#and she challenged my aunt on her shitty views for once but like fucking took you long enough???

[auteurdefeu]

Can I ask to hear some of the thoughts about the crackship polycule

Alright, so. Welcome. This is gonna be a doozy. I will do my best to explain the timeline @turtlelover59 and I came up with and keep it PG-13 because it is A Lot at times. This started off as an idea about Fix&Pasha being FWB with Hunch, who is in an open relationship with Dan, and then it spiraled from there.

(I headcanon Dan as gender-fluid but will be using they/them pronouns in reference to them for this :p)

> Pre-Canon, Hunch and Pasha had feelings for each other in the countless times they crossed paths at work, but they never acted on it, putting their work first. Hunch always asked for her input on his cases when he could because she was so much smarter than her shitty desk job seemed to account for. He was truly fascinated by her, but he never found out her story until much Later.

> Hank made a point of mentioning that The Fix worked for several people at the table of PIs so I’m choosing to believe he was hired on occasion by Hunch, who took up a few important cases that needed someone eliminated. We all know Hunch’s track record in fights, so,,, he calls up someone capable, and their interactions were limited to that.

> Canon Shit Happens, Hunch realizes his feelings for Dan and helps to set up Pasha and Fix before he eventually gets with Dan. Around this time, Fix and Hunch also start getting closer, as a “friendship therapy” sorta thing, talking about their experiences on opposite sides of the law

> Dan learns about Hunch’s former crush on Pasha and teases him about it, encouraging him to follow through on it if she was open to it. Similarly, Pasha and Fix discuss their lack of romantic experiences before getting together and upon mentioning how she used to have feelings for Hunch, Fix gets curious heh. After much discussion, they propose having a few no-strings-attached Meetings to Try New Things (you can guess what I mean) and it’s absolutely fine, things are going well

> Surprise, strings are attached. Pasha and Hunch finally start to develop the relationship they were too scared to try all that time ago, and it’s around that time that Dan is invited to join a few of their Meetings, not wanting them to feel left out. Hunch is beginning to realize just how much he likes The Fix, while Fix is having a time-period-typical crisis about liking Men, and the fact that the last time he liked a man (M. Bition) his feelings were used and manipulated to get a job done

> Communication is hard especially for men so they just don’t talk about it until Hunch gets himself into trouble because of course he does. It's not until after they have him patched up and stable again that one of the Wayward Interests (their name is Skipper, a pirate interest, they'll be relevant later) tells Hunch how scared Fix was. Hunch had no idea Fix could be scared of anything, let alone for him, but they finally talk and realize just how much they mean to each other and make things official between them

> After the last bad injury, Hunch starts using his walking cane! (yes I'm projecting chronic pain onto him) He's had it for a while but was too stubborn to use it and thought people might view him as less capable because of it, but he does need it. His partners actively encourage the use of it once discovering he needs it (and tell him he's very handsome with it<3) and Fix goes as far as to get him a fancy one so he feels more inclined to use it. This means so much to me.

> Uncle Hunch and Auncle (genderfluid aunt-uncle) Fucks. Hunch gets along with all the kids, utterly adores them. He puts on little cloud-puppet shows for them, always having some sugar-coated stories of cases to tell. Dan always pretends to hate them, calling them little shits or rapscallions, but they love playing with them, chasing them and spinning them around, making them laugh. Skipper, the pirate interest, quickly becomes their favorite because the kid keeps challenging them to fight and is incredibly cocky and adventurous. Their stubbornness is perhaps a bit too similar to Hunch.

> While Hunch and Fix are developing their relationship, Pasha and Dan find themselves with more time together. Dan helps out with the kids as much as they insist they don’t like them, but could also be found helping around the kitchen (Fix and Hunch are banned. Hunch gets distracted and mixed together horrible things and then the appliances are all just too small for Fix so he breaks them). Not only that, but Dan’s into fashion and likes helping Pasha find outfits… especially for an upcoming Nondescript Fancy Party. While Fix and Hunch are playing catch-up in their relationship, Dan and Pasha dance the night away tonight and Dan realizes their feelings might be more than just Sexual Attraction.

> Dan and Pasha, as pleasure and passion, aren’t exactly sure what they are but there’s something there. They’ll figure it out in time… as far as they’re concerned, they’ve got all the time in the world. It would be absolutely terrible if something awful were to happen to The Four that deeply traumatized them and set them back from any advancements in their relationships because they had to be more concerned with processing their own shit first.

It gets way darker from there so I’ll leave it with that vague ominous mention. Somewhere in the mess of events, Hunch and Dan get engaged as well, and eventually unofficially adopt Skipper. Their jobs aren’t exactly kid-friendly and they’re both workaholics so they wouldn’t be able to fully accommodate having a kid but in their many visits to the orphanage, Skipper started calling them mama (Dan) and papa (Hunch, of course). To throw in some more fun things while we’re here, Anna has a sort of maternal relationship with Hunch, very much a tired mother making sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid. I’m all about those found family vibes if you couldn’t tell. Hunch also gets a little stray cat! This is not important at all, I just love cats.

Just a. a glimpse at the few things that I am leaving out for the sake of my sanity and the sanity of those who made it thus far in reading. The unmentioned timeline includes, but is not limited to, a near death experience, a brutal murder, extreme manipulation and child endangerment. It got REAAAAL bad and it keeps getting worse unfortunately. I adore these four but for some reason they can’t ever be happy… but! I’m writing something perhaps a bit more hopeful for ao3 to spread my silly gay agenda.

[essektheylyss]

I'm only ranting about this here because I have to be utterly patient around my family but goddamn

My entire family has spent the last seven years belittling my sister and I as "brainwashed by our liberal professors" every time we talked about huge or systemic problems whether it was race or sexuality or religion

And my mother at the very least has finally figured it the fuck out and like good for fucking her (seriously she's halfway to being a police/prison abolitionist, never thought I'd see the day, fuck yeah y'all) but like.... She spent our entire childhoods encouraging us to be well read and critical thinkers and yet we've been told we were brainwashed for going to college for the last seven years??? How the fuck ???

White Christians are so fucking obsessed with "respect your father and mother" that the moment you start to challenge their thinking in anyway, whether it's patient or militant, you've been brainwashed by liberals. No, mom, I left my insular little Catholic community that I never fucked with in the first place and woke the fuck up???

[haro-whumps]

Group Whumpees 5: Tired

CW: Referenced/Implied noncon, shitty family relationships, faint from hunger, vomiting from fear, disassociation, slavery, aftermath of abuse, multiple whumpees

Tag list: @bleeding-demon-teeth @theycomeinthrees @redwingedwhump @whimperwoods @inpainandsuffering @whole-and-apart-and-between @whump-whump-whump-it-up @whumpingupastorm @newandfiguringitout @lonesome--hunter @looptheloup @icannotweave @cowboysrappin @deluxewhump @whumping-every-day @yeet-me-out-a-window @what-a-whumpy-world @burtlederp @constellationwhump @swordkallya @finder-of-rings @fairybean101 

Masterlist

He’d taken as many painkillers as his body mass allowed (and he was not a small man) but Galo’s headache was still going strong. It had been a few days since his aunt’s death, so funeral preparations were in their final stretch, the funeral itself the next day. Which, of course, meant that anything that could go wrong, was going wrong very presently.

“I told you, dad,” Galo said, rubbing at his temple with the hand not holding his phone, “After the funeral.”

“It hardly seems fair to me that you’ve got access to all her fuckin’ money whenever you goddamn feel like it and I have to wait--”

“Twenty four hours, dad,” Galo interrupted, which he knew was a bad idea in the long run because now he’d just pissed his father off but he was done having the exact same fucking conversation over and over and o-fucking-ver again! “I love you, I’ll see you tomorrow, goodbye.”

And now he’d done it. Hanging up on his father? A bad idea.

He turned his phone off.

“If anyone wants me,” he murmured to the ceiling, “they can have me tomorrow.”

Except… no, what if the funeral home called?

...He’d give it an hour. Enough time for his dad to give up. And if the funeral home was on the list of missed calls, well, hey. They’d leave a message, and he could get back to them then. It gave him a small thrill, defying his father like this. He was very good at keeping a brave face and putting up with his dad’s shit, on the basis that it was his father, and he loved him, and he also knew his dad could make things miserable for him if he responded in kind. But it was kind of nice to be the unreasonable one, for once. 

A very soft knock on the doorframe, and Galo closed his eyes and covered them with a hand. His head hurt so bad, fuck. And Nyla didn’t knock like that, hers were always crisp and clear, which meant the person knocking was one of the other four, and Galo had gotten… more or less okay at navigating around Nyla in the last few days. The others were still pretty enigmatic.

But. He couldn’t just ignore them. He removed his hand, sat up, and saw the last person he expected.

Lilah had largely been hidden from Galo’s view. He was more or less aware that the others were keeping her away from him on purpose, so it was something of a surprise to see her seeking him out intentionally, and without anyone else along with her.

“Hey, Lilah,” Galo said, voice quiet and gentle. He offered her a tired smile. “What’s up?”

“I’ve prepared the flower arrangements for tomorrow, Master. With,” Lilah licked her lips, barely a breath’s moment, “your approval, I will bring them inside, or remake them as you see fit.”

“Already?” Galo asked, pleasantly surprised, “It’s not even noon. Thanks, Lilah, yeah, let’s take a look.” He stood and crossed to the doorway, noting how Lilah grew visibly more and more tense as he got closer. He offered his hand to her, and she knelt and kissed it swiftly. Like he’d hoped, she seemed comforted by the familiar routine, and when she stood back up and followed after him she looked a little less like a frightened statue. Galo stretched his neck from side to side, wishing he had something as simple as that that he could look towards for comfort.

God, that was pathetic. It was probably a good thing Lilah came and grabbed him; staring at some flowers and a bit of fresh air would probably liven Galo’s mood. 

Auntie Bethany’s house phone rang.

“I should disconnect that,” he muttered, followed immediately by the thought, No, no you shouldn’t. Nyla uses the phone to do her job and you’ll need it if you ever have to contact them while you’re away. Stop whining.

Lilah was staring up at him through a loose brown wave of hair, her freckles stark and her injuries not as bad as when he’d first shown up, but still very, very obviously present. He offered her a smile, probably not as convincing as he would’ve liked, but this week had been a nightmare. He was so fucking tired and the funeral wasn’t even until tomorrow. God.

“Master,” Nyla greeted, floating into his peripheral and kneeling when she got close, delicately lifting his hand and kissing his knuckles, “A man claiming to be your father is on the line, Master.”

“Thank you Nyla,” Galo said, “That is my father, yes, and I need you to do something for me, okay? Go ahead and head back to whatever line you answered, and hang up without saying anything.”

Nyla’s surprise was the work of a microsecond, an almost imperceptible twitch to the edge of her ever-present smile. “Yes Master.”

Galo watched her slip away and then turned back to Lilah, offering another smile that was probably even less convincing. “Onward to the garden, eh?”

He kept an eye on her in his peripheral, figuring staring at her directly would freak her out. “Haven’t seen you around much” would be a quick way to get her scared and feeling like she’d done something wrong. “It’s good to see you” probably couldn’t hurt? But then, most anything could hurt, in this place.

“How’ve you been, Lilah?” he settled on eventually, nearing the door to the gardens. Nope, still a bad guess. Her eyes widened, staring vacantly ahead of her, hands fisted in the hem of her shirt. He tried giving her a moment to process his words, maybe give an answer, but he worried she wouldn’t even see the door until she walked right into it. Cautiously, he extended one arm out in front of her, and placed the other gently on her back with a concerned, “Lilah?”

She jumped and stumbled, which he was glad he’d expected. She landed on his outstretched arm, gloved fingers digging briefly into his muscles before she righted herself.

“Sorry Master,” she breathed, words hardly loud enough to hear.

“No big,” Galo assured. “Just got a little worried about you for a second there. You were about to walk into the door.”

“Sorry sir--Sorry Master.”

“You’re okay,” Galo said, carefully placing his hand on her head. Head pats worked for Nyla, once she recognized them for what they were, he could only hope they might work for Lilah too. “You’re good,” he tried, remembering that that tended to go over better. 

Lilah glanced up at him, surprised, and his smile was a little more genuine that round. He’d guessed right, it looked like. She glanced down, eyes wide and peculiarly unblinking, and murmured, “Thank you Master.”

He held the door open for her, ushering her out of the mansion, and he caught sight of the floral arrangements, all of them perched on the lip of the fountain in the center of the weird hedge crop-circle. It was a bit of a walk, but probably central to all of the flowers that Lilah would’ve been working with. And honestly? He needed a walk.

They were about halfway between the house and the exterior hedge when Lilah quietly said, “I have been grateful for the challenge and stimulation of the flower arrangements, Master. I have enjoyed serving you in this way.”

Galo glanced at her, then moved his eyes purposefully forward. “I’m glad. It can be nice to break from routine.”

“Master,” Nyla called softly, and Galo twitched, already knowing what she was about to say. He turned anyway, trying to keep his sour expression off his face. Nyla wasn’t at a point where she would understand he wasn’t upset with her. She pat down her apron when she got close enough to the two of them that she could speak without raising her voice, and curtsied. 

“Your father has called again, Master.”

Galo’s eye twitched involuntarily, and he rubbed at it, feeling the absolute last of his patience start to fray. “Figures.” When he got back in the house, he was finding one of those really oversized wine glasses and filling it to the fucking top. “Okay, here’s what to do now. Leave the phone off the hook, and ignore it. Do not hang it up, and even when it starts blaring the busy signal and fast busy signal, continue to not hang it up. Please let Evan and Greyson--and Sasha, I guess, if you feel like it’s a concern--know not to hang it up, and then go back to your day, alright?”

“Yes Master,” Nyla said, bowing shallowly and then twirling with an attractive flair of her skirts, and returning to the mansion. Galo took a deep, slow breath, covering his face with his hands, and then, for good measure, took another one. He dropped his hands and offered a terse smile to Lilah. 

“Now the flower arrangements.”

“Yes Master!” Lilah gasped, ducking her head and arms circling herself, stumbling as she first backed up, then turned and sped-walked like the world’s angriest roomba was hot on her heels.

“Shit,” Galo breathed to himself, rubbing at his face. Another mistake. He knew he had to accept that he would be making a lot of those, but it was hard to do when each mistake hurt or panicked the people in his care. His long legs caught up with her easily, and a concerned glance at her face revealed she was once again fish-eyed.

“Lilah,” he said gently, arm once again extended in front of her and his fingers lightly tapping her spine. She came to a dead halt, shoulders up to her ears, breathing shallow.

“Lilah, take a deep breath for me please. Nice and slow.”

She tried, it was obvious she was trying. Just not succeeding very well. “That’s it,” he encouraged anyways, “that’s better, keep trying for me, you’re doing great. In,” he breathed in deeply, loudly through his nose, “and out,” he let it out slowly, “Try to match me; it’s okay if it takes a few tries. In,” Lilah got closer, and Galo pressed his palm encouragingly against her back, “and out, there you go Lilah, do that three more times for me.”

She did, and it hurt, how hard this was for her, how scared of him she was. It ached that people could be so frightened by him, when he’d never wanted to hurt anybody.

“There, Lilah, atta girl,” he said, keeping his tone as gentle as he could. No matter how tired and stressed (and pissed) he was, he needed to look out for Lilah and the others, first and foremost. His own emotions could take a backburner, for a little while.

He turned his attention to the flower arrangements, removing the weight of his attention from her, and approached the closest one. “These are lovely, Lilah,” he praised. Too good for Auntie Bethany, he thought privately, slowly rounding the large fountain. “They look really professional; how long have you been doing this sort of thing?”

“I have arranged bouquets for Mistress Bethany’s decor for four years, Master.”

Four whole years, he thought, and glanced at her, keeping his nose pointed towards a gladioli. She was so… small. He was sure it didn’t help that she was curled in on herself standing up, hugging her own arms and staring into the middle distance with the occasional twitch and glance his way, before staring out into space again.

“Lilah, how old are you?” Galo asked, keeping his tone conversational. Idly, he pinched a dead leaf that had been trimmed, but fallen in between the stems, and flicked it away.

“Eighteen, Master.”

Minus four years meant she was fourteen when Auntie Bethany had bought her. That felt so, impossibly young. Logically, it made sense; that was about the age she’d gotten Greyson. Obviously, Galo didn’t remember that part of his life very well, given that he’d been preoccupied riding tricycles and singing his ABC’s, but he also couldn’t remember a point in his life when Auntie Bethany hadn’t had Greyson. God, when he was fourteen he’d been trying out for the swim team and worrying about his grade in history, and Lilah had been indoctrinated into… this.

Everything felt tired and heavy. He hid behind a flower arrangement opposite the fountain to Lilah, and tried to muster up some strength or courage or god knew what to get him through this. He was going to drink a very large glass of wine, and then take a nap. 

In an ironic twist, he felt bad for hating the fact that he had to walk on eggshells every single time he decided to do literally anything, around these five. But he did hate it. It was so hard, but he didn’t know what else to do, but how dare he feel frustrated when they were the torture victims?! It was hardly fair of him. 

He rounded back around the fountain, smile at the ready, and gave Lilah a gentle pat on the back. “Good job, Lilah, these are all perfect.” From the heel of his palm to the tip of his middle finger, his hand covered the majority of her back. She was so, so small. He started to walk past her, slow, telegraphing his movements plainly. She turned, but something must have gone wrong because when she listed to the side, she couldn’t reorient fast enough. He caught her, doll-like in his arms, but where he expected her to simply lean on him a moment to regain her footing like she had earlier, her knees buckled.

“Easy, girl,” Galo said, alarmed, kneeling down to settle her on the grass. “Easy, easy, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry Master!” she whined, covering her mouth with one hand, her other braced on the ground. She sounded like she was about to cry.

“No need,” Galo hushed, touching the back of his hand to her forehead. No fever, maybe a little cool even. “You don’t need to be sorry, Lilah, I’m just worried.” He stroked a hand gently, shallowly up and down her back (she didn’t have a ton of back to rub). “What happened there?”

“I’m--dizzy, Master.”

“Okay, do you know why you’re feeling dizzy?” 

She took another deep-ish breath, and it twinged his heart to see her trying so hard. “I’m hungry, Master,” she answered very quietly.

“Did you not eat breakfast?” Galo asked, brow furrowed. He moved his hand to touch her wrist, feeling her pulse there. A little quick.

“No, Master, I haven’t eaten anything since the last time you gave us permission--none of us have, I promise. We’ve been good, Master, please, we’ve been very good,” she pleaded, desperately looking his way once before returning her eyes to the ground.

…Fuck. Fuck. He’d had his suspicions, from their thinness, that Auntie Bethany had revoked food as a punishment, but he could never have guessed that their default was not eating until they were told to.

“Okay, thank you for answering Lilah. You did good,” he said, gears in his head turning slowly. “You’ve all been drinking water though, right?” Because if that wasn’t the case he had a brand new priority that needed to be taken care of immediately.

Lilah glanced at him in sheer terror, but he didn’t backtrack or rephrase. This question needed answered.

“Yes, Master,” she said tremulously, body tense.

“Good girl, Lilah. That’s what you were meant to do.”

She relaxed a half-step. He watched her swallow, and she nodded, just barely, as though to herself.

“You’ve all been bathing?”

“Yes Master,” she said with a shaky but improved sort of confidence.

“Good,” he praised. He knew they’d been grooming their hair--Nyla’s never looked out of place, and Sasha’s and Evan’s were neatly combed. “Was it just eating that my aunt made you wait for permission for?”

“I--” she swallowed, licked her lips, and took another deep breath, “--don’t know, Master, I think so.”

“Okay? Were there other things you couldn’t do until you got permission?”

Lilah glanced at him, panicked, and he held up a hand to halt her.

“That was too broad, let me rephrase. Are there things you need that you have to get permission for?”

“Just food, Master, and sleep, but, we go to bed when our owner does?” Lilah didn’t sound very sure of herself, scared of getting the answer wrong.

“Well done, Lilah, good girl. Okay, you’ve all done very well for me, and you all definitely deserve to eat. Let’s go get some food in you.”

Lilah perked up, staring up at Galo as he stood with surprised sort of delight. He held out a hand for her and she kissed it, which, well, honestly he should’ve been expecting. “Grab on, I’ll help you stand,” Galo redirected, and she placed her (tiny, so fucking tiny god) hand in his own. She was a little like Nyla, where she barely put any of her weight into that touch, but at least he could feel something there, unlike Nyla.

“Alright, quickest route to the kitchen would be… through the garage?” Galo mused aloud, “Or, well, the shed-garage-hybrid-thing?” Honestly why did Auntie Bethany even have two garages? Only one actually attached to the driveway, the other hosted the mower-tractor thing that Galo should probably learn the official name of and all the gardening supplies, but still. Half of the car garage could be used to store landscaping stuff! No one needed that many actual cars; the size of it was, like everything else here, absurd.

“Yes, Master.” Both of them were attached to the mansion, too, the rear one near the kitchen. Convenient, like fucking everything around here, huh? He held the wooden door open for her, ushering her in first, and rubbed at his undercut tiredly. 

She stumbled again, her hand shooting out to catch herself on the wall, and in doing so she smacked the handle of a rake. Galo shot his arm out, intending to catch the thing before it smacked into her, and the metal teeth caught him on the forearm.

“Shit!” he swore, tossing the rake to the floor and gripping his arm near the elbow. He examined the wound--shallow, but it stung like a bitch--before turning eyes on Lilah, who was, predictably, petrified. She’d been on the brink of panic all day, and Galo became instantly aware that this would send her into an attack. He wasn’t--it was all moving so fast he couldn’t--she looked so scared and--

“Lilah, go stick an ice cube in your mouth,” he ordered, loud and mercifully firm. It was a trick he’d read online somewhere, and he could only hope it worked.

Fortunately, step one of the ice cube trick: disorientation, seemed to do its job.

“I--Master?” she squeaked.

“Lilah, go stick an ice cube in your mouth,” he repeated, ideally with the same tone and inflection as the first time. “If it melts before I get there, do a second one. Go.”

She went. Step two of the trick: movement, fed into a person’s fight or flight response, allowing their monkey hindbrain to feel like they were running away from the threat. Galo imagined that actually being away from him--the “threat” of the situation--would help calm her down, too.

Steps three and four: tactile stimulation to ground the person in reality, and a forced kickstart to the salivary glands that took bodily attention away from fight or flight, would happen, ideally, while he was rubbing hydrogen peroxide on this and sticking some bandaids on top. She would be scared, no doubt about that, but hopefully, hopefully, a panic attack had been circumvented. It also bought him some time to think, which he needed.

He cleaned up his arm--ouch, it stung--and grabbed his box of protein energy bars. There were only six to a box, and he’d already had at least one, so he was relieved to see he still had five left. These would do until lunch time.

He went to the kitchen, where he found Lilah bent over the sink--should he… have instructed her to swallow the melted water? He kinda hadn’t thought he would need to, but that probably didn’t matter at this point--and Sasha with her hands on Lilah’s shoulders, bent over her in concern. Sasha released her and backed away when she saw Galo enter, eyes wide and afraid, and Galo extended his hand to her, high up near her face. Sasha had a tendency of going directly to her knees whenever he was in the same room as her, which wasn’t very sanitary or necessary or anything he was particularly fond of her doing, so his way around it was to give her his hand to kiss, but high enough up she had to stay standing to do it. Nyla and Greyson would sometimes move his hands in order to kiss them, but Sasha never did.

“Hey Sasha, here, eat this,” he said, handing her a power bar, and he set the box with the remaining four on the counter. He leaned his hip against the lip of the sink and placed his palm on Lilah’s back, making her squeak.

“You’re alright, Lilah. I know it was an accident.” 

“I’m sorry Master,” she hiccupped, crying, and the ice cube fell out on the last syllable.

“I know, I know, it’s okay,” Galo assured, rubbing a hand over her back and bracing her by the shoulder. “It’s okay, Lilah. You’re sorry, it was an accident, it’s okay.” She was trembling so hard, fuck. “Take it easy, Lilah, deep breaths for me, okay?” And she tried. God, she tried so hard, he could tell, and he stayed next to her, rubbing her back until she seemed more or less able to walk without collapsing from fear or her own sobs.

“Here, Lilah,” he said, handing her a power bar. “Eat this and go lie down until lunch, okay? You are officially taking the rest of the day off, no work until tomorrow for you.”

“Master?” she squeaked. 

“That’s an order, Lilah,” he said as gently as he could. She took the bar in trembling fingers and left the kitchen in a rush, and Galo rubbed at his undercut, trying not to sigh. Ugh, he really needed a hair trim.

“Sasha,” he said, tone even and light, and she still flinched, the empty wrapper of her energy bar crinkling in her anxious fist. “When you get started on lunch, make enough for six, yeah?”

She nodded, looking surprised but briefly pleased, and he surveyed the kitchen. Everywhere were trees and stacks and platters of foodstuffs, probably waaay more than the funeral would actually need, but eh. Whatever. He could afford to be a little wasteful.

“Sasha,” he said, approaching her, and her wide blue eyes stared up at him in terror. “I’m giving you a new set of responsibilities, okay? From now on, you need to make three meals a day for everyone, every day. You’re in charge of making sure everyone eats. Unless I revoke food privileges,” which he never would, but Sasha likely wouldn’t believe that, “you’re in charge of everyone having at least three meals. If someone’s hungry between meals, it’s your job to feed them then, too. Alright?”

Sasha nodded, and Galo let out a tiny sigh of relief. Good, it stuck, she didn’t look confused and wasn’t searching his face like she might tell where the catch was. Framing it as one of her responsibilities had worked. “I’ll let Nyla know about the change, too.”

He stopped her before she could drop to her knees by holding his hand out to her a second time, and she kissed it again.

“Good girl,” he praised, settling his left hand on her right shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. It was the spot that she was most receptive to, he was pretty sure. She didn’t like her left shoulder touched, and anywhere on the face or head was a definite no-go, but she would occasionally lean into the touch if it was on her right shoulder. “I know I can count on you.”

Fear was replaced by a starry eyed awe, and no small amount of surprise. He gave her shoulder another squeeze, and left the kitchen.

Aw fuck, someone still had to bring the floral arrangements inside to protect them from weather damage. He snagged a bottle of wine while he was halfway through the door, pulled out the stopper, and drank straight from the bottle. His nap would have to wait.

--

Lilah staggered into the kitchen, door banging against the wall and making Sasha jump.

“Sorry,” Lilah whispered, unable to see very well. She landed somewhere on the lip of counter between the sink and the fridge, fingers digging into the marbe hard enough she had to have reopened a scab. She could see the red. She couldn’t feel it.

“Lilah?” Sasha asked, sounding horrified, and Lilah could relate. Her fingers struggled to grip the freezer door handle, and it was even harder to fight past the suction and pry the thing open.

“Lilah h-honey what’s wr-wrong?” Sasha asked urgently, quietly.

I have to put ice in my mouth and I hurt Master Galo warred for dominance, each equally important. One was the order she had to follow. The other was the explanation for whatever was about to happen to her, so Sasha wouldn’t be confused when Lilah was punished on the kitchen tile.

“Ice,” Lilah gasped, crying already. It was worse, when she started crying before the punishment began. If she could hold it in until the first or second swing (she never made it further than that) then sometimes Mistress could be convinced that she was being sufficiently punished, and the pain was the only cause. But crying beforehand was a punishable offense. And Lilah already deserved to be punished so badly.

“I need to put ice in my mouth,” Lilah choked out, “I have to leave it there until it melts, and i-if it melts before Master arrives I have to do a second one.”

Sasha handed her an ice wedge and Lilah put it in her mouth, the sharp cold making her hiccup. It--disoriented her, stung, almost, distracted her from her fear for a moment. She didn’t understand what the point of this was--maybe Master Galo had a sensitive mouth, and the ice would become rapidly intolerable for him? Mistress had always come down hard on their knees, especially when her own were flaring up. 

If Master Galo planned on hitting her like Mistress had--

Lilah rushed to the sink, managing to make the couple steps before she vomited. Water and bile came up, plus the ice, and she sobbed once, daringly loud for someone already in trouble. She extended her hand, she needed to--

“No, L-Lilah, no, j-just get a n-new one,” Sasha interrupted, moving Lilah’s hand away from the ice in the sink and turning the hot water on. “You b-barely st-started that one,” then, quieter, “h-he won’t kn-know.”

Lilah put the new ice wedge in her mouth and watched the hot water melt the ice in the sink, rinsing away the bile as well. Sasha kept an arm around Lilah’s back, hand trembling on her shoulder, and turned the water off the moment the melted ice was small enough to fit down the drain. Sasha’s other hand came to Lilah’s other shoulder, and Lilah keened softly. She tongued the ice into her cheek and said, miserably, “I hurt Master.” Lilah choked on a sob. “I hurt him.”

“Oh, Lilah…” Sasha gasped, and Lilah didn’t need to look to know she was near-tears herself. Lilah wished she could stop crying. She wished she could go Quiet, but that probably wouldn’t happen until at least partway through the beating. 

Of the two kitchen doors, it was the closer one that Master came in through, and it took every ounce of willpower Lilah had to not throw up again. Sasha’s presence left her, and while it stripped her of the physical comfort her being there gave Lilah, it gave a different comfort that Sasha had gotten out of the way in time.

Except Master Galo was talking to her first, apparently, and Lilah’s ears were ringing high and whining. She caught the tail end, though, and it was a great relief against the wall of her sheer terror to know that at least, her fuckup hadn’t taken food from the rest of the group. Master was letting Sasha eat. It was just Lilah that would stay hungry.

When she felt his hand on her back, she nearly screamed, barely able to choke it back. He was talking to her, but some words were missing.

She apologized. She tried to obey. She tried to understand what kind of mindgame it was, that he was still comforting her, and not hurting her, but it was hard just to think, right then, much less puzzle out where the trap was going to spring from. 

Then he told her to eat, and rest, and not to work, and she didn’t understand!

But an order was an order, so she ran from the kitchen, stumbled her way to their bedroom and collapsed on the floor, door ajar and bed nearby but unable to make it there. The pain in her shoulder from where she’d fallen… it wasn’t good, but it helped ground her. It made sense, when she was so scared and confused like this. She sobbed into her gloves, curled up in around herself, power bar crunching in her hand beneath its wrapper. 

She sobbed for an indeterminate amount of time, and was surprised when strong arms lifted her up. But she’d recognize that scent anywhere, even if she couldn’t see straight right then.

“Evan!” she sobbed, clinging to him, and she felt more than heard him shush her, his breath warm on her ear and the side of her face. 

“Easy munchkin,” Evan said, setting her down on the edge of the bed and prying off her work boots, then picking her back up and settling himself up against the headboard, Lilah in his lap. “Easy baby girl, where’s it hurt?”

“Nowhere!” she wailed, fisting a hand in her hair. “He, he didn’t punish me at all,” she hiccupped, and Evan made an angry little “tch” noise. 

“What the fuck is that bastard’s game?!” he asked quietly, mouth muffled in her hair, and his arms wrapped around her so tight and safe, nosing against the top of her head, and she wiped at her eyes.

“Sh-shouldn’t call him a bastard, Ev,” Lilah reminded, her crying finally winding down.

“Yeah, well, he should act like a normal person,” Evan grumbled, gently tugging off her glove, and then prying her fingers out of the energy bar in her other hand, one arm around her at all times. “C’mon, lil lady, he ordered us to eat.”

“I shouldn’t be,” Lilah grumbled miserably as Evan tugged off her other glove, then shoved his (undamaged) power bar into her hands. “If anything made sense anymore, I wouldn’t be.”

“Yeah, well, the dude’s confusing as all hell and the rules are different now. At least he’s done fuckin’ starving us.” Evan ripped open his own (Lilah’s) power bar and picked up one of the chunks, tossing it into his mouth. “For now.”

“I think… he just wanted to prove he could?” Lilah said hesitantly, nibbling on hers so she wouldn’t vomit again. “He asked a lot of strange questions, when I was showing him the flower arrangements.”

“All his questions are strange.”

“Stranger than usual,” Lilah insisted, and Evan pressed a kiss to the top of her hair.

“I believe you, baby girl.”

“Thanks, baby boy.”

“Hey,” he said, giving a lock of her hair a playful tug, “Who are you calling baby? I’m an adult man, thank you very much.”

“And I’m an adult woman, your point?”

Because, technically, Lilah hadn’t been lying to Master Galo in the garden. She was eighteen--probably. Somewhere around there, at the very least. She didn’t know when her birthday was exactly, and she never had any reason to know what day or month it was, but she knew she had been born sometime in this season. So. Eighteen, plus or minus maybe a month or two.

“Noooo, you’re like, ten.”

“Jackass,” she said quietly, knowing fully well that she was saying a forbidden word.

“Baby girl. Baby.”

“Dickhead,” she said with a small, wet giggle.

“Itty bitty little munchkin.”

“Bastard man.”

“Precious baby angel.” She swatted his hand when he tried to pinch her cheek. “Sweet little cherub.”

“Asshole.”

“No no no, wait, I’ve got it,” Evan said with a snap of his fingers, and Lilah tilted her head, curious, no longer crying at all. “You’re my sweet precious darling little--”

She squealed when he jerked in and blew a raspberry on her neck, barely keeping her voice down, collapsing into giggles when he let up. 

“Terrible stinky man!” she said, grinning wide and shoving his face away from her with one hand, trying to wriggle out of his arms, which were very strong and holding her in place. “Awful little dirt gremlin! Nasty boy!”

He let her go, suddenly, and she landed on the bed with a quiet “oof!” He laughed at her, and tilted his head back to down the crushed up bits of his power bar, and she took a decisive bite out of hers, glaring at him. He smiled “innocently” at her and her glare narrowed, taking another bite.

“What’s up, lil lady? You look upset there.”

It might have soured the mood--her face was tearstained and ruddy, she knew--but it was Evan, so it didn’t.

“Yeah, I just have a no-brains for a best friend,” she retorted, finishing off her power bar and chucking the wrapper at him. 

“Hey, stupid and beautiful are a pair of traits that are in high demand when they’re together.”

“I’ll give you that,” Lilah said, crawling back up to the headboard and flopping her head down into his lap. “I guess you’re pretty enough to give a free pass. This time.”

“I’m honored,” Evan said sarcastically, finishing off the crumbs in his wrapper and letting it drop onto her face. She blew at it.

Evan was, about half the time, Lilah’s first and so-far-only real crush. The other half the time, he was her dumb big brother who stuck things in his nostrils to make her laugh. He was her favorite person ever, not that she’d tell the others that (although, they probably knew), and she could count on him to look out for her and cheer her up.

He placed his large, warm palm on her back and stroked it gently, easy on the bruises that were still there, on the scabs and cuts and scars. She sighed contentedly and sank into his warmth, into the comfort his presence always, always provided.

“I’m supposed to rest until lunch,” she told him quietly, soothed by the familiar hand on her back, “And then I’m supposed to stay here for the rest of the day.”

“Doing what?” Evan asked, sounding uncomfortable, almost-angry like he was ready to be mad, but not sure what to be mad at yet.

“Dunno,” she said, shifting a little so she wasn’t lying on the shoulder she’d fallen onto quite as directly. “He said I’m not allowed to do any work for the rest of the day.”

Evan swallowed hard.

“He asked me how old I was, earlier, before I messed up.”

“That bastard,” Evan breathed. “After Nyla went to him, and he told her he’s not gonna fuck us, now he’s gonna--!”

“I’ll be fine, Ev,” Lilah cut him off, not wanting to rile him up. An angry Evan was a stupid-as-all-shit Evan. “You and Grey always made it out the other end. I’ll be okay.” Even if the thought was terrifying. Even if putting those particular pieces together made her want to go glass eyed and Quiet. 

Evan lifted her and hugged her fiercely, and she hugged back, wrung out and exhausted, now that all her adrenaline was spent. She wished she had the ability to not-exist. Even just for a little while.

“Um, y-you two,” Sasha said, nudging the door open with her hip. Two plates were on the tray she carried, and both of them frowned in confusion.

“Sasha?”

“I’m, uh, in ch-charge of making sure e-everyone e-eats, now. M-Master changed the r-rules.”

Lilah took a plate Sasha extended to her, and so did Evan, both of them baffled. “W-we have t-to eat three t-times a day, n-now. Minimum. He said--said it was my job. A-and to feed you, if yo-you’re hungry between m-meals, too.”

Evan snarled, but it melted away into gloomy simmering pretty quick. “Guess that’s one way to see how quickly we can dance to his tune. Starve us for days then turn the rules on their heads.”

“M-maybe he’s, being nice?” Sasha suggested, sounding almost hopeful, and Evan leveled her with a flat look. Lilah subtly punched him in the thigh.

“Who knows. You go eat too, Sasha,” Lilah said, and Evan sighed when the door clicked closed.

“Can’t figure that bastard out,” he muttered, digging into the food.

When he left, he took Lilah’s plate with him, and she was left alone in the family bed, tired but unable to fall asleep in the middle of the day. So her mind went mercifully, wonderfully Quiet.

Next

[flingthefluelontheflire]

Rare Ship Week Day 6: Family

Fandom: Welcome to Hell

Ship: LilJo (Lil and Jojo)

Word Count: 1348

Jojo was doing her best to flip through a magazine unnoticed, when her charge suddenly slammed her textbook closed. She turned around just in time to see Lil angrily sign off of the library’s computer, snatch up her bookbag, and stalk over to where Jojo was lounging.

Lil’s apartment didn’t have a computer, much less internet, so whenever she had online homework to do, she dragged Jojo down the street to the public library. Jojo was getting so familiar with the Teen section that she could tell when somebody had put a book back the wrong way (and the solution to this problem, she’d learned, was definitely not to interrupt Lil and tell her about it). Today, someone had left a magazine out on the floor, and Jojo was draped over the end of a beanbag chair trying to read it inconspicuously.

For now, though, it would be better to focus on Lil, who heaved an irritated sigh and flopped down in the nearest armchair. “Wassup?”

After checking to make sure no one was near by, Lil whispered, “This assignment is stupid. My teacher’s stupid. Everything is stupid and I wanna go home.”

“Did you get it done, at least?” Jojo asked, worried. Although recently she’d taken on the title of ‘girlfriend’, her actual job was still to ‘provide guidance’, whatever that meant. Most of the time, it meant pestering Lil to get her homework done. Like now, for instance.

Lil snorted and shook her head, and Jojo scowled. Again checking for eavesdroppers, Lil leaned forward conspiratorially and plucked the magazine from the floor. “It’s dumb and I can’t do it.”

“Oh, please--”

“Don’t you ‘oh, please’ me. I literally have no clue what to put down.”

“Can’t you look it up?”

“Oh, yeah, let me just look up my absent father’s family history. Real easy.”

Now she was just confused. “Family history?”

Lil flipped boredly though the magazine, pausing to peel some sticky pages apart. “Yeah, it’s like a family tree thing. Like I know anything about my family, besides my mom.”

“Don’t you have grandparents?”

“Yeah. Do I know them? No.”

“Can you ask your mom?”

A strange look crossed Lil’s face. “Y’know, I actually brought up my grandparents once, and it didn’t end well.” She sighed. “Actually, I’d say that conversation ended pretty badly.”

“Oh.” Jojo wasn’t sure what else she could say. The whole thing sounded like a mess she’d rather not know about. From her observations, she viewed Lil’s mother as a slightly airheaded, well-meaning woman with a job that put way too much stress on her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to challenge that image with history.

“And my dad’s side--god, that’s not even worth getting into.” Lil dropped the magazine back onto the floor, and Jojo winced. The two girls were silent for several long minutes. An awkward, acne-faced middle schooler came and went. Finally, Lil spoke, and Jojo was surprised to hear tears lurking under her words. “It’s just like, everyone else has perfect little fucking families, and I’ve just got this hot mess.”

Jojo bit her lip and adjusted herself awkwardly on the beanbag chair. She couldn’t say much that would be comforting. After all, before she’d died, she had had one of those ‘perfect little fucking families’. True, there had been some rumblings of trouble--Jojo suspected that her mother had been pregnant, and that it wasn’t her dad’s kid--but then death had happened, and all of a sudden family ties hadn’t really mattered any more.

Meanwhile Lil was still ranting under her breath. “Oh, yeah, let’s just do a unit on immigration and tracking our family histories back, everyone knows that, oh wait, except for me because of course.”

“‘Of course’ what?” Jojo broke in, and Lil jumped at the interruption.

“I mean, of course I don’t know this about myself. Where my family is from.” Lil tucked her feet under her thighs, tugging the sleeves of her jacket down over her hands. “D’you know where your family’s from?”

“Uh,” Jojo thought back; surely her mother had lectured her about this, right? “...France? Maybe?”

“See? Even you know, and you’re dead.” Humming in frustration, Lil buried her face behind her arms. Jojo faintly heard a muffled, “It’s not fair.”

Another bout of silence, and Jojo was getting nervous with how quiet Lil was becoming. She tried to reason, briefly, that since they were in a library, being quiet made the most sense, but Lil’s hard breathing put an end to that train of thought.

Gingerly, she reached out to rub Lil’s shoulder. “Hey--”

Abruptly, Lil threw off her hand, standing up and glaring at Jojo over her shoulder. Her words came out as a hiss. “I don’t need your fucking sympathy.”

Before Jojo had the time to be indignant, to get angry, Lil stomped off, heading for the doors.

Jojo floated to a standing position, positively seething. She felt her face getting hot, knew that, if someone looked closely, they’d be able to see the heat shimmer surrounding her body, and completely failed to give a shit. She kicked at the magazine, even though it did nothing. She stomped her foot, which also did nothing, and only made her more frustrated.

What she did not do was follow Lil home.

Instead, she floated around the library for an hour, two hours, three hours. She was still there when they closed, almost five hours after Lil had left. She was still there at midnight, although by then, she’d stopped seething and started thinking.

It really wasn’t fair.

And she knew what the logical response was, what her dad would say--’the world’s not fair, Jojo’--and she knew that, but this was Lil, and Lil deserved better.

In the middle of the nonfiction section, next to a shelf about knitting, she stopped, and made her decision. Lil deserved better. Lil deserved to know.

If she’d been alive, figuring out how to get this information--a lost family history--would have been nearly impossible. So, Jojo thought as she drifted up to phase through the ceiling, being dead would seem to have a few perks, after all.

Even if what she was about to do was probably ten kinds of illegal. All the way back to Heaven, she repeated to herself: Lil deserves better.

Lil deserves to know.

------

The next morning, Lil woke up to a bright warmth on her cheek. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to see Jojo sitting on the edge of her bed, looking decidedly not-pissed. Holding back a yawn, Lil sat up. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Recalling her actions the evening before, Lil resisted the urge to slap herself in the face. Sure, her situation was shitty, and sure, she’d get a shit grade on the assignment, but it wasn’t Jojo’s fault. “Look, Jo--”

“Your dad’s name is Jason Young.”

Lil’s breath stopped short. Of course she’d already known that--had known it since second grade, when her mom finally told her about a week-long tryst that ended in the baby known as Magill Nancy--but how the fuck had Jojo found out?

Meanwhile, Jojo continued. “You have a half-sister in California and two half-brothers in Oklahoma. Both of your dad’s parents are dead, but your mom’s parents are still alive.”

“Wait--”

“Your mom’s parent’s names are James and Charlotte.”

“How--”

“Your mom had an older sister named Lydia who died in a car crash when she was twenty-one.”

“How the hell--”

“I looked up your file.” Jojo’s smile became sheepish. “Sorry.”

It took a minute for the words to sink in. “...You looked up my family? In Heaven?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I peeked at the files, I didn’t like, track them down, or anything.”

“...I have family in Heaven?”

“Yeah, apparently your aunt works in accounting.”

The laughter came on so gradually that even Lil was surprised when it bubbled out of her mouth. Between giggles, she managed, “I don’t know why that’s so funny!”

Jojo smirked. “It’s kinda weird, yeah.” Standing up, Jojo floated over Lil’s bed and placed another peck on her cheek. “Now finish your dumb homework.”

[3652k17]

April 21st

Well my drive down was nice and extremely reminiscent of all my previous drives. I got to Tech early, so I went off to Tabor to crack open a bottle of champagne and look at that view again. It was nice, but it wasn’t the same as when I used to live there. It made me miss Brooke and Robin, and just getting drunk until the next Owens shift. 

I went down Whipple, just for old memories sake. It was super hot, and I didn’t fancy just drinking in my car, so I drove over to Connors. His apartment wasn’t much, but I guess it was in a good location. He’s really changed since I’ve last seen him. The depression has really hit him hard. He’s gained a ton of weight, and seems to be taking the Colin Scott way of graduating, where he drinks everything in sight and avoids responsibility. Anyway, around 2:30, I headed off to Owens like usual. I didn’t park up where I used to, but it was just down the ways. I wanted to go in the back dock entrance, but I wasn’t sure if I really could anymore, so I went in the front entrance. 

Instantly that Owens smell hit my nostrils. I could hear the clatter of plates, and just for a minute I was taken back to every Sunday afternoon meeting that I came in for. Every midshift I decided to help out for. Every late night dismissal from Drew as Dereyk and I walked out. Once I got up to the managers station, I was bombarded by hugs and yelps. I honestly cant really remember who was all there, but I was touched all the same. Tony hugged me several times, which that moment alone is something I won’t forget in a hurry. He told me what had been going on, and then told me to go and change. I hadn’t seen Colin yet, but Tony had claimed, “He’s waiting for you back in plastic wash”. Even though I knew this wasn’t true, it brought me right back. I went into the bathroom and too a few more shots, but I was careful not to overdo it. I went back out and ended up talking to a few more before being told to go and cover Freshens. Strangely I thought that Monica would annoy me, as she was trying to be me, but she didn’t. I was a mess in Freshens, I mean it was my weakest shop to begin with, but they have changed everything around, and added a few more things. Still I was in there by myself and I had to make it work. Thinking back, it reminded me of a Saturday shift, where I didn’t really want to be in there, but I knew it wouldn’t be long. Lauren stopped by and couldn’t believe I was in Freshsens by myself after doing Potwash. I told her it was good to be back, and I guess it was. Tony had to leave early, even though he told me that he was going to stay until close that night. Unfortunately this meant that I was going to have to close with Drew. With no Dereyk to defend me. I teased Tony for leaving, for being pathetic and not finishing a shift, and he just laughed and hugged me again. I couldn’t believe how nice he and Lauren were being. I knew I was his fave. 

Finally Drew came up and told me that I needed to back to my home, the reason I was here, to relieve Maryanne. Shawnee stopped by, despite being in the middle burying her Aunt, just to see me. I took a picture with them, so that I had some memory of the day. I was unbelievable touched, but once again, I couldn’t express myself. I went back to pasta and found that they had moved a few more things around, but I was in for the best surprise of the day. When I was back messing around in potwash like old times, I heard someone come in and yell, “NO WAY sis is that you?” I turned around and saw a beaming brother Will holding a pot. Turns out he had singed up for a steamer shift, which meant we were going to be spending the evening together like old times. Even typing this makes my heart swell. God I had missed him. It wasn’t a shift unless he and I were joking around with egg roll challenges, and teasing each other about our stupid made up childhoods. Even though it was amazing to be back with the regulars, I felt the lack of power. I was partially the “who the hell is this” girl. So with Will and I set to work Parm, I nestled myself in the middle for the sauces, and stood by to cover for Maryanne. Unfortunately, one person wasn’t enough for the record breaking line, so they sent in another FPS, and finally Colin Scott and I were reunited behind the counter of Pasta. I had only said one thing to him earlier, when he came through the carvery line, and had called him Blake. I did it because I knew that it would annoy him, but I left it at that. 

The night passed pretty quickly from there, as we were kept pretty busy with the endless customers. Col and I hardly said a word to each other, something that I remarked as the time drew closer to 8pm. He finally said, “Well I only say long or short, so unless you want to take one of those as an insult...” and that was pretty much it, other than a shared chuckle over him messing up the pasta serving size. After that we parted ways, and didn’t say another thing to each other. Even though part of me still doesn’t believe it, I guess it honestly was to be expected. I feel like most of Owens was expecting it to be like old times, but it just wasn’t. I guess it was something new, some place that I didn't’ belong anymore. 

They put me on fryer duties, which was hilarious as that’s the one student manager job i was terrible at. I seemed to do all right with Monica’s help and she filled me in on what had been going on at the big O. It was nice that her and Tristan were dating. I watched him chase her for a year, and it was so nice to see that it actually worked out. Their the new Colin and Amy, ones that won’t argue and hate each other at the end. I honestly didn’t have any beef with Colin, but when I got there early on, Micah told me that people had been teasing him that I was coming into town and his response was “I’m going to stay as far away from her as possible’. Basically the same shitty mood that we left on that day at D2 or that last night at Whipple. I don’t know why he hates me, but I guess he does. 

I spent the rest of the night helping Monica close and sort of check out shops. It was nice that they let me go back and do my old jobs. Honestly, I didn’t do much work, but as everything was for free that night, I guess I don’t mind. At the end of the night, I had a weird conversation with Drew, who asked where I was going to stay the night, so glad to know that he’s still creepy. The plan was go with Monica and Tristan to Colin’s new place. All of Whipple was back in town and it seemed like it would be a lot of fun. But, there was a part of me that couldn’t get the notion that Colin wanted to stay as far away as possible from me. Yeah, it would have been nice to see the others, but I knew that Colin’s attitude would just wreck me because even though it’s been a year, I’m still pathetic. Colin’s leaving for Texas, which is something he should have done a year ago. He really was different at work. He was kind of his old self with Monica, which would have bugged the shit out of me if it weren’t for Tristan, but otherwise, he just wasn’t. He was subdued. He wasn’t the same happy person he was when he was student manager. Or last year. He probably doesn’t miss me. But he’s not the same. He’s lost the will power, which is good, otherwise he’d stay there for life, and even after everything else, I just want him to be happy. 

Anyway, I couldn’t face it all again. I finally felt like Blacksburg was haunted for me. I needed to get away. Pete, Frank, and Sky were down for the weekend and celebrating Pete’s birthday but I was a million miles away. It was relay and Pete wasn’t phoning me to tell me to stop being charitable and come over and get drunk with everyone else. It was a Friday night, and I wasn’t trying to get over to Whipple to waste a few hours before my beloved Saturday morning shift (which he doesn’t have anymore). I wasn’t going to an Owens party to be that person who everyone knew and liked to talk to. I wasn’t going home to spend the evening with Bethany, Sarah, and Mike, watching an old movie and smoking, I wasn’t going to sit out on Whipple, as the warm spring air surrounded me, trying to grasp graduation, and basking in the “almost finished” air. All of that was gone, and it wasn’t coming back. I didn’t belong here anymore. Sure I could go over to Colin’s, be mad that he won’t talk to me, embarrass myself, fuck someone I didn’t really like, and head home feeling like a hoe bag to host prom, reminding myself that I’m still this desperate person who is dying for someone to love her. 

So I resolved to drive to Maddy’s, as it was halfway to home, plus it meant that I would be able to spend part of Saturday with her, as that was something that I wanted to do that weekend anyway. It was a hell of a long drive, and I had to keep slapping myself to stay awake. Zack Russel called me at some point along the way, but I ignored it. I had already gone too far. I hadn’t said anything to Monica and Tristan, and just decided to leave. I got to Maddys around 1 and she had thankfully ordered some cookies, which tasted amazing, as I hadn’t eaten dinner, other than a lone breadstick. I thought I would get so much food, and I even got a meal pass, but everything closed up early. 

I don’t know if I made the right choice. I don’t know if I’m going to regret it. It’s just the choice that I made.