#and shes not even being mean shes just standing up for her basic wellbeing privacy and for her moral beliefs 😭😭😭

[smithcollegegirls2004]

people talking about how they want mean lesbians and they cant even handle chappell roan

[slytherinsnekxvii]

let's talk about lily evans. she's an interesting character—or rather, the case surrounding her character is quite interesting.

i honestly don't know if i can say i dislike her. by all means, she should be a fan favourite, and she is... but for some rather intriguing reasons.

for one thing, due to the fact she's hardly expanded on in the series, certain parts of the fandom have been forced to either take the few qualities that she displays canonically and amplify them to the extreme (eg. immediate righteous anger at the slightest hint of injustice in fic) or create an entirely new personality (eg. no, i didn't actually disapprove of your pranks, it was just sexual tension). of course, the option of creating a new personality is much more tempting when you can just add amplified canon traits on the side.

for another, her relationship with james sometimes seems likes it's being weaponized against snape and his fans. i've seen arguments that go like "haha, snape just wanted to fuck lily, but james got her in the end anyway, sucks to be you", and not only does it entirely reduce her to an object, it feels like they don't even care about the relationship, the dynamics or the characters. she's basically a plot device.

and thirdly, half of her characterisation in fic is to be a peter stand-in. we don't like the rat man, so let's take the pretty girl and put her in place of the guy who was canonically a member of the marauders, even up until he was named secret keeper. suddenly, she's a prankster and an enabler.

but, snek, you may say, all of that is fanon lily, tho. you just explained that people seem to like her because they just put any personality they want into her as long as she's at least vaguely a good person. you would be right.

let's look at canon lily. she's described as the brightest witch of her age, most everyone speaks favourably of her. in fact, the only people we see actively disliking/being upset with her are petunia, out of jealousy and the invasion of privacy concerning her letter, severus, who lashed out and used a slur that also applied to him in a moment of serious distress and apologised after, and well, pureblood supremacists by virtue of her being muggleborn. interestingly enough, even this dislike manages to develop everyone's character more than it does her own.

as a teenage girl myself, let's look at her actions as a teenage girl. not necessarily in chronological order because I'm writing this at 2am and my memory is already mediocre at best.

1. she's done well enough in school to be considered trustworthy and responsible enough to be a prefect.

okay, i can respect that. a good few of the prefects at my school were really just appointed based on how much the teachers liked you, but at hogwarts, there's so few of them that they must put at least a little effort into it, so i'll move on.

2. she does not press for details when informed that her best friend's life needed to be saved by someone who has been publicly tormenting him for years

now, see, there's no reason why she needs to play therapist. it's not her job, she's just a girl, and we know that snape wasn't supposed to talk about the incident, so he would've been stuck if she had asked for an explanation. however, i also feel like she doesn't seem particularly concerned about his wellbeing, and when he brings up his concerns about lupin, rather than ask for proof, she dismisses it. which, fair enough, i would hate to listen to someone talk about the same thing over and over and over, but, i also feel like the fixation on a theory like that would be cause for concern.

3. she dismisses the actions of a group known to play tricks that harm people and have specifically been tormenting her best friend on the basis that they don't use dark magic

first, i'm going to establish what i usually assume dark magic refers to. aside from jinxes, hexes and curses, i also include anything that produces an effect similar to any of the unforgivables (takes away your life, your free will or your ability to feel safe in your own body, such as when you're in excruciating pain), and magic that would require a sacrifice of some sort.

when snape tries to point out the danger in what the marauders do, she insists that they don't use dark magic. and they don't... but they do use illegal magic. she then argues against the company that snape keeps, which, again, to be fair, is justified considering mulciber's done something to mary macdonald... it's also not a particularly realistic ask. snape probably shares a dorm with these guys, and he's a poor half-blood so he's already on the outs. as far as he knows, any dissent will be met with him getting hexed in his sleep. but, i digress.

given that the marauders have been shown to be doing extremely dangerous with little regards to anyone's safety, and actively tormenting her best friend, i disagree with her choice here. on the other hand, she's made her own friends in gryffindor and perhaps she sees a nicer side of them that we don't get to. she's justified in her actions, but i still disagree.

4. she intervenes when her best friend is hung upside down by a spell of his own invention at the wands of the people who have tormenting him for years

she does object to the marauders' treatment of him, and she does try to get them to let him down. if i were in her position, i would absolutely do the same. i respect the decision to stand up for her friend.

5. she does not seriously attempt to help him or punish the marauders

i do not respect how she handled it. at any point, she could have drawn her wand. but, snek, you say, perhaps she didn't want to get involved physically. she wanted to follow the rules. in that case, at any point, she could taken points, assigned detention, or sent someone to get a member of staff. she does none of those things and i viscerally disagree. if we were ever friends and someone tried to hurt you, i can assure you that i would try to at least see to it that they'd be punished, even if it wasn't immediate or by my own hand. lily, however, chooses to argue rather than take action.

6. she smiles when severus gets hung upside down

chances are, it was more than likely an involuntary reaction, like laughing when your friend has fallen over. however, the fact that it was intentionally written in seems like it's mean to be an indicator that the friendship was already falling apart.

7. she comments on her best friend's poverty and uses a name that's been used to make fun of him after he calls her a slur that also applies to him

she was 100% within her rights to be upset by being called a slur. it is never okay to use slurs. the only situation in which a slur could possibly ever be appropriate would be if you were an oppressed group attempting to reclaim said slur which is not at all what snape was doing here. he was experiencing cruelty, being humiliated, publicly, for no reason beyond existing and he was in distress, choking on soap and upside down. it was damaging to his pride, especially when james suggests that he needs lily to fight his battles for him (paraphrasing) which is an emasculating statement to make, especially to a teenage boy. so, snape lashes out with the most hurtful word he could think of, which happened to be a slur that also applies to him. lily was 100% justified in being upset about this, and she retaliated in kind. she was very much allowed to say what she said. i understand that she was hurt and angry and i respect that, especially as i can't guarantee that i would not have been just as upset in that situation.

8. even when the threat of sexual harassment is made, she still does nothing

i get it, at this point, she's hurt, she's mad, she wants him to suffer since she's a teenage girl and teenage girls hold grudges like it's nobody's business, but... i definitely couldn't just stand by and watch it happen. she basically just let them go through with it.

9. she does not accept her best friend's apology for calling her a slur that also applies to him, effectively burying the friendship

she is, by no means, obligated to continue being friends with him. however, if i were in that position, and the apology was sincere, i would take the friend back.

10. she goes on to date and eventually marry the guy who bullied her former best friend for his entire school life

no. i disagree. but, snek, you say, james changed. no. he didn't. we know, that at this point, james was still going after snape behind lily's back. you can say that she didn't know, but that means that she would have allowed james to lie to her and that doesn't sit right with me bc a relationship built on lies is a relationship that is going to fall apart, especially when your partner has been disappointed by your actions before. you can say that she did know, and that proves that she simply didn't take her responsibilities as head girl seriously enough to stop the head boy from harassing people when she explicitly told him not to. the point is, no. there is no way that this would have worked out as a long term relationship. james is too comfortable lying to her. i can't even say she was justified. there is no circumstance where i personally see this as okay for anybody involved.

alright, so, essentially teenage lily was justified in (most of) her actions, even if i find them questionable.

adult lily dies at 21, while saving her son, but her death also helps save the wizarding world. good job. she, as expected, did what any good mother would.

and that's canon lily.

my thoughts: she's a perfect example of why writing tips are so adamant on making sure people try to show and not tell. we were told that lily is meant to be good and pure and lovely, but the author never bothered to actually prove that, so what we're left with a dissonance between what we see and what we know.

as a result, i still don't know if i truly dislike her. her actions are justified, but they don't match with what we've been told, and we don't have any other information to go off of. at best, i can say for certain that i disagree with many of her choices, despite understanding why she would have made them (except for marrying james potter, uggghh, the only good thing to come out of that was harry and the saving of the wizarding world by extension, ig).

thanks for reading all that, btw! hope it made sense :)

[pawprintsmoon]

The dust settled around him, and he wore it like glitter.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29724879

“You’re not the one who slagged off the crown and your own family in the emails that everybody in the world has read. I’ve got to handle that on my own before you come back over.”

-page 384

It was two days after Henry had been cuddled awake in the Queen’s Bedroom, tangled up in fuchsia sheets and Alex’s legs. After an international flight, two sleepless nights, and a whirlwind of damage control, Shaun dropped him off for therapy. 

As he walked from the car to the clinic, he thanked God for his PPOs and empty parking lots. Paparazzi on his way to therapy would’ve been just too much. In his state of constant apprehension, he noticed the creeping chill of autumn air forecasting the upcoming Presidential election. For the past few days, he had felt like he was burning through the sky at the speed of light, but apparently the world was still turning at its normal pace.

He sat down on the sofa in Shanon’s office gingerly, because his body ached as if he’d just run a marathon. Mostly he’d just been pacing in his bedroom.

Shanon sat down in her chair across from him and said, “So, I hear you’ve had a bit of a week, huh?���

“You could say that.” Henry’s breath was shallow, as it had been ever since they’d been outed. “How much do you know?”

“Henry.” She gave him that therapist look. “You know that I try not to read news about you. I just saw that the whole world knows about you and Alex, and I know that can’t be easy for you. That’s all. I want to hear what you want to tell me about it all.”

“Right, I… well.” He wasn’t sure if he was ready to hash through it all, but he knew he could try. Despite the excess of cortisol that had been tensing him up into a knot of adrenal fatigue, he knew he was safe in Shanon’s office. He had been going there for an hour every week for the past four years. The familiarity of twinkly lights dangling in her potted tree and the meditation cushions in the corner encouraged him to speak.

“The entire world saw my insides.” He looked at the twinkly lights and took his time telling the story. “They took a picture of us through a windshield, you know, after the er, date with June. They took another through my bedroom window, but it was grainy. They didn’t publish it because it wasn’t enough to prove anything, but still. I haven’t opened my bedroom curtains since. It’s been rather dark in there.”

“They invaded your privacy,” Shanon said, understanding. “It was wrong, and it makes sense to feel vulnerable.”

“Yes, well. Then there’s our emails.” He stops and tries to take a deep breath. It doesn’t work.

She gives him some time before gently prompting, “Your emails?”

“Yes.” He was glad he got to tell her this himself and that she hadn’t read the news. It gave him back an ounce of control. “All of them. Every… every word. They were published and anybody in the world can read them. The things I said, I… That was for him. For us.”

“Wow.”

“It’s too much.” His throat was dry and his temples pounded. “It’s worse than feeling vulnerable… it was violating. Obscene.”

“Super violating, yeah. That’s a lot.”

“Indeed.”

“So, how do you feel about all of it?”

“I’m… er.” It’s odd how easy it is to spill every part of him into his writing, but as soon as he tries to talk, his stiff upper lip takes over, even with his therapist. He looked up at the feelings wheel poster on her wall to pick out some of the right words. “I feel… angry, apprehensive, overwhelmed, kind of helpless. Er… stupid for getting caught too, I suppose. Definitely experiencing some bursts of hysterical panic. I’ve been eating Jaffa cakes, and took a couple lorazepam, and Bea hasn’t left my side. So that helps.”

“Well yeah, this huge thing happened to you, completely out of your control and without your consent. Of course you’re overwhelmed.” She must know the gravity of the situation, because Henry very rarely used his ‘just in case’ benzodiazepines. “And you’re effectively using some of your coping mechanisms, so that’s admirable.”

“Thanks, yeah, I’m playing a lot of piano too.” Despite the list of negative feelings, Henry felt the corners of his lips twitch up. “Lots of Elton John.”

“You’re smiling,” she said, mirroring with a small smile of her own. “I know this smile. It’s an Alex smile, isn’t it?”

Henry actually laughed a little in response with a shrug in confirmation. His shoulders relaxed a miniscule amount. She knew him so well.

“So you’re scared and overwhelmed and angry, but what else are you feeling?”

“You see, that’s the thing. I also feel absolutely amazing.”

“Amazing! Tell me more.”

“I’m, well… I’m free. It’s exactly like Bea said, they already know everything, so I don’t have to hide anything. I kissed Alex in front of people! And I introduced him to my mom. As my boyfriend.”

“That’s amazing!”

“Shanon, it’s… I haven’t faked a smile in days.”

They sit there, just grinning at each other. That shortness of breath? Sure, it was the crippling anxiety of his secrets laid bare. But it was also the sweet flutterings of lovesickness, clear as day.

“In some ways,” Shanon said, “this is the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“I think you’re right. I’m...” He was positively giddy and he shrugged again letting his thoughts be nonlinear. “Well. There’s also the public support. You know I hate the spotlight, but, well. I’ve never felt so… like England loves me.”

“Your country matters to you.”

“Well, yes.” He nodded. “And I always thought the only way I could be their Prince and fulfill my duty was to be what Philip and the queen wanted. But now I don’t think that was ever my duty at all. See, I try to avoid social media because it’s all too much. Way too much. But Bea keeps showing me anecdotal stories of how I’ve helped people come out. Poor, rural teens. It feels good.

“You see, I could go to pride this year, and wear a bloody rainbow cape. I can tell everyone that my dog is named after Bowie. I could geek out about queer history -to the press! And that picture they dug up of me from uni? I looked so gay and I was embarassed and hid it, but now I’m thinking… I can look like that if I want. Hell, I could wear eyeliner if I wanted! I mean, I won’t, obviously. But the point stands.”

“That’s really exciting.”

“Yeah. It is. And bizarre. See, also, I had completely forgotten about Lord Ivar Mountbatten, my third or fourth cousin, once or twice removed? He married his husband a couple years ago and he called me yesterday,” he continued. “He’s not, like, an heir, and most people don’t know who he is, but you know. He called and it made me realise, even though this is a huge deal, even though we’re putting a dent in history, it also isn’t so big of a deal, is it?”

“Two seemingly contradictory things can be true,” Shanon agreed.

“I know,” he nodded, remembering the basics of dialectical behavioral therapy. “Like, it’s empowering to be dealing with everything on my own for once, but I also just wish I was with Alex again. I can’t seem to breathe when he’s so far away.”

She hummed, nodding.

“I’m trying to put it all together, set up the formal courting thing, adjust to mum’s new found investment in my wellbeing… it’s a lot.”

“It sounds like you’ve been really brave, deciding to come back to England alone to take care of everything,” Shanon told him. “But it’s really hard and I can tell you’re holding a lot of tension in your body. Being outed like this… it’s traumatic.”

Henry looked at his shaking hands. He hadn’t thought of it that way, but he knew she was right. “I just… we wanted to do it on our terms. Like we talked about. And now I just, I haven’t slept in days. I just feel all of the feelings and my brain won’t shut up.”

“I know,” Shanon said, voice full of compassion. “Would you like me to guide you through a body scan meditation? Then perhaps we can set some specific goals and action steps, once you’re de-escalated a bit.”

Henry agreed. His parasympathetic nervous system could use a little wind down. So she led him through a meditation and his body relaxed. After that they were able to walk through how he would relate to his mum, to the press, and to his new future. They talked about how much he loved Alex. And Bea, Pez, June, and Nora. How he was proud to be able to tackle the royals on his own, and how he was so grateful to have his support system. By the end of the session Henry’s shoulders hung heavy, and his breath deepened and slowed.

“Thanks, I’ll see you next week,” he said as he left the office.

“I’ll see you next week, Henry.” They shook hands as usual. “You got this.”

He nodded, believing her. On his way out to the car he snapped an exhausted selfie to Alex with the caption: ‘You got this.’

Within seconds Alex responded with an equally frazzled smile. ‘Love you.’

So, his steps were long and the autumn air did not spook him with it's implications of their very public future. His world had exploded and now the dust was settling around him. He would wear it like glitter.

And maybe he’d take a nap.

[lovestruck-au]

That Part About Apples And Families

A sweet, little, family reunion! Sounds fun doesn’t it?

Not for Lorencia.

1. Dawn | 2. Ross | 4. That feeling

Abusive parents in this one!

There’s that saying, that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Basically, it means that kids aren’t that different from their parents. No matter if it’s look, character, morality or simply the way someone wash their hands. In psychology it’s said that children reflect parental behaviour, which is fully reasonable. After all a child will do everything it’s parent does from an early age.

Christian Taylor knew this very well. It was a common knowledge for a psychologist, especially for one usually working with children. He studied psychology on Dawn Hat’s University of Heroes, focusing more on child psychology, wanting to help children. He was doing this for his little sister.

Chris was young, finished his studies barely one year ago. He could look inexperienced (even if he wasn’t). Yet, he still got that big occasion for money, very subtle case which couldn’t get into media. He wouldn’t get any visible experience, but he’ll be able to keep his flat for whole next year at least!

Well, at least that’s what he hoped for.

This whole thing seemed weird from the start. From the first second after Alton Ayers, head of the Silver Sword contacted him. Silver Sword was a hero organization, one of the biggests in the world at this moment, so it was obvious Chris had to be silent about it. He agreed almost immediately, because mr. Alton offered him half of his payment before meeting with the child and was taken to the Silver Sword’s special facility. He wasn’t even sure where it was.

He was able to meet Dawn Hat and Lin Hakki there but, as excited as he got upon being able to actually shake their hands, it kept getting weirder and weirder. Why would they come here if it was the Silver Sword’s inside thing? If they were here then it meant this whole case was way bigger than Chris thought.

He got kid’s documents right before entering their room with Alton and Sayuri Ayers and didn’t even have time to read all of them. He only managed something about a kidnaping and brainwashing.

And a name.

Right now Christian Taylor was standing, dumbfounded, with a clipboard in his hand, looking at Miki Ayers. The daughter of Mr. and Ms. Ayers, who was badly injured around six years ago. The girl everyone basically forget a month after the accident. The girl who should be sixteen right now, at least Chris thought so. He wasn’t really interested in that story back then.

A young woman to whom her parents called a child psychologist.

“Sweetie!” Sayuri Ayers, Miki’s mother, called to her. There was relief obvious in her voice and Chris wasn’t surprised. According to the documents he was holding in his hands Miki was gone for two years already, not even one time contacting with her parents. Yet, the mother didn’t even flinch toward her daughter.

The old saying came back to Christian right then. Miki was so similar to her mother. Black hair kept neatly in tight ponytail, thin, petty silhouette, long legs… they had even similar dresses on them, although the one wore by Miki seemed more childish. Pink, with a flower on her side and a big bow in her hair.

But that wasn’t everything. Miki’s face wasn’t as close to Sayuri as it was to her father, Alton. Her face wasn’t round, it was still soft, yes, but more pointy on edges, with strong cheekbones and a mole under her left eye.

Even her posture was more similar to her father that mother. She stood strong, straight, looking at her parents with high lifted head. From time to time she was peeking at the giant, violet teddy behind her, like if worried someone would take it away. So, that was her comfort thing then.

“You look just perfect” continued Sayuri, with an excited voice. Miki only scowled at the compliment. Somehow it didn’t change how pretty her face was.

“What do you say when someone compliment you?” Mr. Ayers sounded like it was something normal to scold the girl for him. With his wide, muscular chest, reminding how some heroes looked like, and ringing voice even Chris had to flinch. He was surprised Miki didn’t.

“Of course I look perfect” snarled Miki. “You gave me the exact same dress and hairstyle you have.”

Her words drew sighs from her parents. But, well, she had a point - thought Christian.

“At least you finally look like a girl” argued Ms. Ayers. “I don’t know what did you think, young lady like you shouldn’t dress in such an awful, old clothes.”

Miki looked like she will erupt in a second but was trying to hold back. And they were people who didn’t see each other for two years? A girl who was kidnapped and her parents who were worried about her wellbeing?

“Let’s calm down, we’re not here to argue.” Chris decided to say something, to cut off approaching argument. Mr. Ayers agreed with him.

“Yes. We’re here to help you.”

At that Ms. Ayers grabbed her chin, making weird, strangled noise. “I can’t even imagine what terrible things that monster did to you” she wailed. Her husband lend her an arm, to lean on.

“What monster?” Miki seemed confused, but a crinkle between her eyebrows and fire in her eyes indicated she knows very well what’s going on in here. Her father sighed and exchanged looks with Chris.

That was the psychiatrist’s cue to go on and start the session. He nodded, kindly asking the couple to give them some privacy.

“That’s our daughter. We can listen” decided Alton and moved with his wife, still looking like she would collapse in a second, to the couch on the other side of the room. Chris sighed.

Not cool.

He walked to Miki, smiling warmly, her files in one of his hands. He didn’t exactly like how the girl looked at him, with something animalistic in those pretty eyes, like a cat looking at the mouse. But he didn’t let himself be intimidated, reaching for a handshake.

Miki looked his hand over and crossed arms over her chest, not interested with touching him at all. Chris respected that.

“My name’s Christian Taylor. I’m a psychologist” Chris introduced himself.

“I managed to guess that” grumbled Miki and continued. “You probably have some files about me in there. Let me guess again, something about being kidnapped? Held against my will? Maybe few other terrible lies?”

Chris looked at the clipboard and smiled at Miki. “Yeah, maybe let me explain exactly why I’m here? We can sit over there and talk a little.” Chris pointed to a small table and two chairs around it.

“I’m not leaving Bob’s side.” Miki clung to the giant teddy behind her.

“Okay, okay. We can sit here, on the floor.”

The girl looked at Chris from under long lashes, her eyes flickered toward her parents for a second and finally she nodded. Without a word she slid to the floor, her back resting on the teddy’s fluffy belly.

Chris sat next to her, smiling softly. “Do you know for how long you were gone?”

“Two years. Wish it was longer.” Miki tried to readjust her sitting pose but swayed a little, quickly catching balance again. Chris could swear he saw something move under her dress but decided to focus on the discussion.

“And why is that?”

She didn’t answer, looking at him like if he was an idiot. Chris decided to change the topic.

“Do you remember anything from the night you were taken from the hospital?” Chris looked the documents over again. Wait, why exactly was she in the hospital in the first way? Wasn’t that because- He found the right note. Fracture of the spine causing whole body paralysation?!

Miki had to understand his shocked expression because she nodded. “Yeah. I was chained to the bed for four years. They left me to rot there, only sending more and more doctors to experiment on my back. Would you want to see scars I have left?” Miki chuckled a little. “Love Hat, the one she dares to call a monster” she pointed at her mother with an accusing finger “found me few days before and come talk with me, disguised. He told me he can help me leave that place on my own legs.”

“How?” Chris asked, to make her continued but also because he was genuinely curious.

Miki again glanced at her parents and out of sudden stood up, again swayin a little. She grabbed back of her dress and tugged. One, two, three times till the material ripped, drawing surprised gasp from Miki’s mother. The girl ripped half of her dress, till a long, black, cat tail showed up.

“Hide that hideous thing right now!” Ms. Ayers stood up. Miki looked at her with incredulous look in her eyes.

“That hideous thing helps me move, you know that?” Without anything more to say Miki sat down again, visibly waiting for more questions. Chris decided that’s the best he could do, not paying attention to angry words behind his back.

“Love Hat did it?”

“No, he still can’t understand how exactly does a TV works.” Miki chuckled and a soft smile like that looked on her face way better than a scowl. “Ross did it.”

“Ross?” Chris checked his files. There wasn’t much about Ross, Ross Tlina, but it sounded dangerous.

“He’s not like they say.” Miki forestalled Chris’ question. “He’s really sweet… well, he can be really sweet. Most of the time he’s pretty grumpy. But he’s just hurt.”

“Do you like him?”

Miki made a pause and looked up, on her big teddy’s face. She smiled more. “Yeah. He’s like my older brother. We annoy each other to no end but I would jump into the fire after him. And I’m sure he would as well… wait, is he in here? Is Love in here as well?” There was some kind of spark in Miki’s eyes. Chris had to bit his tongue before he could answer that question.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh.” The smile on her face faltered. She shrugged.

Chris continued. “I need to ask you a difficult question next.” Miki looked at him, waiting. “Do you know what brainwashing is?”

“That’s enough!” Alton Ayers spoke up, making Chris jolt. “You were supposed to fix her, not have a small chit chat!”

“Yes, but that’s not an easy process-”

“You think I’m brainwashed?” Miki sounded surprised and a little amused. But mostly dumbfounded. She stood up, to face her father, the tail swaying behind her. “And you have the audacity to say that after what you did to me?”

“We never did anything to you!”

“You left me, a ten years old kid, in a hospital! For four years! You never came to visit, only friendly face I saw was my nanny! Which nota bene was more of a mother to me than her” she pointed at Ayuri again “since she wouldn’t even leave her room to read me a book!”

“We tried to cure you. We gave you a home, food and education. You should be grateful!”

At this point Chris was standing away from fighting father and daughter. She was barely reaching his chest, yet wasn’t even a little reluctant to yell at him and Chris was a little amazed. As well as concerned, because all that didn’t sound good.

“Grateful?!” roared Miki. “You deserve shit, not my gratefulness! I’m grateful for every person that was by my side but you two!”

Alton was preparing himself to roar back, but a sudden hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“It’s okay” Sayuri said with weirdly calm voice. “Nothing you say is true after all. We know that monster brainwashed you to believe all that.”

Miki was speechless for a moment. Chris looked between her and her parents, not knowing who he should believe. From one side all the exchange between Miki and her father seemed very real. From the other brainwashing, as rare as it happened, could mess even person’s memories.

Miki straightened, relaxed her shoulders and looked with fierce in her eyes at her parents. “I always knew how dense you are. But to pull off something like that? There are plenty of people who knows how of a shitty parents you were. And if they wouldn’t want to talk, there’s always my grandpa, he learned how you two are for real long time ago.”

“He’s a crazy, old hero. No one will believe him.” Miki’s mother was as stoic as a tree. She looked like she knew her daughter don’t have a way out now. That was when Chris decided to stay on Miki’s side.

For him that single sentence said by Sayuri had way too much warning in it.

He moved toward the girl, wanting to propose a break so he could talk with her without both of her parents listening, but a strong blow interrupted him. The room shook a little, the alarm going off. After few seconds a high pitched roar pierced everyone’s ears.

Alton immediately covered his wife with a strong arm. Chris jumped to Miki, who didn’t seem as troubled as she should, and grabbed her arm.

“I believe you” he said. She looked him over and freed her hand.

“Then you wanna hide somewhere, or better, run out of here as fast as possible.” She turned toward her teddy. “Come on Bob, it’s our cue to leave.”

“What-”

Right then the teddy - Bob - moved. It stood up on its hind legs and grabbed Miki in its paws. She crawled onto its shoulder, holding hard to the furr.

“Wait!” Both of them stopped right before jolting out of the room and turned toward Chris. The giant, teddy-like monster growled at him. “Take it. Please. If you’ll have any problems, want to talk, just, anything...” Chris reached a shaking hand toward Miki, handing her his business card. He knew it wasn’t pointless to get them after finishing the school, even if it was first time he actually used it.

Miki looked it over and hid - in her bra because of course the dress didn’t have any pockets. “Yeah, I’ll call. You seems nice anyway.”

She patted Bob and it rushed out of the room, knocking off Alton, who tried to stop it. The alarm was loud and the piercing roar happened again.

“Why didn’t you stop her?!” Mr. Ayers jumped toward Chris and grabbed the front of his shirt. The psychiatrist choked, grabbing bigger man’s arms.

“I-”

“Dear!” Ms. Ayers called, visibly scared. Alton huffed at Chris.

“You just destroyed your whole career” he said grimmly and dropped Chris. Escorting his wife, he left the room.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. That saying once again came back to Christian when he stood up shakilly. Maybe it didn’t mean that the child had to be as terrible as their parents. Maybe a child could learn that not always following the parent’s path was good for them. But the saying was still painfully true.

That fierce, animalistic look in Alton’s eyes, so similar to Miki’s angry glare, was enough for a proof.

.

Lorencia clung to Bob’s back. The teddy was running fast through the corridors, knocking off doctors and guards standing on his way, not even paying attention to few bullets shoot at him. He, almost instinctively, was searching for Love Hat. Lorencia wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. From what it sounded like she guessed the demon went mad. But still, she would rather be with him now than her parents.

In the crazy run Lorencia noticed a similar dark skin and white hair, just flashing in the corner of her eye. “Ross?!” she yelled, making Bob stop and look around.

Ross stopped as well, looked in their direction and smiled with relief, living the room he was in. He limped toward them, his prosthetic leg different than the one he usually had and his arm gone, as well as his mask. At least he got both of his eyes on place - thought Lorencia, observing the face she didn’t have a chance to see too frequently.

“I’m so glad I found you two” he sighed. Lorencia helped him get on Bob’s back. “We need to get out of here. And somehow lure Love out as well.”

“How?” asked Lorencia when Bob started moving once again.

“I have an idea, but you’ll think I’m crazy.”

Lorencia kept for herself that she thought Ross was crazy anyway. And she listened to his plan.

[ure-a-sunflower]

Comfort Café (Part 1)

[1 of 2]

This is just me trying to write a short fic/one shot, so please be gentle with me. I normally write long-ass stories so this is a bit of a change. Anyways, hope ya’ll enjoy it. This sounded way better in my head than it did while typing it.

Warnings: Swearing (that’s all I think???)

“Y/N” = Your Name

“So you’re actually blaming this on me now? You absolute ass! All I did for you, and this is how you’re ending things with me?!” 

Jesus, if they wanted an audience for their epic break up, they might as well have brought megaphones just to let the people across the street be informed for good measure.

“Please don’t make a scene out of this; I just wanted to talk thi-” The boyfriend whispered in an embarrassed tone that almost made me feel sorry. Take note “almost”. I’m not new to this BS.

The girlfriend (I’m assumed) took none of his bullshit and cried out, “That’s it. I am so done. Good luck finding a better girl than me!” After hurrying to grab all her stuff, performing the telenovela-worthy hair flip, and an Oscar-Winning slap against his face with the loud “SMACK”, she was out the door. I noticed another guy walk away with her, and my jaw dropped in a silent and in disbelief laugh. 

The poor EX-boyfriend just stood there, humiliated and unnerved by the amount of eyes staring at him.

The café was dead ass silent. Nobody knew what to do.

It was honestly saddening just seeing the guy and the pain right through him; but I wasn’t allowing a stranger to weigh on my 7 hour shift today.

He walked up to counter, a little limp in his walk after she just smacked him, and didn’t even try to look like he cared. Nobody was behind him, so he took as much as time he needed.

His eyes bored into the menu above us and I swear I’ve never seen someone so soulless than the girl next to me during the college finals. 

Luckily, the café seemed to have mind their own business again. I think the guy was ready to order when I immediately just had to get it off my chest.

“Hey, um,” I stuttered to say, completely regretting opening my mouth as he turned to me, “I’m really sorry about what happened to you earlier.”

The guy seemed startled at my shot at small talk, which made me want to grab the blowtorch by the kitchen and slowly cremate myself slowly into ashes.

“Oh, uh, don’t be sorry. That scene was all my fault anyways,” he replied. I mean he ain’t lying. If he thought it was fine to bring his chihuahua of a girlfriend for a break up inside the cheaper version of Starbucks, he thought wrong. “Um, by the way, I’m really sorry of the disturbance we caused earlier.” 

Aww, poor baby. His voice sounded so raspy and a little broken. God damn it, I could shove my head into the cash register and just scream.

Why am I like this?!

“Anyways, I just want a regular cappuccino. That’s it.” I snapped back from my thoughts when I remembered the situation I was in. My hands fumbled to type his order into the computer. There was an awkward silence after I tell him the cost and the noise of a receipt printing.

He gave me a small smile as I handed the receipt and one of those circular things that light up when the order was ready to take. As he walked away from me, I slumped myself against the counter. I swear, the vibes this guy’s giving me.

Heavy rain began to pour outside, evoking a sigh of relief from my chest. Nobody was likely to walk in here at this weather unless they were that shamefully desperate for either a) a drink or b) wifi.

I turned to the other young barista here, who was about to prepare the cappuccino. A thought came in my head that I all of a sudden followed. “Hey, Greg, lemme take this order. You can’t do cappuccino designs right- Yeah, anyways, can you take over the register for a few minutes? Thanks.” Greg shuffles to the cash register in a bored manner and I took over what he started.

After I waited for the hot water to fill the cup, I glanced at the same spot the scene happened earlier to catch ex-boyfriend, re-claiming the seats. He sat down, and almost immediately did something like a tissue drop from his pocket.

He just stared at it from his seat and rolled his eyes tiredly. From the way he acted, there was no damn way he had the energy to even get off his ass. The tissue was then left entirely ignored.

Honestly, what a fucking mood.

I look back at the cup and carry it to the side. But as I stir, the guilt and empathy in me started to make me feel sick. 

News flash: Yes, I have a heart. 

Like, maybe I should add a small cookie as a “hey, man, hope ya recover”. I don’t know?

Christ, what the fuck. Since when did I give a crap about customers? This is the time for me to like, I don’t know, roast the guy in my head ‘cause it looks like he can’t handle anymore verbally.

Though, I couldn’t help but pity him. He really did look broken; like he didn’t want any of it to happen. 

I was dumped only a few months ago and I knew how it felt. The ass cheated and turned the thing around on me. In front of everyone at a party. Like in those cartoons where a fucking piano would drop out of nowhere even when it’s being lifted outside the window and nothing made sense but you still never questioned it.

Despite how I knew better, the heaviness of my ex’s words never left my brain for weeks. God, I was going to lose my insanity if I didn’t manage to slap myself and get my shit together. And after that, I don’t really want anyone to suffer that bad I did. 

Anyways, screw those moments. About the guy in the sofa.

Ignoring my second thoughts and for some reason giving a mental screw it while preparing, I finish the drink and walked over to the glass cases. I grab a small container of ice cream, a bottle of iced tea, and a slice of mousse (with Greg not really caring to ask what I was doing. Not that he should, really.) Those are usually stuff I’d eat when searching for comfort food... in a café-esque way, right? Surely other people would too.

My wallet’s gonna call my ass out later. I hate myself. Why am I like this.

I shake away my thoughts and finish his original order. Placing all the additional stuff and the cappuccino on a tray, I held it with (for some reason) a nervous grip while I marched to his spot.

Maybe it was my introverted-ness that goes off every now and then whenever it likes, but I kept on feeling like it was my instincts just terrified of... y’know, him turning down the stuff I have now officially bought for him.

I was basically afraid of rejection. Fuck- just great.

Standing before his table, I noticed he was on his phone and was completely in another world. One leg was crossed over the other and his attention and soul were glued to his screen. The circular beeping thing was on his lap, but since I delivered his order to him without calling his order, I had a hunch he wouldn’t really expect me.  

I smiled sheepishly (as if he would even notice) and lowered the tray, which must’ve surprised him, as he jumped into a proper sitting position. He looked down to see the food and was somewhat baffled.

“Uh, I thought I was going to-“ He gestured to the beeper and I chuckled while shaking my head, taking it from him. “It’s fine. I just thought you wouldn’t really want to walk after I saw you look so... post break-up broken and that kind of shit.”

The guy chuckled under his breath and picked up the cappuccino from the tray. “Well, thanks,” he searched for my name tag, “Y/N.”

When I started to leave, he called out, “Wait, Y/N! I didn’t order this!”

“Oh, yeah, it’s on the house.”

And with his jaw left hanging, I returned to my shift.

It was 37 minutes before my shift was about to end, and I could finally leave. Doing a little stretch behind the counter, I didn’t mean to catch sight of ex-boyfriend, still occupying that sofa, and still looking... I don’t know, depressed? It had been three hours and honestly, he didn’t show any sign of budging.

The rain only grew harder which made it seem reasonable for him not to leave yet; but I mean, the guy was carrying an umbrella and his keys were on the table so what was he waiting for? Jesus to descend and tell him to get his shit together?

Wow, Y/N, stalker much?

I immediately turned away but as I did, I felt eyes looking into back of my head. He must’ve caught me staring at his direction.

He gave me an exasperated smile, and before I knew it, I was now standing by his table. “Hey, dude, I really don’t want to like, invade your privacy or whatever, but my shift’s coming to an end and I just wanted to see if you want to talk about anything. I know it’s unusual for someone like me to check on your wellbeing, especially at the setting we’re in, but you really look like you need company. Don’t want you jumping off a bridge or anything.” 

Ex-boyfriend didn’t say anything for a few seconds and I was now horrified at the fact that he was probably about to awkwardly shoo me away.

“Well, I was hoping you could finish your shift then maybe sit here with me for a while?

[hoenursey]

worst behavior || nursey + jack

“Nursey.”

He doesn’t answer him, typing away at his keyboard in a way that’s visibly agitated, or at least irritable. What are normally soft, smooth clicks against the mac’s surface are now harsh, broken-sounding; each near-slam of his slim fingers makes a sharp clack in the quiet of the haus’ living room.

“Nursey,” Jack says again.

The continued silence makes it clear that he’s being ignored. Inwardly, he sighs.

“Twenty-eight, your captain is talking to you. Answer, now.”

“Yo, Captain. Didn’t see you there,” Nursey drawls. Jack makes the executive decision not to call him out on his blatant lie and gets to his knees so that he doesn’t loom over Nursey where he’s scrunched up in the corner.

“You’ve been tense lately. There’s something wrong with you. What is it?” Shit, that was probably the wrong way to go about it, but it’s already been said. Something flickers across Nurse’s face too fast for him to identify, and even if it had been obvious, he’s not sure if he’d be able to properly identify what it was then either.

“There’s plenty of shit wrong with me. There’s plenty of shit wrong with you, too. We’re both older than the people in our respective grades for a reason, Capitane.”

“You know that’s not what I mean. You’ve been snapping at people, aggressive on the ice like you usually aren’t, fighting with Dex more often. You nearly dropped your gloves last game.”

“It’s an aggressive sport. I’m still playing good hockey, aren’t I?” Nursey asks, his tone deceptively lazy.

Jack makes a quietly frustrated noise. “You’re playing damn good hockey. You know that. You’re a great player and a hard worker. You’re serious in practice. But you aren’t okay. You–”

“Why do you care?”

Jack stops. “What?”

Nursey raises a brow. It’s a little condescending. “I said, why. do. you. care.”

“I’m your captain, of course I care, Nursey,” Jack says. “It’s my job to care about your wellbeing.”

“On the ice,” Nursey shoots back. “Dunno about you, but i’m not seeing any ice. I think it’s hardwood, actually.”

“Nursey, you’re being purposefully obtuse and I know you’re smart as hell. I’m worried about you. You don’t have to…” Still frustrated, he switches to French to calm himself down.

<< “You can tell me what’s wrong. I won’t tell anybody, but I have a right to know what’s affecting my players because it can affect the team in the long run. You’re maintaining because you’re a good player but that won’t last forever. I pay attention. I know you’re upset about something. Just spit it out.” >>

<< “All you pay attention to is hockey and your major. Your whole schedule is ‘eat sleep hockey class hockey, Bitty, Shitty, Lardo repeat’. You’re all in on that shit. That’s fine, but I don’t fall under that list. My problems aren’t yours until they affect you on the ice, and from what you’ve said, they haven’t.” >>

<< “It’s being preemptive,” >> Jack protests. << “I care about the whole team. I want to know.” >>

<< “Every reporter in America wanted to know about you, didn’t they? And they still don’t know the truth. It wasn’t their business, and it was a matter of privacy. I don’t ask you. Don’t ask me,” >> Nursey says, and the note of bitterness along with the icy coolness in his tone is enough to make Jack back off a little, because… well, Nursey’s sort of right. It’s his privacy.

“Euh… I, uh. Yeah. Yeah,” Jack manages to get out. “I'm… damn. Désolé, Nursey.”

Some of the tension fades from Nursey’s shoulders and what he thinks is surprise lights in his sleepy green eyes, but it disappears quickly.

“C'est bien. I’ve got to finish this paper before midnight, though, so, like…”

“Yeah, sure. Uh. Good… luck. I hope you do well.”

“Thanks.”

For the next week, Jack tries to be a little nicer to Nursey– to all of the frogs, actually, because Nursey had a point: he didn’t really get close to many people and when he did, he stuck with them and didn’t oftentimes branch out. Chowder is of course delighted, but he’s fairly excited by most things; Dex is a little more hesitant, but Jack remembers details about people, and he asks for a basic tutorial on how to fix small things around the house for his new apartment wherever he goes and the freshman warms right up to him, even if he talks a little fast and seems a little redder than usual. He takes time out for Ransom and Holster, too, who seem surprised but pleased, and willing to be around him; he finds he likes it even outside of their haus movie nights.

Jack doesn’t exactly seek out Nursey, but he does know now because of Dex that he tends to seek out Lardo when he’s thinking about anything. He’d asked the younger defenseman, which he had gone a little odd about.

“Why?” he asked suspiciously, gripping his stick. “Is he in trouble?”

“No,” Jack tried to say, but Dex barreled on.

“Who did he yell at? Was it Chowder? Was it you? He’s weird but he probably didn’t mean it, Jack, I swear, and he’s been weirder than normal it’s probably some dumb art thing-”

“Dex,” Jack said firmly. “Nursey’s not in trouble and he didn’t yell at anyone. I’m just trying to figure out where he hangs out so that if I ever need him, I know where to find him. He’s the only person I don’t know where he goes.”

Dex blinked. “Oh.”

“And you shouldn’t say that,” Jack added. “Art’s important. Most of the stuff we know about history is because of art.”

“I. Uh. Yeah? Sorry. Sorry, Jack,” he stammered out, flushing badly. “He hangs out with Lardo and Shitty.”

“Thanks. And thanks for showing up to optional skate. Go warm up.”

“Yes sir.”

The next time Shitty’s room smells prominently of weed– enough that the rest of the haus gets a bit of a contact high– Jack slips inside and sure enough, Nursey is there, laid out on his back with a joint between his lips, his eyes closed.

“Yo, Zimmermann,” Lardo says lazily. Shitty vaguely waves an arm: he’s face down on his bed, his laptop open on what looks like a college application, probably Harvard again. A choking noise comes from over Nursey’s direction, but Jack ignores it and settles next to Lardo, who promptly eases into his lap like a cat. He tucks his chin over her head and she makes a happy noise that rumbles against his chest.

“You smoke?” Nursey asks, wary.

Jack shrugs. “Sometimes. Not always. Not often. It helps, y’know? With the anxiety. Stress.”

“Jack usually just sits in here,” Lardo supplies. “It’s better than his meds sometimes. Right Jack?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, and squeezes her lightly around the waist.

“I know,” Nursey says under his breath–he already talks at a low pitched little thing, almost a mutter– and it’s just quiet enough that he almost misses it.

Huh.

Jack does end up taking a couple hits, just enough to give him a buzz, then spends the rest of the time playing with Lardo’s hair and eventually, Shitty’s. He’s good at braids. The wariness doesn’t fade from Nursey’s eyes, not quite or at least not all the way, but the tension does.

“Hey, Bit- uh, Bitty?” Jack asks from the doorway. It’s warm in the kitchen, and something pop-y and light is playing, which makes sense, because Bittle’s arms are covered from fingertip to elbow in flour. He gets distracted for a second, staring at the contrast between his now ghost-white forearms and sun-kissed upper arms and shoulders, until Bitty says, “Oh, Jack! I’m sorry, you haven’t been standing there long, have you? C’mon in here, Lord, you ain’t gotta stand there, it’s your house too.”

“Right, yeah.” Jack steps in, and Bittle looks up at him expectantly for a minute until he remembers that he’s here for something, and not just to hover around while he makes food.

“Uh, do you know Nursey’s favourite pie?” He asks.

One little blond brow quirks up at him. “Yes, Jack, I know all of your favourites. It’s sweet potato. How come?”

“No reason,” he says evasively. It doesn’t work. Bitty’s mouth turns up at the corner a little, and he leans his hip against the counter, dusting his hands off.

“So you just… happen to be asking what Nursey’s favourite pie is, randomly? No reason behind it at all, hm? Why not Ransom’s? Or mine?”

“Yours is peach-lemon,” Jack says immediately. He isn’t sure why he knows that, but then Bitty’s cheeks go a little pink, and something sort of twinges in him and goes That’s why. Because Bitty likes when we remember stuff about him. He ignores it– aggressively– and instead pounces on the fact that Bitty is now in a good mood if he wasn’t already.

“Do you think you could maybe make a sweet potato pie? Just, uh don’t let the boys get at it, eh? It’s a surprise, kind of? A pick me up?” He’s rambling, a little, but it’s not like he talks a hell of a lot anyways.

Bitty’s brow creases a little, which means he probably said something wrong, but he can’t take it back now.

“Jack, is Nursey alright?” He moves to grab something, a pie tin, and starts shaping the dough within it. “Now that I think about it, he’s seemed a little off, but I thought he was just tired because of class, I should’ve said somethin’, i’ve been so distracted by this dang blog that I haven’t even tried! I wish someone had said–”

“Bitty,” he says firmly, a little loud. The smaller man looks up, startled.

“Was I rambling again? My bad. I’m just–”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize, I do it too. Can you make the pie?”

“Of course, Jack. When do you need it by?”

“Tonight would be. That would would be good, if you can. Or tomorrow night, either way, it doesn’t really matter–”

“I’ll make it tonight,” Bitty says cheerily. “Don’t you worry your head, i’ll just make a murder run and i’ll use this crust here, buy some more stuff for another since we’re dang near outta flour anyways.”

“I can, uh, come with you, and help you carry your stuff back from the store? Or just so you don’t have to walk alone…?”

He looks surprised at the offer, and maybe a little touched. “Oh, Jack– I mean, if you’re busy, you don’t hafta, but i’d sure appreciate it if you’re sure you want to.”

“I’m sure. I’ll grab my phone. You should grab a jacket.”

“Chirp, chirp, chirp, Mr. Zimmermann. I’ll get you back one a’ these days, mark my words.”

It’s a little late by Jack’s standards when they finally finish up the pie; somewhere in the middle, Bitty had gotten the idea for a marshmallow top crust and had absolutely needed to work it out on paper for later, on a pie that didn’t have so much weighing on it. Still, it comes out well, and Bitty bags him up, sends him off with the pie, a container of cool whip, and a thermos of milk, “In case you decide not to drink those beers with my pie,” he says, gesturing to the two bottles with their slim necks tangled between his fingers.

Jack thanks him and Bitty sends him off with a smile. He stands in the doorway, waving, and it makes him warm and a little less anxious about what he’s about to do to know that he has the support of the younger man. Got your back, he thinks, and knows they all mean it.

Jack knocks softly at Nursey’s door, as gently as he can with the two bottles clutched in his hand. There’s a loud scuffling noise, some brief swearing, and what sounds like chips being crushed, and then Nursey opens the door.

He looks… kind of a mess. Not that Jack judges anyone who looks a mess, because he’s very, very familiar with that look, but he looks bad, like he’s genuinely not feeling well.

“Jack?” Nursey croaks, then looks startled at the sound of his own voice. He clears his throat quietly, then speaks up again. “Uh- what are you doing here?”

“I brought a pie,” he says, awkwardly holding it aloft. Nursey looks at him, the pie, the beers, and then back at him, then silently backs away from the door to allow him inside the dorm.

Jack ducks his head, pleased, and eases inside, beelining for the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Nursey trailing slowly behind him; he can’t see the expression on his face, but somehow he doubts it would tell him much.

“I’ve got milk, too,” Jack offers when he sits down. “Bitty packed it in… euh, a thermos.”

“Beer’s fine,” Nursey murmurs. He hesitates, hovering by the table for a second before going over to the cabinet and grabbing something. Until he turns around, Jack doesn’t see it, but when the freshman settles in a chair he sets the item (items?) on the table: two little forks and a bottle opener. “Oh, thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Jack unwraps the foil from the crust and peels the cling wrap off, then slides it Nursey’s way while he cracks open the beers.  He remains mostly socially polite and doesn’t eat before him, though he pulls off a bit of crust and nibbles at it until Jack offers him his beer. The freshman raises it in mock salute before pressing his lips to the rim and drinking deeply from it.

Jack digs his fork in quietly, which gives Nursey the go ahead to hesitantly slide in his fork with his own.

They’re like that for a while, just the sound of quiet eating and their bottles settling on the table every so often. Jack watches Nursey as he works his way through the pie; only the glow of the light above the stove illuminates the little kitchen.

Maybe half of the pie is gone when Nursey speaks up.

“So we gonna do this after pie or during? Because it’s kinda late and I’ve got an eight am tomorrow.”

“Sorry,” Jack says. “Or– well, yeah, sorry for that, but, euh… I wanted to say sorry.”

Nursey blinks at him.

“For prying,” Jack says. Awkwardness creeps into his tone at the blank silence he receives. “Uh, earlier, in the week? You…”

“No, I know what you’re talking about,” Nursey interrupts. “Just. That was kind of… unexpected.”

He is instantly so, so fucking relieved.

“I mean it. You were right, I don’t– i’m not entitled to knowing. That’s not my business. And I don’t pay attention to everyone. I’ve been trying to get better at that, which is kind of why I was doing the prying. You didn’t see me last year, but I wasn’t who I am now, and even who I am now isn’t really great. I’m a lot better,” he says earnestly, waving his fork a bit as he spoke. “So i’m sorry. That was hypocritical of me, eh? To ask for all that when I don’t tell anybody? And it was rude.”

Nursey blinks again. “Uh.”

“Sorry. That was a lot.”

“No…? I… that’s. That’s not what I, uh, was expecting,” he manages to say a few tries in. He leans back, and Jack can see from the dip that forms in his cheek that he’s biting the inside of it as he taps against the table with his fork.

Jack wanted to ask– was he forgiven? Was all alright? Were they good? It was making him anxious, honestly, that he didn’t know how Nursey was feeling– but he wouldn’t go back on his word and therefore stayed silent until Nurse cleared his throat quietly.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “I’m not super into sharing feelings and whatevs, y’know? Like that’s not what i’m about really. But thanks. For taking what I said into consideration.”

Jack nodded, relieved. “No problem, Nurse.”

Nursey shot him a weak smile. He fiddled with his fork, slim fingers rolling the utensil in his grip. “You mind if I put this away? M’not really that hungry anymore and, uh, early class.”

“Oh, of course, sorry,” he says. “Uh, here, take the foil. It’ll do you more good than me, probably, eh?”

Nursey chuckles softly and takes the foil. His hands fold lightly around the edges, molding it around until it’s covered neatly. “I’ll walk you out,” he says softly. “You’ve got everything?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll grab my ID.”

“Thanks for the pie,” Nursey says at the door to his building. “Means a lot.”

Jack knows intrinsically that Nursey isn’t talking about the pie. It warms him a little. “Thank Bitty, he did all the work. I just bought supplies.” It’s nothing, i’m happy to do it.

“Still. You didn’t have to. Personal pie and all that.” I still appreciate it.

“No problem.” You deserve it.

They stand by the door a little awkwardly until Jack claps his hand on the other man’s shoulder gently. He makes his voice low. “Jusqu'ici tout va bien, eh?”

Nursey nods. “Ouais, ça va. Juste fatigué est tout. Promettre. Problèmes personnels.”

Jack meets his eyes and keeps them for a second. It wasn’t quite a lie, or enough of one that he needed to be called on it, so he nods and squeezes his shoulder. “À plus tard, ouais? Stop by the haus sometime this week. Bitty misses you, there’s too many calories and not enough mouths in the haus to feed.”

That gets another weak laugh out of him. “Sure. I’ll see what I can do. À bientôt, Capitane.”

Jack gives him a mock salute, which Nursey returns with a tiny, tiny smile, and then slips out into the night to make his way back to the haus.

Everything isn’t fixed, he thinks to himself, but maybe Nursey is a little less miserable.

They don’t talk about it, but Jack finds Nursey nearer to him in the next few weeks, and he welcomes it. He had been neglecting even his close friends, he realizes. Nursey eases up when Jack finds his way into Shitty’s room, doesn’t go so tense when he lightly places a hand at his arm. He allows himself to be corralled out of arguments with Dex. When Jack says something to him, he no longer quietly and subtly shuts down– which was what had been going on, Jack realizes now; he didn’t seem to take well to being called out in a group individually unless others were– it still seems to sting a little, but it doesn’t look as if he’s visibly taking offense or harm from it.

Jack opens up in return: he gives him space, respect, recognizes his work ethic on and off the ice. Jack finds himself saving food for him (he doesn’t eat much. Why doesn’t he eat much? He’s two inches taller than Jack,) and a month later finds himself at a poetry reading. He sees Dex out of the corner of his eye and nods to him; he flushes and nods back. Jack only stays for Nursey’s reading, third, and catches his eye and smiles lightly before he heads out.

“Thanks,” Nursey says softly the next day, pleased and flushed.

“It’s no problem–” is all Jack manages to get out before a voice calls, “Nursey, c’mon, we’re gonna be late to meet Chowder and Farmer!”

Jack raises a brow at him and Nursey flushes a little more. “Dex, uh, came. To the poetry reading,” he says, as if that explains anything at all, but it does.

“Just as long as you’re being safe–”

“Oh my god, it’s not– we’re talking. That’s it.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Nursey rolls his eyes. “Salut, Jack.”

“Later, Nursey.”

“Yo, what the fuck is–”

“Shhh.”

Shitty rounds the corner; when he’s in full view, Jack is there, pressing a finger to his lips and frowning.

“Why am I being shushed, brahooh is that motherfucking Nurse? Why in the hell is he–”

“Shh,” Jack says again. His frown grows deeper, but he turns back to his book and gently eases his fingers back into Nursey’s silky curls.

“He’s letting you do that, right? You didn’t, like, hit him over the head with a hockey stick, right?”

“I wouldn’t do that to a stick,” Jack says, still frowning. “Or Nursey, for that matter.”

Shitty snorts and flops onto one of the other couches. “Loving where your priorities lie, brother. Still, can’t believe Nursey’s laid out on you like that. Took him a pretty long time to open up to me, if we’re being honest.”

Jack looks down at their position on the couch, or rather, Nursey’s: Jack himself is sitting upright, a book in his hand, mug of tea on the table next to the couch, while Nursey is just as Shitty said, laid out, his head resting face-down on his thighs.

(“Move your book,” Nursey had said.

“What?” Jack asked, alarmed, as Nursey tossed his backpack into the floor.

“Move it. Tea too. Arms up.”

Jack had obeyed, bewildered; Nursey kicked off a shoe lazily and had begun to shuck off his jacket.

“Oh my god, please don’t get fucking naked–”

“I’m not getting naked, crisse. Shits and I went to the same school,” he plopped on the couch and then squirmed onto his lap. “That’s where the similarities fucking end.”

It took him a few minutes to get truly comfortable, but he mumbled into his leg, “You can put your arms down,” so Jack wasn’t really concerned with him moving after that.

Maybe a minute or two later, Nursey had grabbed his hand and put it in his hair. Jack froze for a second, but then he heard, or rather felt, a little grunt against his leg and he began to tentatively run his fingers through his curls.)

“He’s tired,” Jack explains. “He said, uh. Two tests and an essay and then some presentation? And then he’s doing something for Lardo later so… napping. I respect it.”

“You would,” Shitty said, rolling his eyes fondly. “You want something from the kitchen?”

“Protein shake? And maybe a brownie.”

“Got it, brahski–”

“Bring another one for Nursey, too.”

“Gotcha.”

Shitty retreats to the kitchen, humming; Jack returns to his book until a clumsy hand comes up and pats at his face.

“Mmm… ‘anks, Jack,” Nursey mumbles sleepily. Jack smiles and squeezes the hand, gently pulling it from his face.

“Got your back, Nurse,” he murmurs, rubbing a hand along his spine. “Always.”