#anyway if i ever have to hear that song again in the next 3 months im kicking off

[falloutgirlboy]

do not ever edit music/lyric videos u will be so so so sick of the song afterwards

[marypaol]

Say You Won’t Let Go

Harry James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Harry wants to stay with her till they’re gray and old… as long as she doesn’t let go.

Warnings: Kissing? Talk of future? I think that’s it! <3

Note: In Harry’s POV yet it’s third person. I hope that makes sense to y’all. :)

Note #2: Based on the song “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur. Not the whole song though. (Some lyrics)

Between each lyric- time skip. Lyrics in italics! :)

Masterlist

Requests closed at the moment

Also started another blog! @honeychamomile1

I pulled you closer to my chest. And you asked me to stay over, I said, “I already told ya, I think that you should get some rest.”

“I’m so tired.” She grumbled. Her body squirmed under the blankets as she tried to seek a comfortable position.

“I know.” Harry chuckled in response, his fingers traveling along the skin of her arm as he kissed her temple.

She hummed, her eyes once closed but when he responded she fluttered them open, eyes sparkling at the sight of him.

“You’re so pretty, Harry.” She laughed out, hand coming up to stroke his cheek, then reaching up to adjust his glasses.

She pulled him forward with her arm around his neck, digging her face into it, and he thanked Merlin she couldn’t see his red face then. He pulled her closer to his chest, arm wrapped around her back as she was once now flushed against him.

“You should stay the night.” She whispered, snuggling herself deeper into him as she kissed the skin of his neck.

He squirmed at the feeling, the tickle sensation spreading from the area she was kissing to his toes. He sighed once she stopped, having to stop the giggles that were threatening to leave his mouth.

He leaned back, taking his arm out from behind her back so she wouldn’t crush it and stroked her hair out of her face as he looked at her.

“I already told you,” he sighed. “you should get some rest.”

She groaned at his reminder, hands reaching up to ruffle his already messed up hair. She was gonna be honest, there wasn’t a time she saw it neat. That that she was complaining, his feisty hair was one of her favorite things about him.

She then pouted when her eyes met his. He chuckled at her stubbornness, shaking his head at her.

“Don’t look at me like that, I have to go back to Ron.” He reminded with a teasing warning look.

“I was hoping you would stay when I gave you the puppy eyes.” She said, putting the show on again. He shook his head once again as an answer.

She pouted deeper, her eyes dropping before she gained composure again to hide the fact she was tired.

“Rude.” She muttered, dropping her hands from his hair.

He laughed on how cute she looked, kissing her pout away with a soft kiss to the lips.

When you looked over your shoulder

For a minute I forget that I’m older

I wanna dance with you right now

Oh, and you look as beautiful as ever

And I swear that everyday you’ll get better

You make me feel this way somehow

Harry could hear the shuffling from the seat next to him, his lover not seeming to be finding a satisfactory position to sit in while doing their work.

“I don’t know what to write!” She exclaimed, dropping her quill as she made movements in the air with her hands in exasperation.

Harry shrugged, peeking at the page number she was on in her textbook and turning to it in his own. The two were doing their Divination homework, Professor Trelawney wanting them to see how the next month for them will go.

“I’m about done with taking this seriously,” she started, shaking her head.

“You’ve been thinking I’ve been?” Harry added, but she continued, ignoring his comment.

“I’m making it up.” She decided, grabbing her quill and looking at her book, humming as she found a potential imaginary scenario that will most likely not happen anyways.

“I’ll….lose a bet….?” She suggested, still looking at her book.

Harry nods before realizing she’s not looking at him.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he replies. “Um…and I’ll…be unlucky for one week.”

She grinned at him. “Mine’s more believable.”

He scoffed. “My book doesn’t have any good ones!” He said as an excuse.

She laughed. “We have the same book!”

“Whatever-get me a different Divination book in the library, will ya?”

She rolled her eyes but got up nonetheless, searching the shelves for something better for the boy. Even though the book she was using was just fine.

She heard him close the book he was previously using and looked over her shoulder at him.

Harry just so happened to be already looking at her, and forgot everything he was thinking about moments prior. He forgot he was a year older since his birthday was in the summer, forgot that his mind should be focused on school work. His brain was occupied with thoughts on how beautiful she looked at the moment. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of him looking flustered just by looking at her, his bright green eyes something she easily got lost in.

He suddenly had the urge to get up and dance with her right in the middle of the library, despite his lack of dancing skills. He wanted to embrace her as a way to claim her his, despite the fact she already was.

Everyday she seemed to get more beautiful, more breathtaking, and more gorgeous.

Even after she chuckled at his act, turning away with thoughts all about him, a soft fuzzy feeling flooded Harry, making him feel all warm inside.

His fingertips became tingly, itching to touch her face her hair her everything. She just left him and he already longed for her to come back.

She did just that a couple minutes later, laying a book down for him as they exchanged smiles.

I'm so in love with you

And I hope you know

Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold

We've come so far, my dear

Look how we've grown

And I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old

Just say you won't let go

Just say you won't let go

“Say you won’t let go.”

The sentence made her head come up from his chest, her fingers halting their movements on his hand.

She looked at him and laughed halfheartedly. “What?”

He was serious when she looked at him, and so her small smile dropped suddenly at his serious mood switch.

“Say you won’t let go.” Harry repeated.

“You know I won’t, Harry.” She whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek, the smooth skin soft beneath her finger tips.

“Promise?” Harry asked hesitantly, doubt swarming in his stomach.

She sat up then, and for a split dying second he thought she was gonna leave, leaving him alone in the bed.

Instead she sat on his lap, his back leaning against the headboard. She sighed, legs on either side of his waist as her arms came up, sliding up his shoulders before her hands wrapped around his neck. “Harry,” she whispered, leaning closer.

“I want to stay with you until we’re grey and old. So old we don’t be able to get out of bed, so old neither of us can hear properly anymore. So old that we both have wrinkles covering our faces and even more when we smile. And I do that a lot around you.” She added, smiling as she said such things.

“Really?” Harry asked, voice barely audible. But she heard him well, nodding her head. “Yes,” she started, leaning closer and pecking his lips, sweet and soft, loving and kind. “And I definitely won’t be letting go any time soon.”

“I love you.” Harry whispered.

“And I love you.” She said back against his lips.

I hope you guys liked it!

[softpascalito]

Pedro Pascal x Reader - I'll look after you

Summary: Pedro is sick (but of course he doesn't admit it). You look after him. Hurt/Comfort (but the twist is that you're the one doing the comforting).

Relationships: Pedro Pascal / Reader

WC: ~2000

Tags/Warnings: RPF, Pedro Pascal, No use of Y/N, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Sick!Pedro, Established Relationship, Mostly Gender-Neutral, Fluff and Angst, pedro pascal needs a hug, this is so soft and emotional and gentle-, author uses fanfic as therapy

AO3 LINK

Notes: hello loves! just a quick heads up: this is no medical advice because someone decided to got to film school rather than medical school. anyways: enjoy <3

songs recommended to go with this fic: look after you - the fray moon song - phoebe bridgers - lea

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“You're not going.”

Pedro let out an exasperated sigh:” It's just a small interview. I'll be fine.” “If it's just a small interview, surely it's no big deal for them to reschedule.” You retorted instantly.

You were standing in the hallway of the small apartment the two of you shared. It was a familiar scene. Pedro quickly slipping into his worn-out trainers, already halfway towards the door, balancing his phone, keys and a coffee in his left hand, a kiss on the cheek the last thing you got before he hauled off to whatever photoshoot or interview he had scheduled that day.

Today however, something was different. He had slept in later than usual, hence the hurry he was in now.

“I can see you're not doing well.”-”I said Im fine.” You could hear his voice straining a little more. Pedro was very patient- especially with you. But he hated being late and you knew he likely was already on edge with whatever he was going through:” I'll see you tonight.”

He gave another nod in the rough direction of you and turned towards the door. Your voice became a tad more gentle as you spoke.

”Pedrito.”

For a second, you thought he was going to ignore you, brush it off and hurry to his car, leaving you behind. But then he stopped his movements, his hand remaining on the handle of the open door as his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. You waited another beat before speaking again:

“Please let me give them a call and ask them to reschedule. I'll take the blame if you want.” 

The door closed as he took a step back and leaned against it. You barely caught his voice as he spoke:” Alright.”

You closed the distance between you and your gaze automatically wandered over him, taking in the beads of sweat on his forehead and the glazed-over look in his eyes that had made you skeptical in the first place. What you had failed to notice was the small tremor in his hands. “Give me those,” you said softly, and you were glad to see that he allowed you to take the keys and coffee out of his hands and place them on the small hallway table next to you.

“You wanna go lie down? I'll give them a call and then I'll make you some tea, alright?”

He noticed how gentle your tone was, how careful you seemed- all because he was running a small fever. Still, he couldn't help the tiny part of him that felt relieved at the idea of not having to go to the interview, not having to answer questions he had heard several times before, not having to sit under the scorching lights.

“As you command,” he teased. You knew he was doing this to take some of your worry away, to make you feel better. Pedro did this a lot. Whenever he felt like he had dug too deep or like he was putting too much weight on you, he'd simply play it off. After months together, you could see right through it. For now, however, you decided to let it slide, giving him a small smile, meant to lift his spirits.

The call didn't take long. There was a notion of annoyance on the other side of the line and you were reminded to cancel as early as possible in cases like these. You didn't give any explanation, simply reassured them that you'd find a new date and hung up.

You were just standing on your tiptoes to check the scarce collection of tea in the cabinet, when you heard the small commotion from the hallway. For a second, you assigned it to something falling over in the breeze coming from the sea or a sound drifting in from the outside. And then you remembered the exhaustion in Pedros face.

You were in the hallway in an instant, finding him leaning onto the small end table. The cup of coffee had fallen to the floor, a rug below catching most of its contents. For a split second, you got annoyed, knowing you'd have to throw it into the laundry. You opened your mouth to complain- and closed it again. The slight anger in you turned into genuine concern as you saw Pedros white knuckles holding on to the table, his face pale.

“Babe?” You asked softly as you stepped forward, ignoring the way the coffee was also soaking into your socks:” You okay?”

“Jus' a little dizzy,” He mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to steady himself:” Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” You said firmly as you half crouched between him and the table and then raised yourself to full height again, allowing him to use you as a crutch:” Let's get you to the couch, big guy.”

It took quite some combined effort, and more than once you worried about him actually passing out- but eventually, he fell down onto the couch with a soft sigh. He leaned back, covering his face with his hands:” Fuck, I'm sorry.” He mumbled, again. Apologizing. Again. Always apologizing.

“Do you want me to call a doctor or something?” You asked, still unsure about how bad his state actually was.

“No, no, just need a minute.” You watched with concern as he took a few deep breaths, clearly trying to convince his body to stay conscious. The thing about unconsciousness though is that it doesn't have shit to do with willpower. If you fall, you fall. No matter how hard you're trying to tell your brain to keep pumping the blood towards where it's needed.

The water heater beeping dragged you back to reality.

“I'll get you that tea either way.” You mumbled and headed towards the kitchen again, muttering a ' you stay ' with another glance in his direction.

He did as told.

You quickly threw the tea bag into the mug, poured the hot water on it, grabbed a small chocolate bar for good measure and returned to the living room.

“Here you go.” You mumbled as you sat the steaming mug down and offered the chocolate to Pedro:” Will this help?” He gave you a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. They still looked glazed over and you hummed as you took in his face, gently bringing your hand up to feel his forehead.

“Pedge, you're burning up.” He looked up at you with his round, brown puppy eyes and he just looked so goddamn miserable that it truly broke your heart, instantly making you wish you could take all his pain away.

“Okay, let me get a thermometer-” Pedro frowned slightly:”Do we have one of those?”-”I bought one, remember? I said-”

”You said we'd need one eventually.” He offered.

Despite his pitiful state, you couldn't help but grin a bit:” That's right.” You hummed as you grabbed a small box from the hallway closet, filled with different medications and- ”Here it is.”

As you approached him, Pedro squirmed slightly:” You're not gonna try to put that up my butt, are you?” You rolled your eyes:” Your mouth is fine.” 

With a small wink, you added:” I'm saving your pretty little bum for another time.”

He blushed slightly at that but you barely noticed, already busy taking the thermometer out of its packaging:” You want me to do it?”

Pedro gave a small nod but you could tell he was conflicted about it. For a moment, he seemed to consider his words:” Baby, maybe you should leave. I don't want you getting sick too and-”

”No.” He opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off by pressing a small kiss to his lips:” There. Already infected. Now open up.” 

He was stunned enough to not protest. You were as gentle as possible as you rested one hand on his cheek, the other leading the thermometer into his mouth:” No talking.” He grumbled a bit but did as told, his gaze lingering on you as you both waited for the beep that would signal that the temperature was ready. 

At this point, he knew you well enough to realize that you wouldn't leave him- no matter how many times he asked. On the other hand, you knew him well enough to realize he would still ask, always afraid of being a burden. 

Your brows furrowed a bit as you took the thermometer out and glanced at the small screen:” It isn't too bad but some paracetamol wouldn't hurt.” You deduced, already grabbing the pills from the box and quickly glancing over the leaflet.

The look Pedro was giving you didn't fully reach your brain until you realized how quiet he was. Immediately, you turned your attention towards him:” Are you okay? Are you feeling dizzy?”

To your surprise, he gave a small chuckle. He was glancing at you in wonder:” How do you know all this?” You raised a brow:'' Thermometers and Paracetamol aren't exactly rocket science.” He shook his head:” Still, you're- you're kind of good at that.”

You gave a small shrug as you poured him a glass of water:” I spent a few summers helping out at camp when I was younger. They didn't have a proper nurse so I filled in.”

Again, he stared up at you in amazement:” I didn't know that.” He said quietly.

“Well, we never- it never came up.” You replied, a little self-conscious:” I didn't think it was very interesting.”

“Everything about you is interesting. To me, I mean.” He blurted out. You stared at him for a moment and then sighed, shaking your head.

“Pedro, you have a fever.”-”So?”-”So, declarations of your deep love for me don't count because you're not in the right state of mind.” Both of you stayed quiet as you settled down on the couch.

“Are you sure you dont wanna leave?” You smiled at him gently as you drew a blanket over his legs:” Go to sleep, baby.”

Again, you fell into silence as you watched him close his eyes. You were beginning to think he'd already fallen asleep, when he suddenly spoke again.

“Querida?” He asked in a low voice. Your head perked up slightly:” Hm?”

“Remind me again tomorrow.” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion, your brain already zoning out:” Remind you of what?”

“To tell you how much I love you.”

You were too choked up to answer. You simply stared at him, his broad form nestled into the couch, two pillows below his back because it always, always hurt, his hair messy and sticking up into all directions and his eyes closed, seemingly already drifting off to sleep. He looked so soft and vulnerable and you couldn't help the strong urge to protect him, to shield him from all evil in the world. Including the evil of a sick day.

It didn't take more than a few minutes until his breathing became deeper and eventually he began snoring softly.

You watched his chest rise and fall from your spot on the couch and you thought your heart might leap out of your own chest and join in his, because you simply loved him that much.

With a small sigh, you got up again. You turned off the doorbell, threw both your socks and the coffee-stained rug into the washer, drew a few curtains and hid the script Pedro had been working on below some magazines. As far as you were concerned, he was on bedrest for the remainder of the day.

When you were satisfied, you returned to your spot on the couch, shifting slightly so that you were lying next to him but still giving him enough space to turn in his sleep.

“I'll remind you every day.” You mumbled, more to yourself than him.

I'll remind you every day as long as your answer stays the same, I'll have you as long as you'll have me . 

You thought distantly as you too closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, your hand finding his in a gesture that conveyed more than either of you could say. 

But you knew. Both of you knew .

You knew now and you'd know the day after. And the day after that. And you had a feeling he did too.

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ty for reading!! i am afraid i am in fact a hopeless romantic. anyways, i hope you guys enjoyed it, please leave a comment if you did <3

[coucouatoi]

we're not who we used to be | h.s.

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Summary: Some letters you've written but never sent to Harry over the years.

Warnings: Angst... so much... there's some fluff, emphasise on the some, there's a hopeful ending tho!

A/N: Sooo this is the childhood friends to strangers fic no one asked for... Hope you all enjoy! This is my writing debut in Harry land :)

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April 10' 2010

To: Harry Styles From: Your first fan

Hiya Harry,

It's currently 11:29 pm about 10 hours away from your audition. I figured since you told me to stop praising you and boosting your ego, I'm writing down the rest of the things I want to say.

Firstly, I know you're going to smash it! All the judges are going to want you in. There's no chance that they won't see how special you are, how you're the next big thing.

I won't let you back out of it last second! Anne, Gemma and I are ready to drag you onto the stage, we've discussed it thoroughly...

Secondly, I'm already so proud of you. This is a huge step, I know how nervous you are about it. How you think that everything is going to go wrong and that you'll fail. I've got enough hope in you for the both of us. I'll stand by your side the whole time and I'll cheer the loudest.

To finish, you're Harry Styles. You can do anything.

Break a leg superstar!!

Cheering you on already,

Your first-ever fan

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December 12' 2010

To: Harry Styles From: Your biggest fan

Harry!

You've made it all the way to the finals! It's crazy! I knew you could do it but seeing you go further and further has been surreal.

I hope you and the other boys get along well! We haven't had much chance to really gossip about it all, you seem excited with them!

The finale is set to start in about 2 hours and I had to get some emotions out (my mom was tired of hearing them... rude) Anyway! I remembered that I had written you a letter a few months ago and now I'm back in this notebook.

I'm so nervous, excited and kind of nauseous about watching the last episode tonight. I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now... You must be so scared but incredibly jittery!

I'm counting the days until I get to see you again! I want to hear everything that's happened behind the scenes! You know how nosy I am!

I've already taken up two pages so I'll stop for now.

You can do this!

Talk to you soon,

Your favourite person ever

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March 7' 2011

To: You From: Me <3

You called me Angel today...

I don't know what to make of that.

I had so many butterflies in my stomach.

Could you call me that again?

You're my favourite person,

Angel

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November 20' 2011

To: Harry From: Angel

Boo!

You finally let me listen to the full album today! Said you had to be there when I listened to it so you could give me all the secrets. You also wanted to see live how I reacted to every song. You're too cute.

"I Want" is my current favourite.

You did tell me that you'd resonated with a lot of the lyrics you sang on this album. That almost scares me.

How did you relate? Who was going through your mind?

You do have the world at your feet now. I shouldn't feel jealous but I do like having you all to myself. Don't worry I'll get used to sharing...

The Up All Night Tour is starting soon! I'm happy that you've invited me to come to some shows. I'll be there no matter if I have to miss school.

I have to show all these newbies that I'm THE biggest Harry Styles fan out there!

Hopefully, you thought about me while signing.

Because I think about you all the time,

Your favourite fan.

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April 13' 2012

To: Harry From: Angel

G'Day Mate!

So you're officially all the way in Australia now! That's so exciting I wish that you could have stuffed me into your suitcase... sniff

I bet it's super warm there! Or not wait their seasons aren't the same as ours, are they? I'm not even sure...

Hopefully, you can tan a little while you're there! Don't go near any animals or insects!!

I miss you a lot, maybe I'll send this one (spoiler I definitely won't).

Talk to you soon hopefully.

Go swim in the ocean,

Someone who wants to be in it

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August 29' 2012

To: Harry From: Angel?

You haven't come to see me since you've been back.

Too busy being a celebrity?

I've been seeing all these tabloids... I'm not allowed to be jealous I know but I miss you.

I hope you've missed me.

I really really wish you were here with me or that I was with you wherever you are now.

I just want to be us.

Have you forgotten your friend from the small town already?

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January 1' 2013

To: Harry From: Someone You've Hurt

I don't know what to think,

You kissed me. It made me happy.

You said it was a New Year's kiss.

You said you drank too much, it hurt.

You ended up kissing someone else about 20 minutes later.

That hurt even more it almost made me feel used.

I'm happy you were my first kiss.

I don't think you'll even remember it,

Y/N

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November 27' 2014

To: Harry From: Me

I love the new album, took me a while to finally listen to it. I thought you'd come home and make me listen to it in your presence.

You didn't. The first album that I've listened to alone.

Spaces and Fools Gold are my favourite songs. I wonder how many lyrics you resonate with. How many of them did you write?

Come home?

Only for a day please,

Your first Angel

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October 21' 2015

To: Harry From: Y/N

It's been a while,

It's your mom's birthday today. Well only for a few more hours...

She invited my family and me to the party, and of course we went. I didn't think you'd be there. I haven't seen you in almost a year.

It was fun.

Catching up about everything that's been going on with you and the band. Your life is so much more interesting than mine now.

I'm just a boring college student... you're this huge star but that's ok there's no one like you for me, you're my safe place. No matter how far away.

You asked about my love life and I told you about the date I had a few days ago. You asked if we had sex, I lied and said yes. I didn't want to embarrass myself by telling you no one's ever been with me like that.

We ended up getting drunk. Too drunk.

We fucked.

You took my virginity and you have no idea... should I tell you? You were so good. So gentle, loving but you fucked with a purpose, you needed to get off. I won't ever see your childhood bedroom the same way.

This was only a few hours ago.

I've felt every emotion about it. Now I'm crying because I know you'll find someone new to share a bed with. I'm just a notch in your headboard.

It meant everything to me.

But I think I regret it...

Y/N

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May 12' 2017

To: You From: Me

Really?

I hope Only Angel isn't about me.

But I'm overanalysing every single song. Is one about me? Did you think of me while making this album?

We haven't talked since the last time we saw each other. When we fucked again. It wasn't even the second time, after your mom's birthday two years ago we never stopped. It's all we do when we see each other.

It doesn't make me feel all that much better but I feel like if it wasn't for that we wouldn't even know each other anymore.

I'm moving away this year. Got a job offer in Canada and I'm taking it.

Maybe I'll get over you... hopefully.

I can't live my whole life waiting for someone who I don't know anymore.

I'm blocking your number.

I miss who we used to be,

Your first-ever fan

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December 4' 2019

To: H From: Y/N

Hello,

You've crawled your way back into my life, Harry. This morning, you decided to send me your album. Your new one, Fine Line. Your fans haven't even heard it yet. The public hasn't either.

You didn't write a single thing in your email, the mp3 link was staring me down with your automated signature. Not even a greeting.

I shouldn't have listened to it.

I don't know why you sent it to me. We haven't spoken or crossed paths in over a year. Not since I moved and tried to get rid of every way of contact between us.

I still haven't answered, I don't think I will.

You don't get to know what I feel about it. Not anymore.

I'm sorry Harry.

I've moved on,

Y/N

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December 13' 2019

To: H From: Y/N

Your new album came out today.

I'm proud of you even if we are strangers now.

You're a superstar.

I always knew you would be,

Y/N

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March 17' 2020

To: H From: Y/N

I saw that you had to postpone your tour.

You must feel so defeated.

I know I do. Everything's been closed and opened and closed again here in Canada. It's getting exhausting.

I hope the world starts working again soon.

This all sucks...

Crossing my fingers for the tour,

Y/N

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May 18' 2022

To: Harry From: Y/N

Hi,

You sent me the album before the release again.

This time you did say something: I miss you Angel, Can we meet up?

I didn't think I could feel so many butterflies in my stomach. I felt like a teenager again. And I cried more than once listening to Harry's House.

I'm still considering if I should answer... if I do what should I choose? Should I agree and go into the unknown or forget it happened and keep on going with my life?

I miss you too... the one I knew. Not the one who used me. I guess I used you too... How did we get here?

All I want is to be loved and to be in love.

I'm not sure if I'm ready for the hurt this will bring but maybe I should just be a grown-up about this...

I want you back in my life.

That scares me,

Y/N

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August 16' 2022

To: Harry From: Y/N

Well,

I'm going to the Love On Tour today and after we are going to "meet". We even have until the 20th because that is when your next show is, after today obviously.

You were so excited when I agreed.

It's almost as if no time has passed when we text (he changed his number in the last few years... no need for an embarrassing unblocking).

My friend, the one who convinced me to agree, helped me pick out an outfit. Thankfully for her, I won't stick out like a sore thumb in the crowd of feather boas and cowboy hats.

I really want this to work.

I want to believe that we can be good again. We can be healthy for one another again but I'll be worried until I see you.

Until we speak.

I won't let myself touch you, I have a feeling that it would be far too easy to fall back into a bed. Maybe a hug would be okay.

I'm excited for the show, to see the Superstar Harry Styles in action. After so many years you have to have evolved so much.

You aren't little Harry from Worcestershire anymore.

I'm not the same person I once was either.

See you tonight.

Break a leg,

Y/N

[bangtanhoneys]

The Grammy Awards - Grace Chu

Note: this is a bit long. Over 5k words which is the longest thing I’ve ever written. I wanted something different and while I still think the Grammy’s did BTS dirty, I wanted my girl to have some love. I don’t expect everyone to agree to it but it is fanfic after all.

Part 2 l Part 3

When Grace had created her first solo album that wasn’t a mixtape, she had no plans to submit anything to the Grammys. The history between the Grammy’s and BTS had left a bad taste in her mouth - they were used as eye candy for performances, to bring in the audience and leave them till the last minute, even with five nominations and no wins. So when she was asked if she wanted to put the ‘In My Head’ album in for any categories, she shut the idea down. 

Really, she should have realised that Bang PD would have just done it anyway.

The first she heard about it was when Chaelin, CL from 2NE1, had sent her a text of congratulations followed by IU. Then her parents called her to say congratulations and there was a flurry of messages in the BTS group chat. 

Of course, she thought they were all off their heads because there was no way in hell that she was nominated for a Grammy, let alone three. But when she went on the website, sure enough, under her name were the following categories:

7 Rings - Record of the Year

In My Head - Album of the Year

7 Rings - Best Pop Solo Performance. 

It left her feeling very conflicted. 

While she was proud of herself and the team behind the song as well as the album, she remembered the disappointment on the rest of the boy’s faces when they received no nominations for their solo music and the bigger disappointment when they didn’t win as a group, sitting there in the audience with cameras in their faces and once again, no win. 

She didn’t want the award for the very reason that she didn’t want to go all the way out there, to dress up, to sit there and then nothing. Feeling nothing but pure disappointment.

So, she kept silent and kept on preparing herself for the tour that would be happening in a few months after the November nomination announcement. Everyone was excited, including the boys, yet she felt absolutely blank about the whole thing. In her head, it was just another ploy to get the BTS name attached to the Grammys.

A week later, after the nominations were released, she got called into a meeting with everyone including Bang PD, their choreographing team, the CEO and PR and some others that she didn't know. Grace sat down next to Sejin, wondering why most of the important people in Big Hit had been called to the table. 

“Okay as everyone is aware, Hea has been nominated for three Grammy awards. They’ve been in touch and asked if Hea would be interested in either opening up the Grammy’s with a song or if there would be a medley performance at some point,” the CEO explained. “We’ve already got an idea but wanted to hear what everyone’s thoughts were before we went forward and if Hea wanted to go through with this as well.”

Grace glanced towards Sejin out of the corner of her eye. He knew her better than most and he knew the thoughts of the boys as well. They were proud of her and this would be a big thing for not only her, but for the boys, Big Hit and Korea as a whole. If she won, she would be the first K-Pop Korean and the first Korean female. If she didn’t win, she would still be highly regarded because of the nomination. 

Though she knew full well that some antis would see this as an opportunity to bash and slander. 

Sejin knew her thoughts about the Grammy’s and he returned her look, giving her a slight nod. If he thought she should go, then off she went. 

“I want to get the boy's opinion first,” Grace started. “But if everyone thinks I should go and this is going to be a good thing, rather than a disappointment, then I’ll go. And I suppose, depending on the time limit, it’s going to be one song rather than a medley?”

The CEO nodded, nodding towards Bang PD. “We’re thinking of at least 3 or 4, depending on the time slot. Plus this could be a good test for the tour as well if we use songs from the Dangerous Woman mix tape and then you’ve got some other songs as well you want to release? If not, then we would just stick to 7 Rings.”

“Not until January but the Grammy’s are in February, so that would tie in with that mixtape’s release,” Grace agreed. 

“Okay, well let’s see what we can put together and I will check what time limit we have so we can work towards that. We don’t want to put more pressure on the team for dancing so we’ll work with you on that and maybe work with InTheLab in LA,” the CEO glanced towards the team of choreographers who nodded in agreement. “And once we have confirmation on everything, we can discuss outfits and the like. Would you be going with Seokjin-ssi?”

That made Grace pause. He was out of military service now and was free to take, even with his own schedule and music going on. Hobi was free as well. So she could take the two free members of BTS but there was also the option of her parents as well? It would be an honour for them, especially her father.

“I will double check but I think I would want to take my father. I know he’s not one for the public eye but if I won, I’d want him to see that in person rather than on TV. If I don’t win, well it’s an experience.”

With plans in motion, Grace left the meeting still feeling conflicted.

‘GRAMMY’s want me to perform. What do you think?’ she fired off a message to the group chat, as she turned down the hallway and headed to Hobi’s studio. 

There would be no response from four of them until that evening so she wasn’t expecting anything. Of course, her boyfriend was the first one to reply.

‘Do it and kick their ass.’

Yoongi then replied: ‘Agreed. Our turn will come but I want you to win without us.’

Grace sighed and slipped into Hobi’s studio, finding him already mixing a mock up of her songs. 

“I haven’t actually agreed yet,” Grace laughed as she took a seat on the couch.

“I know you feel conflicted,” Hobi said as he turned down the volume on the speaker as Dangerous Woman played in the background with a bit more bass to it, spinning his chair around to face Grace. “I feel conflicted for you. I would be proud as a Korean if you won because you’d be the first one to win. It would be like watching Jungkookie at the World Cup - he’s still BTS but it’s a major thing. Like Yoongi-hyung’s tour, that was for him but he was still BTS.”

“I know but the Grammys have fucked us around,” Grace frowned. “Nominate us, tease the audience about us or our performance or whether we’ve won and leave it till the last minute and then not give it to us though they’ve been hinting we’re going to win. They’ve used us for views and we’ve had nothing in return.”

Hobi sighed and nodded, reaching out to pat Grace’s knee. “Yes, that’s true. But why not go and show them what BTS’ female member can do? I know you don’t care about the awards and the nominations you’ve received for your hard work but go and do this one. Go and show them what they're missing.”

The four other members sent similar messages, though Namjoon added: ‘Make me proud as a leader and a brother. Whether you win or not, the fact you’ve been nominated for three awards and you’ve been asked to perform is amazing. So go and do it.’

Seokjin didn’t exactly decline the invitation to go but rather wanted the focus to be on her. With that, she somehow managed to get her parents to agree to go though her father was uncomfortable with the idea.

“Do we have to go on the red carpet?” he asked over dinner the following night.

“No. You can be taken straight to the seats inside, bypassing all the photos and the faff. There will be cameras and they might film your reactions but other than that, no you don’t have to do the whole thing,” Grace confirmed as she took her plate of homemade spaghetti bolognese that her mother made.

Her father was silent as he dipped the garlic bread into the sauce. Grace could see the cogs turning in his head just as they had in hers when she heard the news. It would bring great honour to the family name yet did he want to risk his anonymity? His wife, Grace’s mother, was already a fan favourite having been seen in various Big Hit videos. 

“It would be my honour then to go.”

So began the practice for the Grammy’s alongside final dance practice for the tour. 

The team had agreed on one song, the one with the nomination, rather than a medley since she had only been given five minutes to perform as the first performance of the night. Her categories would then follow afterwards. Alexander McQueen’s fashion team had sent a blazer dress in her size for her to perform in though the stylist team at Big Hit had to add some shorts so the dress didn’t show everything when she bent over. 

She also had a dress from Elie Saab, the designer reaching out with the perfect dress he said would be fitting for her first solo project. 

Her parents had flown out a week beforehand to enjoy America as tourists and to avoid the chaos at Incheon which had predicted record high numbers of press and fans for Grace’s flight out. And the prediction had been correct. 

She could hear the noise from the car as her managers sorted out passports and boarding passes, bodyguards in position to form the Queen’s Guard to battle through the chaos that was awaiting them inside. 

“You ready?” Sejin asked, handing over a mask and sunglasses. 

“Never,” Grace sighed with a slight smile as she slipped the sunglasses on and adjusted the mask to cover her mouth. 

The moment she stepped out, the noise grew even louder. She paused before the doors, letting the press outside get the photos they needed before entering the airport, the bodyguards tight around her as they moved through the sounds of cheers, screams and the sound of camera flashes going off. She was more than thankful for the sunglasses that protected her eyes against the blindness of lights. 

 It was difficult. They were trying to rush against the barriers put up in place for everyone’s protection and out of the corner of her eye, she could see a few cameras get knocked down for being too close and some people getting shoved away as they had escaped over or underneath the barrier. 

But she kept pushing on, Sejin’s hand tight on her shoulder as they finally got out of the crowd and to the lounge where they could wait for their flight to be called. Security was outside the doors and inside the doors, only letting those in who had passes or were part of the Big Hit team. 

“It gets worse every time,” a bodyguard muttered as they accepted the passports and boarding passes, handing them over to the managers. 

“They need tighter controls at the airport,” another agreed. 

For Grace, she just wanted to get to Los Angeles and get to the hotel, get the awards over with (which would be held at the same stadium she had rented out for her own tour) and come home. She was thankful her parents would be joining her but she kept waiting for the phone call to say there had been an honest mistake and could they cancel. 

The call never came. 

Not while they were getting on the plane, not while they were in the air, not while they got to LAX and not while they got to the hotel. If anything, her appearance in California had heightened the news around the Grammys. 

“We have reports that Grace Chu, the female member of BTS, just landed in Los Angeles over an hour ago and was taken straight to the hotel. Her performance is one of the most highly anticipated performances of the night, as this will be her first solo performance at the Grammys without the rest of BTS,” a reporter said with the Hollywood sign in the backdrop as a ‘live’ report. “Big Hit has been quiet in terms of the performance, outfits and whether anyone else from BTS will be attending given that five members are still in their military service.”

Sejin clicked over the channel to something else as Grace opened up her suitcase in the bedroom, smoothing out her clothes before putting them in the wardrobe. Her designer clothes for the carpet and performance had been put in her room before her arrival. 

“Every news channel is about the Grammys,” Sejin sighed as he finally got to the local news that wasn’t reporting about the upcoming award show that was two days away.

“It’s the main event of any singer’s career,” Grace said as she poked her head around the doorway. “I suppose it’s like their version of a Daesang.”

“At least BTS are awarded properly for a Daesang.”

“Only sometimes,” Grace called out. 

The next day the team planned a schedule to head to the Crypto.com stadium which felt surreal as she would be on the stage in only a month’s time. She would start her American leg of the tour here for two nights then fly to Chicago and to see it laid out for the Grammys was a bit odd. She had seen the renderings and designs for her stage at the stadium so to see large tables with black tablecloths and fancy flower vases, gold chairs and screens being set up was just…strange. 

It would seat over 20,000 just for her. 

They did a full rehearsal of her song and then another one to tidy up some moves, and to allow the TV camera to do its blocking. The usual Bangtan Bomb camera followed the team around from the hotel to the stadium, to the changing room and out again. 

When the day came, Grace stared up at the ceiling from her bed. 

While she wasn’t overly bothered about the whole thing, that didn’t stop the nerves from settling in. She pressed a hand to her stomach to stop the slight wave of nausea and she let out a deep breath, closing her eyes and letting out another breath. She wasn’t sure if she was nervous because of the performance, the awards herself or the fact this was going to be a big step in her solo journey. Maybe it was pure nerves because this was something completely out of her hands and that she couldn’t control. 

She let out a slight huff of annoyance and rolled out of bed, pausing to open the blinds to see L.A in its morning glory. It was already busy and Grace flicked on the TV to see what the latest reports were - the red carpet was down, reporters were already in position and celebrities were already Instagramming their breakfasts’.

“Right,” Grace paused and rubbed her face. “Shower, skin routine, hair routine and food. And then the Grammys.”

The hot water soothed out any tight muscles from stress and she washed her wavy blonde hair (recently dyed for her tour), combing through the oil she used to keep it looking fresh. Face and body cream applied, she wrapped her robe around her body and made her way out of her room.

Her parents were already there, sitting on the couch in front of the TV as they ate breakfast. They looked completely chill even with the day ahead. 

“Good morning,” her mother greeted as she glanced over from the news report. “There’s buffet breakfast in the dining area if you’re feeling up to it?”

Her father placed his half-finished plate down on the coffee table and stood, giving his daughter’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Fruit and tea would be best to start with. I bet you're feeling a little nervous?”

Grace smiled, nodding as she leaned on her Dad for a moment. “You always know and fruit and tea would be amazing, thank you.”

She joined her mother on the couch and tucked up against her side, stealing a piece of toast that she was munching on when her Dad came back with a bowl of fruit containing: grapes, pineapple, strawberries, blueberries, kiwi, watermelon and honeydew melon and her usual cup of tea, already with her two sugars and milk. 

The Chu family quietly watched TV as they ate their breakfast, every now and then mentioning something in regards to what was happening on the screen. There were no words to be said between the three of them while time ticked away and a knock on the door came from Sejin, poking his head around the doorway. 

He smiled slightly, bowing to her parents and then turned his attention to Grace.

“The stylists and makeup team are here to get you ready. Also, you have a surprise visitor.”

Eyebrows raised, Grace finished off her tea and went to put the dishes along with the others in the dining room but her father beat her to it and shooed her away. “Go, I’ll handle this.” 

While some thought of her father as cool, hard to read and not very affectionate - he was very much like Yoongi. Tsundere - cool on the outside, fuzzy on the inside. Very much a strict Korean father when in public and with strangers, but an absolute chaotic fool when around other family, friends and the boys. 

Slightly apprehensive as to what could be waiting for her, there was instant relief when the doors opened to the other bedroom of the suit and Bang PD stood there with the Big Hit Team. She could see it on his face: as if he was going to miss this and let her do it on her own. 

“Thank god,” she muttered as she wandered over and instantly met his hug with one of her own. He had spearheaded her solo career since Dangerous Woman and it only felt right to have him with her, even if he wasn’t going to be on the red carpet. At least he would be with her and her parents during the actual award ceremony.

“You know I couldn’t miss this,” he grinned then gave her a pat on the head. “Go on, go and get ready. I’ll go and see your parents and give them a bit of a run down.”

The make up team kept the glam to a minimum but it still took over two hours to do. Her brown eyes were highlighted with bronze eyeshadow, the liner black but thin and her natural eyelashes fluffed out. While she sat there, letting them do her contour and styling her hair into a half-up, half-down ponytail; she started her vocal warmup by singing Don’t Blame Me, using the mix they would be producing for the tour. 

They carefully slipped the Elie Saab designer dress over her figure, slipping on the pair of Louboutins that had been gifted to her by the designer. A pair of earrings from the boys and a bracelet from Seokjin and she was set to go. 

Big Hit took a few photos of her before the event, one with Bang PD, one with Sejin, the other with her parents and then a couple of her on her own. They wouldn’t be uploaded until she was just about to walk onto the red carpet though the photo with her parents had been sent to the boys. 

Various messages came in as they had been given leave by the military for this occasion, heading to Seokjin’s apartment for a private viewing party with a few close friends and plenty of alcohol. She didn’t read any of the messages, too nervous and unsettled to do anything other than to slip her hand into her father’s. 

Conversations in the car went over her head and she paid little attention, only nodding here and there as her parents, Sejin and Bang PD talked about how the evening would go, where they would be sitting, and what celebrities would be attending. The crowd lining the streets was noisy and huge, though completely used to seeing the many celebrities getting out of their cars. 

Her car stopped and her parents got out first with Bang PD, a member of staff leading them to the entrance straight away to avoid any press or attention though Grace could see a couple of celebrities say hello to her boss. 

“You ready?” Sejin asked, pausing at the door. 

Letting out a deep breath, she counted briefly to five then got out. 

The noise was instant. Reporters paused in their sentence, wondering what was going on and turning to see who had arrived to cause the disturbance. Even a few celebrities paused and turned. 

“Everybody, Grace Chu from BTS has arrived,” Liam McEwan turned to the camera with an excited look on his face. “The queen is here.”

There were so many people clambering for her attention as she posed for photos, smiling at the hundreds of cameras as they yelled her name. The beads and embroidery sparkled on her dress, her fingers fiddling with the belt then the dip which to her was a bit dangerously low but the reporters obviously loved. 

The PR lady moved her along towards an excited looking Liam, who Grace grinned at and opened up her arms. “Liam! It’s been too long since we’ve seen you. How are you?” Fans would later comment on how typical it was of Grace and BTS to remember reporters who had been kind to them. 

The two exchanged a hug, a few questions about the boys, her performance and how he couldn’t wait to see it. Grace left him to carry on down the carpet with him gushing over how lovely she was, which made seven men raise their glasses in cheers.

“Seee! Told you she could do it,” Yoongi said as he raised his glass of whiskey, not at all a bit tipsy as Jungkook reached over and filled it up for him. 

“She hasn’t even gotten inside yet hyung,” Jimin laughed, already opening another bottle of champagne as if Grace had already won her three awards and had been crowned Queen of Korea. 

Seokjin and Namjoon as well as Hobi, the only three who had been determined not to drink until the end, slowly sipped on their iced coffee and laughed as they watched an excited maknae open Taehyung’s bottle of wine for him. 

“But she’s won everyone over! I mean, that dress is amazing on her,” Taehyung said as he stood, pushing over Jimin who spilled himself into Hobi’s lap. Obviously, a career in the military had done nothing to dampen their enthusiasm. 

Taehyung stood next to the large TV screen, pointing at various parts of her dress. “I mean, it’s pretty low. I wonder who signed that off but either way, she looks amazing. And look! Cleavage! No one has seen noona with cleavage yet.”

Yoongi groaned, covering his eyes. “Don’t mention Grace and cleavage in the same sentence. I’m not drunk enough yet.”

It took forever to get Grace inside the stadium as she bumped into several celebrities she knew and said hello to a few more, stopping herself from doing the traditional Korean greeting of bowing. She finally sat down next to her father who handed her a glass of water.

She was about to thank her father when Sejin and a member of the Grammy’s staff came over, to tell her that they would be coming to get her in half an hour so she could do her performance which would be the first one after the first award. 

Hearing that made the nerves return and she gulped down the glass of water, letting out a deep breath. “Don’t be nervous Hea, you’re born for this and you’ve got so much experience in performing in front of a large crowd. You’ve got a bigger crowd than this next month,” her father patted her hand then turned to talk to her mother as if it was nothing.

“Thanks Dad,” she laughed but took the moment to calm herself, to watch everyone start making their way to their seats and for all the audience to get settled in the stands. So many cameras were pointing at the stage, pointing at the audience, pointing at the celebrities, pointing at an overview of the entire award ceremony.

As promised, she was whisked away to get changed in her performance outfit that had been created by Alexander McQueen’s team and adapted by the Big Hit team. The jewellery and the heels remained, as she slipped in her in-ears and took hold of her microphone. 

The dancers, made up of the team of her tour dancers, were in their costumes and ready. They looked as nervous as she did and were doing mini-choreographies in the hallway, making sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. 

“Okay, Grammy’s here we go,” Grace said when they crowded in a circle behind the award stage itself. “Remember, have fun, don’t worry and let’s go make history. BANG,” she finished and the dancers lifted their hands as they shouted, “TAN!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to 5-time Grammy nominated member of BTS, Grace Chu,” the loud announcement came and she could hear the applause and then cheers as the curtain lifted.

On stage was a small orchestra, dressed in dinner suits and black dresses as they played the opening of the Sound of Music’s ‘Favourite Things.’ Though her in-ears were up on the highest, the crowd was still loud. She stood there in the middle, with the lights around her blacked out so no one could see. Her fingers gripped around her microphone then relaxed, as her track came in. 

Each light came on to show her standing there, in her blazer dress that was very short but presentable. Grace Chu - solo artist but a member of Bangtan Sonyeondan. By the time she got to the short rap part, the nerves and worries had gone away.

“When you see them racks, they stacked up like my ass yeah,” she sang/rapped, turning her body a little to the camera to show her hand grabbing a chunk of her backside to match the lyrics. She then fully turned to the camera, the dancers in formation on either side of her as she continued the verse, not knowing that thousands of miles away in Korea she would be causing a storm. 

The song faded out to the cheers and Grace watched as the audience stood, clapping and cheering for her. It took her moment to catch her breath at the view and in gratitude, she did a full bow as the cameras turned away for the next award to be presented. 

Out of breath and on a high, she turned back to the dressing rooms to find Bang PD waiting for her. “Amazing! That’s how you do it! That’s how you show them who's boss,” he yelled as he grabbed her, giving her a good squeeze that lifted her off the ground and then back down again. He was still yelling as they walked into the dressing room. 

Her parents were just as excited as she returned to her seat, more relaxed now the stressful part was over. “Well done,” her father patted her on the back and handed her a new glass of water as her mother passed a napkin to help dab away some sweat she had missed. 

The evening was long and the awards took forever. 

She didn’t win Best Pop Solo Performance so that kind of settled her for the night. If she didn’t win any awards, it didn’t matter as she killed her performance and made herself proud, made her boss proud, made her parents proud and no doubt made the boys and ARMY proud. 

“The nominees for Record of the Year are,” that sentence interrupted the conversation she was having and her mother nudged her to pay attention. 

“There’s no way I’ve won,” Grace muttered but had to smile when the camera came on her when her name had been announced as a nominee, causing the ARMY in the crowd to scream. 

She almost missed it. 

“And the winner is,” There was a giant pause and Grace turned to her mother, about to say ‘see told you’ when “7 Rings - Grace Chu.”

“What?” she said instead, turning towards the stage with a shocked expression as her mother pretty much squealed as she jumped up in the air, followed by Bang PD and then the boys at home. 

“Me?” she laughingly asked and she realised what was happening when her song was being played in the background. 

“No way,” she muttered to herself as she stood, her father helping her as she made her way to the stage where her award was waiting for her. She bowed towards the presenter, to the girl who brought the award on and stood in front of the microphone.

“I nearly missed the winner being announced by not believing I would win this,” Grace said as she stared at the award and then at the crowd in front of her. “So many people to thank and I didn’t bother to write a list. To Bang PD, to PDogg, to the team at Big Hit & HYBE and to everyone who believed in me when I started this solo career. Thank you for being a big support to me and thank you to BTS, my boys back at home who pushed me to make this song. And finally to ARMY,” she paused and glanced down at the award again. “Gamsahabnida,” she thanked in Korean. 

The crowd was loud as she was ushered off stage and Sejin was there to greet her, tears going down his cheeks. She realised then and only then, she had made history not only for her, for the company, for the boys, but for the future.

“Oh my god,” she laughed as she handed over the award to get engraved. 

By the time she had sat down with her award, they were announcing the last award for the night. She didn’t have time to fully process what was going on when Chris Martin walked on stage with a little Grammy award in his hand. 

He gave her a little smile before turning to the camera. 

“And the nominees for Album of the Year are.”

There were the expected cheers for each nominee, her nomination got the most cheers which caused Chris to laugh. He opened the envelope, paused and looked up. “The winner for Album of the Year,” he turned his attention straight to Grace. “In My Head by Grace Chu, produced by Bang PD & PDogg from Big Hit Entertainment. Congratulations.”

The noise was deafening as Grace covered her face with her hands, taking a moment to try her hardest not to cry. She felt hands on her shoulders and her wrists, she heard a lot of cheering as she finally looked up and met the proud yet teary eyes of her father. Everything she had ever wanted was to make him proud. And she had done it. 

She stood with Bang PD, who wiped his own eyes and she took hold of his hand as the two of them made it towards the stage. Chris Martin bowed towards her which made her smile and bow in return, the two exchanging Korean greetings before they finally hugged.

“Jin will be so proud,” he muttered into her ear and stood back to hand over the Grammy towards her, then moved to greet Bang PD. 

“Never,” Grace started then felt her throat close up as she held back her emotions once again. “Never did I imagine that I would be standing on this stage again, to accept the Grammy for Album of the Year and not have my boys with me. It’s bittersweet, I won’t lie but this award is not only for me and Bang PD and Big Hit but it’s for them and for every single person who worked on this album with me. To my parents, thank you for always supporting and loving me. To my boys, I’ll see you soon and to ARMY and my man, I love you both immensely.”

She bowed deeply to the crowd as they stood and applauded, letting her have a moment before she handed the award to Bang PD and stepped to the side to let him have his speech. 

Grace felt Chris’s hand on her shoulder which he gave a squeeze, grounding her in place as they all walked backstage to find her parents and the team there to greet her. It was then and only then, could finally break down in the arms of her parents. 

Sejin had the boys on the phone, putting it on speakerphone as they screamed their congratulations across the line. She couldn’t get her words out as her father hugged her, holding her tight to his chest as all the worry, the nerves, the anticipation and the disappointment flooded out of her all at once. 

She could go back home to Korea, to Jin, as a twice Grammy-awarded artist. And they could all be proud of Korea’s Noona.  

[seokmthw]

lover of mine | kim taerae

⇢ pairing: taerae x reader

⇢ warnings: fluff

⇢ word count: 645

⇢ note: this one is dedicated to @zerobaselove because i'm desperately trying to make her lose her war of not biasing taerae. love youuuuuu <3 (tried so hard to wait and post this but i literally could not)

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the moment taerae opened the front door to your shared apartment, his eyes went to your sleeping figure curled up on the couch. guilt troubled his mind for a moment, because he knew you’d be staying up waiting for him despite him telling you to just go to bed. however, upon seeing your even, peaceful breaths, he felt his gaze soften almost immediately. 

it had been another long night of practice and staying behind for a couple more hours to put the finishing touches on an original song he was currently working on and planned to release within the next month or so. it made your boyfriend feel horrible for leaving you alone the entire day, but there wasn’t much he was able to do about it because he had a deadline he desperately needed to meet.

he sighed softly, tossing his bag on the ground. he untied his shoes and kicked them messily off to the side - he was going to be up again in a few hours anyway, so it’s not like it mattered if they were neat. within a few minutes he was gently tapping your shoulder in an attempt to wake you up so you could go and get some sleep in your shared bed as opposed to your uncomfortable couch.

you stirred at the contact, eyebrows knitting together from your annoyance before you caught sight of the boy above you, the softest, goofiest smile tugging at his lips. your voice was raspy from sleep as you spoke, “how was your day?”

“tiring and long,” taerae replied, “i’m just glad to be out of the studio, i felt like i was going crazy in there.”

you hummed in response, and by now, he had pulled you up from the couch with his arm lazily slung around your shoulders, pulling your body close to his as the two of you walked to your bedroom. the brunette’s eyes flickered down to the shirt that adorned your body. it swallowed your frame and fell just to the middle of your thighs, but you looked cozy as ever in it.

gripping the fabric in between his thumb and forefinger with a gentle smile, he asked, “is this my shirt?”

“yeah,” you blushed over the fact that he taken notice of the stolen object, “none of my sleep shirts were clean. i hope you don’t mind that i borrowed one.”

“of course not. you can steal as many of my shirts as you want if that means i get to see you wear them,” the happy grin on his face was hard to miss, his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks and his eyes crinkling in the corners. 

he pushed your bedroom door open with his foot, the two of you greeted with your unmade bed you didn’t have the energy to fiddle with upon waking up earlier that day. you yawned, learned closer into taerae’s side, desperate to be as close to him as humanly possible. he chuckled at you, “let’s get you to bed, love.”

he didn’t have to tell you again, because you were crawling into bed almost instantly, waiting for him to follow you. he quickly changed before he slipped in next to you, looking visibly exhausted from working late and having a stressful day. you threw an arm over his torso, resting your head on his chest with a content sigh once you were able to hear the rhythm of his heartbeat, “i’m so glad you’re home.”

your words were quiet, almost as if he could miss them if he weren’t listening close enough, and it melted him even more. he kissed the crown of your head, taking note of how your eyes had long since fluttered shut and your breaths were even once again. he pulled the blanket up over your bodies, kissing you once more before whispering, “me too.”

[strangersteddierthings]

Daily Ficlet 3

I'm challenging myself to write a little ficlet every day, using the prompts from this list. Today's prompt is foggy mornings.

-

"Do you miss it?" El says as she pulls her legs up under her and leans more into Dustin's side as she sips at her hot chocolate.

Dustin takes a sip of his coffee before asking, "miss what?"

"Being a superhero. Saving the world."

Dustin snorts at that because he was never the superhero. Just a kid, friends with another kid who'd gone missing, and life was never the same after that. But, even not being the superhero, he can't help but admit, "kind of. You think that makes me a bad person?"

"No. I miss it, too," El confesses in a whisper.

He switches his coffee mug from his right hand to his left so he can slither his arm out from under El and around her shoulders. She snuggles in closer and they both let out matching sighs before deeply breathing in the morning air. The hotel balcony looks over the foggy sea, and it's a little chilly, but that's just fine. Maine is chilly this time of year. More reasons to sit so close and share their warmth.

"I think we miss it for the same reason," El continues, "and it is not a bad one. We were all together, back then."

She's certainly got a point. None of them ended up in the same college, much less the same state. Then getting jobs didn't exactly bring them together again. Will's in San Fransisco, Lucas and Max are in Florida, Erica is Washington, and Mike isn't even in America anymore (a semester abroad in Italy stole him away and he only returns for holidays occasionally). Dustin's fallen out of touch with Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle, so he's no clue where they are these days. Steve would be able to tell him.

Steve's still in Indiana, though it's Indianapolis now instead of Hawkins. Speaking of Steve and everyone being scattered, the last time they were all together was for Steve and Robin's lavender marriage two years ago. Robin got better school loans (she's going for that doctorate now) being married and Steve was happy to help. It was more a 'Congrats on Your Cheaper Education' party than a wedding.

Robin even convinced Eddie to get his band to do covers of wedding songs.

"Yeah. I miss everyone," Dustin agrees, turning to plant a kiss to the side of El's forehead. He gets a mouthful of hair for his trouble but it's worth it to hear her contented hum.

"Well. Good news is that we can probably get everyone together again next year," she says.

"You know something I don't?" Dustin asks.

"Spoke with Max last night. She is going to proposing to Lucas on Thanksgiving if he has not done it yet. She said I could tell you."

"Did she now?"

"Yes. She said 'go ahead and tell Dustin, since I know you can't keep a secret' so I am telling you."

Dustin smiles to himself as they fall into silence and listen to the ocean waves. He likes the ocean, and so does El. It's why they picked Maine for their vacation spot. They would have stayed in Boston but Dustin's been there four years now, and El for two, so they've seen most of the sights. They didn't want to drive all the way to a warmer climate.

He thinks they both prefer the colder weather anyway.

His thoughts turn back to Max and Lucas and their pending wedding. He would like to say he always knew they'd get married, but they were broken up for four years after high school, and managed to just find their way back to each other.

"Do you think you'll ever want to get married one day?" Dustin asks. he feels El's head shift and turns to meet her gaze.

"One day. Yes. I would like that," she smiles at him, and Dustin can't help but return it.

He thinks about the ring he has stashed in his underwear drawer back home. He's had it for almost four months now, but knows in his heart it's not something he can spring on El. No matter how sure he is that he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He's taking his time. This won't be the last time he'll ask her if she wants to be married one day; just the first.

Dustin thinks he knows her pretty well after all these years. He'll know when her answer means 'I do' without her needing to say it. And right now, it's just a maybe. He can live with that, so long as he gets to share her warmth on chilly mornings.

[littlewinter1917]

The Haunting

Part I - I See You In Everyone

My blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI 🔞 Don't reposed my work anywhere.

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: It’s been a few months ever since your boyfriend, Billy Hargrove, died in the battle of Starcourt Mall. You’re still struggling to come to terms with his death, when weird things start happening in your house - almost as if you’re being haunted. Against your better judgement, you get the growing feeling that it’s Billy, and that he’s trying to tell you something, but you cannot figure out what. And then the Vecna attacks start happening, and you and your friends are hurled back into an adventure that seems closely tied to the weird activities in your house, to Billy, and above all, the cursed town of Hawkins, Indiana.

Words: 20.6k (Yes, I know, a little excessive)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Chapter warnings: A lot of grief, angst and survivor’s guilt. Some hurt/comfort. Slightly spooky stuff. Some swearing. Talks about Billy’s death and the events of Starcourt Mall.

Please check out the more detailed series warnings here if you’re unsure about what this story might entail in future chapters.

A/N: I’m quite excited about finally being able to share the first chapter of this! I’m not sure if anyone wants to read a slightly spooky story in the middle of March, but I’m impatient incarnate, so, I simply cannot wait until October to publish this.

I really wanted to capture a certain eerie atmosphere in this story, and you can find some of the visual inspirations I’ve used for it here, as well as a playlist, which you can find on Spotify here.

I've also decided to start a taglist, and you can fill out this form here or let me know in a comment if you want to be tagged in the next chapter <3

“And now, another song that’s been requested: Survivor’s I can’t hold back! A great one, might I add; and even greater for this particular Friday night.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You quietly curse under your breath, as you try to turn off the radio quickly, because that’s the last song you need to hear right now.

Truly, the last song.

“Oh, come on! What is it with you this time?”

The annoyance in your voice is only amplified by the angry stare that you throw the car radio’s way, once you realize that the off button seems to have developed a mind of its own, as it stays unresponsive to your biddings. 

“No, no, no!” You whisper, panic rising up in your chest, as the opening notes of the song start to play, and the radio still doesn’t budge.

Pushing the button forcefully a few times more, just for good measure, and maybe as a way to air some of your current frustrations, you can’t help but curse that damn Camaro. 

“Fuck!”

Even though your steering wheel bears hardly any responsibility for your current misery, it finds itself on the receiving end of your angry outburst anyway, as you hit against it hard. 

This must be one of fate’s cruel jokes again, you think defeated, as the song continues to play on; and haven’t you had enough of those already? 

Truly.  

There’s no other way to stop the oncoming catastrophe either, because neither the switch to change channels, nor the one that regulates the volume, reliably work anymore. And with the on/off button now officially joining their ranks of the dead and unresponsive, there’s nothing left for you to do. 

No way for you to avoid the song that used to mean so much to you. 

To the both of you. 

To you and Billy. 

“And I feel the hand of fate ♪

reaching out to both of us.  

♪ I’ve been holding back the night.”  

Jimi Jamison sings, and your grip around the steering wheel tightens, as you try hard to keep it together. 

This used to be your song, but now it’s nothing more than a torture device that leaves a hole the size of the earth in your already desecrated heart. 

How it can still hurt so much, without there being anything left to destroy, is not something you have an answer to; only that you’ve run out of tears weeks ago, yet the ache in your heart never falters, never sleeps. 

You feel like this is going to haunt you forever, for a lifetime, at least. 

And that’s without having to listen to that stupid song!

You try to distract yourself by focusing on the road instead, but the darkness of the night and the cold silhouettes of the surrounding trees hardly offer a relief. 

Or a distraction. 

The headlights of your car seem to be the only guiding constant in this equation, as they illuminate fractures of the passing landscape before moving on to something further away in the distance, over and over again. 

It’s kind of unsettling, really, if you think about how much of your current surroundings you can’t see, can’t capture with the fleeting lights of your vehicle. How behind the first line of trees looms another, darker one, and then another, and another, and- 

“That’s a forest for you, sweetheart.” Billy would’ve probably teased with a smile, if you’d voiced that thought to him. 

If he was still around. 

He is not.

Instead, you get taunted by a fucking rock ballad, and the wave of painful memories that come with said tune. 

To your horror, it’s not even halfway done yet, and for a moment you actually consider stopping the car completely and turning off its ignition, just to escape it. 

Just to make it stop.

But, miraculously, your silent prayers seem to have been heard by someone with at least a little bit of agency in this universe, because suddenly, out of nowhere, that current curse of a song gets cut off by blaring sounds of static before a different melody breaks through the speakers. 

“ Operator … could you help me…” 

Jim Croce’s voice croaks through the buzzing noises, and a shiver runs down your spine at the memory of where exactly you know that song from.

But before you can dwell on that too much either, your radio simply decides to unceremoniously turn itself off. 

“Fucking finally,” you mumble relieved, while the long-awaited silence engulfs you and the surrounding space of your Camaro. 

Your Camaro?

Billy’s Camaro. 

No one’s Camaro.

Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you quickly come to the unpleasant realization that silence has its teeth and claws too, as it grows and takes shape right there beside you in the car, flashing you a sinister smile, threatening to swallow you whole. 

Getting haunted and tortured by music, or torn apart by nothing, is hardly a choice worth making. 

Especially not when you’re driving through a darkened forest, on the way home to a town you deeply resent, in a car that used to be your boyfriend’s before he got possessed and brutally killed by an inter-dimensional goo monster. 

And the scars of that story still litter your heart, and your thoughts, and your memories, in ways you can’t even begin to express, because the pain is simply too vast to fit into words, or phrases, or anything else that bears some form of communicational function.

Except scars would imply healing; and you feel anything but that. 

Healed.  

Nor do you think you’ll ever get there again.

Not in this lifetime, you won’t.

You speed up the car a little, until you see the first flickering lights of the town you call both, home, and hell; and the knot that builds in the pit of your stomach at the sight is not something you actively fight anymore. 

You wouldn’t know how to anyway these days. 

Once upon a time, there was the pleasant dream of Californian beaches, of the day where both you and Billy would speed off into the night together, and never, ever, come back again. 

Only for you to wake up in one big, cruel nightmare, with no means for you to escape it.

You wouldn’t know how to anyway these days.

Somehow, you make it through half of the town, despite feeling like you’re on fire, and each passing crossroad is only adding gasoline to the flickering flames eating away at your heart. There’s memories splattered all over this town, and the stains they leave won’t ever truly wash away. No amount of tears, or denial, or distraction will do that job. 

You’ve tried all three enough times to confidently stand by that verdict. 

There’s no escaping it. 

You would have to soak your heart in bleach and acid to get the remnants of Billy out; and even then you’re not sure it would work, because Billy has been the sole inhabitant of that place hidden deep within your chest for so long, that you don’t think it would still count as your heart, without Billy in it.

There’s nothing that can fill the bleeding gash he left in your life, and it’s not like you’d want to replace him either. 

You just want him back. 

You still wait and long for that moment, where you wake up and find out that all of this was just one, big, exceptionally cruel nightmare. 

Yet, that moment never comes, and as of late, you’ve started to lose faith that it ever will. 

Acceptance, or so they call it, but this is just one more of the many things you’d rather not think about. 

And by the time you reach the trailer park, you’ve succeeded in your mission, of blocking these thoughts out completely.

As usual, Max is already standing outside her trailer, waiting for you, and she’s quick to run up to the car as soon as she spots you and the blue Camaro.

You’ve barely come to a stop, when the door to the passenger side already swings wide open, and the little redhead plops down beside you. 

“You’re late.” Are the first few words she throws your way, and with a quick glance at the tiny time display inside your dashboard, you come to the realization that she’s right. 

You are almost 15 minutes late. 

Weird, you think with a frown, you could have sworn you left the newspaper’s office just in time – a rather rare occurrence these days. You’ve been doing a lot of overtime ever since Starcourt Mall. 

Anything, really, to keep yourself from going home or not being busy enough. With Fridays being the only exceptions, because, well, you and Max have shared plans on these evenings.

A ritual, so to speak.

“Sorry,” you mumble apologetically, “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“It’s alright, can we just go now, please?” Max grumbles, one of her legs bouncing nervously in anticipation. 

“Right, right.” You state, before maneuvering the car out of the gravely grounds of the trailer park.

The silence that’s been haunting you is back inside the car, hovering over you and your dead boyfriend’s little sister from the comfort of the backseat now.

“So, uhm, how’s school?” You offer, as a way to keep its claws from gripping either one of you too tightly.

It’s a sorry excuse of a topic, and you almost cringe physically as the words leave your lips.

Still better than silence, though.

But Max just huffs as a response, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.

“It’s fine.” She says in a way that leaves you to think that she’s said these exact words today about a million times before.

Like a script. 

Like something she’s practiced and recites automatically, without much heart or thought.

Like the way you do, too, whenever someone brings up your current emotional state or well-being.

Looking over at the little redhead, you quietly observe the way the passing lights of the street lamps illuminate her face, and let her drift into darkness again.

Illuminate her face, and let it drift into darkness again. 

Turning your gaze back towards the road, you can’t help but take the mental note that she looks exceptionally pale today. Paler than she did the last time you saw her, which would have to be exactly a week ago. 

Maybe, it’s just the harsh and unforgiving lights of the street lamps feeding that illusion, you tell yourself, but you know in your heart that’s not right. After all, these lights must have been the same ones last time around, too, and you don’t remember her looking so pale then, so what exactly changed now?

As usual, she has her headphones hanging loosely around her neck, and the baggy flannel she’s wearing is something you immediately identify as Billy’s.

There’s a lump the size of the earth stuck in your throat now.

You know she’s hurting. One could say you all are, but it’s safe to say that Billy’s sudden death hit Max and you the hardest.

Launching the two of you into the biggest and deepest spiral. 

You’ve lost the love of your life, and she lost her only brother.

Her big brother.

And though they shared a rather rocky sibling dynamic from the very start, things had been cooling down over the past year. They even started bonding a bit before the tragic events of Starcourt Mall.

Before both of your lives were turned completely upside down, and then never recovered.

Glancing once more over to the girl next to you, you’re overwhelmed by a massive wave of helplessness that washes over you mercilessly. 

Dunking your head underwater, filling your lungs and your chest with despair, rendering your body immobile.

Taking you over, and under, and then spitting you out. 

Soaking your heart till it drowns.

You feel like you should have some comfort, some guidance, something, anything, to say, that might make your young friend feel a little better, but you’re struggling just as much as she is. 

There are no words to relieve the steady ache in your chest, the silent longing, the pounding headaches from all the crying. 

So why should it be any different for her? 

Anything anyone says to you, about how time will heal and mend the cracks of your heart, how they understand, how they’re there to help; it all feels like a cruel joke.

Because no time can heal or mend your heart. There’s hardly anything left of it anyway.

And they don’t understand your loss because, how could they? 

They didn’t lose the love of their life. 

Hell, most of them didn’t even know Billy. 

At least not the real Billy. 

No, they didn’t know him the way you did.

They only knew him as the troublemaker, the hot lifeguard, the one with the speeding Camaro and the anger issues. 

The one who embodied recklessness down to his very bones. 

And don’t most men like that die a tragic and terribly young death? 

But you knew him as the sensitive and softhearted boy he really was underneath it all.

The one who would snuggle into your side even in his sleep, because he always needed you as near and as close as possible.

The one with a terribly odd sense of humor, that would make you laugh until your stomach hurt. 

The one who was so utterly protective and tender when it came to you; whose kisses could make the world stop spinning, whose touches felt like heaven on earth, making even the strongest of angels blush and bloat with envy. 

Billy, your Billy, was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of guy. 

Someone, who took over your heart and mind in an instant. 

And you knew even then, after the first few dates you two shared, that your life would never be the same again without him in it.

He did have his demons, too, of course. 

The angry voice of his father, like a taunting shadow in the back of his mind. 

The lack of love and trust, a jealous and hungry monster in his heart.

It took a while, until he truly opened up to you, but when he did, well, you got to experience an exceptionally vulnerable and strong-willed man, whose cards had always been stacked against him; but still he fought, still he survived, still he loved you with a heart so fragile, so scared; with an utter and blatant tenderness, that no one who’d hear the name Billy Hargrove would connect to the boy in question.

But to you they were one and the same, really. 

Yet you’ve lost all of that in an instant, in the blink of an eye. 

And you’ll never get it back either, never get to experience the future you and Billy dreamed so vividly about. 

Now his body is stuck in a town he hated, and you’re stuck right there with him.

So, no, when people say they know or understand your loss, they really don’t. Because it wasn’t their world that was ripped away and taken from them in the most cruel way; but yours was. 

And Billy’s. 

And you’ll never recover from it, you’re sure of that. 

There’s a crater where your heart once was. 

There’s only hurt where there once was love and happy memories. 

And the pain of that loss is so vast, so strong, it renders you almost physically immobile on some days.

The bad days. 

The really bad days.

You have a lot of those.

And the empty promises of, “I’m there if you need anything,”  or, “If I can help in any way, let me know,”  they hurt the most, like stabs and twists of an ugly knife, because where were these promises, when Billy needed them?

When he needed help, there was no one there. 

Not even you, because you’d been out of state. 

The biggest mistake of your life. 

But despite that, there had been so many other people in the cursed town of Hawkins, Indiana, and yet, no one noticed. No one cared. And the few people that did realize something was wrong, well, that apparently wasn’t enough. 

And on some days you can’t help but think that maybe they simply didn’t try hard enough.

You know you’re not being fair in your judgment or resentment, but those feelings are hard to stop and rationalize. 

You wonder if Max feels a similar way. If that’s one of the reasons why she keeps such a distance from most of her friends these days. 

You know you kind of do. 

“Geez, is your radio broken, again?” Max curses, her finger still lingering over the on/off button, that apparently stayed unresponsive to her biddings, too.

Her words are what pulls you out of the hurricane in your head, and back into reality.

“Yeah, sorry, it started acting up again earlier.”

Max shakes her head slightly, before muttering, “That’s so weird that it keeps happening, right? Maybe you should let Eddie look over it once more.” 

“He already did, trice. I don’t want to bother him a fourth time with this.”

“I don’t think he’d be bothered. If anything, he would probably rejoice. Come to think of it, maybe it’s been his doing all along; manipulating the car to get you to talk to him, I wouldn’t put it beyond him.”

“Well, I would.”

There’s the hint of a hint of a smile playing on both of your lips. 

“It’s a shame that the Camaro doesn’t like tapes either, anymore.” Max slender fingers linger on the opening of the tape enclosure for a moment, and you watch her with careful eyes.

“Yeah, it’s-“

“It’s almost as if she knows.” Max interrupts, her blue eyes questioningly finding yours.

Despite the fact that she and Billy aren’t related by blood, her eyes look so much like his to you. 

“It’s like the Camaro knows that these aren’t Billy’s tapes, and so, she rejects them.”

“Max,” you chide gently, because now that’s ridiculous. 

“I’m sure the Camaro would reject Billy’s tapes as well; I just haven’t gotten around trying it out yet.”

And I don’t think I ever will, you think.

You can’t even bear the idea of listening to them without him by your side, laughing and singing along. It just feels wrong.

“After the crashes, not everything in this car could be fixed or replaced. She’s bound to have some quirks and flaws. The tape player not properly functioning is just one of those cases, you know.”

“I’m sure they said something similar about Christine.” The redhead mumbles dryly, and you can’t help but scoff with a laugh.

“Max, please.” you huff, trying to keep a straight face. 

“I’m just saying that Billy would have probably kicked me out of the car if I’d asked him to play Kate Bush, so it makes sense that his car would react the same.”

“Oh, hush, Billy wouldn’t have minded a little Kate Bush. In fact, I think he would have secretly liked it.” 

Now, it’s Max’s turn to scoff in disbelief, because of all the lies she’s been told today, this has to be the most blatant one yet.

“Yeah, right.” She states, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“I’m serious!” You insist, “but I guess that only means Billy’s never told you about that time when he and I got awfully drunk on my mom’s expensive port wine, and we were convinced that now was the best moment to try and learn the choreography to Wuthering Heights .” 

Max looks at you wide-eyed. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“I’m really not.” 

There’s a short pause as you recall the memory, a small smile playing on the edge of your lips.

“You know, he was always surprisingly steady on his feet, even while drunk, and so of course he ended up being a whole lot better at executing that damn choreo than I was.”

You still remember that night vividly. The two of you had laughed so hard, your stomach still ached the very next day. And you’ll never forget the big, boyish smile taking over Billy’s face, when he managed to nail the Choreography part of the chorus without much fault. 

“I’ve got it!” He’d beamed, outshining all of the stars that night.

“Look, look! I've got it!” 

And as he twirled around he almost knocked your dad’s car magazines off the coffee table. But he still looked great doing it, and most importantly, he was having the time of his life, so, it was all okay. 

He looked so young that day, so full of life and hope. 

That memory, like all memories involving Billy, stings somewhere deep within your chest. But for a brief moment there’s also a small spark of happiness there, as a tiny smile etches itself on your lips. 

A very tiny smile, but a smile, nevertheless.

And Max, who’s lost in the idea of trying to imagine her older brother dancing to that particular song out of all the possible songs, well, there’s a tiny smile on her lips playing, too.

“That must have been quite a night to remember.” She mumbles, and you nod your head in agreement. 

“It was.” You admit softly. 

It really, really was. 

The silence that takes over the car now has nothing threatening, nothing sinister. Instead, there’s a calmness that you haven’t experienced in quite a while, and for a moment you feel like you can breathe again. 

Like you aren’t suffocating under the weight of Billy’s loss. 

Or your loss. 

The loss of the world.

“Alright, we’re almost here.” You state while setting the blinker as you take the last turn. It’s only a handful of minutes now, until you two will reach your destination. 

Billy’s final destination. 

Clenching your hands into fists around the steering wheel, you realize just how much that truth still angers and upsets something deep within you.

That thought, however, drifts into the background as the parking lot creeps into view, and just like every Friday evening, there’s not a single spot taken. 

Not a single car around. 

Except for the one you and Max are currently sitting in. 

The headlights of the Camaro illuminate a sparse line of trees in front of you, as you park the car, and you can vaguely make out the first few silhouettes of some lonely gravestones peeking out from behind them. 

For a brief moment, you stare at the sight ahead of you. Taking in the way the cold light of the car leaves an eerie glow on the dark tree barks, giving their trunks a haunting yet artificial look. The grass beneath, wet with dew, or remnants of the last rain, reflects the light softly, intensifying the surrounding glow. 

The only thing missing is some fog, you think. But with summer slipping into autumn, that kind of element is waiting just around the corner. Give it another week or two, and you and Max will have the perfect horror movie setting at your hands by then.

“I’ll go grab the flowers from the trunk.” Max pulls you out of your thoughts again, and you take that as your cue to shake the lingering residue of your last mentation off, before grabbing your backpack from the backseat, as well as the flashlight you keep in the gloves department, and then, finally, you decidedly turn the engine of. 

In the blink of an eye darkness encompasses the surrounding trees again, while the Camaro’s headlights go to sleep. 

As you close the car door with a heavy thump, Max echoes the sound shortly after with the booming noise of the trunk shutting, too.

“Ready?” You question, as you turn around to face her, and she gives you a brief nod. 

But when you move to lock the car, the headlights of the Camaro suddenly turn themselves back on again. It’s only brief, for a split second maybe, before the darkness of the night creeps back into its rightful place, like nothing happened, like nothing disturbed it at all. 

If you had been all on your own, you might have convinced yourself that you just imagined it, but with Max right there by your side, bearing witness, that’s hardly a possibility. 

Max, however, just shrugs her shoulders as she comes up next to you. 

“Eddie.” She simply states, and you’re not sure if she’s trying to state the name of the culprit or the solution. 

As the two of you step up the curb that gives way to the graveyard, marking the territory like a faint line between the home of the living and the dead, she softly bumps her shoulder into your side. 

“Or, Christine, if you know what I mean.” 

“Max,” You huff again with a small laugh.

She’s really trying to drive that point home, you think. 

“Aren’t you too young to watch horror movies like that anyway?” You tease.

Despite the deep darkness surrounding you two, you can tell that Max is throwing you the most utterly offended look, like you’ve just asked her if she still sleeps with a nightlight and a mobile, or something. 

“I think I should punch you for this.” She mumbles, but there’s no real malice behind her words, just a matter-of-fact kind of dryness that she most definitely picked up from her brother.

This time, it’s your turn to playfully bump your shoulder slightly into her side, as you continue to walk next to each other. 

You both know the way by heart. Eyes closed, eyes tied, in a dream – it doesn’t matter, either of you know the exact path to the grave that holds so much more than a brother, or a lover. 

You continue to walk a little longer in the lingering silence and darkness.

It’s not even that dark once your eyes have become accustomed to the lack of light sources. The flashlight you crammed into the side-pocket of your backpack only really exists for emergencies, like when your zippo won’t work to light the candle at the graveside. 

A few weeks ago, you and Max didn’t even need any additional light sources at all, because the sun wouldn’t set until you were back inside the car. 

But as of late, ever since the days have begun to get colder and shorter, and the sun started to stick around less and less, you found yourself needing some kind of extra illumination at the very least when the two of you are at the graveside. 

The choice to only go with a candle was easy enough. Both you and Max luckily shared the sentiment that anything’s better than the harsh and artificial glow of a flashlight. 

Besides, you’d been lighting candles next to Billy’s headstone even before the nights started to creep in earlier, and earlier, and stay for so much longer, too. 

It also seems more peaceful that way, walking to the grave in the natural darkness, trying not to disturb any of the surrounding sleeping souls buried on the haunting grounds of Hawkins, Indiana.

During your last few trips to visit Billy, the setting sun was at the very least still a loyal companion on your walks to the grave, but today might actually mark the first time that there isn’t even the faintest sliver of orange hovering at the edge of the horizon anymore.

Instead, there’s only a deep indigo blue, similar to the one of the Camaro you now get to call your own. 

“You know,” you break through the quiet song of the last remaining crickets and the low humming of the wind rustling through the trees, whispering sweet nothings to the blushing leaves before carrying them away. 

“When Billy and I initially started dating, one of the first things he told me about you was how much you loved horror movies. He tried not to sound too impressed, but I could tell he was quite proud of that, of you.” 

You feel Max’s wide-eyed gaze on you once more, two big oceans of blue and a wave of disbelief. 

“Really?” She mutters, trying hard not to sound too affected. 

“Yeah, really. Told me how often you’d want to rewatch Halloween. He tried his best to look annoyed, but you could tell he really wasn’t. Not even in the slightest. Max, I know you two used to share a complicated relationship, and he certainly wasn’t the type of guy who’d wear his heart on his sleeve, but he did care a whole lot about you.” 

“I know,” Max mumbles while kicking a few pebbles across the grass, one hand buried in the depth of her pocket, the other one still holding on to the small flower bouquet that you bought earlier during your lunch break. 

Silence takes shape between the two of you once more, safe for the sound of your steps on the mix of fallen leaves, dirt, and gravel. 

But you come to a stop soon after - at a grave whose sight still burns holes in the broken remnants of your heart. 

William Hargrove it states, etched into dark and cold stone, followed by two dates: One that means the whole world to you, and one that pulled the rug from under your feet in the cruelest of ways, leaving you to float in a state of disbelief, anger, and infinite sadness. 

And you still struggle to come down from that, to face the reality of it all, accepting it.   

Leaving you to question what’s the world without Billy in it. Not much, not really. Not when it comes to your world anyway. 

And then, underneath that, the grave’s finishing touches says: Gone, but not forgotten.  

Such an impersonal statement. 

Something that could also be said about the missing neighborhood cat for all you cared. 

But what did you expect from a father like Neil? 

A big ode devoted to how great of a son Billy was? Of course not. 

You almost got into a physical fight with him over Billy’s burial. You had wanted for Billy’s last resting place to be somewhere in California. The place he never stopped calling his home with so much fondness and longing, instead of the town he absolutely despised with every single bone in his body.

You had been willing to take care of it all, to drive him there yourself if you needed to, pay for anything, sell your soul if that’s what it took. But Neil had refused every single plea and offer from your side, and it took both Eddie and Steve to hold you back from, well, escalating that whole situation further. 

But all of this lays behind you now, even if the wound that Billy’s sudden death created continues to feel so tender and raw, like it just happened yesterday, and each time you visit his grave, there’s still a twinge of disbelieve bubbling up inside of you at the sight of the gravestone and everything that lies beneath. 

Billy.

Your Billy.  

“Are you going to-“ Max’s voice pulls you out of your head again. 

“Oh yeah, sorry!” 

You don’t know where your head is today. 

Your heart? No question, six feet under next to Billy. 

Your head? You must have left it somewhere during the car drive to the trailer park because you’re pretty sure you were still doing somewhat fine while working at the newspaper earlier.

Trying hard not to keep Max waiting any longer, you kneel down while getting the new candle from out of your backpack, but before you even get to lighting it, Max speaks up again. 

“How about I get the broom this time, while you finish up here?” She offers and though that idea surprises you, you nod your head. 

“Sure, why not.“ You state, offering her your flashlight, but she just brushes you off.

“It’s fine.“ She says with a little wave before walking in the direction of where some gardening materials are usually hidden underneath a small shelter. You’re not even sure if these things are actually intended for public use or not. But so far no one’s told either of you otherwise. 

The whole routine is based around a weird little habit you two established early on, after your first or second visit to the grave together.

Initially, it was a simple watering can that you would go get from that place at the other side of the graveyard, giving Max the possibility to have some time with her brother by herself. 

There were a few wildflowers blooming near Billy’s gravestone that you two would then water with the can together, before Max would bring it back to its rightful place again, leaving you to have a couple of minutes of alone time with Billy in return.

Now, with summer slipping into autumn, there’s no need for watering flowers anymore. Instead, Max incidentally found a small hand broom in between the other gardening tools a few weeks ago, and her eyes lit up immediately, as a new idea formed in her head.

There‘s a strong pine tree not too far off from Billy’s grave, and occasionally a few needles and debris find their way onto his gravestone. 

But not anymore, because nowadays Max makes a continuous effort to brush them away, with the help of the small broom she’s found, of course.

The first time she decided to do that, it caught you off guard completely, and the tenderness with which she‘d clean the gravestone certainly didn’t help your emotional tumult either; brushing the stone with a care like it could be Billy’s hair. 

“Now you’re all pretty again.” She would mumble to the cold stone once she was completely done, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek hard, to not let out a single sob or tear.

You’d get back in your rhythm after that, with you usually getting the broom, and Max bringing it back again. Occasionally you would switch up these roles, but for the most part they stayed the same, yet you are thankful to get a few minutes alone with Billy first, this time around, for a change.

You really, really need that right now.

“Hi,” you whisper softly, still on your knees while planting your hands securely on the ground, fingers trying to dig their way inside; inside the earth that holds Billy’s remains. 

You don’t notice you’re crying until the image of your hands gets blurry, and a small sob escapes your lips. 

You haven’t cried by his grave in a long time. 

Geez, what is it with you today? You mentally chide yourself, rubbing your eyes in a hurry. You don’t want to worry Max any more than you probably already do, so she really shouldn’t witness you like this.

Get yourself together! You scold underneath your breath, trying to focus on the flickering flames of the candle for a little bit, before turning back fully towards the grave.

To Billy.

“I miss you,” you whisper, like old times, like always. 

“They played our song today on the radio, but I c-couldn’t… It just hurts too much, Billy. It just all hurts too much.” 

Slumping down a little more, your fingers find their way back into wet earth. 

“Billy,” you whisper, “I don’t know how-“ 

The sound of careful steps in the distance makes you pause. 

Max.  

Talking a steading breath, you try to get back in a more dignified position, straightening your back and blinking hot tears away quickly.

By the time she comes to a stop next to you, you hope you look a little more pulled together. 

“Do you want to-“ Max holds the small broom out to you like a peace offering.

“No, no, it’s fine, Max, go ahead.” 

Your eyes cannot bear to witness her gravestone-cleaning-ritual tonight. So, instead, you toy with the zipper of your backpack for a little while before standing up, brushing lingering pieces of earth from your jeans in an effort to seem busy. 

And fine.

You’re absolutely fine. 

“I’ll just bring the old flowers over to the compost.” You state after a heartbeat of silence and nothing to do. “You can put the new ones in the vase if you’d like.” 

Max only nods her head at your words, too absorbed in her own little routine. 

Taking the withering flowers out of the small, sturdy vase you two planted next to the edge of his stone, you walk over to the compost with quick strides. It’s not too far off, and you’re glad you have something to do as a distraction. 

That’s another one of your shared rituals – bringing a fresh bouquet of flowers to Billy’s grave every Friday night, and getting rid of the old one by default, too. It’s the least you can do, in your mind. Because you have to do something for Billy. 

Anything.   

Even if it’s too late now. 

Once you’re back at the grave, Max has finished not only the cleaning of the gravestone, but  also managed to put the new flowers up, too.

They’re a lovely mix of blue and yellow, kind of like sunlight reflecting on the ocean’s surface – at least that’s what they looked like in broad daylight earlier, anyway. Now, their colors are more muted by the surrounding darkness, but you can still guess their shades roughly.

“Looks great, Max.” You quietly praise, and she gives you an appreciating smile. It’s only short and faint, and vanishes quickly, but it’s still a smile. 

You two stand there in silence for a little while longer, gazing at the graveside together.

The glow of the candle bathes its surroundings in a soft and tender golden hue, but it flickers every now and then, like an unsteady heartbeat. You try not to think of Billy at that realization, try not to let that memory of Starcourt Mall overtake your mind.

Max keeps fidgeting with the broom in her hand next to you, and you’re about to ask her if you should take it back to the shelter, when she suddenly speaks up again. 

“Does it ever make you angry?” She asks, and you can’t help but furrow your brows in slight confusion. 

“Does what make me angry, Max?” 

Turning the broom over in her hands once more, she’s quiet for a heartbeat longer, before whispering: “That you can’t tell anyone why he’s gone; why he left. That he died saving-“ 

Her voice breaks slightly, and there are tears back in your eyes. 

“I mean, instead, he’s just one more victim of some stupid fire. L-like he didn’t sacrifice everything. And I can’t even talk to the other’s about it because they don’t understand, not really, not when it comes to Billy. But honestly, I don’t care what it takes, I just want him back!“ 

Your gaze softens at Max’s admission, her outburst, because, hell, if you don’t feel the exact same way. 

“Max, hey,” you quickly soothe, once you realize that her eyes are darting restlessly over the vicinity, her jaw clenched, the hand around the broom tightening.

She’s doing the exact same thing Billy used to do, when he was fighting back tears, trying hard not to let them slip.

Trying hard not to cry.

“Oh, Max.” You whisper, before instinct takes over and you wrap her up into your arms.

It takes her only a split second before she melts into you, a little sob wrecking her body as she hides her face in the crook of your neck.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you mutter, “it’s alright, you can cry. It’s alright, I’ve got you.” 

You don’t immediately notice how much these words sound like the ones you’d usually mumble to Billy in an effort to ease his falls, his pains, his tears in the past. 

You stay like that for a little while, rubbing gentle circles on Max’s back, voice soft and calm, encouraging her to let it all out. 

“I just want him back!” She wails, and the desperate tone of her voice cuts you right through your heart, through your bones, through every fiber of your being. 

“I know,” You whisper, tears openly running down your face as well now. “I do too, I want him back just as much as you do. And there isn’t anything I wouldn’t sacrifice, to get that, but we both know this isn’t possible. There’s nothing any of us can do, to bring him back alive and well.” 

Blinking your tears away once more, you try to steady yourself and your voice, while you continue to hold Max. 

You wonder when the last time was that she let herself cry like that, be held like that. You know she’s been keeping a certain distance from her friends, know that she broke things off with Lucas shortly after the events of Starcourt Mall, know that her family life turned even more chaotic with Billy’s passing.

You know all of these things and yet you found yourself so occupied by your own hurt and grief that the struggles of the little redhead managed to drift out of sight for you, at least for a little while. 

But right now, in this moment, you’re once more reminded of just how much you two have in common when it comes to the loss of Billy, and the significance it carries for the both of you.

To a certain extent, you think you might even have it a little bit easier than her, because you don’t have to reconcile so many different versions of Billy, the way Max undoubtedly has to. 

The way you felt towards Billy has never been particularly divergent, never been exposed to much change, but Max on the other hand… There’s a more intricate relationship there. One with a rocky start and middle at the very least. 

So, reconciling Billy’s death in the context of their history carries a different weight for Max than it does for you. 

Additionally, something that you also slowly realize, as you sway Max gently in your arms, is that she kind of serves as a reflection of Billy for you in many ways. She’s adapted quite a few mannerisms from her older brother; things that make you see him in her, and there’s an odd comfort in that. 

But, you doubt that it’s the other way around as well. That she can see glimpses of Billy in the little things you do, too. 

“Max,” You whisper softly, “I miss your brother dearly, and I know you do, too. I know you’re hurting more than you let on. And I wish I could ease your pains. Wish I could take your hurt and mine and just bury it somewhere together with Billy, but I can’t. I can’t get him back, and I can’t make it better, and I’d be lying if I said I know how to move on, but we do have to try, somehow.

“I know me out of all people saying that you shouldn’t distance yourself from your friends too much, while I do the exact same thing would be hypocritical of me, so I’m not even gonna go there; but Max if you ever want to talk about Billy, not just the good things, but the bad things as well, I’m always here, always.”

“Fuck,” you huff with a quiet laugh, “I usually hate it when people tell me that, so feel free to hit me now, if you want to, but I still stand by these words. And for the record, I’m still incredibly angry at the whole mall-fire-lie. It hurts that even in his death there’s nothing but misconceptions about Billy, I don’t think he deserves that. 

“Max, I understand how much the loss of Billy must affect you, cause it affects me, too. You and I might be the only two people in this god forsaken town, who really knew Billy, so, if you ever want to talk about it, about him, his death, anything; even about how much of a fucking dickhead he could be, I’m always just a phone call away, alright? A phone call and a quick drive of the Camaro is all it takes, Max.“ 

By now, Max’s sobs have eased into quiet sniffles, and she looks up at you with her usual wide-eyed gaze.

“Yeah?” She questions.

“Yeah.” You promise with a reassuring smile. 

“You’re like a little sister to me, always have, always will be.”

Brushing a few loose strands of orange from her face, and wiping away the last remaining tears from her cheeks, you look at her with all the sincerity in your eyes that this world can hold, before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

“Okay?” You question softly and Max nods her head in a slow manner.

“I will be.” She whispers. 

And that’s all you can wish for, for the both of you.

The moon has decided to show her face around, too, by now, peeking through a few translucent clouds, painting silver stripes on the ground and the cold graves.

“Do you want me to take the broom back while-“ You offer after a short pause, but Max is quick to interrupt you.

“No, it’s okay, we can do this together and then get back to the car, if that’s alright?”

“Sure thing.” There’s a gentle smile playing on your lips as you watch Max skip ahead a little bit before she’s turning back around towards you. 

“You can always talk to me about Billy, too, you know.” She offers quietly, and you hope that the moonlight doesn’t give away the tears shining in your eyes. 

“I know.” 

The rest if the walk back to the car turns out to be uneventful, but then again, it usually is. The detour to the shelter takes only a few minutes more, and by the time the two of you are back in the car, you feel a shallow tiredness start to slowly creep up on you. 

Luckily, the trailer park isn’t too far off, and Max also seems in a more chatty mood now, than during the previous ride, so, you have something more to focus on than just the empty road in front of you, and maybe the growing inabilities of your car radio.

“You know,” she suddenly says, “you really should talk to Eddie.” 

“Still convinced this car is Christine 2.0?”

“No. I just- listen, how about a deal?” 

“A deal?”

“Uh-huh. If you’ll talk to Eddie, I’ll talk to Lucas…no, wait! I’ll talk to Dustin; that would make more sense, right? Since Eddie is to you what Dustin is to me?”

“Max, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know.”

You do in fact kind of know. There’s a small inkling about what she’s trying to say, even if you don’t like where she’s getting at. 

“And why should I talk to Eddie?” 

“ Be-cause. Also, I think you two might need it, and maybe he’ll finally stop asking about you constantly. Besides, you did say I shouldn’t distance myself too much from my friends, and neither should you, so…”

“Max…”

“I’m just throwing ideas out there, alright. I mean, shouldn’t you as a big sister set a good example at least?”

“You’re seriously going to use all of my own words against me right now, huh?”

There’s no real malice in your voice, just a hint of surprise and dare you say, a little amusement. 

Max really is as sly as her big brother. 

“Fine,” you mumble, “but you better keep up your end of the bargain and talk to Dustin, too.”

“Deal.” Max promises, as she holds her hand out to you. Such a Dustin-move, you think, or maybe even Steve’s, but you probably do well not to mention it. 

“Deal.” You echo, before slapping Max’s outstretched hand and she smiles. 

And as you turn away to set the indicator, you notice that you’re smiling, too.

You two turn up at the trailer park shortly after, and by now, the night has truly settled in.

Some of the trailers are left completely in the dark, while others illuminate the glumly surroundings through their rectangular windows and makeshift porch lights. 

You don’t immediately notice Eddie sitting on the steps of his trailer at first. He, on the other hand, notices you straightaway. 

You’re hard to miss with the Camaro, though.

“Alright, here we are.” You mumble after turning off the ignition and Max leaps out of the car quickly.

You watch her walk up to Eddie, who in return is making his way over to you, and you quietly sigh. 

Please don’t make me regret this, Max, you think. 

Please don’t make me regret this.  

Once you step out of the car, you roughly hear Max say something about the state of your radio, and you watch the way Eddie nods his head deep in thought before his gaze shifts, and his eyes suddenly find yours. 

Oh, you’re going to regret this, you think.

But there’s no way out, and Max, that little shit, fakes an exaggerated yawn. 

“Huh? I’m really tired, I better get to bed now.” 

You can tell that she struggles to say these words with a straight face, trying her very best to cover the pleased smile that threatens to spill out. She even has the audacity to do an overzealous stretch, trying hard to drive her look-at-me-I’m-so-sleepy point home. 

Smug little shit, you think, as you watch her hop up the steps to her trailer, opening the door swiftly. 

She calls your name one last time, thanking you with a small, yet sincere smile, before calling out to the both of you: “Enjoy the rest of your evening.” 

By now, she has almost vanished behind the door, but not before giving you a little, hidden thumbs up. 

Pointing over to Eddie she mouths, “Be careful with the car!” or something of that sort. You’re too far away, to really be able to tell, so you wouldn’t bet your life on it. 

And then with a low rumble, the door falls shut behind her.

For a moment, you find yourself dumbfounded at the redhead’s behavior, but before you can dwell on it for too long, the sound of crunching steps pulls you out of your thoughts again.

Eddie.  

“Hey.” He sounds slightly out of breath, timid even, like he’s worried you might run off if he speaks too loudly. 

“Hey.” You echo, because you don’t know what else to say.

“Max told me that your radio is acting funny again.” 

You almost let a sigh of relief slip past your lips at the realization that Eddie decided to skip the whole how-are-you-doing-and-holding-up part of the conversation. 

Guess he still knows you better than you thought.

“Yeah,” you mumble, eyes darting over the ground like it might hold the world’s secrets, or maybe just an escape plan for you to get out of this conversation. 

Unfortunately, it features neither; nothing but dimly lit gravel, dirt, old cigarette buds, and dried, fallen leaves. 

There’s not even a hole that opens up to swallow you whole. 

Seems like you’re completely out of luck today, you think, resignation settling heavy in your heart. 

It’s just a conversation, you try to tell yourself. 

Just a simple conversation with an old friend.

But when you look back up at Eddie, his big brown eyes are immediately too kind, too understanding, too much for you to bear at once.

“Uhm, yeah, the radio has been acting off again, but, it’s fine, really, don’t worry about it.” 

Your words come out jumbled, like they all tried to leave the captivity of your mouth as fast as they could, tumbling over each other in the process. 

But Eddie just gives you a look that seems to say: It’s not the radio I’m worried about.  

And you can’t take it. 

You can take the pitiful glances from the unfamiliar and whispering women at Melvald’s. You can take the talking, the stares, the fingers pointing in your direction, when they think they’re being real smooth, but you cannot take it from your friends. 

The strangers? Yes. 

Your once-upon-a-time best friend? Not so much.

“Max said, you’ve been fucking with the car.”

You’re not sure what in god’s name possessed you to blur that out, but Eddie looks at you like his eyes might pop out of his skull.

“What?!” 

“Max said, she thinks you might have been fucking with the car.” You repeat, as if it’s the words that Eddie didn’t quite catch right the first time around. 

“I-I know, you didn’t, obviously, but she also said that you’ve been asking about me and-”

“Yeah, no shit, genius,” Eddie huffs, slight amusement illuminating his features, “how else am I supposed to find out about your well-being, when you’ve been dropping from the face of the earth.” 

You’re grateful for the things he doesn’t say. The accusations he very well could throw your way. Like how you haven’t returned any of his phone calls over the last few weeks for example. 

“And for the record, I didn’t fuck with the Camaro. Though, I do have to admit, I’m slightly baffled that Max would even consider me capable of that, I don’t know if I should feel flattered or concerned.” 

“Bit of both, maybe.” 

The small smiles you and Eddie exchange feel entirely foreign, yet at the same time oddly familiar.

This is wrong, a voice in your head proclaims, you have no right to be doing that. No reason to feel even a little bit cheery.

But now that Eddie managed to crack the surface of your aloof exterior, he’s going to seep into the protective walls of withdrawal and detachment you’ve built around yourself in the span of the last few months. Coaxing his way in, trying to pull you out.

You know it, and maybe, he knows it, too. 

There’s a tug and pull war inside your brain. A damsel in distress, wanting to be saved, and a dragon that spits angry flames at anyone that comes too near. And the way that Eddie is able to put you at ease is entirely too close. 

He’s going to get hurt, or you are, a voice inside of you warns. 

You’re not ready yet. You’re still mourning, still struggling, still walking around with half a beating heart, the other, better half, lifelessly buried somewhere in Hawkins. Gone, but not forgotten.  

You shouldn’t be happy yet. Shouldn’t exchange smiles with a friend you once held dear. 

You’re doing a disservice to Billy, an ugly voice chides, and you feel your smile slipping. 

You’re doing a disservice to Billy.  

The smile on your face is gone for good.

“Do you want me to look at the car radio?” Eddie offers after another heartbeat of silence, haunted by the sudden inability to read your face. 

The walls are up again, and there’s a strong defense sitting in the highest towers of your broken mind.

He can’t reach you anymore.

You can’t let him reach you anymore. 

“It’s fine, Eds.” 

The nickname slips past your lips like ice cream on a hot summer’s day. Like the earnest laughs you used to share. Natural, and warm, and- 

But that was at a moment in time when Billy was still around.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to do that, Eddie. You’ve already inspected it three times, I can’t ask you to do that again.”

“You don’t have to ask, I’m offering. I don’t mind checking it out once more.”

Maybe there’s simply nothing to check out, maybe the car just hates me, you think. 

Maybe Max’s Christine fever dream of an idea isn’t too far off at all. 

Maybe you’re just going a little crazy.

Maybe there’s nothing to fix. 

Broken beyond repair. 

Yet your friends keep trying anyway.

The unwelcomed silence has decided to crawl out of the car, taking heavy steps towards you, pushing itself between you and Eddie. Taking the words out of your mouth, your brain, and filling it with cotton. 

Until you can’t breathe. 

You wonder if Eddie can feel its presence, too, as you watch him shuffle his feet uncomfortably. Trying to come up for words, like air, but the current of silence renders you both immobile before pulling you under again. 

You’re drowning at the offshore trailer park of Hawkins, Indiana, in a cobalt blue night, and a silence so heavy, the surrounding trees might start to buckle and break at any given moment under its weight.

“You know, I, uhm-“ Eddie starts, helpless. Like he’s putting one hand up as an imploring sign, before vanishing under the waves again. 

But you’re out in the open, too, incapable of throwing him any kind of lifeline.

“I, uh, I’ve made you the tape.”

“What?”

Is there water in your ears? Or cotton? You don’t think you’ve heard him right.

“The song that you talked about that night, I managed to get my hands on it, and I thought-“

Your mouth feels too dry, but now it’s for an entirely different reason. 

“Eddie-“

“I know, I know, I promised to never bring that night up again, but I thought, maybe you still crave that song and-“ 

You only now notice the small, rectangular object in Eddie’s hands that he keeps fiddling with. 

Turning it over, and under, and over again.

Like flotsam in a current.

“If you don’t want it, it’s fine. I just thought that maybe, I don’t know, it might help? Listen, I know it’s probably silly, and maybe you don’t want to hear that song at all anymore but-“

“No, I do!” 

Your hand reaches out towards Eddie before withdrawing again halfway.

“I do. I still miss that song.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You breathe. 

He still cares, you realize. 

He still cares, deeply. 

Why else would he remember the things you drunkenly told him during that one night, a few days after Billy’s funeral, when he’d found you out of your mind inebriated at the quarry. 

That was months ago. 

Months. 

You wonder if his attempts to reach out had been partially about this, all this time.

How long has he been trying to give this tape, and how long have you kept him, like everyone else, on more than a little arm's length? 

The remnants of your heart do an uncomfortable twist sparked by a wave of guilt.

“Eddie, I don’t know what to-“

“You don’t have to say anything. Just take it, and maybe it can help you a little; cheer you up a little.” 

With the uttermost tender care, you take the mixtape that your friend is holding out to you. 

Your fingers brush against each other, slightly, softly, yet it sparks a feeling that travels through you like lightning moving through a single tree. Cutting it open, setting it ablaze, painting its body in flames and ash down to its very roots. 

Maybe, you think, it’s not just Max that needs a good hug. 

If Eddie notices the turmoil taking place inside of you, he doesn’t show, doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t seem to be affected in the ways that you are. 

“So, about your car radio-” He starts, once you’ve securely stored the tape in the biggest pocket of your leather jacket. 

Billy’s leather jacket. 

You’re about to brush him off again, but Eddie just lifts his hand in a gesture to continue speaking. 

“Let me inspect it just once more. Maybe there’s something wrong with the wiring that I didn’t catch before, for some reason. I’ll look at it first thing in the morning, I promise, and in the meantime I can drive you home instead.” 

“Eddie, I appreciate your offer, but I don’t think this is going to work. Tomorrow is Saturday, and I-”

“Shit, that’s the day you usually join Chrissy in her visits to Heather in the hospital, right?” 

“Right.” You nod your head slowly, while Eddie lets out a pensive sigh. 

Silence takes over the space between the two of you again, and you shift your gaze towards the distant woods, watching the way the wind moves swiftly through the branches of a couple of trees, leaving their dark silhouettes shivering and shaking. 

Once your eyes dart back to Eddie, you expect him to look somewhat crestfallen, but instead there’s a tiny, mischievous smile playing on the edges of his lips.

“I have an idea,” He proposes, the small smile on his lips growing, “I would have to check in with the headquarters office of Eddie’s Mechanic Enterprise, but I’m pretty sure we offer an additional shuttle service for our very best customers.” 

"Shuttle service?" You question, lips tugging upwards as your friend’s smile proves itself to be of the contagious kind once again. 

“Yeah...” Eddie shifts his feet slightly, one hand coming up to rub a hidden spot on his neck, “I need to run some errands for my uncle tomorrow at Melvald’s, meaning I’d already be in your neighborhood at some point.” 

“So, you’re shuttling me and-” 

“A carton of eggs, yes.” 

“Well, in that case, that company seems hard to top.” 

“Is that a yes?” Eddie asks, trying hard to curb the excitement bubbling up inside of him. 

“If you and your eggs can make it to my place before 10 o’clock, say, a quarter to 10, maybe?” 

“A quarter to 10, confirmed and noted, ma’am.” Eddie states with a small salute, and this time you really cannot help the soft giggle from slipping out.

It’s a warm and gentle sound, one that Eddie hasn’t witnessed in quite a while, and it fills and nourishes a spot in his chest that has been starved for way too long. 

“I’ll try to have the Camaro looked over and finished by then, but I’m not entirely sure…” 

“Eds, it’s fine. I’m sure Chrissy can drop me off after the visit, and if not, I’ll be sure to call Eddie’s Mechanic Enterprise from one of the hospital pay phones. In any case, you can bring the Camaro over throughout the day, whenever.” 

“Okay,” Eddie sighs, clearly relieved, as you suppress the urge to reach out and give his shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. 

“Listen, I’m pretty sure that car radio is beyond salvation, so don't stress about finding a cure too much. Besides, this is Hawkins we’re speaking of, so, the radio signals are kind of shit either way.” 

“Really? I don’t think I’ve ever had issues with my radio signals.” 

“Interesting, and how many times do you, Eddie Munson, listen to the radio again?” 

“Fair enough.” Your friend huffs with a quiet laugh, before taking a few steps back, stretching one of his arms out in a wide gesture.

“Your carriage awaits you, m’lady.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper, suddenly overwhelmed by Eddie’s determined kindness and effort to make you feel at ease. 

But Eddie just brushes you off with a quick movement of his hand, as if to say don’t mention it. 

As you two walk up to his van, you can’t help but turn around once more, glancing back at Max's trailer. For a brief moment, you think you see one of the curtains move swiftly, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

Little red haired devil, you think. You’re still not sure what exactly she’s up to, but you’re certain you’ll find out eventually. 

By the time you turn around again, Eddie’s already waiting by his car, holding the passenger side open for you. 

This, you notice once more with a sudden shred of wariness, feels entirely too familiar.

Eddie’s van looks and feels the same way it always does. Slightly chaotic, a little dusty, and the smell of weed is, well, rather present to say the least. 

It’s a little odd being back in that space, but not entirely uncomfortable, and Eddie is quick to turn the radio on, filling the lingering silence with a more pleasant background noise.

For a brief moment, you wonder why on earth he’d do that voluntarily, especially considering that he has about a million metal tapes scattered around this place, before it hits you. 

He’s deliberately not playing his metal tapes because of Billy. Because if there’s one thing he and Billy used to have in common, apart from sharing a certain fondness for the devils lettuce, it’s their love for metal music. And while Billy steered more towards glam-metal and Eddie preferred the trashy kind, they still would rock out together to Metallica and W.A.S.P. and KIX. 

You all would.

And you can’t help but think that the only reason Eddie’s currently putting up with the seemingly endless horror that’s commercially popular and radio suitable music, is out of a deep consideration for you. 

Because he doesn’t want to trigger you. Doesn’t want to bring up any kind of painful memories of you and Billy and maybe Eddie in some way or another. 

There’s Eddie Rabbitt coming from his speakers now, for crying out loud. There’s no way he’d listen to that on his own accord, and yet, he’s putting up with it, for you.

Staring deliberately out of the window to your right, you wipe your eyes quickly, anxious that Eddie might see. You don’t know where all of these tears are coming from today, but they sure love showing up. 

The drive to your place continues for a little bit in silence before Eddie, your Eddie, not the singer currently proclaiming his love for rainy nights on the radio, decides to speak up.

“You know, I miss you, I mean, we all do, obviously, the campaigns aren’t the same without you, and-“

You watch Eddie take a steading breath, as his hands tighten around the steering wheel. 

“I know that losing Billy must be incredibly difficult for you, and I won’t even try to pretend to know what that’s like, but he was my friend too, you know. A-and I’m not saying this in an effort to downplay your pain in any way. I’m saying this as a reminder that you’re not alone in this. That you and Max aren’t the only ones missing him, and also because I.. I don’t want to lose you too, okay?” 

There’s another heartbeat of silence before Eddie whispers: “I’ve already lost one good friend, and I don’t want to lose another. I understand that you need your space, but please don’t be a stranger. Please, don’t turn into one.“

The ticking sound of the indicator and the low whispers of music are the only two things that fill the heavy silence that follows, and you have to wipe your eyes again. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, voice incredibly soft and timid, “I didn’t mean to lock you out, it’s just…” 

A sniffle breaks through your words, through the silence, through the entirety of Eddie’s heart. 

“I think when Billy died, something inside of me broke, something significant, and I don’t think I can fix it. I don’t know how to fix this, Eddie-“

This time, it’s a sob that cuts you off in your own speech, and you don’t even try to hide the tears running down your face anymore.

There’s no way you could, because there are way too many now.

“I’ve only ever imagined a future with Billy by my side, and now that he’s gone, I don’t know how to move forward.” You admit quietly.

“It feels like his death created a chasm between me and the rest of the world. And I can still see it somewhere in the distance, see everyone else moving on, right there on the other side, but I can’t find a way to join them for the life of me.” 

It takes everything in Eddie not to stop the car, not to unbuckle your seatbelt and engulf you in his arms, in the biggest hug of the universe.

But he’s not sure you’d appreciate that; not sure if he’s crossing ten lines in one breath by doing so. 

So, instead, he slows the car on the otherwise empty road down a bit, before leaning over to you slightly, taking your hand securely in his. 

“But I’m right here, sweetheart,” He whispers, big brown eyes finding yours, “there’s not a chasm between us right now, is there?

"I understand that it might feel this way, especially when you’re all on your own, but I’m right here, and so is everyone else, too. Nobody expects you to continue on with your life like nothing happened, but you’ve been so hard to reach lately, I’m worried that one day you’ll slip away completely, and I don’t want to lose you, too.” 

There are tears swimming in Eddie’s eyes, mirroring yours. 

There’s a heavy understanding in his heart, mirroring yours. 

Maybe, you think, you really aren’t quite as alone in this.

“I just,” you try to think of a way to phrase this, unsure of where to start, and where to stop. 

“I just miss him so much.”

“I know.”

“And I thought, I think, I don’t know, I guess I’m just not that easy to be around these days.” 

“You don’t need to be, sweetheart.” 

“You don’t understand, Eddie. I’m hardly fun anymore. I start crying out of nowhere at the most random times, and I still feel so much anger, so much hurt, that on some days I think that’s all that I’m made of, a-and I feel like I’m doing a disservice to Billy by-“

“By letting yourself be happy? By putting yourself in situations you know you might enjoy, even if it’s just a tiny little bit? By starving yourself of the company of your friends, because you fear you might be too much of a bummer, a burden, or you could find yourself enjoying something despite Billy’s absence?”

Eddie questions carefully, and though you hate to admit it, he’s hitting the nail right on the head, finishing the sentence forming in your heart perfectly.

Putting words around an otherwise almost unexplainable thing. A fear. A worry. A dark shape in the back of your mind, with a murky voice to match its exteriors.

He’s describing exactly what you’re worried about.

“Yeah,” you whisper, voice stunned and eyes wide, “yeah, that’s, that’s it.” 

And Eddie’s eyes are nothing but gentle and understanding when he glances back over at you, but this time around, they don’t feel too kind, they just feel earnest.

“Well, in that case, let me tell you that I’d rather spend time with you, even when you’re in some dark mood, than not having your presence around me at all. You can show up in any state that you find yourself in, I promise, I can take it.

“When I said, I’m here to help, I really, truly, meant it. Taking care of one another is a fundamental part of friendships, and you're one of my closest ones, so please, let me at least try to help. Don’t push me out completely.” 

You sniffle again, searching your pockets for a tissue or something to wipe your nose with, but you come up completely empty. 

“The glove department.” Eddie suggests out of nowhere, and you can’t help but let out a tiny, timid laugh. 

There’s a small pack of kleenex hidden inside of it, and you gratefully take one.

“Thank you,” you mumble, and you hope that Eddie knows you’re not just talking about the paper tissue clenched in your hand.

“You’re very welcome.” Eddie answers with a small smile, and when your eyes meet, you know he understood the implications of your words, too.

“I’m sorry about distancing myself so much, and-“

“You don’t need to apologize for grieving, just let me at least try to catch up with you sometimes? Maybe don’t lock the door completely?”

“I’ll try.” You whisper. 

You promise. 

“And about Billy.” Eddie starts carefully, because there’s something that needs to be said, even if you don’t want to hear it.

“Do you really think Billy wants you to suffer for the rest of your life without him? I know you feel a lot of guilt about his death, but you’re punishing yourself in the cruelest of ways, by-“

“It’s not that I don’t want to be happy, Eddie.” You interrupt him quietly.

“It’s that I don’t deserve it. Not after everything that happened. Not after the way I’ve let him down. I have to make it up to him somehow-“

“And you think you’re making it up to him by, what, stop trying to live a happy life?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, because, truly, you don’t. “But it feels wrong to… to just move on without him.”

Eddie knows there isn’t anything he can say to convince you otherwise, and if he’s really honest, he kind of gets it. If he imagines losing you in such a way, he would struggle with an endless amount of guilt and an inability to move on from that, too. 

But what happened still isn’t your fault, yet you’ve put such a heavy burden on yourself, one that no human soul can possibly bear or carry. To his despair, Eddie doesn’t know how to make you take that off. How to find a space big and strong enough for you to put that, lay it down to rest.

“If it was Billy who survived,” Eddie tries, since he knows there’s no other way to reach you, “would you want him to suffer, too?”

“Of course not,” you huff, “but it wasn’t Billy who survived, now was it?”

There’s a bitterness in your voice as you cross your arms defensively over your chest, and Eddie feels you slipping away from him again, away, and into the steady silence and darkness of the car. 

He’s almost by your house now, and he feels the dire need to turn this around somehow.

“I get it,” he finally whispers, “If it was the person I loved, I would feel like this, too. But that doesn’t make it right, doesn’t make that narrative true. What happened wasn’t your fault, and punishing yourself like it is, isn’t going to add anything other than additional suffering on yourself. It’s not going to bring Billy back, and I very much doubt that he’d want that for you either.”

“But it’s not about what he wants, or you want, or I want!” You say, voice desperate and rising in volume.

“It’s about the fact that I don’t deserve to move on without him; besides, there’s nowhere to move on to anymore. There’s no way I should be happy when the better half of my heart is lying six feet underground in some cheap ass casket with a ribbon on it. 

“And I still wake up every night reaching for him, only to find his side of the bed empty and cold. And every time the world comes back crashing down on me again, every. single. fucking. night. And I take it, because, maybe, that's simply what I deserve! He’s been through so much, and it’s all my fault!

“I keep seeing him in everything I do, yet it’s completely pointless because he isn’t there by my side anymore. And he never will be. I will never be able to hear his voice again, never be able to hear his laugh. Never feel the comfort of his presence ever again, because he died!

“He died saving a town he hated and yet nobody cares. And I can’t even leave this shithole of a place because I made a promise to him months before his death, that if anything ever happens to him, I would look out for his little sister! So I’m stuck here just like his fucking body is! 

“And how am I even supposed to move on, when all of my dreams, all of the plans I had for the future involved Billy in some way. He was the one constant in my life, the only constant in my life that truly mattered more than anything else in this world. Just for it now to feel like the light of my life, the sun I’ve been revolving everything around has gone out, and I’m left all alone, spinning out helplessly on a cold and dying planet. 

“It’s fucking hard to move on, when there’s nowhere to move on to, because I simply cannot imagine a future without Billy in it. And there’s no way to soothe the hurt, or to fill the emptiness that his absence has created, since there’s no way for me to get him back ever again!“

You’re full on crying now, and after having sobbed so much throughout the latter part of your admission, you didn’t even notice that Eddie already parked the car and unbuckled your seatbelt.

You only notice it once you’re done, all the words having left your mouth, energy completely drained, when suddenly two arms wrap themselves around you, lifting you up, over the center console - and into Eddie’s lap. 

You slump against him immediately, heavy sobs still wrecking your body, while your best friend, the one you shared your very first kiss in middle school with, the one who has seen you cry a thousand times before, quietly whispers soothing words to you. 

“Shh, just let it out. Let it all out, it’s okay, I’ve got you. You can let it all out, love.”

His touch, much like his words, feels incredibly comforting. His arms are wrapped securely around you, keeping you close, one hand brushing that tender spot at the back of your neck in soothing strokes.

He stays true to his words, takes all the vulnerability and hurt that flows out of you in cries and tears, witnesses you breaking down completely, yet he never falters in his mission to gently guide you through it all. 

Like a storm that you’re both trapped in. But his comfort, his presence, soothes the severity of the rain pouring down, lessens the strength of the howling wind, until the hurricane quiets down, and your cries, like clouds, start getting smaller. 

Letting go like this, crying unrestrained in his arms, feels not as hopeless and heavy as it usually does when you’re doing it all alone in the darkness and isolation of your bedroom. And suddenly, you feel compelled to admit something you’ve never told anybody.

“It’s my fault, Eddie. It’s all my fault.” You whisper, but Eddie brushes you off gently.

“Shh, no it isn’t, sweetheart. The only one responsible is the mindflayer, remember?” 

“No, Eddie, you don’t understand, I could have saved him, I could have-” 

Eddie furrows his brows in confusion. He doesn’t know the events that happened at Starcourt Mall that night to a T, since he wasn’t there during them, but he’s pretty sure that there’s hardly anything you could have done to save Billy. 

From the things he’s been told, you arrived there when it was already too late. When Billy already decided to stand up to that monster all by himself. 

You had just come back from the airport, fresh out of California, confused and incredibly concerned because Billy hadn’t responded to any of your calls while you were away. 

When you finally made it back to Hawkins, you found yourself rushing to the Mall, just to watch the love of your life fight a monster with his bare hands, trying his hardest to hold it back, to stop it, but to no avail.

And despite the fact that you ran up to him immediately, you still had to watch him get impaled and killed by that interdimensional monster. 

And by the time you made it to Billy’s side, the only thing you could do was to hold his dying body close in your arms, while he took his last, uneven breaths, and you whispered your final I love you’s.  

Weeks later, when Steve came over to pick up a few things to help ease his own nightmares, he told Eddie in secret that he doesn’t remember much from that night, but one of the things that had etched itself into his brain were your fierce cries.

He said he heard you scream Billy’s name that night so loudly, so full of utter desperation and horror, he was sure your cries could be heard all over the town of Hawkins.

But your horrors didn’t just end there that godless night at the mall. Because when help finally arrived, you refused to acknowledge the first aid responders, as they told you that Billy was dead and gone or good.

You refused to budge, refused to let Billy go, refused to watch him be put into some cold, plastic body bag. 

They needed four grown men in order to get you off and away from Billy’s body, and no matter how much they tried to calm you down, you still wouldn’t stop fighting back, not until someone finally infused you with some tranquilizer, but even while drifting into unconsciousness, you continued to whimper Billy’s name in quiet pleas.

That night, under a starless sky in the town of Hawkins, Indiana, you lost the love of your life, and you knew, you would never be the same again. 

There’s no such thing as recovery when you lose the most vital part, your heart, in such a gruesome way. 

But there’s another reason for the immense guilt you feel. 

The knowledge that you could have prevented it. 

And it’s time for you to share that part. 

You talk one last steading breath, hoping that your voice won’t sound as shaky as you feel.

“Before I went to Cali, to meet with that administrator from UCLA, we had initially decided that I would fly out there all by myself, but two days before my departure, Billy told me that he wanted to join in on the trip and come with me instead.” 

Eddie feels your frame trembling slightly, your hands digging into his shirt in an effort to hold on to something. 

“But I told him no.” You wail, sobs rumbling through you like thunder. Tears streaming down like hail. Each and every single one punching holes in Eddie's heart.

“I told him no; That that was silly, that I’d be fine on my own, and that I would be gone for hardly a week anyway. I told him that booking a flight so last minute would be way too expensive, and that we could use that money a lot more for our first rent payment, because, you know, we wanted to move into that small apartment right by the sea once uni starts-“ 

Eddie is stunned. He’s frozen. He doesn’t know what to do, because he had no idea.

Sure, he knew about yours and Billy’s plan to move to California once the summer break came to an end. But you have never, ever told him that story, and he doubts that you’ve shared it with anyone else either, judging by how hard it is for you to recall any of these details.

“Even when he dropped me off at the airport, he still joked about sneaking in and getting his own ticket at the desk. He said that there was still time, that I only had to say the words and we’d board that stupid plane together… but I didn’t.

"I just laughed and kissed him goodbye, and told him to stop being such a sap; that I would be back in no time, and in only a couple of weeks we would both soak in the Californian sun till the end of our days, and never have to hear the word Hawkins again.

"But if I had listened to him; if I’d taken him with me, he would still be around!”

Your voice, now utterly hoarse from crying, might haunt Eddie for a lifetime or two.

He’s at a loss of words, because what really is there to say? 

Of course, what happened isn’t your fault, you didn’t know. You couldn’t have predicted that this moment with Billy at the airport would end up being the last time you sincerely saw him smile, and yet, Eddie understands now, why Billy’s death feels even more like a burden on the tender shoulders of your soul. 

How you didn’t just lose the love of your life, but feel utterly responsible for it, too. 

“I could have saved him, I could have prevented his death, if I only had let him buy his stupid plane ticket.” 

The regret in your voice is almost palatable, dripping from your slumped frame like the tears from your eyes. 

“If I hadn’t said: No, Billy. Money’s tight, Billy. Being away from me for a few days won’t kill you, Billy... If it wasn’t for me, he’d still be here. ” 

Well, shit, Eddie thinks, hindsight really is one brutal tool. 

Are there any words, in this universe, that could take some of the burden off your shoulders? Something to ease your guilt and the blame you clearly feel? Eddie doesn’t think that there are.

All the words he thinks about saying just sound hollow and dull. 

He can repeat the phrase, this isn’t your fault, a million times; he’s sure you still wouldn’t believe him. 

But at the very least, he has to try. 

“I didn’t know,” Eddie whispers, wiping a few stray tears from your cheeks, “I didn’t know that that happened.” 

You sniffle, eyes darting everywhere, but the face of your close friend. 

“I’ve never-” 

You can’t even finish the sentence, and Eddie feels his heart do an incredibly uncomfortable twist, as he hears his assumption be called true.

You’ve been dragging that secret around like a dead horse; and that’s on top of all the other shit that’s been thrown your way. 

“Please don’t tell the others,” you whisper, and the desperation and worry in your voice is hard to miss. Like you almost expect Eddie to start blaming you, too.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell, I promise.” He pledges, “but what happened still isn’t your fault. I know, it’s probably impossible to change your mind right now, but it really wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know. If you did, things might have gone differently, that’s true, but you didn’t know.

"You didn’t know that in your absence, Billy would find himself getting possessed and taken over by the Mind Flayer. You didn’t know. You can’t blame yourself for something you had no clue would happen.” 

Your sniffles have now quieted down to something that doesn’t feel like bullets through Eddie’s heart, but the way you curl up into him still tugs on something tender deep inside of him. 

It’s like you’ve turned shy all of a sudden, worried about what Eddie might think of you, now that you’ve shared that heavy secret. But Eddie doesn’t see you in a different light, and he’s determined to reassure you that, too.

“I really mean it, when I say that what happened to Billy isn’t your fault. Looking back at the past with the knowledge you have now, is always going to leave you wondering why you picked one choice rather than another.

"And you’ll drive yourself mad, if you judge all of your life’s choices that way. You didn’t know. And punishing yourself for a decision you made in nothing but good faith, wondering what could have happened if you didn’t, sweetheart, that’s just no way to live.”

Tentatively moving your face out of your hiding spot that’s Eddie’s neck, you look up at him with careful eyes.

“You think so?”

Eddie just nods his head with a deep hum.

“If you had taken Billy with you, you don’t know what could have happened. He could have died there, too, you know? And then you’d wish that you’d left him in Hawkins instead. It’s a vicious cycle of what was and what could have been,but, ultimately, we don’t know, and we never will. 

"All you did in that moment at the airport was make a sensible decision based on all of the information you had at that time. Judging it by anything else is doing a disservice to you and your intentions. You just tried to do good, to look out for you and Billy, with your shared future in mind.” 

“So, you don’t think I’m -“

Despicable, a murderer, a horrible person, responsible for Billy’s death, the voice in your head finishes.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person at all, sweetheart.” Eddie whispers, knowing what you’re thinking without saying it, while wiping the last few tears from the apples of your cheeks. 

“And you’re not just telling me this because you are my friend?” You sniffle, voice and mind still a little unsure.

“I’m telling you this because it is true.” 

The sincerity and earnestness of Eddie’s words are hard to miss, hard to ignore, hard not to let seep into your heart at least a little bit. 

You stay intertwined like that for a while, until your breaths have evened out, and the last tears on your skin have dried down. 

They’re back in your eyes for a moment, when you notice the dark mascara stains you’ve left on Eddie’s Hellfire t-shirt, and something inside of you starts to panic, but your best friend is quick to shush you again, calming you down with gentle words. 

“It’s just a shirt, sweetheart. Just tears and mascara stains on a shirt, don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?” You mumble, and Eddie nods his head enthusiastically. 

“Nothing a washing machine can’t fix.” 

Still not completely convinced, you try to rub some of it away, but only with little success.

Letting out a defeated sigh, you decide to curl up into your friend a bit more, enjoying a closeness you haven’t experienced in a while. 

And Eddie lets you, not just because you clearly need it, but because he does, too.

He missed this, missed you, and despite your promise to try and be around more, he’s worried that by tomorrow, you will have receded back into your reclusive ways. 

Time moves through the space of the van in the form of the quiet music coming from the radio. Currently it’s some cheesy 70s ballad that neither of you pay too much attention to.

You’re both deep in thought, only grounded by the touch of the other. 

Eddie has a few more words sitting heavy on the tip of tongue, waiting for him to open his mouth and finally tumble out.

There’s no such thing as the right moment in a space like this, he thinks, and so, after another beat of slow moving music, flowing like syrup all around him, he whispers: “Do you trust me?”

If his words confuse you, or catch you by surprise, you don’t show. Instead, you just look up at him with honest eyes.

“Yes.” You whisper, and there’s not an ounce of a question stained in your voice, or written on your face. 

“Of course, I do.”

“Then please trust me when I say that there’s a future for you, even if you can’t quite see it yet. And you’re allowed to move towards it, even if it still seems gloomy, or unattainable right now. The things that happened that night at Starcourt Mall should have never happened, but none of it was your fault. None of it, okay?”

He’s holding your face in both of his hands now, cradling it gently, silently hoping, begging, crying to the gods above, that at least a fraction of what he’s said will take root in your heart. 

“Okay.” You whisper, overwhelmed by the deep sincerity in each and every single fragment of Eddie. His eyes, his voice, the gentle brush of his fingertips.

“Good.” 

He leans in, leaving a lingering kiss on your forehead, but before either of you can dwell on the meaning of that too much, a sudden noise of static cuts right through the moment, making the both of you jump. 

Catching you off guard and slightly startled. 

“What the-” Eddie mumbles while leaning forward to change the station, but the frown on his face only deepens when the radio won’t budge at all. 

“So much for a perfect radio reception, huh?” You can’t help the tiny dig, and Eddie scoffs, though there’s a small smile growing on his face. 

“I swear, this has never happened before.” 

“Uh-huh, and you don’t think that this might be explained by the fact that you usually never listen to the radio?” 

“You know, I might be inclined to believe your theory, if it was just the radio signal that’s going off, but the whole thing is acting strange. I can’t even-” 

In an attempt to demonstrate to you that he isn’t even able to change stations, Eddie forcefully turns the button- only for it to work perfectly this time.

But for some odd reason, all the other channels seem to consist of nothing but pure static, too. 

“Okay, that’s weird.” You whisper, trying to ignore the small chill that’s started to run down your back, as you realize how familiar this situation feels. 

You’re about to tell Eddie to just turn the radio completely off, when he finally finds a channel that is not just static upon static noise.

“Hah!” He exclaims, quite pleased with himself, though that sentiment turns out to be rather short-lived. 

“Still weird.” You mumble, while Eddie continues to toy with the volume button this time, and it makes you listen to the song more intently. 

It’s Take my breath away , of all things. Not quite the song you’d pick for a Friday night, sitting in your best friend's van, still perched upon his lap. 

“Through the hourglass, I saw you. 

In time, you slipped away.” 

Terri Nunn sings, and you’re about to ask Eddie if he can just turn this whole thing off, when the song, completely out of nowhere, starts to change its pitch. 

“Take my breath away,” rattles through the speakers, only now it resonates both slower and lower, kind of like a vinyl record being played at the wrong speed, giving the singer a much deeper voice.

The song suddenly sounds a lot more sinister and a lot less romantic, and though you don’t mind the latter, the way the song is now being played hardly counts as an improvement in your books.

“Uhm, Eddie, what exactly are you doing?” You question, as you watch your friend continue to tinker with the electronic device. 

“I don’t know.” He mumbles, voice slightly muffled because he’s bent over quite a bit, and you take shelter on his left knee in an effort to get out of the way a little more.

“Watching every motion in this foolish lover’s game. 

Haunted by the notion somewhere there’s a love in flames.” 

The distorted voice coming from the speakers promises, and you feel yourself grow rather uneasy, as the odd voice manages to sound more and more threatening. 

“Eddie, please turn this off.” 

“I’m trying, but the power button won’t work.” 

“Eddie, don’t fuck with me right now.” 

“I’m not, alright. I promise, I’m not.”

To prove his point, your best friend purposely pushes the on/off button a couple of times, but it simply continues to stay unresponsive. 

“See?” 

To your own horrors, you not only see the radio’s inability to shut itself off, you hear it, too. 

“Uh-huh, kind of hard not to notice, Eddie. This sounds like music straight from hell.”

“I honestly don’t think the music down there would be that bad.”

That comment deserves your friend a small punch in his side, which he retaliates in turn with a poke of his own, and for a moment the weird music is almost forgotten, until suddenly it turns itself completely off again.

“Fuck, about time.” Eddie exclaims, relief evident in his voice.

“Seems like even the broadcast from hell struggles with transmission difficulties sometimes.” You state dryly, although, you’d be lying if you said that whatever this just was, didn’t unnerve you, too.

“This seriously never happened before.” Eddie mumbles, eying his radio with two watchful eyes, like he doesn’t quite trust the silence yet. 

“Guess I can’t say the same thing.” You state with a small shrug, and when Eddie gives you a slightly confused look, you elaborate: “This is kind of exactly like the stuff plaguing the Camaro.”

“Your music gets that distorted?”  

“No, but anything except that seems quite familiar; the static, the unresponsiveness of the buttons, the radio just turning itself off like that.” 

“Geez.” Eddie summarizes, and you don’t think you could put it any better either.

“Well, in any case, I know now that the problem can’t just be the radio signal, but probably something a lot more technical. Maybe an issue with the speakers, too, if the sound comes out that weirdly.”

“Yeah, for a minute I thought we were in some kind of horror movie.” You joke with a timid laugh, and it’s only now as you begin to relax again that you notice how incredibly tightly you’ve been holding on to Eddie’s shoulder, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt and the soft cushion of his flesh. 

After letting go quickly, your hand repeatedly strokes over that spot inconspicuously, like you’re trying to brush out a wrinkle you caused in a tablecloth without getting caught.

Like Eddie can’t still feel the cresent moons of your fingernails pushing into his skin.

“Quite honestly, a minute more of that racket, and I would have gone insane.” 

“Would have?”  You tease, and Eddie’s quick fingers are back at your sides. 

“Stop, stop!” You plead in between soft giggles, and Eddie thinks he would endure hell’s music for eternity, if it means he can listen to your earnest laughter one more time. 

Eddie’s fingers come to a rest soon after, and you lean into his frame once more, slightly out of breath from the tickle-induced laughing. 

“You’re not playing fair.” You huff, as soon as you have enough of your breath back to properly talk again, and Eddie just gives you a big grin. 

“Never said I was.” 

You roll your eyes, but it’s a half-hearted act, one that leaves you dodging Eddie’s fingers again.

“Well, I think I should get going now.” You state, after the ceasefire between tickling hands has reigned for a little bit longer, and it slowly dawns on you that you’ve spent a whole lot more time with Eddie than you’d initially planned. 

“Right, sure!” Eddie quickly fumbles with the door, trying to get it to open for you, without dropping you in the process. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow then.” He states, as you reluctantly detach yourself from him, before hopping out of his car and catching your footing on the curb in front of your house.

“Yeah, a quarter to 10,” you remind him, “and don’t stress about the Camaro too much, especially now that you have two patients to look after, instead of just one.” 

Your eyes fixate on his car radio. 

“Guess whatever is going on is contagious now.” 

You initially meant it as a joke, but now that the words have left your mouth, you can’t help but feel like there’s a bitter aftertaste to them. 

“Eddie, whatever you do, please be careful, okay?” 

“Don’t worry, I usually know what I’m doing.” 

“Uh-huh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing, I just know you, is all.”

This time, it’s Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Oh, and Eddie,” you quickly interject, suddenly feeling a little more shy, “thank you.” 

Your friend’s gaze immediately softens.

“Anytime.” 

“I… uh, I think I really needed this, so thank you for not giving up on me.” 

“I would never!” Eddie looks almost offended at the implication that you could even think such a thing.

“I know now, I guess. And, uh, thank you for the tape, too.” 

Waving the small item for emphasis, you hope Eddie truly catches how much the events of tonight matter to you. 

And you’d like to think, as your eyes meet his in parting, that he does. 

That he does understand how much all of this means to you. How much his efforts are appreciated. 

“Drive slowly!” You exclaim in a last farewell, “and I can’t wait to meet your carton of eggs tomorrow.” 

Eddie’s laugh echoes through the space of the night like warm rays of sunshine. 

“I’ll let them know how eagerly you’ve been waiting for an introduction.” 

“Please do. Good night, Eddie.” 

“Night, sweetheart.” 

One last wave and a shared smile later, and the van’s door closes with a dull thud. 

You watch Eddie drive off into the night, his taillights vanishing in the distance until they’re only a mere memory of two red eyes glowing in the empty space of your street. 

Turning around to walk the few steps through your yard and up the stairs to your entrance, you can’t help but notice that the many memories buried deep within your chest feel a little lighter, or maybe just a little less heavy. 

And by the time you make it through your front door, the profound dread you normally feel upon walking into your family home does not overcome you the way it usually does.

Once inside, you make your way into the kitchen immediately, getting some cold beverage before settling down in your bedroom. 

Like every night, you turn the TV on, letting it play as a background noise mindlessly, without paying much attention to it.

It’s another rerun of the movie Rumble Fish, and you honestly couldn’t care less about it, you just need some kind of distraction, some kind of stimuli, because anything is better than the haunting silence, especially in the portent hours between midnight and the rise of dawn. 

It’s not quite that late yet, but it most likely will be, by the time you feel exhausted enough to get at least some resemblance of sleep. 

Putting down Eddie’s tape on your bedside table, you decide to look for your cassette player, while the movie continues on lowly in the background. 

The TV also functions as your only light source, and its flickering lights illuminate the space of your bedroom before turning darker and then back into brightness again.

It’s an endless charade of light and dark against your bedroom walls.

As usual, the television alone isn’t enough of a distraction, and with a sigh, you decide to put on a record as well, to reallydrive the last remnants of your spinning thoughts out of your brain. 

Tonight, that honor falls in the hands of Patti Smith, and her powerful voice joins the hushed ones coming from the television. 

Moving through the space of your bedroom restlessly, you still try to find your walkman, but to no avail. 

You know you haven’t used it in a while, yet that doesn’t explain its apparent disappearance, and you feel angry tears start to fill your eyes. 

You just want to listen to that goddamn tape, and forget about the rest of the world for a little bit. 

After going through the items in your bookshelf one more time, you come to the realization that this current search-mission is a rather fruitless endeavor, and you might find yourself having more luck in the morning.

Defeated, and admittedly in a worse mood than you were before entering your bedroom, you flop down on your bed again, picking up Eddie’s tape and opening it up carefully. 

He’s written you a little note on the inside of the cover, underneath the, admittedly, rather small tracklist. 

I See You In Everyone  by Survivor  

x 5 times on Side A  

x 5 times on Side B  

Knock yourself out with this.  

 -  Eddie  

The tiny smile creeping up on your lips is impossible to call a halt to, and you really wish you could listen to the cassette now; if only you knew where your tape player currently resides. 

The song, that Eddie put on a tape as many times as it could possibly fit, is from the same album as the love song you and Billy used to call your own. And despite owning it as a vinyl in your rather extensive record collection, you don’t have the heart, or the strength, to listen to the complete album anymore. 

When Billy was still around, you used to listen to it all the time, obviously. 

But with I can’t hold back as the opening track on it, every song that followed would usually fade into the background quickly.

Especially with the amount of times you've made out with each other to said record, and by the time it was time to flip the vinyl over, you two were already in a completely different world, music and your surroundings completely forgotten. 

With that in mind, you never really listened that much to the B-side of the album. 

Until Billy’s death. 

Until in a desperate attempt to feel closer to him, a few days after his funeral, you decided to listen to it, the whole way through. 

A great mistake, as it turned out, because the onslaught of memories that came with everything in that moment; picking the record out, pulling it out of its covers, putting it on, and above all listening to it, felt like stabs straight through your heart, through yourself, through every fiber of your being, until you felt like a puddle of pure misery, tears, and despair, staining the soft carpet of your bedroom floor. 

But still, you pulled through, flipped the record over and listened to everything that that album had to offer.

And you cried the whole time, completely overcome by sadness and anger, until the very last song. 

I See You In Everyone.  

You don’t think you’ve ever listened to it before, or maybe you did, but you don’t remember. Either way, that afternoon, something about that tune struck a vital cord deep inside of you. 

And you wanted to listen to it again, over, and over, and over, until the vinyl would be completely worn out, or your record player broke, or the world got up in flames. 

The outside world, of course. 

Your world already did.

But unfortunately, you could hardly bear looking at that record, could hardly stomach touching it, or pulling it out of its designated space on your sideboard; let alone repeatedly engage in the whole process of actually putting it on and listening to it. 

You had to banish that vinyl from the space of your bedroom completely, each time you merely saw the cover of Vital Signs your heart would drop ten million feet below, shattering at the bottom of the earth and piercing every part of your soul.

That night, after having listened to the record completely, maybe for the first time ever, you got out of your mind drunk, kicking stones into the abyss of the quarry, until Eddie found you and- 

Well, the exact details hardly matter now, and it’s not like you remember much from it anyway. That night, like most of the nights following the first few weeks after Billy’s death, are nothing but a blur to you. 

But you do recall telling Eddie how there’s this song on your favorite Survivor record. That one record that’s cursed as your least favorite now, because it sparks nothing but painful memories, like lightning in the sky. 

Except for that one song, that one song.

That one song you want to listen to until your world doesn’t feel like it’s burning anymore. 

Until your heart stops hurting, until you wake up one morning without feeling like there’s a massive hole in the middle of your chest.

And Eddie, attentive as ever, somehow remembered. 

And now, here you are, with the song you’ve been craving for a whole long while, right there at the tips of your fingers, but with no real way to listen to it. 

You know that crying over something like this is a bit silly, but you’ve cried over smaller things before, and this right now feels rather big on your side of the universe. 

“Goddamn it!” You whisper, irritated by both, the tears in your eyes, and your inability to find that walkman. 

You stare at your ceiling for a little bit, almost ready to call it a night, when suddenly, out of your peripheral vision, you see something light up.

It’s only brief, only for a short moment of time, and you brush it off as a trick of the light coming from the TV at first, before it happens again. 

And again. 

And again once more. 

And by the fourth time, you finally lift your head. 

It’s the small night light on your dresser that’s lighting up, and then goes off again, lights up and then goes off again. 

“What the fuck?” You whisper confused, especially since you’re beyond certain that you didn’t even turn it on in the first place. 

You simply stare at it for a little while, watching the slow rhythm of the light flickering on and then off again. 

On and then off. 

After having seen enough of this odd routine, you decidedly get up, making your way over to the weirdly behaving culprit. 

The night light is a simple lamp in the shape of a small, plastic surfboard that lights up from within, giving its surroundings a warm, orange glow. 

It used to be a gift from Billy, something he’s gotten you without any special occasion, just because he thought it might look cute in your room, and maybe, as a small thing to remember him by. 

“So, when you wake up in the middle of the night without me by your side, you can still think of me, and remember that I’m always yours, even when we’re miles apart.”  He had told you with an uncharacteristically shy gaze, and your heart beamed with the luminosity of a thousand suns. 

You had wanted to get him a night light, too, initially. Thinking there was something deeply romantic about the small gesture of sharing matching night lights with each other while being apart.

Separated physically, but united in spirit, thinking of the other in your dark bedrooms, the small night lights a whisper of the other’s name.

In practice, that turned out to be a whole lot more difficult, mostly thanks to Billy’s dad. 

There simply was no way that such a thing would survive even a single night in Billy’s room without harm, and it wasn’t really worth the risk either, to be honest.

You didn’t want to give Neil any more reasons to mistreat and discipline his son, than he already had. 

So instead, you got Billy a little figurine that looked a lot like his Camaro. It wasn’t completely right, but still close enough, and you even took the time to paint two little faces on the windows of each side. 

A small iteration of Billy on the driver’s side, and you on the passenger seat. 

In reality, it looked a lot like two stick figures with bad hairstyles, and Billy started crying with laughter upon seeing them. His hearty hyena laugh echoing through your room for what felt like hours before he would calm down.

“I love it,” he said, voice rough from his unrestrained glee, wiping a few tears away. 

“You look like something out of an alien movie, trying to disguise itself as human, and I look like a possessed doll, but at least you got my angles right.”

And Billy threw his head back laughing again, curls flying everywhere as he shook his head in nothing but pure joy. 

“No, no, wait, I’ve got it! I’ve got it! I look like if Robert Plant and the smiley face from the goodwill logo had a baby!”

And then he was back to laughing his ass off again, amusement in every heaving breath leaving his lips, and you couldn’t help but join in on his laughter, too. 

“I’m never painting you something again.” You huffed, once you’d both calmed down enough, and though you tried hard to sound annoyed, you failed miserably. 

“Oh, no, Baby, please do! Please paint me things all the time now!” Billy exclaimed with a twinkle in his eyes. 

“I didn’t know about your talents! Tell me, who was your teacher? A five year old?”

“Asshole!” You'd grumbled, but you couldn’t keep a smile from spreading on your face. 

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry.” Billy immediately backtracked, not having seen your amused facial expression yet, and thinking you were earnestly hurt by his jab. 

He quickly rolled over on the bed to see you properly, caging you in between himself and the mattress, before cupping your face gently.

“I love it, okay? It’s a great gift! It kind of looks like Picasso threw up all over it, but I love it and-“

“Oh, shut up!” 

His comments had you laughing again, and you slapped his shoulder playfully while Billy gave you an earnest smile. 

“I really love it, it’s perfect.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“This is going to be us one day,” you whispered, “just us, leaving this shithole town and never looking back.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And where are we going?” Billy murmured, face inching closer to yours, until the very tips of your noses touched.

“Wherever you want to go,” you whispered, “wherever you want to go, Billy, I’ll follow.” 

“You promise?”

Billy’s voice suddenly sounded more vulnerable, like it was thick with emotions, or tears, or disbelief, or maybe a jumbled mix of it all.

“Cross my heart.” You murmured, fingers tracing a X upon your chest. 

“I’ll always be by your side, Billy, and that little car is supposed to be a reminder for you.”

There had been tears swimming in Billy’s eyes when you pulled him close for a deep kiss, and by the time your lips met, there were tears in your eyes, too. 

From that day on, Billy left that toylike figurine sitting on his bedside table, at a spot where it would always be illuminated by the soft glow from one of the street lamps outside at night.

It almost looked like it was glowing a little itself, and each time Billy woke up from a nightmarish dream, his eyes would find the small object, and he knew that he was going to get out of all of this, one day.

One day, you and him would leave everything behind and start over some place else.

And his heart longed for that moment, where he could walk out of his father’s house and never ever come back again.

So, that’s how you and Billy gifted each other a tiny copy of the Camaro, and a glowing, plastic surfboard.  

A surfboard that’s now flickering away on your dresser, and you can feel your heart sink a little at the sight.

“Oh, please don’t die on me, too.” You whisper, worried that the present that reminds you so much of your boyfriend decided to fritz out at the worst possible time.

It only takes you a couple of steps from where you’re currently sitting on the bed to get to the item in question, a deep frown settling upon your face. 

And that expression only deepens, once you notice that the lamp’s switch is still securely placed in its off position. 

“What-” you mumble quietly, as unease begins to settle in your stomach more and more, “how’s that even possible?” 

The flickering of the light increases its speed.

On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. 

“Okay, t-that’s enough.” Your voice comes out with a little tremor, but how could it not? 

There have been weird things happening in your bedroom before; sometimes, lights will flicker. Sometimes, your TV will suddenly turn to static, seemingly out of nowhere; but none of that ever bothers you too much, because it can all be explained away with the easy excuse of old wiring, or the growing age of your devices. 

Take your record player for example. A loyal thing gifted to you by your mother on your 14th birthday, but only a few weeks ago it started to act up, skipping and looping perfectly good vinyls for no apparent reason with increased frequency. It has to be its growing age, you’re sure of that. 

Maybe, it’s simply getting a bit too old and tired of spinning records all the time. And you can’t really blame it. You’ve been planning to take it to RadioShack for a while, to get it checked out and hopefully fixed, but it’s not something that concerns you too much, either.

So, when your night light starts to flicker in your room, it’s not like you’ve never seen such a thing before, but usually, the device is at the very least turned on.  

This, however, cannot be said for the little surfboard right now. It’s definitely switched off, and yet, every two seconds, it lights up the space of your dresser in a bright, orange hue. 

Your first attempt to make it stop is to simply turn the lamp on and then off again. Unfortunately, it doesn’t budge in the slightest, and the memory of your and Eddie’s car radios doing something oddly familiar creeps its way into your mind. 

You feel your heartbeat quickening, as a  growing anxiety rushes through you, this should not be possible, you think, and yet, here you are bearing witness to it. 

With trembling fingers, you try switching it off one last time, but after being unsuccessful again, you can’t help but take a few shaky steps back. 

“Okay,” you whisper, trying hard not to freak out completely, “okay, okay, okay, okay.” 

There’s one more thing that you could try.

One more chance to make it stop.  

Whatever it even is. 

You quickly approach the dresser again, this time kneeling down next to its side, hand stretching out in an effort to reach into the space behind it.

There’s cobwebs, and dust, and hardly any room, and your fingers keep touching things you’d rather not think about, before you feel the outline of your outlet merging together with the plug. 

It’s a tight fit, the space between your furniture and wall being rather narrow, and trying to pull the plug from its socket without scratching up your hands is not an easy task, but somehow, after some rounds of trial and error, you manage to finally set it free. 

There’s a small clicking sound, and then, unceremoniously, the lamp turns completely off. 

“Jesus Christ,” you exhale, resting your head gently against your wooden dresser, trying to take a few steading breaths. 

“That was…” You don’t even know how to finish that sentence. 

Spooky? Unexpected? Quite something?  

Retreading your hand from the space between turns out to go a lot quicker and smoother than getting it there, and you shake it a few times with slight disgust, convinced that you can still feel faint traces of cobwebs haunting it.

With a heavy sigh, you take a look through your room, but everything else seems just the same.

Like nothing weird happened at all.

Your TV keeps playing in the background, and your Patti Smith record is still spinning.

And your pulse is slowly coming down to healthy level again.

You’re about to get up and back into bed, hoping to forget whatever just happened, when something small and rectangular lying underneath your dresser catches your eye. 

Your breath hitches once you realize what you’re looking at, and your heart might actually be doing a tiny flip.

There, behind one leg of your wooden dresser, hides your missing walkman. 

“No way,” you mumble, confused and slightly stunned. 

“How the hell did you get here?” You question, though you don’t expect the inanimate object to actually answer that.

You don’t remember any event that might explain why your tape player currently resides in such an odd place, but you also don’t really have the energy, or brain power, to question the whole thing, either. 

You just want to cuddle up in bed and forget a good portion of this night. Block out the weird behavior of your lamp and its meaning; at the very least for a few hours.

You’re still trying to convince yourself that this was probably just a faulty cable, or maybe, a defect wiring connected to the switch, or something.

You can overthink these details in the morning, though, because right now, your fingers really itch to finally, finally listen to that tape.

To have its melody soothe a part of your soul that you otherwise can’t touch, can’t reach. 

Putting your headphones on securely, and pushing the play button with still slightly shaky fingers, you feel yourself exhale slowly as the opening notes of the song begin. 

You stare at the ceiling for a bit, as you let the music wash over you.

The glow from the TV draws flickering shapes on some parts of the space surrounding you, before withdrawing again, like waves.

It’s a hypnotizing spectacle, and you watch it for a while, trying not to think of the many Californian beaches you’ll have to visit all on your own.

By now, the moon has traveled enough across the horizon, to finally find its way in front of your bedroom window, painting your desk and the edge of your bed in a milky hue. 

“Listening for your footsteps in every hallway 

Watching for your headlights around the bend 

I can see you standing in every doorway. 

Out in the street, in every glance  

I see your reflection, I fall in a trance  

Can't you see what I've become  

It's making me crazy  

I see you in everyone!” 

The song continues, as you long for Billy in ways that can’t be put into words. 

For a moment, you decide to sit up again, turning around to face the window, looking up at the midnight blue canvas high above, hoping to find some comfort in it.

The waxing moon, a lonely companion in a cloudless sky, seems to glance down on you with a benevolent gaze, as you wipe a stray tear away. 

“I miss you, Billy.” You whisper into the endless sea of midnight sky. 

“I miss you so much. There’s not a single day where I don’t wish you near, where I don’t long for you to come back and hug me close.” 

You continue to stare up at the moon with teary eyes while your favorite part of the song begins, and a small sob leaves your lips. 

“Day by day, I watch the memories slip away  

And traces of reality come back to me  

Then I see your face, somewhere in a distant place  

The fantasy has gone too far -  

I close my eyes and there you are. 

I can see you standing in every doorway 

I can feel your heartbeat -- I hear your voice 

And hiding in my shadow you're with me always. ”

“I just wish you would come back.” You whisper, “I just really wish you would come back somehow.”

With your eyes still transfixed on the moon, and the volume of your walkman turned up to its maximum, you don’t notice the sudden picture of static flickering over the TV screen behind you, disturbing the current scene of Rumble Fish, before turning back to its normal broadcast again. 

Only this time in the movie, when Rusty James begs his brother to engage with him, to pay attention to him, his voice comes out distorted.

“Look at me, I just want you to see me, man.” The young man on the TV screen urges, voice slipping into something different, “I’m right here. I'm right here. I want you to see me-” 

The screen flickers again, as the scene loops back to its beginning. 

“Look at me… I’m right here, I’m right here.”  A different voice says. 

Billy’s voice. 

Ahhh! And that’s it for the first chapter! If you’ve made it this far, thank you!! I know this part was quite Eddie/Reader heavy, but I promise Billy will start to make a lot more appearances (one way or another), too, and Eddie will have to take a backseat then.

I’m not sure when I’ll have the next part for this finished. Considering that I have a few more series and works in the drafts, it will probably take a little bit.

Like I’ve already said, I’ve decided to start a taglist so if you want to be tagged in the next chapter just let me know or fill out this form here <3

Also, before anyone decides to come for me because of my inaccurate music choices. I know that 'Take My Breath Away' was initially released in ’86 rather than ’85, but with a little suspense of belief I hope we can all overlook that tiny flaw. Thank you!

[mondscheinprinzessin]

Soulmate shorts pt. 2

Written for @another-sun christmas event <3

another short Aleksi/Joel/Joonas soulmate installment for the long waiting time you guys have to endure

the timeline doesn't matter here at all btw

Sprinkling in a little hurt/comfort because of course, it's me, and I hope you enjoy😊

It only needed one look towards Joel for Joonas to know something was up. They hadn’t seen each other for most of the day after Joel and Niko had gone off to the radio station for another interview and the rest of the band was left alone in the studio under Aleksi’s supervision.

But the first step Joel took into the studio made it clear he wasn’t alright, and it wasn’t only Joonas who noticed; Aleksi shot him a worried look, well adjusted to every sign by now that one of them needed a little more support.

Now wasn’t the right time though to do an intervention and they settled with keeping an eye on their partner for now.

And it wasn’t a coincidence that today they finished earlier, producing a small lie to the others, so they could head home a little earlier than usual. It wasn’t easy anyways to concentrate while aware their soulmate was struggling. Joonas could swear his soulmark was itching but did his best not to act upon it, not wanting to further worry Joel in return.

Instead they drove home, Joonas and Aleksi kept on their toes since they knew a direct approach has never worked with Joel. It felt more offensive for Joel to discover that his mood was troubling his partners, so much so that he would rather keep shut and pretend a little longer he was fine.

Joonas didn’t want to think about how similar Aleksi and Joel were in that matter. Different story, same ending. And it hurt none the less when Joonas experienced it second-hand.

But to their surprise Joel didn’t mind showing off his gloominess in fullness. Not even in the dramatic way that liked to come forward when it wasn’t much of a concern, and he was more annoyed than truly upset.

No, as soon as they entered their flat Joel strode towards the couch and lay down, a pillow under his head, and his long hair didn’t even attempt to hide his glistening eyes.

The picture did its best to break Joonas’ heart, and he and Aleksi quickly discarded their stuff so they could join. While Aleksi took a seat at the end of the couch, picking up Joel’s feet to put them on his lap, and running a soothing hand over his legs, Joonas cautiously sat down at Joel’s head.

Another hand ran a comforting path along Joel’s body, loosening knots in his hair, and warming the skin on his neck. His face was already hot and red and Joonas could hear the sniffles that Joel couldn’t suppress.

“’m sorry.”

“What should you be sorry for?” Aleksi asked first.

“Everything?”

So Joel didn’t even know if he had done anything wrong with them, apologizing first and gauging their reaction to see if any criticism was following.

“There’s nothing coming to my mind.” Joonas calmed him down. “We just want to know what’s up.”

Joel swallowed, obviously fighting with himself. But they gave him the time.

“I fucked up after the interview.” He finally said. “The guy was rude and I couldn’t help myself. What if we will never be invited by them again? I fucked up this chance for us and now we never get to play our songs there and no one will hear us.”

Evidently they were already deep in the spiralling phase, producing disaster scenario after disaster scenario, not being able to see the truth right in front of his face.

Joonas, the ever-logical mind among them said, “I’m sure that if you had been really disrespectful, they would have given management a call already, but we didn’t hear from them all day, so I’m sure it’s fine. They will air the interview, and they’re not the only two people deciding about the music on their channel. Regardless there’s more than one radio station out there. Don’t forget you’re visiting Rock Antenne next month!” He tried to cheer him up.

To his satisfaction he could hear Joel chuckle and giving a little acknowledgment in return.

“I will never be like Niko though.” The negativity outwon in his mind. “He always keeps so calm and professional.”

“Good.” Aleksi answered. “Because we don’t need another Niko. What do we need two rappers for?” He tried to break up the mood and smiled audibly.

“Exactly.” Joonas joined. “We love you because you’re you in case you haven’t noticed yet.” Joonas flicked a finger against Joel’s nose to get him out of his head. “If Niko was so special, he would have our soulmark, but he doesn’t, because you belong to us, and we love you, and you’re great. Yes, you can fuck up at times, but all of us do. You don’t need to be like somebody else.”

It took a little time for Joel to absorb all that and to answer.

“Yeah sorry.”

It wasn’t the answer Joonas had hoped for, it sounded more like surrendering to their approval than truly understanding what they had wanted to convey. Maybe they didn’t choose the right words. Especially the part about Joel being special.

It was clear that he had just wanted to fit in ever since he was circled out his whole life by school mates and coworkers and family that didn’t really understand at first. It wasn’t always comfortable being ‘unique’, and sometimes all you wanted was to be normal, to be like someone else, be under security of someone else’s personality and not show your own.

Joonas understood better than he would have liked, all of them did, but it nevertheless hurt that it was still such a big part in their lives.

“We love you Joel.” He repeated therefore and turned Joel’s face so he could lean down and drop a kiss to the tip of his nose.

The problem wouldn’t resolve itself today no matter what they said or did, it took time for Joel to embrace the kindness back, just like his tears needed to dry and a smile would build itself slowly up.

But they could cuddle on the couch, all three of them, watch a movie and wait till Joel has relaxed enough that they could go to bed. Maybe Joonas would start a tickle fight with Aleksi to distract Joel, that would end in a wrestling match and one of them falling down on the carpet, but it was what they needed, and Joonas would do everything for his soulmates.

Aleksi stilled in his movement when Joel suddenly appeared before him, blocking the bedroom door.

“We need to do something about Joonas, you in?”

It has been 5 minutes since Aleksi had stood up after a night with pleasant dreams, so excuse him if he was a little slow, but Joel’s sentence didn’t make any sense.

“You want to do what?”

Joel took away his arm from the door frame that had been obstructing Aleksi’s view to the hallway and the bathroom that called for a nice shower. But it was also a bit hot to see Joel looming over him, he couldn’t lie. Okay get back on track brain.

“You can’t tell me you haven’t been noticing how off Joonas’ has been lately? He needs to relax and we’re going to help him.”

Oh. Yes, this Aleksi indeed has noticed. But it wasn’t surprising for Joonas to be tense and stiff with his current workload. And in addition to that Aleksi had to admit that he and Joel didn’t have a great time lately either, and Joonas had always been there to comfort them, giving everything and apparently forgetting about himself.

Aleksi sighed. Yes, they needed to do something for him. “Alright, you’ve got something in mind already?”

Looking at Joel’s face he most likely had, and with the head start Joel had by being awake earlier he certainly had enough time to think about it.

“I’m going grocery shopping so you can cook something nice. Go take a shower my star.” Joel replied and gave him a kiss finally.

As soon as he had appeared as quickly did he vanish out of the door and Aleksi could only shake his head as he fetched his things for the bathroom. When Joel had set his mind on something he could be incredibly determined.

-

The jingle of keys indicated Joonas’ return, and Aleksi swirled in the sauce to make sure it’s ready. He had timed his cooking perfectly and the table was already set for three, just waiting for them to sit down and eat.

In the hallway he could hear Joel welcoming their boyfriend and soon he felt a pair of arms snaking around his middle and a kiss to his neck. He smiled happily down into the pot, the feeling of one of them pressed to his back, warm and comforting, never getting old and never something he could get used to, always making his heart speed up.

“Smells delicious baby.”

Oh what a compliment could do to Aleksi, he thought as he joyfully served everyone a plate.

Sitting opposite of Joonas gave him the perfect view to observe him and it was effortless to him to see behind his smile. The contentment was real, but the hard lines around his mouth and eyes didn’t vanish with a good meal. It has been too long that Joonas was letting himself torn apart to all sides, and another full day at the studio with Olli did its rest.

Making a good face was something they all learned to do, and especially in their line of work it had to be done, keeping up the face for the press and fans even when they were utterly exhausted. But here, around his loved ones, Joonas didn’t need to pretend.

After they were done eating it was time for round 2 of their plan and after Joel had disappeared for a minute and Aleksi had done his best to convince Joonas they could leave the dishes for a while, they only needed to get Joonas to the bathroom.

“Out of your clothes.” Joel demanded rather excited for that their goal was to help Joonas relax.

Joonas looked at him surprised. “Uhm, I’m sorry Joel, but not today. I’m tired.”

“No, no, no sexy time today, promised, but get out of your clothes.” Joel replied but before Joonas could even lift a finger he was already being shoved towards their bathroom.

Aleksi followed and laughed silently to himself as he watched Joel undress him while Joonas was still busy taking everything in.

Food wasn’t the only thing Joel had bought, a few candles had found their way into the shopping cart and were now lightning up the room to dim the harsh light from the lamp. It made for a seriously calming atmosphere, and the sweet and flowery smell from the bath foam only added to it.

The bathtub was almost full of water and Aleksi quickly turned off the tap before an accident could occur. Testing the temperature, he deemed it safe to enter the water and got rid of his pants and long shirt at least.

Meanwhile Joel and Joonas had gotten naked and while it was certainly a nice picture to see them so close together with their bodies on full display it also warmed his heart to see Joel so careful and attentive to Joonas.

Before anyone of them could get cold Joel helped Joonas get into the bathtub and Aleksi positioned himself outside at the head. There wasn’t enough room for all three of them anyways (nothing they could fix as easily as making more space on the couch and bed) and he had another job to do.

Carefully guiding Joonas’ head back, giving a loving smile before making him close his eyes, Aleksi put both of his hands to his head. He started out with his thumbs at the temple, rubbing the skin there in circles, then travelled to his forehead to card his fingers through his hair.

While he was tending to his curls and the scalp, eliciting the one and other mellow moan of satisfaction, Joel was running his hands over the rest of Joonas’ body.

Although at times it seemed like he was just trying to push the foam around to get a better look at his body.

“I love you both.” Joonas said after some time, his voice quiet and soft.

For Aleksi it turned out to be quite difficult to answer to this at times, and his eyes would cast downwards, feelings too many that they would definitely spill out of him incomprehensibly and with too much force. But while his mouth struggled to find the right words (he only needed three and they were right there but so hard to form around his tongue), his hands were extra careful to caress Joonas’ face.

And Joel was right there to reassure Joonas that they were feeling the same, leaning forwards to capture his wrist and kissing his way around the little soulmark, a shiver noticeable on Joonas’ body. Aleksi could almost feel Joel’s caress on himself, and although he was lacking the symbols that united them, their love for each other was strong enough that in this moment he didn’t need them for assurance. Joel’s loving gaze he got when he broke away from Joonas was all he needed to know.

[bonesandthebees]

ello bones hope youre doing good

just found even more cool songs thanks to you, how do you always have more???

also WE COULDVE HAD YOU DOING ASL??? aw man :( (/lh)

anyway, I just turned in my paper that ive been working on for the last few months (yay, finally, it ate like all of my free time and energy) and suddenly I have too much free time and not much too read or watch (I had saved so many fics I cant manage to read anymore)

any coming of age books (or fics) or movies recommendations? (I need me some honey and tangerines vibes yk? ive been listening to the playlist too much again. one day I think ill read that fic again, but today is not the day)

much love to go you all in the ask box, eli <3

I'm doing pretty good! went to a yoga class tonight and I'm seeing the tommyinnit live show tomorrow so it's shaping up to be a pretty great weekend!

I actually filmed a video to post here on language day and everything but I wanted to redo it so my face wasn't fully in frame but then I just didn't get around to it :( oh well next time

OOO congrats on turning in that paper!! that's a huge accomplishment, I hope you get a great grade on it. and yay for free time!

oh boy ok coming of age recs I can do this. I haven't read any coming of age books since I was a teenager though so keep in my my memory of these are all hazy

books:

the perks of being a wallflower by stephen chbosky - hallmarker of the coming of age genre, read this when I was 16 and cried, even if you've seen the movie I highly recommend the book

aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe by benjamin alire saenz - literally was one of my favorite books for so many years. I read it when I was 15 and became obsessed with it. I still look back on it so warmly it's just such a great book

it's kind of a funny story by ned vizzini - also read this one when I was like 16ish. I remembered enjoying it but not as much as the other two I've listed here. still very good though!

movies:

cha cha real smooth (2022) - actually one of my favorite coming of age films I've ever seen. it's a coming of age film about a guy in his early 20s instead of in his teens which is refreshing in its own. it hit particularly hard for me because I saw it when I was 22 and freshly graduated from college unsure what to do, the main character is 22 and freshly graduated from college unsure what to do. it's also a very unique setup and I really loved how they pulled it off

the edge of seventeen (2016) - this might be a controversial pick because the main character is actually pretty insufferable in this, but that's part of why I enjoyed it. the character is meant to be insufferable. she's a teenage girl dealing with the hell of being a teenage girl and she sucks! it's an intentional thing and it does it very well! I would say it still falls flat in some areas, but I'm mainly recommending it because it's so refreshing to have an mc genuinely be a shitty person

sing street (2016) - I count this as a coming of age movie but it's also kind of a music movie? it's incredibly fun no matter what. the songs are so catchy, the characters are all great, and the relationships are just all very well done

the kings of summer (2013) - genuinely why do I never hear anyone talk about this movie. I haven't seen it in so long but I remember it being incredibly funny with a great dose of summertime whimsy

hunt for the wilderpeople (2016) - tbh I never thought of this as a coming of age movie and it might be a bit different than most of the films on here but I was looking up lists of coming of age movies to try and remember which ones I've seen and I saw this one mentioned a few times. if you're a fan of taika waititi films, in my opinion this is his best one hands down. it's hilarious but also incredibly sweet and heartwarming at the same time

moonrise kingdom (2012) - very charming and storybook esque in the way all wes anderson films are, but with a really sweet story between two kids at its core. again, different from most of the ones on this list, but definitely an enjoyable one all the same

hope this list helps!

[carlos-tk]

nice ask week

hi D! it's nice ask week! What made you start watching LS and what was it about the show that made you spiral into fandom?

Hi Rae! Thanks for the question! 💗 Apologies for how long this took me to answer. Work took over my life this week 😢 Now buckle in for a stupidly long story 😅

Firstly, I had watched the original 911s first and half of its 2nd season whenever they aired (2018/19 thanks Wikipedia) and then totally forgot all about it because again #life 😅 I did hear about a spin off whenever they announced it but I guess the only info was that it was coming soon. Wikipedia is helping out and it seems it was May 2019. I didn’t really pay it much mind because by then I had already stopped watching the og.

So I move on with my life and don’t think about either series until September 2022. I saw a youtube clip of a scene: the throwing each other against the wall hookup from 1x02. I watched it and I was like.. OH?!👀🔥🥵 Saved it to my YouTube watch later and again forgot all about it because back then I was doing full time shift work and had no time to breathe let alone watch anything new 😂 (kicking myself because I could’ve been here a year ago) 😭

Cut to this year. I can give you an exact date i rediscovered 911 verse. May 17th 2023!! 🥳 All because of the Tarlos wedding.

Twitter is probably the platform I use the most cos it’s got all my sports content😅 Anyway I happened to be on the discover/trending tab and one of the top hashtags was #TarlosWedding which was airing that day. I clicked it to investigate and scrolled through. It was full of pics and fanvids of the wedding and again I was like OH 👁👁. I liked a bunch of the tweets to revisit and moved on with my day. A few days later because I had liked all that stuff, Twitter keeps recommending me more content. So I find myself back on YouTube and watched these:

and then a series of random scenes and I was like... okay I need full context for all of this. Another month passes and it’s probably end of June/early July and I’m like let me see if this is available anywhere to watch in Australia. I find it on Disney+ and they have seasons 1-3. This is finally when I watched the show. And then I could not stop thinking about it. S4 is no where to be found though. So I google and see it’s halfway through airing on Channel 7 here which means it won’t be uploaded to Disney+ for a while. So then I’m like UGH 😒😩😤 I wanted to binge the whole season like I had for the others. I kept tabs on when it would finish airing on TV and eventually the finale airs August 14th. The next day I start it and binge the whole season on 7Plus over a few days.

Now that I had seen their entire story so far, I was full blown hyper fixating. Like they’re on my mind ALL the time. I’m reading a book or watching a movie/show and thinking about Tarlos in place of the characters. I’m listening to a song or reading a poem/lyric and being like oh that’s so Tarlos coded😂😂 At this point i’m like oh no 😅😅 The fandom life is coming for me.

Then the biggest surprise of all I start getting the urge to write fanfic again! Which is insane because I had not written anything in (redacted) years. Like nearly every time as I was about to sleep, I start having ideas and rambling it out in my notes app at stupid hours like 2am 😂😅

Next we have the writers/actors strike and I’m like 👀trust me to find a new obsession and everyone is on strike and I’m gonna get nothing new for ages. Then I remember AO3 is a thing that exists and find my way to the 911 Lone Star tag and start reading fic again. Any spare moment I had I was itching to read whatever I could get my eyeballs on. I said to you the other day that I read your gym!AU first and look I might’ve read a random 1k word one shot or two but nothing I can actually remember like yours 😂🥵 I think the added pictures and texts made it so memorable because 1. I did not know you could do that on AO3 2. Rafael is like the hottest guy I’ve ever seen 😅😅 and 3. It was just so damn good 🥵 Sm*t with feelings and I am there. You teased the feelings a little and if/when (no pressure btw) you decide to revisit this universe just know I’ll be first in line 🙋🏼‍♀️ and the reason I can recall it as the first is it’s the oldest AO3 tab saved to my safari reading list 😅

By this point I’m reading fic through the end of August and September constantly. A few I read had peoples Tumblr links in the end notes so then I remember that Tumblr also exists 😂 I come over and lurk, explore the tags, look at all the beautiful gifs, look at a few peoples blogs and make a mental note to maybe join Tumblr again. I had 2 blogs back in hs, 1 fandom specific blog that got abandoned during my last year of hs and a sports/tv-series one I used a little in the years after hs but then again #life and I didn’t touch it after like 2016.

Come September 2023. I made a new email, signed up to Tumblr again, and requested an AO3 invite. Learning how to use this site again was wild because so much had changed since I last used it. I saw something about getting mistaken for bots so I spent a little time making the blog look nice and like an actual person exists before I bothered to follow anyone or any tags. October rolls around and I finally start using it every day and now I’m here with all of y’all 💗

Sorry for the extremely long story and again sorry for how long it took 😅😅

[parisstreet]

Some Words On 'The Fade'

The Fade was conceived at the start of 2019. It should have been released by the end of that year. But, you know, shit happened, and then more shit happened, and then I reluctantly set it aside to focus on other projects. Then more shit happened.

Four of the songs were demoed and had completed lyrics by March of 2019. Later that month, I went to Memphis to record guitars and vocals with Jack and Neely, 2 of the 3 original Paris Streeters from the band's early years in Nashville.

The parts we were recording were for the You (Too) EP. Since they are both amazingly talented people, it didn't take too long. With some extra time available, I brought out 2 of the 4 new songs. Neely - only needing to hear the song a couple times, and having no clue what the hell the lyrics were about - recorded the backing vocals for 'I Promised Her A Tower' in 2 takes. Jack improvised a couple guitar lines for the song, then did 2 improvised takes on 'The Fade'.

Jack's parts didn't make the final version of either song. Instead, they inspired new songs, mainly because I liked them so much that I didn't want them to get lost in the clutter of all the other crap I toss into a mix. So the guitars from 'I Promised Her A Tower' became the guitars for 'In The City, In The Rain' (which is a cover of a song by The 6ths, and whose title is also a lyric at the end of 'Tower' - this all makes sense, right?). And the guitars from 'The Fade' turned into the guitars for the 'The Fade (Out)', which became the 5th song for the EP, and the closing number that it had previously lacked.

In October of 2019, I came back to Memphis, with the goal being to spend an afternoon recording once again with Jack and Neely, adding more guitar and vocals to the other songs on the EP. But things ended up being cancelled due to illness. It was a bummer, but not a huge blow - I knew I could just come back in a couple months.

You know where this is heading. But we're not there just yet.

In November of 2019, I went to work in Puerto Rico and the US Virgin Islands for 4 months. On my way there, I realized that my creative tank was pretty much empty. I had The Fade - about 60% complete at the time - and not much else. That would have been a good catalyst for wrapping up that other 40% while in the Caribbean.

Instead, I set things aside - it couldn't fully get to 100% without Jack and Neely's parts anyways - and focused on writing completely new songs from scratch, one every day. This spawned the Encanto album, the Encantoo EP, and the Three Saints EP. The Fade itself started to fade from view.

But that was okay, I thought. It was nearing March of 2020 at this point. I decided that - upon returning to the mainland - I would get in touch with Jack and Neely, and plan the next trip to Memphis.

I returned Stateside on March 10. Tom Hanks announced he got COVID the next day. I've yet to make it back to Memphis.

For better or worse, my creative tank was overflowing as the world fell apart. I spent the first months of the pandemic on the 15th Street project, then just kept on writing and recording, releasing 7 different EP's since 2021 (plus 2 albums by my JUBANO! side-project). The Fade was on my mind for a lot of this time, taking up space on my ever-expanding to-do list, but kept being pushed aside for other projects.

But here it is, finally. And there's two main reasons for that.

I accepted the fact that Jack and Neely's only contributions would be those 2 songs we worked on in March of 2019. It'd be a solo thing for the rest of the songs, which also meant I no longer had any justification for putting things off.

My creative tank was (and is) once-again empty. After I Want To Write A Song About That came out in July, I didn't really have much else to focus on. There were only 5 songs left on the to-do list. So I hope you like this one, because it might be a while til the next one.

This was supposed to be my first Sacramento album, the first release entirely inspired by events that took place after I moved to the City Of Trees (even though the first song is set in San Francisco and the third in Scottsdale). Because of all the delays, that distinction ended up going to the hazy, torpid Mostly. This release slipped so far down my list of priorities that I essentially re-wrote the title track for a different release ('What Everyone Wants' from the Sparks EP), and reused one of the lyrics (describing sex as 'an easy kindness') on another one. Both were done because I wasn't completely sure if and when this release would ever come out.

In other words, the things that inspired these songs - a rainy walk around San Francisco, an existential crisis as a partner slept peacefully next to me, a hug in Arizona that couldn't have felt more final, and a lovely night of bar-hopping in my neighborhood - are so far removed from my current life that I sometimes feel like someone else is singing them, describing someone else's life. And maybe that's why I love these songs so much. In this current age, I can write and record a song, then release it within a couple weeks, then never pay attention to it ever again. But I've been singing along (and blissing out to the concluding instrumental) to these songs for over 4 years now. I sing the chorus to 'Topgolf Bullshit' in my car as if I'm singing along to 'Old Town Road' or 'Bad Guy' or anything else that came out in 2019 (I tried to use popular examples there - both are good songs but, in reality, my 2019 singalongs would be tunes by tindersticks, The Divine Comedy, and Lambchop that came out that year).

All I'm trying to say is I think these songs are pretty good. If you give them a chance, a couple might be even better than that (seriously, 'Topgolf Bullshit' is catchy as fuck). In a perfect world, you would have heard them 4 years ago. But, whatever, you can hear them now, finally, and that's all that matters.

Enjoy.

[ivettel]

mcr anon again!! seeing your reply made me so happy, you have no idea!

i don’t have a favourite album just yet but i love the black parade (it’s the album i started with), three cheers, danger days, and even though whether it counts as one of their albums is a little unclear from what i’ve seen, i absolutely love conventional weapons! bullets is the album that is probably most different to what i’m used to, but the songs have been growing on me and i’ve started to love it more.

i have not gotten the chance to get into much of the lore yet! i’ve seen bits of the black parade stuff and a mention of the demolition lovers but not much more than that. i’ve been a little hesitant to reach out to anyone to ask about the mcr lore because there’s just so much that i’m a little intimidated and don’t know where to begin 😅

anyway i absolutely love you and your blog as a baby killjoy (i think?? it’s been 3 months since i got into them) and a seb fan <3

hello again!

oooh hell yes the black parade is what a lot of people would consider to be their magnum opus, i adore it--if you haven't already, please check out the black parade live in mexico! something about their live performances is just soo visceral and exciting and it almost makes their studio versions pale in comparison, esp when it comes to this album! seeing them live last september was genuinely actually life changing. my personal fav is three cheers, but there's a mcr album for every mood <3

also, yeah, cw isn't reeeally an album, even if people basically group the songs together like one. in short, what happened during the making of the black parade was really sad, like the band moved to a haunted mansion, mikey had a crazy mental breakdown, etc, and gerard was like so incredibly into the concept of the album that it took. Everything out of him? and like all artists do, he had that moment where he was like, well, i don't want to need to hurt myself irreparably to make art. so the goal for the next album was to just play it straight--no high concept, just pure fucking rock. and they tried a bunch of things that led to cw! but ultimately they couldn't make their sound work as A My Chemical Romance Album, no matter how they sliced it, and also there was some talk that the boys were getting tired of each other. danger days came out of the ashes of conventional weapons, which you can hear musically, and it's very cool! but so like there was a huge gap between the end of tbp and dd and people didn't know what happened in the interim until after the band broke up and released cw.

bullets is SO beloved--like you say, it's the most sonically different! part of that is the sound production quality (they recorded in a friend's basement studio under an indie record label called eyeball records, got signed to reprise after) and they had a shit drummer nicknamed otter (who thankfully got sacked before three cheers), and the boys were ohhh so very new to all of this. another part is That Was The Scene, they were raised on new jersey rock legends like the misfits, thursday was (and still is) super popular, etc. it's crazy though like, ray was going to try and get into the film industry! gerard had been interning at cartoon network! frank was trying to make it with his own band called pencey prep (he didn't join until may 30 2002)!

it's a very romantic album i think, a time capsule of the era for sure. gerard was suffering from crazy tooth pain and had to get punched in the face to stop bitching about it. frank wasn't even in the band and he hung around the studio smoking and napping on the couch. they didn't sell their CDs, they just gave them out to try and spread the word. they were piss drunk for their first ever show because they were so goddamn nervous. there's a lot of extra context that i think makes the album more accessible! but also if u keep an open mind and listen to bullets just as it is, and let all the melodies and themes wash over you, listen to the lyrics, you might find yourself loving it :)

for more info: i would absolutely recommend starting with life on the murder scene for a glorified summary of their time starting out and during the recording of three cheers! and for a full fairytale kinda rundown for their time in the band, tom bryant's true lives is like the beginner's bible. they'll give u a sense of who the band is! the lore and the ~characterizations~ given to them from those two sources have stayed to this day. but then yknow, you get deeper into it and you find that some things are kinda handwaved for the sake of story and you end up obsessed with whatever happened in 2007, and ugh. anyway! lots of levels to this. but def start out with those!

sorry this got so long, i could talk about this band forever LOL. but cheers, appreciate it, and if u ever wanna come off anon and dm we can totally chat! x

[elmandvineblr]

Created an album planning station.

I know long term I struggle to do big projects without breaking it up into smaller achievable goals. I also crunched the numbers and the number of session musicians I want to hire will probably exceed this budget so I will have to make some tough decisions. But if anything I can probably cut down on recording time costs with recording certain parts myself. Anyway a big thing I would love to do which I'm sorry to say I won't be able to be there in person, is hire an orchestra to perform the orchestral piece I am writing. I've been composing for years as well and even though I am not great or trained I think it would be seriously cool to hear one of my pieces played by actual professionals. I also would like there to be a choral element but that is not necessary. I literally became an engineer to fund my passion and it's crazy I spent so long letting someone else chase their dream on what was supposed to be for me, telling me <when his works out he will fund mine>. Bitch I have the money now. I have the talent now. I have the content now.

December is when sign ups are for piano lessons, im gonna do 1 on 1 to really maximize the learning. Hopefully we can skip a few steps and dive right in but I wanna start with piano because it will be a good refresh on sheet music reading and writing. I'm currently in the process of tabbing and transcribing all of the songs (and finishing). I'd like to have that done in the first 2 months, then move on to strict practice for 4 months and performance for 3 more months. Then finally recording practice for 2 months. Then it's time for recording at the studio. I want to know my parts backward and forward. I'd also like to start working with musicians who will be on the tracks a couple months out from recording.

I'm very excited. I'd gotten asked one birthday if I'd like a studio session or a laptop and I chose laptop. What would have been one song at a studio ended up being three albums. The old girl is about to crap out, but I think the knowledge and skills I got from her are what got me here.

I dont want to say I'm being manic. I feel manic. Its such a big idea. I'm not just taking out credit cards. I'm planning. I'm saving and I'm preparing to do something I would have dreamed of doing. I also am planning on being the creative producer and am excited about the concept of working in person with the musicians which is surprisingly hard to find I guess. I'll have to talk to the studio. I want to collaborate with musicians. I want to direct. I want to be in the control room talking shop with the engineer. I want to trust in myself and my vision. I had a songwriting professor who told me if I ever got to this point that I needed to trust myself and not let anyone change my vision because he said I had a gift. It was so meaningful to me to hear that. Because now that I'm almost out of debt I can put that money into saving for my dreams.

Also hey if nothing happens from this I can at least say I wrote, executed and produced and funded a huge multi-layer, multi-musician project with all the bells and whistles that I played a majority of the parts on, send it out to labels with a cover letter and some pictures and go back to work the next day. I dont know what will happen. Maybe nothing will happen. But it would be cool to at least try. More than just the write, record, post online and never touch again.

Then i can spend the *next* year making the music videos I see in my head when I listen to the songs. Because fuck it. I'm gonna have fun with this money and support my dreams for a couple years before I worry about savings and family shit. And my sister's dream because she's going to film school and wants to film music videos and I want her to be a part of the videography team.

Im so hype.

[dhampiravidi]

my review of Bring Me The Horizon's POST HUMAN: NeX GEn...

k so, I didn't know it was released til 15 min ago. also just got the Angry Oli Maid Pics. I have a feeling that I know how this first listen is gonna go, but who knows.

[ost] dreamseeker - no rating

If any of this is Eve from the concerts, I'll have to skip the OSTs, because AI scares me (been giving me nightmares for months now). Anyway, this just seems to be a clip of filler/ambient noise. I'll only give ratings to actual songs (longer than 2 min & w/singing).

2. YOUtopia - 5/10

I keep hoping it'll get better as I listen...it just sounds kinda whiny & maybe it was a Jordan Fish thing, but there's no build really. Of course, the name of the song is a pun...IDK. Song sounds a lot more hopeful than I thought it would, since I thought POST HUMAN was all apocalyptic/post-. Giving this a 5.

3. Kool-Aid - 8/10

Pretty sure they already released all the good stuff. I remember hating how "heavy" this sounded initially, but I love this song now. It's an anthem for...something. I guess it's a warning tale for cults, hence why I thought this was an "end-of-the-world" type thing. Solid 8.

4. Top 10 staTues tHat CriEd bloOd - 6/10

IDK why I just thought of FOB's Under the Cork Tree. Probably because I'm getting a pop-punk sound (apart from the fairy techno) that's either UtCT or maybe a lighter That's The Spirit (specifically, "Avalanche"). The sound definitely matches that of "LoST". I keep asking myself if BMTH's songs usually repeat the same parts musically & lyrically...I don't remember. If they do, I didn't notice.

5. liMOusine (ft. AURORA) - 6/10

Optimistic about this one! As long as it picks up...I like the guest singer's voice! It's beautiful on it's own & it complements Oli's pretty well. I'm thinking there should be (based on what BMTH usually does in its collaborations & what I think would go well) a section where he screams while she sings...ah, here we go. I guess I was thinking about what happens in AmEN. Hmm...I suppose they wanted a slower song.

6. DArkSide - 10/10

RAHHHH! I love this song sm. Again, I think all that we heard before today is probably the best parts of PH: NG. This is my favorite BMTH song (the last one Jordan worked on, I think). Pretty sure we've all heard the comparisons to Linkin Park for this one 😊. I love how it ebbs & flows but ultimately is a complete song, one that sounds great onstage, makes me dance, has a message & uses all of Oli's range.

7. a bulleT w/ my namE On (ft. Underoath) - 7.5/10

Immediate mixed feelings here. I love the part where the guitar & drums kick in. It always takes me a second listen to get used to the parts where Oli screams because I don't always expect them. I don't like when they edit his vocals to sound super-techno because then it's almost like implying he can't sing without autotune. OMG I can hear Jordan in the background...then I hear "guess this is goodbye" RIP, man. Have we ever had a song where he clearly sings backing (w/o muffling)? Oh, well. ANYWAY. This song fits the BMTH style, I think. IDK what it's saying at the end--I'm never a fan of editing in stuff that can't be understood unless it's a rhythmic thing.

8. [ost] (spi)ritual - 7.5/10

Best of the OSTs so far. It's a chill lil bop. *looks up the lyrics* oh sHIT. I had to pause it because apparently it's an occult ritual used to clear the room of negative energy prior to doing another ritual & um...I'm no expert in this stuff, so I'm just gonna skip to the next song!

9. n/A - 8/10

OK initially I thought this was a bad joke of a song, given Oli's past addictions & time in a mental hospital. It's actually a good song musically & lyrically. I just feel really awkward listening to it. I think it's referring to how he relapsed during COVID...the music video part of Spotify shows a demented kid's picture...

10. LosT - 9/10

Again, we got the good part. I think we all know the message behind this, which I respect considering how many meds I've gone through trying to improve my own mental health. I have thoughts (positive) about the music video, but this isn't a music video post-! "LoST" has the ebb & flow that I love. "Too much to take, I can't fucking stand it" & "I think I'm gonna break down" are my favorite parts. I can only love screaming when it's done to emphasize clean singing &/or the melody.

11. sTraNgeRs - 8/10

All I'll say is...I prefer this version to the acoustic & my favorite part is "take us back to yesterday" (that whole thing before the last chorus).

12. R.i.p. (duskCOre Remix) - 9/10

This is the first new song that I actually like. I love the "club" songs that BMTH makes, where they sound happy but the lyrics are metal as hell. The "make me the villain if you want" *side-eyes The Darkling* I feel like that man has heard a BMTH song.

13. AmEN (ft. Lil Uzi Vert & Daryl Palumbo) - 10/10

I'm not familiar w/Daryl Palumbo, so I'm not sure what part he sings/screams, but I love this song. It's almost like a dramatic monologue, in the way that I can imagine someone doing all these over-the-top gestures as they sing each part of the song (maybe using puppets). I know I'm mouthing the words every time the song comes on (even though I still don't know the screamed part at the beginning, lol).

14. [ost] p.u.s.s.-e

Very interested to see what the acronym stands for (if it stands for anything)...welp, the Genius annotation says it's about a drug created by the fictional Church of Genxsis to "suppress people who will not obey their will" o-o don't fuck w/cults, kids.

15. DiE4u - 10/10

o-o just releasing how long it's been since this was released. This is bringing up angsty memories...anyway, I love the music video for this (Oli's a Real Vampire Agenda) & I love the pacing of the song. IDK why the "lemme see my halo" part sounds so good.

16. DIg It - 7/10

Fuck, I think this might be Eve talking...*scans some of the lyrics* OK the song's actually alright. Just don't look up the song on Genius unless you want some meta-AI-related stuff. I can tell this isn't supposed to be a banger as much as it is a sad song. It reminds me of Oli's monologue (done while high) on Music to Listen to...("Underground Big", I think?) & it could definitely be used on a soundtrack IMHO. I'd love to hear Oli just sing something chill w/o editing.

Alright, the average of all the ratings is...

5 + 8 + 6 +6 + 10 + 7.5 + 7.5 + 8 + 9 + 8 + 9 + 10 + 10 + 7 = 111

111/14 = 7.9 out of 10

So to me, about half the songs were good. I've felt that way about albums before. I wonder how they finished the album considering that Jordan left in December & yet he's credited on the songs. I don't think this album will be given high ratings, but if it wins an award...I wonder how that'll go down. Anyway, yay for angry maid pics!

[sunflowerinpearls]

Husbands' words are not matching actions and vice versa. Hes been "venting" to "me" in front of our oldest (turning 16 may 10) on our "current" marriage?....problem(s).

I tried my best to keep my mouth shut and one time he asked me to play a song so I for one am so plugged up i cant really hear much, sometimes even music is too loud (sensory processing disorder) and I guess i didnt even hear him say something and the child caught on to what was happening and said "you're ignoring dad again"

So i spoke to her instead of him since she said it, & I said "I didnt ignore him. I didnt hear him. I was hyper focused on the song he requested me to play."

And then he went on just one of many other rants in front of her, asking "you dont think I ever hyper focus on anything? When Im home on my days off, I feel like im your servant" All day anytime I asked for help, to him I was demanding it and not appreciating stuff he did and then he would not stop talking about every single thing he did today around the house and for our children and its like.... ok cool.

And people get paid to do what i do here at home, every single day all day long. Didn't say it would be easy, however I did ask for help. He tried to say he understands im frustrated bcuz im home all day and i guess i interrupted and was rude bcuz i said "Its not THAT, at all" (cuz its...not?) Lastly i stumbled upon his fave song & started playing it & asked him to plz get me my night meds bcuz I am so fucking cold to the touch, esp to others. And moving makes it hurt.:// He said "You can just not play the song now. Thanks." So uhh.. Like all I am learning here is 1) I need to stop asking him to help me w/ literally anything and like he has said in the past which I clearly shouldve listened to: "If you (*me doing this: "cough" "cough") WANT something RIGHT NOW!, I'll have to get up and get it myself or wait until I he is ready to do it." And 2) I've been right all along. I cant count on even my own Husband so like uhh.... okay. And Now to him, I'm just a burden. Let alone ya know, i guess having influenza and not doing shit around the house "today" (literally just today, and actually, i still did some stuff which is better than none lol) and hes acting like he deserves a fucking gold medal. For what? Being a husband a father and taking responsibility of everything whilst your wife is ill? K. Never asking you for shit now. Ill send lists to him at work if the house needs anything. He hasnt had sex from me in a month because for the past 2 months steady, I have been sick with an upper respiratory virus affecting my asthma and everything else and now this so uhh, my bad. Next time I'll just faint (again) & hit my head probably (again) and then maybe, theyll see that hes just gonna send me by myself and come pick me up when Im done being in there because he has to sleep for work tomorrow. Not to ya know, dare mention that if the bulging disc in my spine "RUPTURES", all signs & symptoms of paralysis will hit fast & clearly that would become a huge Emergency Situation... So I was "told to do it anyway" by him even after explaining the deck was covered in thick broken shattered ice chunks and with my slip on shoes that are the only shoes i can wear, I told him "I'm not doing that" and now it's my fault it was left outside until when he came home (3 1/2 hours before home). I feel as if my health is a major burden to him and maybe its time for me to get an inhome nurse... Some people just arent built to take care of anyone else. And maybe idk, maybe he is starting to see that I a really honestly, not in love with him at this point anymore. Maybe tomorrow or next month or next whatever, or maybe never will I be back in love with him.It seemed to me like the exact day that he was hired on as a manager at his workplace, things shifted. He dropped a huge bomb on me. I had to then last night, inform my family that I'm doing gene testing to see if i am a carrier of a breast cancer gene for reasons. They're also testing for thyroid & ovarian seeing as those run heavily. My chances before gene testing was uncomfortable to talk to our 3 kids about but they were as accepting as they can be, as their Mother my main priority should be my health so that Incan get better so that I can continue to do what I freaking LOVE DOING SO MUCH!!!!!! Like I truly do so why continually, continually say outloud in front of the 3 kids that "well I've done all of this and all of this because you asked for help" and it all started over me asking him if he can take lily her cup of water since shes coughing so badly. My flu/asthma/sinus shit is awful and my heart problem make it hard for me to walk sometimes let alone climb stairs.... He's acting like he deserves a gold medal when im always keeping the house up and im not doing that. What im doing is showing him what all i have to do during the day, some updates on what i dod and whatever else i wanna send.

I told him that its unfair to us completely that he doesnt turn off "Manager" when he walks through the door. He had a conversation to me and said hes not gonna be able to shut that off when he comes home and he has to take on so much responsibilities and he feels like he needs to be inside the house alone without myself or the kids or the pets for like half a year to get his straight. Bruh. Like no. Just do better. Idk how many people told me that Id never do this and id never do that and here i am proving them wrong every single day.

But every time he speaks to me like this, I am taken back to a time where I was told "your mother never should've made you." At i think 4-5 years old? I am disabled for many reasons. And I can tell everyone all the time until I'm fucking blue in my own face that, when I say that I cant do something and I ask for help, the help is met with a "your legs work" or "you're capable. You just dont wanna wait" No duh. Thats why i said "now please". Would you rather I give you another reason to hit me 3x flat-cupped handed times on my face again and say that "If I wanted it right now and could have gotten it right now for myself"

Im tired of asking for help and being treated like nothing other than a burden and his biggest fucking problem. How was I supposed to know that I was going to this sick on your 2 days off and that every time I asked for anything, you were upset.

I guess i was right and I'm just a different person now because of trauma processing and healing. But being sick enough to make 4 separate appointments during the 2 month span and if this gets worse, this one too. So I feel like he wants me to say something to him or do something for him, but all Im getting from this is "do not ask me for anything". Isnt your spouse supposed to be the one taking care of you when youre sick? Hes already lost me emotionally. And right before our ten year wedding annivarsary. Cool.

Advice?