looked down and saw the man holding what looked like, a red rifle in his hand. "Umm" was all she could say, still startled by this giant man.

"You're that girl from the church. Right?" He asked and started approaching Ana slowly.

"Yes" Ana replied back and swallowed hard.

"No need to be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you" he said and stopped right in front of Ana.

He was really tall compared to her. She had to look up a fair bit to get a better look at him. He was even more handsome up close and she was able to make out the colour of his eyes. Light Blue. They were perfect. Ana was finally able to smile at him after realising that he wasn't dangerous or scary.

"So which one are you? John or Jacob" Ana crossed her arms and examined his features. "Wait! Don't answer that. Let me guess... Jacob".

"Correct" Jacob smiled. "I'm Jacob. Oldest brother of the Seed's".

"Nice to meet you Jacob. I'm..."

"Ana. I remember from the church. I might be old but I've got a brain like an elephant" Jacob chuckled a little and started walking past Ana.

"Old? Pfft" Ana giggled.

Jacob stopped in his spot and turned to look at Ana. "47 isn't really young".

"47? Jesus Christ. You look like you're in the 30s" Ana sounded shock. "You're really handsome for a 47 year old Mr Seed".

"Jacob!" He reminded her of his name.

"Sorry. Jacob" Ana smiled.

"So you live in Holland Valley?" Jacob asked, wanting to question her about her family.

"Yep. I wanted to live in Whitetail Mountains but my parents chose this place instead" Ana explained.

"Is that so?" Jacob got close to her again.

"Yeah. On the pamphlet it said Whitetail Mountains had more forests and even mountains" Ana said.

"You like Mountains?" He continued to ask her questions.

Ana nodded with a big smile on her face.

"Interesting. Would you like to go to Whitetail Mountains one day?" Jacob asked.

"Oh I would for sure" Ana was quick to reply. "Could you take me?". She was embarrassed to ask but felt a lot better getting it out off her system.

"You want me to take you to Whitetail Mountain?" Jacob was surprised. No one in this County would have asked him for something like this or for that matter, anything at all.

"Please. I really want to see the mountains" Ana begged. "Plus, it would be a great way to get to know each other. Being new and all to this County, I'd like to make friends. I barely had any in New York".

"I'll give you my number. You let me know when you wanna go and I'll pick you up" Jacob accepted.

Ana jumped with joy, then took her phone out and put Jacob's number in. "Thank you so much Jacob".

"You're welcome but I think I should take you home" Jacob suggested. "It's getting dark and like I said, wildlife in this County, is incredibly dangerous".

"Sounds good" Ana accepted and the both of them walked out off the forest and to Jacob's truck.

-

Jacob had all his windows to his truck opened wide. Ana had rested her arms on the car door and enjoyed the breeze hit her face. It felt amazing and smelt like fresh air. Her long black hair flew around crazily but she didn't care. Jacob couldn't help but glance at her at times. 'She's beautiful' he thought to himself and smiled as he glanced over at her one last time.

"Jacob?" Ana called out to him, then sat back in the passenger seat. "Could you drop me off around here. I don't want my parents to see me in a car with a guy. They'll kill me and I don't think Blake can save me".

Jacob pulled his truck over and looked at Ana. "Your parents sound like bad people. Do they hurt you Ana?".

"Umm. No of course not. They are just trying to be good parents" Ana lied.

"That's not what your brother said at the church. Abusive parents are the worst" Jacob looked out the window. "My brothers copped it from our abusive parents. They've got the marks to prove it but it made them stronger".

"They don't abuse me Jacob but thank you for your concern" Ana said and placed her hand on Jacob's scarred arm. "I'll call you when I want to go to the Mountains. Thank you again Jacob". With that being said, Ana jumped out of the truck and walked the remaining distance, home.

She walked in and was greeted by her brother. The two of them spent the evening speaking about what they did when the four siblings split up. Hannah and Haley had gone to Falls End to shop around while Blake had gone to the bar for a few drinks. Ana explained to her brother about Jacob's generous offer to take her to Whitetail Mountain's to see the mountains and forest it had to offer. Blake thought it would be a good way for his sister to make some friends, since she barely had any friends back in New York. Again, that came down their parents but he was going to make sure his sister made friends here in Hope County.

"I think these Seed's are going to be great people to hang with" Blake said and sat back on the couch. "What do you think?"

"I agree. Jacob looks like a very intimidating person but I like him" Ana said. "He'd be nice to be friends with".

"When are you going to meet up with him again?" Blake asked.

"Maybe Tuesday. He gave me his number and told me to give him a call whenever I wanted to go" Ana replied back. "I'm going to get some sleep. Goodnight".

"Night" Blake responded back and decided to go to bed himself. "What a fucking awesome day".

Laying in bed, Ana couldn't stop thinking about Jacob Seed. In the morning, seeing him for the first time was awkward and uncomfortable. He continually stared at her the whole time but after seeing up closer and talking to him, Ana could help but feel a tingly while thinking about him. He seemed like a really nice guy and he was extremely handsome but the only problem she had with him, was the age. He was almost 50 years old, so hanging out with a much older man, may seem a little disturbing for others.

Ana bit on her lip and smiled, wiping out that memory and thinking about the good things about Jacob. She couldn't wait to hang out and get to know him a lot more. He seemed like a guy full of mysteries and stories.

[punkscowardschampions]

Rio & Buster

Rio: Do you think I need to report or tip the deliveryman for taking advantage of the unlocked front door? Rio: can't decide Buster: Are you sure it was unlocked? Rio: Well I was sure I locked it actually but apparently not Rio: Indie also swears she didn't forget so must've been me Buster: Unless she swore on her stash there's no reason to take it as gospel, babe Rio: True Rio: thanks anyway 😚 they look really pretty in the kitchen window Buster: Hold on, I didn't send you anything Buster: What kind of delivery was it? Rio: Yeah, tbh, I didn't think it was you Rio: but I was hoping Rio: [the picture] Rio: they look kinda cheap Rio: cannot work out who they're from Buster: Is the address right? Maybe they're for next door but yours was open Buster: Fuck it, throw them out and I'll replace them for you Rio: There isn't one, there's like nothing Rio: Maybe Drew's planning to give 'em to someone Buster: Ask him Buster: Could also be one of Indie's friends, you said they were cheap, like Rio: Awh, how sweet Rio: yeah, I'll ask Rio: how are you anyway? Buster: Better before I was worried about your home security Rio: Don't be Rio: You've never forget to lock up before? Rio: Be Drew that'd be 😥 Buster: Course not Buster: My parents would kill me Rio: Guess you have more stuff to steal Rio: luckily we've just been gifted something so that's as good as you can hope I suppose Buster: No bullshit, are you okay? Rio: It just shook me up a bit Rio: but now I've had time to calm down Buster: You can stay here any time and for any reason Buster: You know that Rio: I know Rio: I promise I don't need that though Rio: even though I miss you Rio: wish you were here Buster: I miss you too Buster: I'll come and see you this weekend Buster: Move some shit around Rio: Can you? Rio: don't if you can't Buster: I can Buster: And I want to Rio: I wish they were from you Rio: not an unsubtle hint Buster: I don't need any hints Buster: I just ordered some Buster: But we can track the delivery on these, like Rio: I love you Rio: see who gets here first, you or the flowers Buster: I love you Buster: But they better or else we are gonna have to have a word with whoever the fuck delivers shit to your place Rio: 😂 Rio: its not quite that rough that the postie throws it and runs Buster: Says you Rio: What does that mean? 😏 Buster: It means I've only got your word for it since I can't exactly forgo the hotel and sleep over Rio: You'd prefer your hotel, I'm not gonna oversell it that hard, like Buster: I ain't gonna deny that either Buster: Unless you stayed there and left me alone at the hotel Rio: That just ain't gonna happen Rio: never ever Rio: least no one here is really keeping that close a check on where I am Rio: much easier Buster: Yeah fuck knows where I'm gonna say I am if anyone asks Buster: I'll obviously think of something as per but the standard excuses are gonna start sounding like they are exactly that one of these days Rio: I know Rio: be easier if visiting your sister was a little more in question Rio: but that would require actually doing that so Buster: As much as I love you, babe Rio: I know Rio: she's settled well though Buster: No need to try and make any friends when she's got Junior, is there? Buster: He more or less guarantees her an easier life Rio: Alright for some Rio: lucky he's such a nerd they let him skip Buster: Exactly Rio: Why you gotta be so overachieving, huh Rio: I'm so bored without you Buster: I didn't get put forward a year, I'm clearly not working hard enough actually Rio: Nah, you just don't have crazy genius brain Rio: which I think is probably a good thing Rio: and your school would never, doing everything by the 100 year old book Buster: Cheers Buster: For the compliment and the reminder Rio: You know you're still going to get everything you want Buster: Course I am Buster: I've earned it despite my lack of a genius level IQ Rio: Are you mad I called you not a genius? Buster: Like you said, it's a good thing Buster: Fuck being a weirdo Rio: Bit rude Buster: Come on Rio: You don't need to call anyone a weirdo if you're not mad Buster: You know what I mean Buster: I'm perfect as I am Rio: Okay Buster: Don't get mad Buster: Just 'cause I ain't Rio: 🙄 I'm not Rio: shh Buster: Convincing Rio: Well I will be if you keep going on Buster: Behave Rio: Come over and make me Mr. Perfect 😏 Buster: Friday afternoon Buster: Soon as school's over and done with Rio: 😾 I guess I'll behave then then Buster: Are you gonna be perfect? Rio: Aren't I always? 😇 Buster: You know you are Buster: But you also know I wanna hear you promise Rio: I promise I'll be perfect for you Buster: Good girl Rio: Buster Buster: Rio Rio: You're so rude Rio: distracting me Buster: What are you doing that needs your full attention? Rio: I'm trying to cook Buster: I'll leave you to focus then, yeah? Buster: Wouldn't wanna be even ruder or anything Rio: Don't you dare Buster: You know I always dare Rio: Oh, so we're playing now? Buster: Yeah Rio: And you aren't playing nice Buster: I didn't make any promises to be Rio: Me either Rio: 'til Friday Buster: You can't help yourself though Buster: You're an angel Rio: For my sins Rio: and yours Buster: What sins are those? Rio: If I need to remind you, then its really been way too long since we last did a visit Buster: Or I need to remind you how heavenly everything we've ever done together is Rio: I wouldn't mind that reminder Buster: Call me Rio: [does] Buster: Tell me the kitchen ain't on fire Rio: It ain't Rio: Dinner is gonna be late Rio: but we'll all survive Buster: Well I'm not sorry about that Buster: I've gotta wait til Friday to have dinner with you Rio: I can't wait to cook for you Buster: Don't make me miss you more Rio: You wait 'til I have my own place proper Rio: treat you like such a 👑 all day every day Buster: I'm not sure I can wait, baby Buster: Jesus Rio: Next time your parents are away, tell me and I'll get the next flight Rio: never guaranteeing a free house here but we can play then Buster: Hold on, I'll check the calendar Buster: [a date] Rio: It's done Buster: Easily Rio: then when you go uni we can be together all the time Buster: Every day Rio: Can't we just be 18 now? Buster: I swear I feel older than that already Rio: Me too Rio: its crazy we've been doing all this over 2 years now Rio: never mind everything else Buster: Yeah Buster: Looking at their calendar only proves that my parents treat me like I'm older when it suits 'em Rio: Good for parties Rio: good for me and you Rio: but it must feel so big when its just you in that house Rio: my poor baby Buster: Technically not good enough though 'cause I can't move out or change schools Buster: But I ain't complaining Buster: Especially when I've got you to keep me company if it gets lonely Buster: Just one call away, like Buster: And like you said, the parties and visits mean I rarely am alone anyway Buster: We'd definitely have gotten closer to getting caught if I had different parents as well Rio: It won't last forever, even if it feels like it Rio: best place for you to be right now Rio: and I'll always be here Rio: no matter what Rio: sometimes I forget no one knows Rio: when I'm talking to you Rio: but then its painfully obvious again when we have to hide it Buster: I know Buster: Me too Buster: But that doesn't have to be forever either Buster: We can tell 'em when we're older Rio: We'll have to Rio: I can't just suddenly decide I wanna move to America when you happen to be going too Buster: And when I propose, you won't be able to hide a diamond that big Rio: You can't just say things like that Buster: Don't you wanna marry me? Rio: Of course I do Buster: Good Rio: You really want to marry me Rio: and be with me forever Buster: Of course I do Rio: Buster, I love you so much Rio: how are you real Buster: I could ask you the same question Buster: But I reckon whatever you think makes me unreal does the same to you Rio: You're just Rio: I'm just so glad you're in this as much as I am Rio: we want the same things Buster: I've never half arsed anything in my life, I'm not about to start with the most important part of it Rio: That's why I love you Rio: you're so dedicated and passionate and Rio: fuck Buster: It's for you as much as it is me Buster: I ain't forgotten the future you want Buster: I'm gonna give you everything Rio: Just marry me now Rio: Jesus Buster: Not until you can openly wear the ring every single day Rio: Okay Rio: deal Buster: I'll get you something else to wear in the meanwhile Buster: A ring that's not so obvious Rio: Baby Buster: I fucking love you Buster: There needs to be another word for it that's more descriptive or whatever Buster: Just more everything Rio: I get it Rio: I get you, you get me Rio: There's nothing I wanna do where I don't want you with me Rio: other people don't even register, never mind compare Buster: I feel that too Buster: Since I was a kid Rio: No one else could hold my attention like you Buster: 'Cause there's nobody else like me Rio: Not even close Buster: You won't ever regret choosing me Buster: I'll make sure you don't Rio: I know Rio: but it was never a choice really Rio: not in a bad way just in a Rio: I don't even know Rio: like we was meant to be from the start Buster: I know Buster: Like you said, we're the same in that and loads of other shit Rio: Plus you're the hottest boy to ever walk the planet so obviously, you're mine 😋 Buster: Yeah, that too, like Buster: But even if you weren't the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, I'd still want you to be mine Buster: 'Cause you're the best in so many other ways as well Buster: And I'll never be over how perfect you are or what you make me feel like Rio: Stop being perfect and sincere when I'm just trying to live over here Buster: We've established I can't Buster: Or won't Rio: How do you do that Rio: cheer me up Rio: make me forget Buster: 'Cause I always get what I want Buster: And I want that for you Rio: You're the best Buster: I know Buster: So I deserve you Rio: What do you wanna do when you're here? Rio: Aside from have me be perfect, obviously Buster: We need to get you a ring, of course Buster: Unless you want me to surprise you with it Rio: 😁😁😁 Buster: If that's what you actually look like, show me Rio: [the most excited selfie] Buster: Baby Rio: Daddy Rio: tbh Buster: Tell me what you wanna do when I'm there Buster: Aside from saying that again, obviously Rio: 😏 and again and again Rio: Hmm Rio: just be with you Rio: I don't care what we're doing, as long as its what we wanna do Rio: makes a change from my routine Buster: Well that's the least I can do Buster: Don't worry Rio: I'm never worried Rio: not when I'm with you Buster: Good Buster: You're safe with me Buster: Even if you forget to lock every door Rio: I won't Rio: I'm not a total idiot Buster: I know how smart you are, babe Rio: 🙄 Buster: Don't Buster: I'm serious Rio: Its whatever Rio: I don't need to be smart Rio: just work it Buster: You are though regardless Rio: Whatever you say, babe Buster: You gonna listen to whatever I say? Rio: 🙉🤭 Buster: Alright then Rio: Awh, you mad at me? Buster: Is that what you're trying to do? Rio: Maybe Rio: has it worked? Buster: Try harder Rio: 😤😠💪 Buster: Come on Rio: . Rio: That's me not replying, 'cos nothing makes you madder than being ignored Buster: Well played Rio: Thank you Rio: If I do it for real will you call me again? Buster: How could I resist? Rio: Don't Rio: only me who's gotta resist talking to you Rio: which is really really hard Buster: I'll make your efforts feel worth it Rio: 😣 Buster: I promise Rio: Okay Rio: I can do it Buster: Prove it Buster: [calls]

[genevaissleepy-archive]

Me: It's getting late, I'd better get to sleep.

My Brain: It was the summer of 2001...

Me: Hoe don't do it.

My Brain: It was the summer of 2001, and Joe meets Patrick and he's like "yo, I know about music." then Patrick's like "yo I know more about music!" "that's impossible. so you wanna start a band?" and Patrick's like, "yeah that's cool." and then, he's like "yo this is a book store not a music store." and then they met at Patrick's house. so Patrick's wearing shorts, socks, and a hat. Patrick is playing drums for some fuckin' reason and then Pete's there for some reason. and they start playing music together and they're like "oh, let's play some covers from some other bands." it was like Green Day, and fuckin' Misfits, and fuckin' Ramones. Pete said to Joe, "yo, that's dope, but we need a fuckin' drummer." because Patrick's playing drums and he's a singer. Patrick's like "yo, I got a soul voice," and they're like "wait how do you have a soul voice?" and he's like "yo, watch this: YEEEEEEeeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEeeeeeeAAAAAAAAaaaaAAaahhh!" and they're like, "oh my god, that sounds like soul!" so they put it in a song, and it was like, "WHERE IS YOUR BOY TONIIIIIIIiiiiiIIIIIIIIIiiiIIIIIIIGHT?!" and they're like "yo that's fuckin perfect, this is Fall Out Boy." and they made records like Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend. Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend, everybody loves it. "it's called Evening Out With Your Girlfriend." with your ex-girlfriend. it's called evening out with your Ex-girlfriend. it's called eating out your girlfriend, and it's real and it doesn't matter. and Pete talked to Patrick and Joe and he's like "you what the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. yo, this is gonna be fuckin' doooooooooope!" so they made a record and it was called Take this to Your Grave. they made it without a drummer, and they had like 3—4 drummers come in. The four drummers they had come in were like Josh Freese, Neil Pert, the dude from Toto, the fourth one was like the guy from Papa Roach or something, and they're like "you, we need Andy Hurley. Andy Hurley. Take This to Your Grave. Fuckin' record it." and he did, and he killed it, and he was like "bigidalililililillillilila, PSHHH!" killin' the skin, tapping the skins, tapping the rim, playin' the shit, killing these bitches, rapping it out. you're getting a fucking tattoo right now?! what the fuck is going on?! We should get signed to Fueled By Ramen, 'cause thee guys know what the fuck is going on. and they were like "yo, if you can make our scene any bigger than it is, which is not fuckin' hard, we will sign you guys." and Pete was like "yo, we got this record that's fuckin' dooooooope, dude, it's called Take This to Your Grave, it's called From Under the Cork Tree it's gonna be fucking huge." and then Patrick's like "I gotta keep it real, I gotta keep it artistic, these are three songs that are gonna make the album and it's called-BURP-Thnks Fr th Mmrs, 20 Dollar Nose Bleed, and Sugar, Were Goin' Down. and they made this record that was fuckin' dope, and it fucking hit on the charts like one two three, three two one, three four five six seven eight nine ten. ten to one. From Under the Cork Tree sold like four million records. ten million records. fifteen million records. and Brendon Urie had nothing to do with the entire record. and Patrick was like "that's gooooOOOOoooooOOOOOOOOd." Pete was like, "yo, fuck you I can do whatever I want." and Joe was like, "yeah it's cool man whatever I don't give a shit." and then Andy was like "eh, cool." and Pete was like "Make up is fuckin' great for a guy. because it makes a guy look beautiful, which a lot of times, a guy is not beautiful. and I wanna change that. I wanna make sure everyone thinks that guys are beautiful." I'm good so far yeah. yeah I do. SHUT THE FUCK. oh fuck, alright alright. Pete was like "oh my god, I'm so embarrassed about this dick pic." and then I saw the dick pic and was like "ah it's not bad." it's not a bad dick. let's be real. we made Rollins Stones one issue before Fall Out Boy. and Fall Out Boy made the issue right after us and they were so pissed they were like "yo, fuck you guys!" they're like "yo! Panic! has the fuckin' cover for Rolling Stones, yo, fuck these dudes, we're gonna fucking go miles above. we're gonna hit every fuckin' continent there is known to man." but they didn't because they missed a second of time. apparently they were like "oh shit, we got every continent." and they didn't actually hit it. dude, and Pete was like, "WHAT THE FUCK?! 'oh you didn't fuckin' make the continent' it's like FUCK YOU!" so From Under the Cork Tree happens, we fuckin' have three-four years of awesomeness. like, people are coming in themselves 'cause it's so big. Alright so Fall Out Boy was like-- so Patrick's like "yo, we are going to name these records from under the Cork tree and from Innity-- from infinity on high." Pete was like "yo folie à deux means the theatric of two." "The madness of two." oh sorry I'm sorry. follow boy was like "yo we got to take a break." Meaning Pete was like "yo we got to take a break bro." and Patrick's like "I need time for my music. UHUhUhUHuhUUUh." and joes like "yo I need time to find the fucking art dude I got to find some fucking me-- metal" and andys like "i'm just gonna play with some fucking metal bands." and they're like "all right this breaks been like three years long two years long three years long 3 1/2? we gotta fucking come back man we gotta come back strong." you took my beer away what the fuck? "no you poured it all over yourself." "yeah you poured it on yourself man here." "we got to make this shit legit it's gonna be fucking dope it's going to go fucking sky high. we're going to make a fucking record that sails the skies. we're going to call this record save rock 'n' roll." so they made alone together light 'em up alone together Phoenix. and everybody's like "what the fuck? you're working with this guy who fuckin' recorded Avril Lavigne and P!nk." is this pu-- what the fuck is this on my shirt, did I puke on myself? oh god. Pete was like "yo were gonna end up on a tour with Panic! At The Disco and twenty pilots. and that's all and that's all that matters. and that's just how the fuckin' story goes."

Me: Oh my god.

[americanidiot-americanpsyc-blog1]

Oops

Teacher: *giving a lesson to the class*

Me: Okay, time to pay attention

My Brain: It's the summer of 2001. Joe meets Patrick and he's like, "Yo. I know about music." And Patrick's like, "Yo. I know more about music." "That's impossible. D'you wanna start a band?" And Patrick's like, "... Yeah, that's cool." and then he's like, "Yo, this is a book store, it's not a music store!" And then, they met at Patrick's house. So Patrick's wearing shorts, and socks, and a hat. Patrick is playing drums for some fuckin' reason. They start playin' music together. They're like "Oh, let's play some fuckin' covers from some other bands." It was like Green Day... and fuckin' Misfits... and fuckin' Ramones... Pete said to Joe, "Yo, we gotta change this shit up." "Yo. We played all these bands, let's play shit from Fall Out Boy." And so Pete and Patrick are like "Yo, that's dope. But we need a fuckin' drummer!" Because Patrick's playin' drums and he's a singer! And Patrick's like, "Yo, I got a soul voice." And they're like, "Wait, how do you have a soul voice?" And he's like, "Yo, watch this: YEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEaAAAAHHH!" And they're like, "Oh my god, that sounds like soul!" So they put it in a song, and it was like, "WHERE IS YOUR BOY TONIIIIIIIIING?!" And then they're like, "Yo, that's fuckin' perfect. This is Fall Out Boy." And they made records like Evening Out with Your Ex-Girlfriend. Evening Out with Your Ex-Girlfriend, everybody loves it... with your ex-girlfriend. It's called Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend. It's called Eating Out Your Girlfriend, and it's real and it doesn't matter. And Pete talked to Patrick and Joe and he was like "Yo, what the FUUUCK! Yo. this is gonna be fuckin' dooooope!" So they made a record, and it was called Take This to Your Grave. They made it without a drummer! And they had like three, four drummers come in. The four drummers they had come in were like, Josh Freese... Neil Peart, the dude from Toto... The fourth one was like the guy from like Papa Roach or something. And they're like, "Yo, we need Andy Hurly. Andy Hurley. Take This to Your Grave. Fuckin' record it." And he did it, and he killed it, and he was like bigadigalulululululuPSSHHH! Killin' the skins! Tappin' the skins, tappin' the rim. Playin' the shit. Killin' these bitches. Wrappin' it out. (You're getting a fucking tattoo right now! What the fuck is going on?!) "We should get signed to Fueled by Ramen. 'Cause these guys know wha the fuck is goin' on." They were like, "Yo. If you can make our scene any bigger than it is, which is not fuckin' hard. We will sign you guys." he was like, "Yo! We got this record that's fuckin' dope, dude! It's called Take This to your Grave. And it's called From Under the Cork Tree, and it's gonna be fucking huge. And then Patrick's like, "I gotta keep it real, I gotta keep it artistic, these are three songs that are gonna make the album, it's called - **burp** - it's called Thanks for the Memories, Twenty Dollar Nose Bleed, and Sugar We're Goin' Down. And they made this record that was fucking dope and it fucking hit on the charts, like one, two, three! Three two one! Three four five six seven eight nine teeen! Ten to one! From Under the Cork Tree sold like four million records... ten million records.! ...fifteen million records! And Brendon Urie had nothing to do with the entire record! And Patrick is like, "That's GOooOooOooOooOooOooOd!" pete was like, "Yo, FUCK YOU! I can do whatever I want!" Joe was like, "...yeah, it's cool man, whatever. I don't give a shit." And then Andy was like, "...eh...cool." And Pete was like, "Makeup is fuckin' great for a guy. Because, it makes a guy look beautiful. Which a lotta times, a guy is not beautiful. And I wanna change that. I wanna make sure that everybody thinks that guys are beautiful." **cut to Brendon spitting for 30 seconds** (shutthefuck - oh, fuck... alright, alright.) Pete was like, "Oh my god, I'm so embarrassed about this dick pic!" And then I saw the dick pic and I was like, "Eh, it's not bad." It's not a bad dick. Let's be real. We made Rolling Stone one issue before Fall Out Boy. And Fall Out Boy made the issue right after us. They were so pissed! They were like, "Yo, fuck you guys!" They're like, "YO! Panic has the fucking cover of Rolling Stone? Yo, FUCK these dude! We're gonna go fucking miles above! We're gonna hit every fuckin' continent there is known to man!" But they didn't! Because they missed a second of time. Apparently. They were like, "Oh, shit, we got every continent!" But they didn't actually hit it. Dude, Pete was like, "what the FUCK?!" Oh, you didn't make the continent.. It's like fuck you! So, From Under the Cork Tree happens, we fuckin' have three, four years of awesomenes.s... Like, people are cumming on themselves, 'cause it's so big. **people talking in the background, Brendon spills/pours beer on himself** Alright. So Fall out Boy was like, so Patrick's like, "Yo, we're gonna name this record from uru - From Under the Cork Tree and from inity-isf - **laugh** From Infinity on High. Pete was like, "Yo. Folie a Deux means the theatric of two." Oh, sorry. I'm sorry. Fall Out Boy was like, "Yo, we gotta take a break." Meaning, Pete was like, "Yo. We gotta take a break, bruh." And Patrick's like, "I need time for my music. OOHH!" And Joe's like, "Yo. I need to find the fuckin' art, dude. I gotta find some fuckin' meau-metal." And Andy's like, "I'm just gonna play with some fuckin' metal bands." And they're like, "Alright. This break's been like three years long. Two years long. Three years long." Three and a half...? "We gotta fuckin' come back, man. We gotta come back strong." (You took my beer away! What the fuck? **someone in the back: You poured it all over yourself! You poured it on yourself, man.**) "We gotta make this shit legit, it's gonna be fuckin' dope. It's gonna go fuckin' sky high. We're gonna make a fuckin' record that sails the skies. We're gonna call this record... Save Rock and Roll." So they made Alone Together, Light 'Em Up, Alone Together, Phoenix. And everybody's like, "What the fuck? You're workin' with this guy who fuckin' recorded Avril Lavigne and Pink..." (There's p - what the fuck is on my shirt, did I puke on myself? **people in the background telling him he poured beer on himself** oh, god...) Pete was like, "Yo, we're gonna end up on a tour with Panci! At the Disco and Twenty Pilots." And that's all. That's all that matters. And that's just how the fuckin' story goes.