#and then he spent 10 whole days buried in the snow so just.... imagine the state he was in when they pulled him out

[betryl]

One of the things that most stuck with me is Bunny's nails having dirt under them when they find his body. Not only because the image of him desperately trying to claw at anything he could find not to fall down is very raw – but also because it means it really wasn't as immediate as I thought at first. It was fast but he absolutely did have enough time to think 'he's pushed me down I'm falling I'm going to die'. He didn't die painlessly on the spot but rolled all the way down the ravine bumping into rocks, bushes and everything else fully aware of what was happening and doing everything he could to stop it, and then eventually hit the ground.

[scrunchyharry]

here is a masterpost of all of my fics in chronological order of publication

✨ I roll and I roll, ‘til I change my luck

explicit | 8,295 words

“They’re not my best pictures.”

“I wouldn’t say that, I think you look quite good being manhandled by a bigger man.”

Louis chokes on his sip of hot chocolate, feeling it burn its way down his throat. He coughs a few times and then clears his throat. “I’m sorry?!”

“You heard me. You should do it more often, it might make you more humble. Maybe you’ll learn to respect people.” Or Louis is a bored, rich kid whose latest stunt got him arrested and forced to attend a fundraiser at an ice rink, Zayn is his unlucky partner in crime, Harry is the cute hospital volunteer who is having none of his attitude, Niall is the worst DJ in the world, and Liam is Leslie Knope.

✨ lead me out on the moonlight floor

explicit | 12,758 words

In all honesty, Harry was long forgotten, cast aside by a dimpled stranger and too much champagne. He was almost glad, now, that Harry hadn’t come, because he wouldn’t have met this stranger, this tall man who could make his heart flutter with a single glance.

Victorian!AU where Louis is a wealthy lord throwing a masquerade ball for his birthday and Harry is a toymaker who's only confident when he's wearing a mask.

✨ electing strange perfections

explicit | 10 chapters | 84,757 words

Back for the summer from university, 19-year-old Louis is faced with a massive problem: their new gardener is quite possibly the most gorgeous man he's ever met. Over the course of the summer, Louis and a 25-year-old Harry will learn that love can be found where you least expect it.

✨ scintillating

explicit | 23 chapters | 263,706 words

When Harry and Louis meet in Disney World during their family’s holiday, it’s love at first sight. Back in England, they fight against the distance to stay together, to make it work. When Harry signs up for The X-Factor, though, the precarious balance they’ve built is compromised.

Or the one where they fall in love, Harry wins the X-Factor, and everything goes to hell.

✨ taken by the wind

teen and up | 12,040 words

When he decided to move to London with his sister, Harry thought he would finally get to learn how to control his magic. He couldn't possibly have predicted that he would fall for her neighbour.

Or the one where Harry is a clumsy witch and Louis is making everything worse just by existing.

✨ signs and wonders

explicit | 29,005 words

On the surface, it looks like Louis Tomlinson has the perfect life; after all, he has the whole package: a white picket fence house (well, his doesn’t technically have a white picket fence, but work with him), a wife, a daughter and a dog. He has it all and he’s not even 30, yet.

On the surface, he could be the happiest man in the world.

The thing is, he never wanted this life. There was this boy, see, this Harry Styles, whose arrival made Louis question everything he thought he knew about himself. Before Louis could pursue it, though, before he could be brave and ask the boy out, one moment of bad luck on prom night, one single lapse of judgment, shaped his life in a way he never would have chosen. Between doing the right thing or turning into his own absent father, he knew what he had to do, even if it meant burying his dreams under the weight of a premature adulthood.

That is, until he receives an invitation for his school’s ten year reunion and sees that Harry will attend.

Could it be his second chance at happiness? At what cost?

✨ fondre ton absence

teens and up | 41,315 words

Harry had never really given much thought to the future. He preferred to let life steer him forward and to follow in the footsteps of Louis, his best friend from as far as his memory went, his lover, his everything. Louis knew better than he did what was good for him.

It changed drastically when Louis was ripped away from him, drafted and sent to the front to fight in a war that Harry had always been sure would never reach him. Too young and too sickly to follow, Harry was left on his own for the first time in his life.

When he thought things could not possibly get worse, Louis went missing at the Somme and was declared dead. While everyone buried and mourned him, Harry never moved on. If Louis were dead, he was sure that he would know it. Their lives were too entwined, he would know if half of his heart had died.

Determined to find Louis, Harry did everything he could in his quest to be reunited with him, except prepare for the state Louis might be in.

He did not prepare for the harsh truth he would have to face: was love possible without memories?

✨ the sanctity of patience

teens and up | 22,521 words

When young Lord Harry was chosen by King Louis of Bavaria to become his husband and prince consort, Harry thought all of his dreams had come through. His illusions came crashing down when he understood it meant living in isolation in the alpine castle of Neuschwanstein with a husband who turned out to be far from what he had hoped for.

His illusions vanished, Harry will have learn to appreciate what has and even, perhaps, fall in love with his imperfect husband and his castle.

✨ tempests of dust

explicit | 30,797 words

Louis lived an ordinary life, albeit in an extraordinary place. His family, alongside many others, were mandated to maintain the fortress of Bourbon-l’Archambault, one of the many castles belonging to the crown of France. It was thankless work, but it was a roof over their heads and a quiet, steady life. For all that he knew, the Crown had forgotten Bourbon-l’Archambault even existed, which suited him quite well.

That was until the Dauphin, Prince Harry, came to stay for a summer and decided that he would experience the life of a peasant, for his own personal growth, without any regards to how it would affect others. After a summer spent together, the thought of parting ways was too much to bear and they struck a deal: Louis would pretend to be a duke at the court of Versailles for a season: if after three months, he was miserable, Harry would let him return to his former life without making a fuss.

Did they really think it would be that simple?

✨ i can’t hurt you anymore

mature | 666 words

There was a boy who lived in the closet of Harry’s new house. Louis, he was called, and he was there when Harry’s family moved in, watching timidly as Harry unpacked his boxes, and when Harry asked if he wanted to help, he said he could not touch anything.

I’m Louis, he said, and we can be friends and I will never leave you if you promise to be with me forever.

✨ as in olden days

teens and up | 18,430 words

When his father insisted the entire family spend Christmas abroad in one of his new investments, Harry dreaded the prospect of being trapped for weeks in the biting Canadian cold, so far away from the roaring excitement of his London life. As he crossed half of the world to be buried under a thick blanket of snow, he never imagined he would meet a charming bellhop who would do his best to keep him warm.

[synvamp]

HAPPY PLACE 10

There. Fixed it!

From Vol 7 ep 5 all the way to happily ever after – WHERE NOTHING BAD EVER HAPPENS. When Clover falls in love he falls hard and fast but can he score the most snarky, eligible bachelor in Remnant? You bet your ass he can.

(Part One HERE)

Title: Healing

Fair Game – Part 10 / 10

Rating: M

---xxx---

 When Clover said thirteen days it had filled Qrow with dread. He just didn’t trust the world… his semblance… himself. Things just didn’t work out for him. Friends, lovers, colleagues… anyone he got close to either betrayed him or died.

 That night he lay awake for hours, tossing and turning in tiny quiet movements, trying not to move the bedcovers too much in case he woke Clover.

 I don’t know why I’m being so damn careful… the guy sleeps like a log!

 He could just make out Clover’s face in the dark. He looked so peaceful.

 It must be nice to sleep like that. To just lie down and let go of it all.

 He still looked sexy, even with his mouth open.

 I guess I am pretty far gone, Qrow smiled.

 If Qrow had ever tried to imagine his perfect partner, it would not have been Clover. He never really had a type with guys so he hadn’t thought about the ‘perfect man’. No Mr Right. Just Mr Right Now. Plus, Clover’s compliments, his endearing, concerned gaze… it was a bit awkward. Qrow didn’t need a cheer squad! But those same compliments made him feel so good. He could tell Clover really meant it, too. He really admired Qrow, what he’d achieved, who he was.

 It felt so strange to be seen. Really seen and just… accepted. Adored, even.

 It wasn’t something he usually got in relationships. He was used to being the chaser… the giver of compliments, the buyer of drinks, the desperate one…

 It was… nice to be wanted. Nice to feel like he was worth pursuing. Worth going to all this effort for. And Clover had. Qrow had seen him struggling. He knew what it must have felt like when he said I love you and got nothing back but he didn’t give up.

 I would have given up.

 But Clover didn’t. He just changed tactic and came back stronger.

 Maybe he was like that because he was so used to things working out… because of his semblance. He was so used to everything going his way, he just couldn’t imagine that it might turn out different… but he looked so uncertain… so hurt when Qrow had been cold to him.

 Maybe he makes his own luck.

 Clover snuffled next to him and rolled over, his muscled back outlined silver in the light from the window.

 Even his shoulders make me horny. Qrow laughed softly to himself. Maybe it’s time I started to make my own luck too.

 Carefully, slowly, inch by quiet inch, he rolled his body over and wrapped one arm around Clover’s waist. He shuffled his hips forward until he could curl his body up against that muscled back and breathe the man in. Clover curled forward and his arm pulled Qrow’s hand tighter,

 ‘My tweety sweety…’ he murmured.

 TWEETY SWEETY WHAT THE FUCK!? Qrow was OUTRAGED. But also warm.

 ‘I hate you,’ he growled as he snuggled closer.

 ‘Mmmmm,’ Clover sighed happily.

 Qrow tried to fume but he found that all the fears that had been swirling in his head had somehow gone and all he felt now was comfortable… and tired.

 I’ll kick your ass in the morning…

 ---xxx---

 When Clover woke he was in a great mood. He practically leapt out of bed, stopping only to gaze down at Qrow’s messy bed hair WHY SO HOT!? HOW SO HOT!? before skipping off to make coffee.

 He had to get some of his excitement out before Qrow woke up properly. He wasn’t sure how Mr I Hate Mornings would deal with a bouncing ball of boyfriend first thing.

 Boyfriend. He’s my boyfriend. Most eligible Batchelor in all of Remnant, huh? Kiss my lucky charms!

 Clover did a little soft shoe shuffle in his boxers and felt like a total idiot. It was great.

 And today was a rostered day off! They could actually spend time together… if Qrow ever got out of bed.

 Why do you want him out of bed!?

 Clover chuckled to himself and went to the kitchenette. He made the coffee just shy of strong enough to dissolve the spoon and sat it on the counter, hoping the smell would be enticing.

 After several minor bouts of dancing, Qrow sat up sleepily. He reached over the side of the bed and grabbed the first thing he found, Clover’s tank top. He pulled it over his head and threw the covers back. The top was so big on him it looked nearly like a dress and for some reason, the sight of him all scruffy and sleepy and wearing his clothes…

 Wow.

 I really do love him.

 Qrow shuffled up and collapsed onto Clover’s chest. Clover wrapped him up in his arms and just let the feeling wash over him. My boyfriend.

 No. Don’t dance.

 Qrow groaned loudly into his chest.

 “I made you coffee,” Clover whispered into Qrow’s soft, messy hair.

 “MMMmmffffgggghhhh…” Qrow fell onto the nearest stool at the breakfast counter and took a long sip, “Ah… thank you,” Qrow looked at him with those beautiful eyes and smiled, warm and open.

 DON’T DANCE

 After a couple more sips, Qrow blinked and looked up at him, his eyes narrowing.

 “You called me tweety sweety last night in your sleep,” the red eyes blazed, accusing.

 “I did not,” Clover said, trying to keep a straight face.

 “How would you know if you were asleep?” Qrow asked; his voice low and dangerous.

 No! He’s got me! Escape before it’s too late!

 “Well… I’m still alive for one. If I had called you tw… uh… I’d be dead by now, yeah?”

 “It’s only because you’re s..” Qrow started to grumble.

 “And if I’m still alive, then you must have liked it!”

 Ha! Touché!

 Qrow stood and looked up into Clover’s eyes, his sexy, gravelled voice rasped, “We will never speak of this again.”

 Clover’s eyes watered. Do not laugh. Do not laugh. Do not laugh.

 “No. Never again.”

 “Or it will be the last thing you ever do…”

 “Last thing,” Clover nodded, lips jammed firmly together.

 “Good. Glad we got that sorted,” Qrow sniggered a little bit.

 Clover lost it.

 Qrow raged as best as he could, “Stop it! I’m a fierce warrior! Sweety at your peril!” but Clover was laughing so hard and it just made him laugh and it was just all too damn stupid for words.

 After a very long and breathless minute, Clover got his voice back, “So… Fierce, would you like to hang out today?”

 “Sure,” Qrow shrugged his shoulders, a little smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

 “What would you like to do?”

 “I don’t know,” Qrow ran one long finger around the rim of his coffee mug.

 “We could go ice hole fishing? It’s pretty awesome out there if you don’t mind the occasional grim?”

 “Uhhh…” Qrow blinked.

 “I can see the enthusiasm is a little lacking… no ice hole puns though so I guess that’s something.”

 Qrow smiled, “Nah, I was just thinking you’re trying to get out of the bet.”

 “Get out of it?”

“Well… tundra, grim, icy death… if you make it through today, you’re stuck with me, right?”

 “I guess I am,” Clover put his hand next to Qrow’s on the counter. All he wanted to do was pick the man up and yeet him into bed. Why did he have to look so wide-eyed and beautiful ALL THE TIME!?

 “So…?” Qrow asked, shrugging like it didn’t even matter.

 “So you make a good point. Maybe we should build a blanket fort? No one ever died building a blanket fort.”

 “Is that how you usually pick up? Dinner and a blanket fort? That’s a little creepy.”

 Clover laughed, “Picky, picky… what would you like to do then? The ass is yours to command.”

 “Now I’m starting to get interested,” Qrow lifted one dark eyebrow.

 Clover leaned over and ran his thumb along Qrow’s stubbled jaw. He loved the way his hair was just flecked with silver, the long dark eyelashes, his strong jaw, his burning red eyes… Qrow tilted his head, bird like and turned his cheek into Clover’s hand. Clover stepped closer, leaning down and let his lips just brush Qrow’s. Qrow’s teeth nipped at his bottom lip and then one pale hand reached up to cup the back of his head, pulling him down into a passionate kiss. Qrow’s other hand trailed slowly down Clover’s chest, one sharp nail flicking a sensitive nipple and making him squirm. He could feel Qrow smiling into the kiss as he stroked Clover’s skin lightly, making his whole body thrum. Clover leaned closer as Qrow’s expert touch tripped over his stomach muscles, then one finger hooked into his waistband.

 Qrow pulled away from the kiss, looking down, “Seems you’ve built a fort already,” he grinned down at the tent in Clover’s boxers. Keeping eye contact, Qrow let his hand dip below the elastic and Clover moaned and closed his eyes.

 That’s it. Yeets for you.

 Clover wrapped his arms under Qrow’s knees and went to lift him up.

 “No! Wait!” Qrow shouted.

 Clover froze…

 “I haven’t finished my coffee.”

 Seriously!?

 Clover crossed his arms, “You get that bouncy butt into bed or I’ll make sure you can’t sit down for a week.”

 “Can’t I have both?” Qrow drawled, biting his lip.

 Clover turned slowly and stretched, making sure every defined muscle rippled as he moved. “Absolutely,” he grinned, lifting Qrow effortlessly and flexing his sexy ass back to bed.

 ---xxx---

 They spent the day just walking. They saw some of the sights, stopped in a couple of shops, ate when they were hungry and sat when they were tired. It was a normal, peaceful kind of day. True, Clover did nearly fall down a manhole but apart from that, it was… quiet.

 It was so different from everything Qrow’d had before. It felt utterly foreign and yet so comfortable. Clover talked non-stop, telling Qrow all about Mantle. It turned out he was a bit of a history buff and he had a way of picking the best bits of a story so Qrow really enjoyed learning about all the little quirks that made this place unique.

 When it started to get really cold, they’d ducked back to Clover’s room to get something warmer on and now Qrow was buried in one of Clover’s huge duffle coats. He knew he looked ridiculous but when he saw how Clover looked at him, what anyone else thought just didn’t seem to matter.

 Finally, the sun started to set and they found a park bench. Clover dusted the snow off and then sat, pulling Qrow into his lap. The sky was awash with pink and purple, the air crisp.

 “Thank you,” Clover whispered in his ear.

 “What for?” Qrow asked, enjoying the heat of the strong warm arms around him.

 “Just being here… spending the day with me. It was nice.”

 “Yeah, it was,” Qrow didn’t know what else he could say.

 I feel like I’ve been waiting for this forever… I never wanted to be comforted but it made me feel whole. I never wanted to be held but it makes my heart warm. I never wanted to rely on anyone but now that I do… I feel stronger. I thought that this would make me vulnerable, weak… but I’m more certain now than I’ve ever been about anything.

 “I…” Qrow started, and in his chest it was like a revelation, a secret he had kept even from himself. He had felt it building but he’d pushed it away, something to deal with another day… but it was here.

 Ready or not.

 “…I love you.”

He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Clover’s, looking deep into those perfectly shaded green eyes.

 The world stopped and for a minute, they were alone in a future which neither of them had ever dared to dream of.  

 “Say something,” Qrow said, feeling a little flustered.

 “I… love you so much. I just want to spend every minute with you. I want to dance with you and laugh with you and never, ever let you go…”

 Qrow smiled, “Ok, you can stop now.”

 “I will never stop,” Clover said, pulling his snuggly, ruffled boyfriend into a deep kiss.

 Qrow melted into the embrace; I guess I can live with that.

 ---xxx---

[taste-thewaste]

Potential-Madderton fic

Title: Potential Ship: Madderton Word count: ~4800 CW: Fluff, angst, mutual pining, misunderstanding sort of steering the plot lol Summary: Richard and Taron decide to take the next step and go out on their first date...but it’s a disaster. After, they don’t know where they stand with each other. A/N: This fic is a labor of love lol. Someone prompted me from a list of winter prompts that I reblogged forever ago, “our first date goes horribly so i don’t know why i say yes to a second date, and now, we’re stuck at the diner until the snow slows down and i'm having fun” and I’ve been working on this for a long time. This is the longest fic that I think I’ve written! It’s full of fluff and angst and gratuitous writing, so beware lol. Thank you for reading :)

--------

They’re sharing a pint in a tiny pub, and Taron’s just been stopped by the third person timidly asking for his photo. His eyes light up as he enthusiastically smiles for a selfie, his arm wrapped tight around the girl who owns the phone he’s staring into, and then he gives her a quick hug as she jets off back to her group of friends. Richard’s no stranger to being recognized-it’s happened twice to him tonight, as well-and it’s just a hazard of going out. Taron returns to the table and smiles sheepishly at Richard. 

“Sorry, Rich. It’s not always my favorite thing, but I’m still...grateful, you know? These people enjoy seeing me, my work, and just...I can’t believe this is my life sometimes.” Taron casts his eyes down, his cheeks pink from the beer and the heat of the tiny space and from his own brazen vulnerability. Richard just tilts his head, a slow smile spreading on his face. 

“Can I take you out to dinner Friday night?” Richard blurts, and then his own cheeks are pink and matching Taron’s. 

They’ve spent weeks in this place of non-definition, this gray area of relationship, not acknowledging the ways in which things have changed. They spend their evenings together, in pubs, in the cinema, in each other’s living rooms, and things are, functionally, very similar to the way they’ve always been. Except that now Rich’s knee brushes against Taron’s when they sit on the sofa, and neither of them move; Taron’s eyes linger on Richard’s just the slightest beat longer than they used to; once, in a fit of daring fueled by a few beers, Richard had pulled Taron close to him in a tight hug, buried his face in the sweet spot on T’s neck, kissed it just gently. 

No, they haven’t acknowledged these small moments of intimacy, not until now, and Richard has made a firm, calculated leap into reality. 

“Dinner?” Taron asks, softly, and Richard nods. 

“I...like you,” Richard says, his words trailing off into almost a whisper. It is raw, and vulnerable, and he is filled with fear as soon as the words leave his mouth. Taron is silent for a moment, and in those moments are everything Richard’s worried about since he came to the conclusion that he wanted to ask T out. He feels like a bloody teenager, like he’s covered in pimples and misread the signs; in those few silent moments, he rethinks everything he’s been thinking about this man. He pictures Taron recoiling in revulsion, accusing Richard of being mad, storming out of the pub. He thinks of all of the many ways he could have misread these last few weeks. He admits, to himself, that things were not clear in the slightest. 

“I-I mean, if you’d like to get dinner, that is, no pressure. It could be like tonight, just picking up some food, a beer, whatever, it doesn’t have to be anything serious…it doesn’t have to mean anything.” Now he’s stuttering like a teenager, good Christ. 

And then Taron’s hand is on his, gently, but it’s intentional and Richard looks up, allowing his eyes to meet Taron’s, and he’s calm again, because Taron is calm. 

“Yes, I want to get dinner, and I do want it to mean something,” Taron says evenly, and how could he have been nervous? His face breaks out into a relieved smile, and he nods.

“Okay. Sounds good,” Richard says, and the two of them finish their beers, make plans for Friday evening, laugh at everything stupid.

-------

Friday comes around, and for all the confidence that he’d felt when accepting, Taron will never admit to anyone how nervous he is about this dinner with Richard.

He gets dressed hours early, pulling on a pair of slacks that are both comfortable and flattering, clinging to his bum in just the right way. He pairs it with a dress shirt-dark blue, it brings out his eyes-and a jacket. It’s 4:05, and Rich isn’t due to arrive until 7. Taron’s cheeks flush as he realizes just how early he is, just how nervous he is, but it’s true. He doesn’t know why, but his stomach is churning with anxiety, his hands are shaking, and the only thing he’s certain of is that if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll vomit all over his expensive shoes. He sits on the couch for a moment, willing his heart to stop pounding. 

“This is bloody ridiculous,” he says to himself, his voice echoing throughout the flat. “It’s Richard.” He has nothing to be nervous about; this is his best mate, his pal, the man with the ocean-blue eyes that he can’t stop thinking about. He’s been dreaming about something like this for ages, since the first time they kissed on Rocketman, and now it’s here and he can’t stop freaking out. 

He stands up from the couch and physically shakes out the nerves, flaps his arms, rolls his neck, attempts to release the tension. “I just have to chill out,” he mutters to himself. 

He kills the next three hours in a variety of ways. He attempts to read three different books, setting each of them down after just a few sentences or paragraphs. He turns on the telly and flips through the channels at lightning speed, not registering anything in front of him, ignoring the blur of the sounds and colors. He shuffles through the music on his phone, changing the songs one after the other. The activity that sticks longest is the game he makes of catching popcorn in his mouth; he tosses them in the air, tilts his head back, careens wildly to let the pieces fall into his mouth. 

By the time Richard arrives to pick him up, Taron is full of popcorn and feels like his eyes are spinning in his head. He’s more nervous than before, somehow, so when the knock comes at the door, he almost pukes. He frantically smoothes down his hair, takes a deep breath and opens the door.

--------

Richard decides to take Taron to the nicest restaurant he can find; he deserves that much, he deserves the world, Richard thinks. He makes a reservation and spends three days choosing what to wear. He bites his nails to the quick and when the day finally comes, he almost talks himself out of going. 

I could tell him I have food poisoning. I could tell him something’s come up and I have to fly home. I could tell him...anything, I could tell him anything because what if this is a terrible idea? 

The only thing that gets him into the car and across to Taron’s flat is reminding himself, calmly, insistently, that this is Taron, after all, his little Duckie, and this will all be fine. It’ll be better than fine, it’ll be brilliant. 

These words simply get him into the car and over to T’s, though. They do little to quell the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach as he drives there, the trembling in his hands as he approaches Taron’s door. Before he knocks, he takes one last big, deep breath, and reminds himself of the fact that he is absolutely certain he’s the only one who’s nervous. He’s sure that Taron is completely calm and ready for this evening. He reminds himself that everything will be just fine, better than fine. It will be wonderful.

He knocks.

-------- 

I don’t know that I’ve ever been nervous about something and had it turn out worse than I was imagining it, Taron thinks as he lays in bed that evening. It is 10:04 P.M. and he is laying in bed alone, the calling card of a date that didn’t go the way either party had hoped. Taron curls up into a ball and pulls the covers over his head, wishing he could stop reliving their evening, but unable to stop. 

It was as though every moment of their relationship up until that point had vanished out the window. Not just the small tender moments over the last few weeks, but their entire friendship. The car ride was silent and awkward, the only sound coming from Richard fiddling with the radio stations. 

Once they got to the restaurant, the awkwardness only swelled. They both behaved as if they were complete strangers who’d met on an app or through a mutual friend, strangely formal and courteous. Richard didn’t tease him about his hair or the bits of popcorn stuck in his teeth; he didn’t joke with Richard about the way he was walking as if there was a pole shoved into an uncomfortable position. They didn’t even talk about Rocketman or any of their shared experiences. They spoke politely and civilly, talked about the weather (cold); perfunctory details about their families (they were both close with their mums); their taste in music (similar). 

Taron was actually grateful when the food arrived, as it gave him something to do other than stare at Richard awkwardly and smile. They both ate quickly, barely glancing at each other throughout the meal.

“Quite good,” Richard remarked once. 

“Indeed,” Taron answered, swallowing thickly and taking a long drink of water. 

After they’d finished eating, the waiter came back and began to describe the dessert specials, until both Taron and Richard interrupted him with a sharp, short, “No!” 

Richard’s face flushed and he offered the waiter a shaky smile. “No, thank you, sir. Just the check, if you don’t mind.” 

Richard had insisted on paying, despite Taron’s repeated attempts to either pay for the whole thing or toss in his own portion, and they left quickly, for a repeat of the painfully silent car ride back to Taron’s flat. 

Once they’d arrived, Richard unbuckled his seat belt and started to open the door, but Taron had stopped him. 

“‘S okay, Rich. Why don’t we say goodnight now?” he’d muttered. Richard had cast his eyes down and nodded. “Thank you for dinner.” 

“Thanks for coming,” Richard had said quietly. “Have a good evening.” Taron had nodded and practically fled from the car, his heart thumping in his chest. 

Now, here he is, in bed alone at an absurdly early hour, and his heart is still thumping, but from something else. They’d tried it, going out, and it hadn’t worked. That isn’t what’s upsetting him, though. Sure he’s sad that their attempts to turn their relationship into something more haven’t worked; he’s been looking forward to more. The excitement of more between he and Rich has kept him going for longer than he cares to admit, and now that he knows it won’t work between them, the letdown is hard. 

But what’s really hard is the crushing feeling that something has changed between them. He’s closer to Richard than he is with almost anyone else. Rich is kind and funny and smart and the idea of losing him in any way, any capacity, as his friend, is devastating. He can’t shake the feeling that that’s what’s happened, though, and it’s too much for him to handle.

Taron burrows deeper underneath the covers and shuts his eyes. 

-------

The next morning, Richard rolls over in bed and squints against the bright sunlight. The first thing he’d done after getting home was fix himself a drink, then another, and another. It’s making the early morning sun a bit harsher than usual, and it’s, blissfully, all he can focus on for a minute. Then the previous evening floods back, and he buries his face in his hands. 

He’d been so stiff, so uptight, so worried that everything was going to go wrong that he’d ruined it all. He’d wanted Taron to like him so badly that he’d been unable to think of any reason why Taron would like him in the first place. He’d been unable to think of a single thing to say that hadn’t already been said, and then their night had ended obscenely early. 

After a shower, choking down a late breakfast and trying not to puke, he decides to fire off a text to Taron. Bugger it, he thinks as he types it out and sends it before he can lose his nerve. 

Hey. Thanks for going with me last night.

It takes twenty minutes for Taron to answer when it normally takes just a minute or two-the man is glued to his phone, always searching for cat videos and recipes-and the fact of that doesn’t escape Richard’s radar. 

No problem.

Richard’s heart sinks at the reply. It is blunt, matter-of-fact, to the point. There’s no banter, no back-and-forth. He takes a deep breath and plunges forward. 

Wanna grab a beer later? 

This time his reply takes two hours to arrive, during which Richard has taken to pacing the floors, worrying, flipping through channels. When it finally comes in, he leaps on his phone and hates himself for being so manic. 

Not today. Maybe next week.

There is no question mark at the of his sentence, he is not asking Rich if he’s free next week. He is making an excuse, deflecting from the question Rich had asked him. Rich quietly clicks his phone off and slides it onto the coffee table. His heart sinks, and tears well up in his eyes, unbidden. He sits on the couch, the low evening light just starting to filter in through the windows. 

Well, he thinks, at least I know where we stand now. He has taken the best friendship he’s ever had and ruined it in one evening, or so it seems. He knows he should leave Taron alone now. Their date had gone disastrously bad, the kind of bad that you write a shitty movie about, and he knows he should just let it be and see what happens naturally. 

This, of course, is something Richard simply can’t do. 

He spends the evening wallowing, watching bad TV and going to bed early. When he wakes the next day, he turns his phone back on, hopefully, and waits to see if Taron has sent him any messages. Maybe he’d misinterpreted the text last night, maybe Taron had just been in a bad mood or tired. Maybe, he thought hopefully, maybe he’d even misinterpreted how bad the entire date had gone! 

He waits a moment for his phone to catch up, but there are no notifications from Taron. One from his mom, another from his sister, and one from Jamie, but none from the person he really wants to talk to. His heart sinks, and he slides the phone back onto his nightstand, forgets about it for the rest of the day. 

-----------

When Richard texts him the day after their disastrous date, Taron sits with it for a while, lets it roll around in his head like a marble. His first instinct is to fire something back to Rich immediately, a gushing text about how he’s sorry it was so awkward and he wants to try again and no matter what he will always want Rich as a friend. 

But he stops himself. He tells himself he will wait, at least a little bit. 

During those twenty minutes, Taron’s mind whirls at a million miles a minute, and by the time he finally decides to text back, he’s convinced himself that Rich had only reached out to be polite. It would be just like Rich to do that, he thinks. The man is over-the-top polite in every scenario; he thanks everyone over and over, he holds doors open for strangers, he pushes his chair in when he leaves a table. It’s something that Taron has always admired in Richard, a quality that has always made him love him even more. 

But now he thinks that maybe Rich has only texted him to be polite. Maybe he’s just texting him to be nice so that their friendship doesn’t end on the sour note that had been their date last night. So when he answers, he is cordial, but there is no emotion behind it. He nearly scoffs when the text comes through and Rich pretends like he wants to hang out again; another attempt at being polite. He deflects, and their conversation ends. 

After he sets his phone down, he is filled with an immense sadness, like a weight pressing down on him. He wants nothing more than to crawl back into bed and hide under the covers again; disappear from the world until he feels ready to face it without Richard. 

But face it without Rich he must, because the show must go on. If life has taught him anything, it’s that.

---------

For the next two weeks, they are both at a stalemate, both men wanting desperately to reach out and both being too stubborn and pig-headed to do so. Taron sits in his flat, goes over the scripts that he’s sent, stares occasionally at his phone and pretends like he’s not hoping to see Rich’s name light up. He watches telly mindlessly, flipping through the channels and trying to distract himself from Richard’s face, which pushes its way into his mind more often than not.

Richard does the same, but he also cleans like a madman; when he’s stressed, he cleans. He scrubs the bathtub, polishes the countertops, and reorganizes his entire closet. He alphabetizes his bookshelves and rearranges his pots and pans. When he’s done, his flat is practically sparkling, and he’s still thinking about Taron.

Despite the fact that they are both constantly thinking about the other, neither of them wants to be the first to text. Neither of them think there is anything to text about. 

One night, though, Richard is sitting at home and he’s bored. He’s more than bored, he feels as though he will crawl out of his skin if he doesn’t get out of his flat right that very second. He’s done everything he can think of to keep himself entertained; he’s read books, he’s flipped through the channels, he’s listened to music. Nothing has kept his attention, and as such he is practically vibrating with anxiety and irritation. 

So he grabs his keys and his coat and he takes off for a drive. The night is cold and clear and it smells like winter. He marvels at the blue-black sky, inky and full, the weight of the world seeming to hang just above him. His car starts up smoothly, and he rolls down the windows just a bit despite the cold, letting the sweet night air blow into the car, making him chilly. 

He pretends like he doesn’t know exactly where he’s going, pretends he’s just driving for the sake of getting out of the house. Maybe he’ll stop and get ice cream or a coffee or even a beer, maybe, at least that’s what he tells himself.

He’s not surprised, however, when he finds himself pulling up outside Taron’s, walking boldly to the door, and knocking. His knuckles are sharp on the door, and he feels like he’s never heard anything louder than this sound as it rings out into the night. 

There’s a long moment and T doesn’t come to the door. Richard considers just leaving, hanging his head and tripping back down the sidewalk. He wrestles with his brain for another moment, and is just about to turn around and leave when he sees the doorknob turn. 

And then Taron is standing there, and it’s like a punch to Richard’s gut, just seeing him. He’s wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a tight white t-shirt, and he looks good, fuck, he looks good. His hair is fluffy and disheveled, and his face is slightly soft and puffy, his eyes blinking rapidly and confusedly in the bright porch light. He has been sleeping, Richard realizes, and he feels bad. 

“Rich? What the hell are you doing here?” Taron asks, his voice still thick and husky from sleep. It’s a valid question...what the hell is he doing here? 

He is unable to say anything for just a moment as he just gazes at Taron. They’re only a few feet away from each other, but it feels like miles, and the air feels electrically charged with everything that’s not being said. Richard wants to reach out and grab Taron, pull him close to his body, bury his face into the sweet spot on his neck where his skin is always the softest, tell him how much he has missed him and how he doesn’t care if they ever go on another bloody date again, he just wants him, all of him, exactly this way. 

Instead, he stands just so many feet away, his arms crossed over his chest in an effort to look casual but really just making him look uncomfortable, which he is, and then he shrugs his shoulders. 

“Well?” Taron asks, and his voice sounds slightly hysterical. “It’s 11:30 at night, what are you doing on my porch?” 

Rich is slightly shocked at hearing how late it is; he’s been so in his own head lately that time has had almost no meaning. I missed you, he wants to say. I am here because I cannot imagine my life without you in it in some way. Because I missed the sound our voices make when they’re together. Because I missed your laugh. Because I missed being near you. He can’t say these things, though; he doesn’t know why, he just knows that he can’t. So he shrugs, struggling to maintain his nonchalance, and before he knows it he blurts out “Are you hungry?” 

Taron’s eyes narrow. “You came to my house at 11:30 p.m. to ask me if I’m hungry.” The words fall out of his mouth flat, and Richard suddenly feels like the biggest fool. It is over between he and Taron, and he has been unable to accept that. He has to. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, shifting his gaze to his feet. He hears a tiny sigh escape from Taron’s mouth. 

“Give me a minute,” Taron says, and Richard looks up just in time to see T disappear back inside. When he comes out five minutes later, he’s wearing worn-in jeans and a thick sweater; he tugs his front door closed, locks it, and looks at Rich. “Where to?” 

----------

They end up at a shitty all-night diner, the kind you see in indie movies and read about in novels with beveled edge pages. There’s only two other people inside, a pair of weary-looking old men eating limp sandwiches. There’s one waitress, bustling around behind the counter, refilling the coffee pots and wiping everything clean, and a bell rings out as Taron and Rich push the door open. They ease into a booth, their bums sliding across the cracked, faded leather. Rich runs a finger along the edge of the table, cracked formica. 

“Not exactly five-star accommodations,” Rich says with a small smile as he hands Taron a menu from the stack at the other end of the table. 

“It’s fine,” Taron says, meeting Rich’s smile with one of his own and cracking his menu open. 

The drive over had been silent, but the silence was not unwelcome or hostile. They were not trying to impress each other or mend any fences; they were simply together, as they’d been a thousand times before. 

Now the waitress bustles over and asks them if they need a moment before ordering; she is tired, and her voice suggests she’s been here for hours. They both order coffee, nothing more, and she sets down two mugs, fills them, returns with cream and sugar. 

Rich smirks as he watches Taron dump in his customary truckload of sugar, and outright laughs at the look on his face after he takes a big gulp of it. 

“Stuff’s horrid,” Taron whispers, but he is smiling still. Richard takes a drink of his own and nods hastily. It tastes burnt and bitter but he’ll always be grateful to that cup of coffee, because it breaks the ice between them, gives him enough courage to speak. 

“So what’ve you been up to the last couple of weeks?” 

Taron stirs his coffee absent-mindedly. “Not much. You?” 

“Yeah, not much.” 

“I--I’m glad you came by. I’ve missed you,” Taron says. “A lot,” he adds, under his breath. A warm feeling spreads in Richard’s stomach, his heart flutters a bit.

“Why didn’t you text, or call me?” Rich asks. 

“Why didn’t you text or call me?” Taron fires back, a steely glint in his eyes. It doesn’t upset Richard, it makes him smile even more. Taron has always been stubborn, and it’s one of the things Rich loves best about him. It can be infuriating at times when you’re begging him to just do something simple, but it also means that he’s stubborn about what he loves, too. If he’s being pig-headed, it means there’s still something there. 

“I thought I’d buggered our date up so badly that I’d ruined everything. I didn’t want to bother you. Especially after how you answered my text the morning after,” Rich says. 

“I thought you only texted me to be nice. You’re always so polite, I thought you were just doing it because you thought it was what you were supposed to do,” Taron says in the tiniest of voices, and it breaks Richard’s heart a little. He imagines Taron, sitting in his flat, thinking that his best friend, his...whatever-the-hell-they-were, was only talking to him to be polite. He impulsively reaches out and catches Taorn’s hand across the table. 

“I’d never lie to you, T. I’d never do anything disingenuous to you. You mean too much to me,” Richard says earnestly, squeezing Taron’s hand. “The truth is that I’ve missed you so much these last few weeks that it actually, physically, fucking hurts. It sounds dramatic but it’s true. I wanted nothing more than to ring you a million times. I just kept replaying our disastrous fucking date over and over in my head…” 

Taron laughs. “It really was brilliantly awful. What happened?” 

Richard passes the mug back and forth between his hands. “I don’t know, I wanted to impress you so bad. I picked the nicest restaurant and I dressed nicely. I was just so nervous, and I wanted you to like me so badly…” 

“God, Richie, I would’ve thought you knew me well enough to know that I’m impressed by you exactly the way you are,” Taron says lightly. “I mean, you’re the most talented actor I’ve ever seen. But besides that, you’re funny, and smart, and incredibly kind. You’re the kindest person I know. And the fact that I even get to know you is amazing. So, you see, you’d already done the impressing by the time we even got to the date.” 

He says all this effortlessly, as though these are things he just inherently knows and has thought about for ages. He says them as those his words are just true, as if they don’t mean everything in the world to Richard. But they do. 

“T, I...can we start over? With everything?” Rich’s cheeks flush with a hint of pink, and his hands are now laid, flat, on the chipped formica table. They are shaking, just a bit, from the nerves and a rush of love and the wholeness of it all. Taron reaches across and grips both of Richard’s hand in his. 

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Taron asks, a grin slipping onto his face, and Richard matches it eagerly. 

------

They leave the diner an hour later, full of bitter coffee and a slice of apple pie that they’d shared, and Taron looks up at the sky. Snow is swirling around them in great tufts, coming down in a dizzying array of white. Richard’s car is already covered in it, and their shoes, hastily selected sneakers instead of the boots that would’ve been more helpful, slip and slide through the fine white powder. The world is still, at almost 1 a.m., as the snow cascades down around them. 

“It’s beautiful,” Taron says, his voice as soft as the flakes that land in his hair. His eyes are shining with the reflection of the snow and the bright streetlamp.

Richard reaches out and pulls Taron close to him, finally nuzzles that sweet spot on T’s neck. Taron scrunches his face up and laughs a little, and the sound is like music to Rich’s ears. “Not as beautiful as you,” he whispers in Taron’s ear. Taron leans over and impulsively, madly, kisses Richard. It is insistent and present and better than anything they’ve shared together so far, somehow. It is a joining together, a reminder of why they started this in the first place, an erasure of their terrible first date. Richard smiles into it. 

“Come back to my place?” Taron asks, and Richard nods. He laces their fingers together and leads Taron to the car, towards Taron’s house, towards a future together.

[shookethbrooketh]

stars

chapter 27

dan soundly slept through the night; he must have been tired, as every logical position said he would have woken up multiple times either from situational anxiety or discomfort of the hospital floor. when he woke up, sun was shining through the windows, and margo wasn’t breathing.

summary: dan grew up in a normal 1930s london family with his parents and little brother. everything was completely and utterly normal… until the bombs started dropping. When dan was fifteen his father went off to war, and when he was sixteen he and his brother hayden were sent off to a foster family in rural england. he looked up at the stars and couldn’t help but wonder how something that beautiful could exist in such a broken world. just when he thought things would never get better, dan met phil, and he became the shining star of his life. but when phil turned eighteen and went off to war, dan couldn’t help but wonder when, if ever, the stars would twinkle the same way again.

rating: t

genre: angst, fluff, history au, strangers to lovers, teenagers

whole fic warnings: warfare (not descriptive), bombings, fire, panic attacks, ptsd, epilepsy/seizures, homophobia, death, fighting/arguing, general angst, mentions of a car accident, hospitals chapter warnings: death, mentions of a car accident, hospitals, mentions of blood

chapter word count: 2.2k total word count: 40.4k

read it on ao3 read it on wattpad fic masterlist

a/n: this chapter’s super duper sad and kinda dark so be careful reading it! it should be better next chapter :) 

University was difficult for Dan, but he managed to keep up. As a law student, he’d found himself in about the hardest program possible, but the time it took up managed to distract him from all the people he missed. 

Of course, he still wrote to both Phil and Hayden every day, but his studies kept him from thinking about them every moment of every day, which was an extreme step up. 

His first semester was the hardest for multiple reasons. Being alone for the first time was a terrible struggle; he barely knew how to provide for himself. Had it not been for his roommate, he probably wouldn’t have managed to remember his schedule or even buy food. 

Luckily, he did make some friends while he was there. He chose to avoid most of the party scenes after being invited to one party and being hit on by multiple girls, but he found himself in plenty of study groups with other kids sharing his same struggles. He even met a few people who had loved ones off in the war and managed to bond with them over the shared situation. It was surprising, through all the stress, but Dan was somehow happy there. 

Despite his happiness at uni, Dan was even happier when his midterms were finished and it was time to go home for Christmas holiday.

When he pulled into the driveway, Hayden was waiting on the porch, bundled up in the cold. “Danny!” he shouted, and Dan was more than happy with the fact that he would never forget the joy on the child’s face. Dan jumped out of the truck and ran up to give him a hug. He’d gotten taller since Dan left. 

There was a certain warmth coming from the hug; he hadn’t left his brother since he was born, and reuniting with him after a few, long months was sweet enough that it materialized in warmth. 

Spending the holidays with Hayden and the family was nice, but being back in the house with nothing to do made it difficult not to think about Phil. Everything he did brought a sense of joy about him, even when it was negative, because he felt at home throughout it all, but he also felt a deep sadness he refused to acknowledge. Everything reminded him of both Hayden and Phil, and they just balanced out for him to have a decent holiday.

It was nice to head back up to the tree on the days when it wasn’t snowing or freezing; he even took Hayden with him so it would be just like the days of the past summer. On snowy days, he managed to have a snowball fight or two with Hayden, just as they did with Phil two years earlier. 

It was odd to think two years had passed; time was a bizarre construct that Dan had yet to figure out through the chaos. The day he first arrived two years earlier was one of the hardest for Dan to spend at the house, but he made it through. 

After a bittersweet few weeks, it was finally time for Dan to head back to uni. Dan and Hayden both were a bit less of wrecks that time, which comforted Dan plenty. Both knew it was time for Dan to go back to his adult life. 

It was about halfway through the spring semester when Dan was approached by the head of his dorm and told he was wanted by the president of the school. Dan was anxious as he approached the office, but it was significantly worse than he had thought. 

“Mr Howell, correct?” he asked, and Dan nodded. “We’ve received a call from a hospital in southwest England. Do you happen to have a brother named Hayden?” 

Dan’s heart raced. Hayden must have had an episode with his epilepsy. “Yes, sir; he’s my brother.” 

“He told the doctors to call you, and they called the university and told me to relay the message. He and who I assume are your parents were in a car crash last night. He’s alright, but your parents are in critical condition. I’m sorry.” 

Dan’s mind joined his heart in the race, and he hadn’t a clue what to say. “Thank you,” he muttered before blankly standing and walking out of the room. He had no memory of the latter of this interaction; he was buried in his own thoughts. 

Were they going to be alright? What would happen to Hayden if something happened to Margo and Harold? How could he ever tell Phil? What if Dan never got the chance to tell Margo how much she’d helped him after Phil left? Dan ran around campus to all his professors to tell them he’d have to go before frantically packing his things and hitting the road. He had to go home. 

He arrived at the same hospital where they’d taken Hayden for his past seizures and inquired a secretary near the front entrance as to whether or not the family was there. 

“Do you have Margo and Harold Lester?” he asked, eyes wide with anticipation and fear. 

“What’re they in for?” she asked in a careless voice. 

“They were in a car crash.” 

“Ask emergency.” 

Dan rolled his eyes and trekked to the emergency room, where he was told they’d been taken to intensive care. He finally made it to the ICU and the secretary there gave him a room number.

Margo and Harold were the only two in the room. The fact that Hayden didn’t have to be surrounded by complete strangers would have reassured him had he not been brought to tears just by the sight of them. It was barely possible to tell who they were; Harold was in a full body cast, and Margo had multiple casts on her body and even more bruises. A sob escaped his mouth as he looked at them; they were both unconscious. It was only a moment later when Dan realized Hayden was nowhere to be found. He was about to panic when a doctor walked in. 

“You must be Daniel,” the doctor said, looking down at his clipboard. 

“Yes, I am.” 

“Your brother is downstairs in the cafeteria. We’ve tried to find him somewhere else to go, but he refused to leave and had us call you. A nurse took him to get some food; they’ll be back soon.” 

“Thank you, doctor. What happened?” Dan gestured towards the beds, refusing to look back at them again. He couldn’t imagine Hayden having had to witness that tragedy occur.

“They were driving and were hit head on by a drunkard. The front half of the car was bashed in, and they were both hit hard. Your brother was in the backseat, so he was flung forward and hit the driver’s seat. He’s got a good few bruises, and he jammed his arm in between the seat and the door and broke it, but he’s generally doing alright. Obviously he’s already been discharged.”

Dan nodded, speechless. “Hayden!” he shouted as he saw the boy coming up behind the doctor. A nurse wandered behind him nonchalantly smoking a cigarette. 

“Oh, good, the brother. Finally.” She didn’t seem to care much. 

Dan tried to hug Hayden, but he winced, so he backed off. He took a step back and looked at his brother; he had a bandaged cut on his forehead and bruises on one arm and a cast on the other. Regardless, he was beaming. “It’s so good to see you.” 

The first night was the easiest; Dan took Hayden home and they packed him a hospital bag full of his favorite clothes, toys, and snacks. They spent the evening together in front of the radio, and Dan couldn’t help but feel odd being in the house without Margo and Harold. There was a certain emptiness about it he couldn’t quite describe. 

They slept at the house that night and drove back to the hospital in the morning. There was an unwritten agreement that they simply wouldn’t talk about the incident. Dan couldn’t imagine how Hayden was feeling; after all he’d been through, he ended up in a car accident watching the second set of parents he got nearly bleed to death. 

They arrived at the hospital to a doctor holding them out of the room. “Harold is having a bit of an...incident. Have you had breakfast yet? You should go get some breakfast.” 

“We’ve already eat-” Before Dan even had a chance to finish, the doctor whipped back around and rushed back into the room. Dan sighed and took Hayden’s hand. “Do you want some ice cream?” 

Dan didn’t love feeding his brother ice cream at 10:00 in the morning, but he assumed it was better than whatever was to be found in the hospital room. They came back upstairs two ice cream cones later to find Harold hooked up to a breathing machine. “Why don’t you find something fun to play with in your backpack?” he asked Hayden, and he nodded and went to the chair in the corner of the room, where he started looking through his bag for something to occupy him. “I’ll be right back.” 

Dan left the room and found the doctor he’d spoken to the day before. “What happened to him?” 

“They’re both suffering from a lot of internal bleeding, and his flared up. Neither of them are stable; if I’m being honest with you, I don’t know if they’ll make it through the day.” 

Dan took a deep breath and bit his lip, looking back at Hayden in the corner of Margo and Harold’s room. “Thank you.”

He turned on his heel and walked over to Hayden, who was playing solitaire. “Got room for another?” 

It was a slow day of card games and hospital food until Harold gasped. Both the boys jumped and turned to his bed, where he was writhing in pain. Dan turned to Hayden, who looked about ready to cry on the site. “Come on,” he said, pulling him out of the room. “Doctor!” 

They let the doctors rush past them in a second attempt to save Harold, and Hayden started to cry. “Danny, is he dying?” 

Dan took a split second to consider this question. “I don’t know,” he replied, and Hayden’s sobs got louder. His parenting skills could definitely use some work. “But it’s going to be okay, alright? We’ve gotten through a lot together over the years, and we’re going to get through this.” 

Hayden’s cries softened until they stopped, and Dan wiped the tears from his brother’s puppy dog eyes. “Okay.” 

A doctor came out of the room and threw his bloody gloves in a trash can. “I’m sorry,” he said to the two of them, putting on a sad face although Dan knew this wasn’t new to him, “he’s gone.” 

Dan took Hayden’s hand and led him in to where Harold lay lifeless. He had a bit of blood around his mouth, but otherwise he looked as normal as a dead person could. “Do you want to say goodbye?” 

Hayden held back tears this time, as if he’d accepted the situation. Dan was so numb by then that he couldn’t think or feel enough to cry. “Goodbye, Harold.” He stood there for a moment, taking and squeezing his limp hand. “Thank you.” 

Dan finally broke at that, holding back tears of his own. “Bye, then,” he said, smiling weakly at the man who took him in. He thought of the times he’d taken Dan out driving. “Thanks for everything.” 

The doctors took him away shortly after, stopping to tell Dan they expected Margo to follow. According to them, it wouldn’t be as violent, but she was doing gradually worse rather than better. Eventually, her body would simply stop functioning.

After Hayden fell asleep in the chair, Dan stood at Margo’s bedside clutching her hand. “Please don’t leave,” he whispered. “I just want to be able to tell you how much you matter to me. Never has anyone supported me as much as you, save for Phil and maybe Hayden. I thought it was impossible, but you truly took on the role of my mum while I’ve been away from her. I don’t know how to express how thankful I am for that.” He paused for a moment, looking up at her closed eyes. In the dark, she reminded him of Phil. “And thank you for giving me the love of my life.”

Dan soundly slept through the night; he must have been tired, as every logical position said he would have woken up multiple times either from situational anxiety or discomfort of the hospital floor. When he woke up, sun was shining through the windows, and Margo wasn’t breathing. 

He left Hayden asleep and got up to call a doctor in; they concluded that she didn’t have a pulse, and Dan woke up Hayden. “It’s time to say goodbye.” 

This was a rougher goodbye for the both of them; apparently Hayden had grown closer to Margo since Dan had left. When they eventually wheeled her out, Dan slid down against the wall, his head in his hands. He’d been expecting this result, and although they both cried over Margo, Dan’s thoughts were occupied mostly by something else.

“How am I going to tell Phil?” 

[todragonsart]

Cinnamon Roll

Merry Christmas to the one and only @magehir! I hope you like my imagination on Blitz/Rook, because I enjoyed the production phase so much! <3 This is pure sugar, so call your dentist before! 

Since Rook wanted his first Christmas together with Blitz to be perfect, he planned everything step by step. From the food he would cook for this lover, to the candles he would lit in the bedroom, he worked out every detail. He wanted everything to be as perfect as possible, like the maximalist he was, and he worked on the plans for two whole weeks.

First he was so puzzled about the activity they should do. He thought about going to the cinema or theatre, looked up pretty hotels to visit, romantic trips to make, restaurants with cheesy advertisements for couples. He even considered to go horseback riding, but unfortunately he happened to be deadly allergic to making a fool out of himself, so he changed his mind. In the end, he decided to stay home, and make the masterplan a little different:

As he calculated, Blitz would arrive at 7 o’clock, and he would bring a bouquet of flowers - maybe roses - and a bottle of red wine. Nothing too fancy or expensive, but not too cheap either, just something good. Blitz loves wine, Rook was sure he could count on him with this.

Blitz would admire the clean flat, and the perfect decoration with Rook’s Christma tree. This year, his tree was gold-red, and he had some pretty present for the love of his life, beside himself.

On their way to the kitchen, Blitz would notice the mistletoe hung up on the doorway, and they would stop for a short, but perfect kiss. Well… hopefully not short… Maybe he would have the chance for a tiny booty grab?

Blitz would open the wine still a little flushed, while Rook prepared the perfect dinner; roasted beef ribs with strawberry sauce, and mashed potato. He took the receipt from a movie, and during the test cooking it turned out to be perfect.

He would light three candles, put on some not too Christmasy but still holidayish music, then they would chat during dinner. Blitz would take his hand, they would gaze into each other’s eyes, then the German would give a small kiss into his palm, because he is a real gentleman. The blond prince on a white horse.

After dinner, they would cuddle up on the couch, watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and from time to time, they would forget the movie and just kiss, touch, grope, feel each other. That would be a good foreplay for the upcoming events.

They would take a bubble bath together after the movie, he would even wash Blitz’s perfectly muscled back and shoulders while the man’s strong hands would travel on his silky-smooth thighs. He would moan softly and…

Rook shook his head. Not in the bathtub, it was way too small for their love!

He would moan softly and Blitz would blush a little, then suggest to move towards the bed.

Yeah, that’s better!

Blitz would cover him with his strong arms and a fluffy towel, and they would get lost in each other’s eyes for a moment. Rook would put his hands around his waist, as they start to kiss slowly. Blitz would lift Rook up and take him next to the fireplace where they would make sweet, sweet love...

Rook sighed dreamily. He really wanted to have a fireplace to make this possible, but he was living in a small flat. Bedroom it was then. Later he would fall asleep next to Blitz and the morning after, he would wake up buried under layers of sheets and the strong arms of his lover. Yeah. Perfect! He couldn’t wish for a better Christmas Date.

He looked into his notebook, where he wrote down everything what was needed to make the plan work, then looked around himself. Fortunately nobody cared about him at the moment.

He was sitting in the canteen at Hereford, waiting for his next meeting session with the others. He had a week to make the dream-date possible, and he was filled with determination to do it perfectly.

He looked up, and saw Bandit and Blitz arriving to the canteen, so he shut the notebook and smiled at both. Bandit looked at him with a grimace. He caught them the other day in his bed, because Blitz’s…

Well, okay, they fucked up the rooms, and bed, but they were riled up, okay? Like Bandit never made out in other people’s bed with Montagne… Well… Montagne wouldn’t let that happen, but who cared, they are only human!

Rook put his elbow on the notebook to cover it from the approaching Blitz, giving the man a brilliant smile. “Hello handsome! How was your morning?”

Blitz sat next to him, hugging him sideways, giving a small peck on the mouth. “Nothing, really. I was after your Christmas present, and I thought that maybe we can cook something together for dinner that day! What do you think?”

Rook smiled. “Don’t worry, I got that already! Blitz gave him a kiss on the cheeks. “Alright, Julien, but if you need anything, just say it, okay?”

Rook nooded. “Of course, I know! I-I just want to make this… you know, perfect. This is a big step, our first Christmas together, as a couple, and… I want to make a surprise for you, okay?”

“Okay, honey” Blitz smiled at him with a disgustingly loving expression.

Across from the table, Bandit made noises similar to vomiting, to ruin their mood, but they just didn’t care. They were happily lost in each other, and nobody could ruin it. Not even a very grumpy German, who didn’t have his lover in his pocket until Christmas, because said French was visiting his family before the holidays.

As the Big Day was getting closer, Rook was getting more and more nervous and excited. He cleaned up his flat, bought everything from food to bedroom equipment, even decorated his tree four times in a row to make it as beautiful as possible. He was so annoyed at himself at the end, instead of cleaning again and again, Rook started to stay at base for longer sessions of training.

Two days before Christmas, he even agreed to help the Russians with their training. It took place in the frozen, snow covered forest not far from the base. Kapkan asked Rook to hide 10 targets in the woods for them to find, so he spent two and a half hour outside in the brutal winter of December.

He shivered non-stop as he was on his way home. His boots were soaked with icy water, his knees trembled with each step and his hands and lips looked blue. As he got home, he jumped in a big tub of hot water, to relax a bit, and that night he didn’t have problems sleeping.

He was working on the 24th of December too, in the evening he even prepared the Christmas dishes. He somehow felt weaker that day, but he didn’t care about that really. His mind was full of the Dream Christmas Date, and all the possibilities for the perfect finish. He found himself fantasizing about that damn fireplace scene again.

Short before midnight he counted everything; the tidy rooms with beautiful decoration, the marinating sheep, the presents under the tree, his clothes for the next day, the movie on the coffee table and the damn fluffy towels.

He was satisfied with himself when he got to bed. Tomorrow would be the biggest day in his life, and he was so ready for it he couldn’t even tell. He fell asleep in an instant, covered in thick sheets and blankets.

He dreamt that night. He was with Blitz, of course, they were visiting his parents. Blitz was nervous, Rook was happy, his parents seemed to be really proud of his good-looking boyfriend, and they welcomed the German into the family in an instant. He introduced Blitz to his siblings too, they were so happy for him. In his dream, the German held onto his hand the whole day, as he was a little embarrassed.

Every time he looked at Blitz, he felt his heart skip a beat. Every exchanged smile, touch, glance made him so happy, he wanted to scream it out loud to let the whole world know about his happiness.

The next morning, he woke up with a decent headache, sore throat and feeling dizzy. As he opened his heavy eyes, he knew that something was wrong; he felt like shit. When he coughed, his voice was so bad, he sounded like an old, angry grandpa.

Somehow he fought his way into the bathroom, looked at himself in the mirror and instantly he wanted to cry. His face was white as a wall, hands trembled as he held onto the faucet with weak fingers, he had dark circles under his eyes too, and he felt really bad.

He got back to his bed and collapsed on it. He considered crying, but he knew that he had a big event coming right up. He needed to make the food, and get himself together for Blitz! He was the biggest part of the Goddamn present, he didn’t have time for breaking!

Filled with determination, he got up, made himself a tea and looked up at the clock. He had almost eight hours till Blitz’s arrival, so he had plenty of time to get healthy again!

Well, Blitz didn’t get there at 7 o’clock, but was late thirty minutes, and Rook started to panic. He somehow managed to compose himself a little. He took a long, hot bath, drank tea pumped with vitamins, took medicine for his aching head, and he looked like a functional human being at the end.

But Blitz was nowhere and he started to get scared. What if his lover wouldn’t come? Why wouldn’t he call him? Rook walked to the kitchen and stress tested the strawberry sauce for the ribs again, and sighed. No. Blitz would be here, he was just a little bit late.

As he finished this thought there was a small knock on the door.

Rook jumped to his feet and adjusted his clothes. He looked like a million dollars with those tight jeans he bought for this evening. He was sure he could seduce Blitz into the bedroom with these.

At the door stood his lover, smiling bright like the sun. In his hand Rook saw a bottle of wine - he felt proud - and a wrapped box with a pretty bow. He didn’t see roses, but who cared? Blitz was here, finally! “Sorry, I’m late, Bandit wanted me to wait for Gilles with him, because it’s Christmas and he needed some support!” Blitz gave him a kiss on the cheeks.

Rook smiled at him. “That’s alright, Elias, the food needed a little more oven time anyway! Let me get your coat!”

Blitz placed the box and the wine on a shelf and took off, his boots then his coat, handing it to Rook. “I saw a bird with a knife in its beak on my way here! I am sure it was in some sort of a mafia or something!”

“A what…?”

“A black bird, with a knife! I instantly bought it a croissant, I didn’t want it to rob me on my way here!” Blitz grinned at him. Rook shook his head smiling. “You don’t believe me, but I took a pic about it!” with that, Blitz flashed him his mobile phone with a picture of a bird, sitting satisfied next to a croissant and a butterknife.

Rook blinked a few times then burst out laughing. “Oh, God… This is so dumb! I think this might be a magpie.”

Blitz grinned at him then looked around. “You cleaned up with a magnifying glass? This flat is so tidy I could eat on the ground!”

Rook flashed him a brilliant smile. “Now come, I hope you are hungry!”

“Well, I didn’t have lunch, because you told me you would cook, and Doc said you are a brilliant chef, so…” Blitz gave him a quick hug, and as they were walking towards the kitchen, Rook looked up at the mistletoe, clearing his throat.

With a questioning expression Blitz followed his gaze and started to smile. “You smooth little shit! Come here!” He put his hands around Rook’s waist and leaned in, to place a kiss on his lips. Rook slowly leaned against him, but instead of deepening the kiss, he hid his face into Bliz’s shoulder and inhaled his scent. It felt really good to be in the German’s presence.

Blitz placed a hand on his neck and started to massage it slowly. “Are you okay, Julien? You seem a little tired!”

Rook nodded against his neck. “I missed you so much, that’s it,” at that, Blitz started to smile. “Open that wine, I will get the food, okay?”

Nodding, Blitz unfolded himself from Rook and as he opened the bottle of wine, he poured some into both of their glasses. He looked up at Rook, who was busy picking the perfect ribs. He looked like an angel to Blitz; the French was handsome, sweet, sometimes stubborn or a little bit sassy, but in a good way. Rook was a good man with loving heart and their love life was the best he had ever experienced.

Blitz was so in love, at first he didn’t even notice how Rook’s hand trembled when he took the big plate of food. He stepped closer to the table, placed the ribs in the middle and as he turned to get a match for the candles he suddenly felt dizzy. He needed to hold onto the counter for support. Damn headache was back again.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. He needed to do this, for the Dream Christmas Date, he needed to compose himself and be healthy for Blitz! He turned around again, and lit the candles on the table.

“Did you cook all of this?” asked Blitz. “It looks delicious, Julien!”

Rook nodded with a faint smile on his face. “Of course! The strawberry sauce was the real challenge, but I think it is perfect, and I really hope that you will enjoy it!”

“You are a little bit pale, are you sure you are okay?”

“Of course. You worry too much, honey, but it’s endearing.” Rook laughed a little and served the food for both of them. As he sat down, they started to eat, chatting about their days, families, work and stuff.

“Have you heard anything about Maxim and Timur?” Blitz smiled at him.

“No, why? Has something happened to them?”

“Yeah! They were training the other evening in the forest, you know when the temperature dropped under -5 C° and there was that icy wind! Who knew that even the Russians can get sick in cold?” laughing, Blitz took another bite of his meat.

Rook nodded, but his smile wasn’t that honest anymore. So they were sick too, great!

“Alexandr told me that you were helping them, how come you didn’t get sick?”

Rook smiled. “I was feeling a bit down  yesterday, but now I feel better than ever, really! My feelings for you healed me!”

Blitz started to laugh. “You are so cheesy sometimes, I want to kill you and hug you at the same time!”

Rook winked at him grinning. Since he finished his meal, he wanted to get the dessert, so he stood up, but dizziness hit him again, and everything went white for a second as he started to fall. He heard a faint “Julien!”, then darkness and cold took him.

When he got to himself, he didn’t feel cold anymore. He was lying on the couch, under a thick blanket. In his panic, he sat up, but almost fell back because of his throbbing headache. He looked up at the clock. It was half past eleven, and in his sudden panic, he started to search after Blitz, but he couldn’t find him anywhere. The man disappeared along with his coat and boots.

Rook stood in the hallway, moments away from crying. Blitz was gone. He knocked himself out with the damn flu and the love of his life left him, because who would want to stay like this?! Rook planned a happy, sexy evening, but ruined it and now he was to spend Christmas alone!

The doorknob turned in that moment, and as the door was opening, he saw the German with a big bag in his hand. Blitz eyes turned furious as he saw him. “Get back to the couch, now! You got fever, you walnut!”

“N-no, I am good, I feel better, everything is-”

“Julien, Julien… Babe stop already! You fainted in the middle of the kitchen and were asleep for two and a half hours. You look pale, you are shaking, so be a darling and go back to the couch before I take you there!”

“B-but our d-date..!” Rook burst out coughing.

Blitz looked at him meaningful. “Go back to the couch now, and I will be there too in a minute!”

“E-elias…!”

Blitz put down his bag and walked closer. He gave a kiss to his forehead, and gently petted his hair. “You planned a miracle date I am sure, but now you are sick and I want to take care of you, so please let me, okay?”

Rook nodded but didn’t move an inch.

Blitz smiled. “Do you want me to bring you back to the couch?”

Rook nodded again with a weak “Please”.

The german took him into his arms laughing and carried him back to the couch. He placed him there and covered him again with the blankets. “We can still watch the movie you picked, cuddled up, but I make you a tea and you take some pills, okay?”

Rook nervously started play with a button. “Okay. But… are you sure, you are not mad at me?”

“Why would I be, darling? Everybody gets sick from time to time, and I am planning to spend the rest of my Christmases by yours side, so we will have plenty of occasions to make your dream date possible.”

Rook looked up at him touched, and he looked as Blitz walked into the kitchen.

Blitz made some fresh tea, with honey in it, got Rook’s favourite mug, and some medicine for the headache. As he got back, he pushed his lips against Rook’s forehead and waited for a second. “You have a really bad fever, babe”

“My head is hurting so much.”

“And you are shivering. Would you like to have my shirt?”

Rook’s eyes lit up with fire. “Is that a real question?”

Laughing, Blitz took off his shirt, and Merry Christmas Rook, since all the German was wearing under, was a black muscle shirt. Rook almost started to salivate and he felt even worse for not being able to take the conversation to a more horizontal position.

As he got his hand on Blitz’s shirt, Rook put it on and sunk into the smell. “I feel better already. Especially if I can look at you like this. You look like a million dollars, Elias!”

“I noticed that you like this shirt when I wear it during training, and I thought that you can… you know, rip it off from me later, but now, I will heal you with its sight!” Blitz laughed. “Can I watch the movie lying on your shoulder?”

“Of course, darling!”

“Then I will be healthy by the end of the film!” Rook gave him a small grin, and waved at the Dvd case on top of the table. Blitz turned to get it, and when he read the label he grimaced a bit. Rook picked it so Charlie and the Chocolate Factory it was then.

He put the disc in and sat down next to Rook, hugging the man to himself as the movie started. Rook settled against his shoulder as he wished and they began to watch it.

As they got deeper and deeper into the movie, Blitz felt more and more uncomfortable. If he wanted to be honest, he loathed the movie. Everything about it made him self-destruct, but Rook seemed to enjoy it, so he couldn’t complain. After all,the French was the ill one, so…

When Blitz saw the first Oompa-Loompa, he turned away his face and instead of the TV, he just watched Rook in his arms. The man was pale and looked drawn-out, but the way his eyes sparkled under the lights of the movie, he was simply beautiful.

Soon, Rook noticed Blitz observing him, looked up at his lover. “What…? Am I looking this bad?”

“Oh, no-no! Nothing like that. You are just more interesting than the movie, to be honest!” Blitz smiled at him.

A flush coloured Rook’s face. “R-really? Am I more exciting than your favourite movie?”

Blinking with sudden confusion Blitz tilted his head. “My favourite what?”

Rook seemed equally confused. “Isn’t Charlie and the Chocolate Factory your favourite movie?”

“No!” Blitz started to laugh. “I hate this fucking waste of celluloid! The Oompa-Loompas are so scary, when I was younger I cried when I saw one!”

Now Rook was even more confused. “B-but… Oh gosh! I’m so-so sorry, Elias, I-I didn’t knew! Geez, I’m such a jerk!”

“Where did you get the idea of this being my favourite movie?” Blitz couldn’t stop laughing.

“I asked Dom.”

Blitz got serious all of a sudden. “That little piece of shit! I knew that somehow he would take revenge on us for having sex in his bed! It was a mistake to tell him my secret on a drunk night!” and again, he burst out laughing.

Everything clicked into its place in Rook’s head. “That fucker! Oh, gosh, I am so sorry, Elias, really!”

“Don’t worry, at least I will have stories to tell our grandkids!” Blitz grinned.

Rook flushed again, this time with a deeper shade of red. “Grandkids?”

“I said it already, I plan with you for lots of Christmases! What about now we shoot down this, and I help you get a cooling bath, and we get to bed?”

Nodding, Rook slowly got up, and turned off the TV. “Can I sleep in your shirt?”

“Do you want to keep my shirt?”

Rook face lit up. “Is that a real question?”

“Would you like me to carry you to the bathtub?”

“Why are you asking obvious questions, Elias, I don’t understand!” hearing this, Blitz lifted him into his arms, like the prince he was. Rook put his arms around his shoulders. “You spoil me, darling.”

“That’s my final goal!” with that, he walked them towards the bathroom. He helped with everything without hesitation, he even washed Rook’s back, and gave him a shoulder massage.

When they got out, he helped Rook into his shirt again, then to bed. Under the covers, he hugged the French to himself with a fond smile on his face.

“You really don’t mind that we are just chilling now, do you?” he looked up at Blitz.

“Nope, not really. I didn’t have plans for this evening honestly, I just wanted to spend Christmas with you, and we did exactly that, so I’m satisfied!”

Rook smiled at that. “How did I deserve you?”

“I don’t know, just being this amazing like you are?”

Sleepy, Rook rubbed his eyes with his knuckle. “You are too sweet, my teeth will rot!”

“Well, you are like the middle of a cinnamon roll for me!” Blitz looked at him, filled with love.

“Now what is some serious poetry there, dude!” Rook flushed.

Blitz shook with laughter, hugged his favourite French to himself and shut his eyes. “Good night, babe!”

“You too, darling” came the response.

In the end Rook’s Dream Christmas Date didn’t happen, but as he looked back at the master plan the day after, he needed to acknowledge that it was a close call.

As he calculated, Blitz brought delicious wine, admired his flat and the decoration. They did have a perfect kiss under the mistletoe, and instead of a booty grab, he found shelter in his lover’s arms.

They spent the dinner as he planned if he didn’t count the collapsing thing, and okay, Blitz didn’t kiss his palm, but he was there to support him while being sick.

They surely cuddled up on the couch, watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and they did forget about the movie just not for kisses, touches, groping or feeling each other.

They took a bubble bath together, and Blitz washed his back while he was weak and feverish. Sure, they didn’t make out on the couch or in the bathtub, but Blitz certainly took him into his arms and carried him wherever he asked.

Okay, they didn’t make sweet love as he planned first, but he had never been more sure about Blitz’s feelings towards him, and this made him happier than anything he wanted to try.

He surely fell asleep next to Blitz, and the morning after, he certainly woke up covered in layers of sheets, and the strong arms of his lover. As he turned towards the man lying next to him, he felt a smile bloom on his own face.

He had never felt this safe and loved in his entire life, and he knew that he wouldn’t exchange this for anything ever.

Merry Chirstmas again! <3

[letmeletmetrashyourlove]

Indiana

Summary: One argument leads to another. Billy betrays his childhood sweetheart’s trust. 

Authors Note: Written with the song Konstantine by Something Corporate in mind. 

REQUESTS OPEN

PART TWO

I like song requests like this one, I can just kinda write as it comes to me instead of trying to go off a promt.

FEEDBACK ALWAYS APPRECIATED, ESPECIALLY IF YOU DIDNT LIKE IT. I always strive to make my work better (seriously, you can roast me if you want to )

I swallowed my pride as I shoved my hands into my pockets. Billy and I argued when he told me he was moving to Indiana. I made accusations that it was because of him getting into trouble at school. A switch in him just flipped when he discovered his parent's split. He had never been a particularly sociable guy, always explicit and abrasive. But he diverted from carrying it inside to taking out on other people. I couldn’t even count on all my fingers how many quarrels he had gotten into at school in the past year. One kid bumped into him in the hallway and he lost it, knocking the poor boy to the ground and breaking his nose. It was some kind of blessing that the principal hadn't expelled him yet. Or maybe it was the fact that his father came in and berated the principal every time there was trouble. His new stepsister and I met only a handful of times. She was sweet, and honestly, hilarious. Billy didn’t see her in the same light that I did. He regarded her as a pest, somewhat to blame for the separation.

Despite all that happened, we were childhood friends that grew into something more. I always had his back, and he always had mine. Whether or not we stayed together, I needed to apologize for what I said.

I tiptoed up the steps, peering in through the window. There was Billy, on the couch with another girl. His pants were discarded, and she straddled his lap.

Everything we’d gone through together flashed through my mind as I neglected to avert my eyes.

I rang the doorbell, causing them both to jump. I presented myself in the window, throwing them the middle finger before taking off back towards my car. Yelling burst from inside the house until Billy stumbled out, still struggling to pull his jeans on over his legs.

     “Y/N, wait!” He called.

    “No.” I growled, whirling around to face him  “No.”

I backed away from Billy as he approached me with his arms open. Neither of us knew what to say.

    “Y/N.” He uttered, tears springing into his eyes.

    “No. No, no. No, no, no, no, no.” I repeated, my brain not able to come up with anything more substantial. I placed one hand over my mouth as the tears sprang out onto my cheeks.

    “That wasn’t what you thought it was.” He insisted, reaching out for my hand.

    “No! Don’t- Don’t fucking touch me.” I cried, swatting his hand away and turning on my heels, sprinting away from him.

    “Y/N!?” He screamed after me, following me close behind.

My mind reeled, flying back to all those nights we had spent on my couch with him sobbing into my shoulder about his father beating him senseless. Cleaning him up after fights. Laughing while watching movies. Playing boring ass board games that always ended in us making out. Attempting to do group projects that always ended in us arguing. Falling asleep on each other after a long day. Our blissfully oblivious innocence had suddenly been ripped out from underneath me like a rug, sending me into a freefall.

Was any of that even real? Was he pulling the same shit on other girls? Was I not enough for him? Was I his first choice or was I further down the list?

He caught my wrist, pulling me back toward him. I pushed off his chest, trying not to show the tears that were streaming down my face.

    “Let go of me!” I exclaimed, straining against his grip. He never once laid a hand on me in a way I wouldn’t want. He feared turning into his father, but that fear had either gone, or was buried deep under his emotional trauma.  

    “Please, please, don’t go.” He pleaded, “Please, you’re the love of my life.”

    “Fuck you.” I spat through gritted teeth, yanking my wrist out of his grip as I pulled my keys from my bag and got into my car.

I laid on the horn as I threw the car into reverse, speeding off down the road. The headlights turned into starbursts as the tears flew from my eyes. I frantically wiped them away as I blew through at least one stop sign on the way home.

I couldn’t cry anymore. Exhaustion was beginning to sweep over me just as there was a knock at my door. I knew exactly who it was, and I wanted nothing more than to be able to ignore it. But my body moved without my mind’s permission, dragging me to the front door. I glanced through the frosted window, seeing the outline of a figure dressed in denim.

    “Why are you even here? What else do you want from me?” I shouted at him through the door.

    “I came here to ask you to go to Indiana with me!”  

I yanked the door open, so hard I was afraid I would pull it right off its hinges. Go to Indiana? He can’t possibly expect me to drop everything and go with him. Especially not after tonight.

    “Go to Indiana with you!? I just caught you about to fuck some other girl!” I screamed, tears that I thought were depleted returning to my eyes.

To be honest, before I saw him with her, I would have considered it. So what if I was 17, I could finish my senior year, go to Purdue and study god knows what. Do what our parents did, marry our high school sweethearts and start a life there. Sure, it seemed far off, but I could think that far ahead with him. He had been such a constant, I couldn’t imagine him not remaining in my life.

    “I can’t go without you…” He admitted, rocking back and forth on his heels. He had yet to look me in the eyes.

    “You know how much shit I put up with for you?” I snarled, “How many times I wanted to leave?”

I flashed back to some drunk asshole at a party who stumbled up to me and spilled his drink on my top. I was annoyed, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. Billy, though, he thought differently. The next thing I knew the kid was pinned on the floor as Billy wailed on his face. The only reason he stopped was because the cops came.

    “I know, I know-” He began.

I didn’t care to let him elaborate. Nothing he could say would make me change my mind. Nothing he could say could make me forgive him. And there damn well wasn’t a thing he could say to convince me to go with him.

    “I thought maybe you being such a jackass was because of your dad. You were sweet to me, so what did it matter, right? It’s okay that you beat people up for the hell of it. It’s okay that you drink yourself into a coma a couple of times a week. Because you loved me, right? All I needed was somebody that loved me.” I scoffed, my tears of sadness turning into tears of anger. Not at him, but at myself for not realizing this would happen sooner or later.

    “Loved, you? I still love you!” He asserted.

    “Really? Love is sticking your dick in the first new thing that walks by?”

    “Babe-” 

    “No. Don’t you fucking dare call me that, not right now.” I shrieked, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. I thanked God that my parents were out of town.

    “You got so mad at me when I told you about Indiana… You said you were done… I thought you meant we were done.” He defended, restlessly twisting his ring around his finger.

    “You fucking tell me that I’m the love of your life, yet the second we break up, you’ve moved on with somebody else!?”

    “It’s not like that!”

    “No, of course, it’s not! It’s never ‘like that’” I sneered, “That’s totally not the go-to of every cheater on the fucking planet.”  

    “It wasn’t about her! I don’t give a damn about her!” He roared, “I thought we were done. I needed somebody to run to. I couldn’t fucking deal with losing you!”

    “No. No. That’s not a good enough reason.” I argued, “You didn’t see me doing the same damn thing. Jesus Christ, Billy! We had this for years since we were kids. And you didn’t even take a second to mourn that.”

    “Baby-”

    “Leave,” I uttered.

    “Please don’t do this.”

    “You know, as bad as you just hurt me, you’re the only person I want to talk to right now.” I whimpered.

He dipped his head, avoiding my gaze as he brought his hands up to wipe his tears. His whole body was trembling, having to use all of his strength not to completely lose it.

    “Please. Just go.” I begged.

    “I’m sorry.”

10/15/84 4:36 am: I’m leaving tomorrow… Uh… the van is all packed up and we’re driving out there. You… won’t be able to call me for a few days… I know that…. You probably don’t want to talk to me anyway. But…. Just know…. I love you. Please… answer next time I call. I love you. I’ll… talk to you later. Or maybe I’ll talk to your answering machine later, who knows.

10/17/84: 4:22 pm: Hey… It’s me… again. We’re in Colorado. About halfway there. It’s beautiful here. The mountains are gorgeous. There’s snow, too. I know how much you love snow. Remember when we went skiing that one year, and I ate shit going down the hill? You laughed your ass off until you realized I was hurt.  I wish you were here too. Maybe if I hadn’t been such a dick, you would be.

10/19/84 8:49 pm: Hey, Y/N. It would be nice to hear your voice. We just got into town… This place is a shithole. Everybody here is boring as hell. There isn’t a single girl here who even compares to you. I got assigned some book that I know you really like. I don’t see how, it’s the most boring thing I’ve ever read. Maybe you could tell me why you love it so much? Maybe you could call me back.

11/01/84 2:36 am: It’s me. I know I haven’t called in a while, but I’m drunk as hell. I just beat my keg record. Not that you would care, you always thought beer was disgusting. I thought things here might be looking up. But… Dad… He’s been… it’s gotten worse. I really need to talk to you.

It was maybe the dozenth message I had listened to over the past month. Each one sounded more desperate than the last.

One last time, I swallowed my pride, dialing my phone. I waited through the rings on the other end.

“What?” A gruff voice replied, blowing what I assume was a puff of smoke.

“Billy?” I asked.

He took a deep breath,

“Y/N?”