#anyway that’s me airing out my dirty laundry with my dad again for the month. goodnight ✌️ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dewykth · 4 years

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SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle and @dewykth collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj word count. 7.5k+ warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳 i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter.

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head.

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry.

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel.

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation.

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go? Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

#bangtanhq #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #btsguild #btsgoldnet #cypherwritersnet #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic

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bcbdrums · 3 years

Text

A Day in the Life of Bonnie Rockwaller

What, not a Drakgo fic!? No...no it is not. This one is all about Bonnie.

A girl only really seen through one lens on the show, perhaps misunderstood... A cheerleader, twelve-years a ballerina, a good student, the youngest in her family, and dating a football star. The "mean girl."

What is her life really like?

Happy (belated) birthday to the amazing @sharperthewriter!

FFn AO3

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A Day in the Life of Bonnie Rockwaller

The alarm clock went off too soon for Bonnie Rockwaller on that Thursday morning. With a groan she reached over and slapped the device until the beeping stopped, and then blinked at the bright sunlight creating a glow at the edge of her teal curtains.

She didn't want to get up. But winners didn't sleep in.

She rolled out of bed, untwisting her dark red leopard print pajama bottoms and spaghetti strap top from where they had shifted in her restless sleep. She hadn't slept well, again.

She slipped her feet into her fuzzy slippers that matched the pajama set and grabbed her phone off her nightstand, unplugging it as she hastily flipped it open to check her messages.

There weren't any.

She pushed down the pang that tried to creep into her chest, and instead turned to her wall calendar next to her desk. She paused for a moment to look in the bright mirror above the desk, tousling her hair with one hand and giving a half-grin at the way it fell over her shoulders. She looked incredible even straight out of bed.

The pang tried to enter her heart again, and she frowned and turned to the calendar, confirming the day's events with what she already had in her phone planner. After cheer practice she planned to go to the boutique for the final fitting of her homecoming dress, and that night she had ballet.

After nodding to herself that all was correct, she flipped over to her text messages out of habit. Her thumb hovered over the message at the top that hadn't been replied to from the night before as she considered sending another. But then with a scowl and another pang she closed the phone and tossed it onto her unmade bed.

She stepped over to the barre that her parents had had installed in her room and began her routine of ballet stretches. She forced the distracting thoughts about the lack of message reply away and started going over the new Mad Dogs cheer routine in her head. Ever since she and Kim had become co-captains of the squad, she couldn't help but admit...the routines had gotten better. And harder.

Bonnie sighed.

After finishing the stretches she changed into her black leggings, blue sports bra, socks, and running shoes. With the workout she knew she was going to get after school, she needed to get plenty warmed up ahead of time. Plus, she was worried she might have gained a few pounds in the last month and might not fit into her gown.

After tying her shoes, she grabbed her mp3 player and set it on her workout playlist, which included her favorite upbeat songs by Britina, MC Honey, the Oh Boyz, SmashMouth, and more. She also had some strange rap song that she'd seen once on American Starmaker that had topped the charts, but she could never remember the name of the artist.

She popped her earbuds in and hurried past the bedrooms of her siblings, hurrying out the door of the split-level home into the crisp, cool morning air. She set her stopwatch for seven and a half minutes and began jogging down the sidewalk, the golden light of the sunrise beginning to warm her skin within minutes.

Against her will, her mind fell back to the unanswered text from the night before. It wasn't that Brick hadn't been slow to reply in the past... In fact, his replies were coming slower and slower lately.

Bonnie couldn't ignore the pang in her chest that time, and she took a deep breath and ran faster. There were plenty of logical reasons her boyfriend might not be answering her texts. He was in college, after all. He had homework...which...he had never really done much of in high school, but the fact that he'd made it through one semester of college so far meant he must be doing at least some now.

She told herself again she was worrying over nothing. He had always been confused about things that were important to her, and to girls in general. He would read her text that day and confirm about the dance, and then she would send him a picture of her gown so he could buy the matching corsages.

The alarm on her stopwatch went off, and she turned around and started jogging back in the direction of home at a faster pace than she'd begun. As she felt the adrenaline pump through her from the run, she got an idea. She didn't need to wait for Brick to reply... She could just send the picture of the dress after she tried it on. That would give him the hint. He had probably just forgotten to reply anyway...

Bonnie finished her run with confidence, and when she returned home she hurried past her siblings in the kitchen, grateful for the loud hip-hop music currently playing in her ears so she wouldn't have to hear anything they might say to her. Though it was unlikely they would.

Her older brother by one year, Jonny, was sitting on the kitchen counter with his dirty sock-clad feet on the refrigerator door, playing some hand-held video game. Her even older sisters, Connie and Lonnie, were seated at the kitchen table leaning over a fashion magazine and a laptop computer, shopping online she assumed. They would curb the behavior when their parents came out for the 'family breakfast' they insisted on each day, before each family member would vanish to their various obligations.

Bonnie wasn't upset about family breakfasts really; ever since her dad bought her a car, she barely saw her family, since each member in turn had previously driven her everywhere she needed to go—her siblings with complaints, of course. Now she was wholly independent, so the breakfasts held more meaning to her.

After returning to her room, she glanced at her phone still on the bed. She thought about her plan to text Brick later after she picked up her dress...which would be in about nine hours.

The pang of worry hit her chest again.

She grabbed the phone along with her bathrobe as she went back down the hall to take a shower. She opened the phone and looked at the text she had sent the prior evening before dinner that remained unanswered.

*You're still free next Saturday for the homecoming dance, right?*

Still breathless from the run and with sweat irritating the center of her back, she started the shower and then scrolled through the prior texts between she and Brick over the past couple of weeks, noting the slow times between his responses compared to her quick ones, and his lack of many words. After a moment of tense indecision, she fired off another quick text.

*I'll send you a photo of my gown after school!*

She set the phone down and grimaced as she started to undress. A lack of words wasn't anything new, and she was stunned as she realized she was telling herself not to worry. Why should she worry? She shouldn't even have let that thought in her head.

She frowned and leaned over the counter, staring at her face in the mirror as it started to become fogged with steam.

"I have nothing to worry about," she reassured herself out loud, and after giving herself a crisp nod, she adjusted the water temperature and made haste to shower.

She thought about Brick's class and football schedules, which...she'd had to badger him for back in the fall. They weren't consistent day to day, and he even had night classes a couple of days a week. These offered plenty of reasons why he might not have replied to her text messages. A college boy was busy.

After another swath of reassuring thoughts she felt her confidence returning. And then just as she switched the shower off, she heard the telltale beep of her phone indicating a message received.

She nearly slipped on the tile as she hurried to the phone, only half-drying her hands before flipping it open. The text was from Brick.

*Call me later.*

Bonnie read the words five times as her heart began to race, and then she mentally shook herself and quickly dried the phone off before drying off herself and putting on her bathrobe.

The text was a positive. He wanted to talk to her. Right...? Usually it was she who called him, and he only answered half of the time anyway... Come to think of it, he never said much over the phone. He just hummed responses to what she said to him.

Bonnie frowned into the fogged-up mirror as she began to blow-dry her hair. She didn't need to read any more into the text than was there. He probably wanted to talk about logistics for the dance.

She let the sound of the blow dryer drown out her thoughts, and as soon as her hair was no longer damp at the roots she unplugged the blow dryer and set the appliance on the counter before snatching up her phone again and storming down the hall back to her bedroom.

When she stepped through the door, she hit her ankle hard on something and tripped, plummeting forward with a gasp. Her phone flew out of her hand and was forgotten as she tucked into a somersault and came out of the fall safely and on her feet. She took hardly a second to catch her breath before whirling around and pushing her hair out of her eyes as she scowled. Her full laundry basket on the floor was the culprit, but her eyes narrowed as she realized it was the load she had put in the night before...and it wasn't clean nor dry.

"Lonnie!" she shouted before even leaving her room, turning the short distance down the hall to her older sister's room. "Why aren't my clothes clean? And why did you put dirty clothes back in my room!?"

She had just reached the door when it opened a sliver, and she could just see her sister's blonde hair and smirk.

"Oh sorry B, forgot to tell you I took your clothes out last night to do mine," Lonnie said, her tone rife with sarcasm. "Needed my intimates done before my date later."

"You could have waited your turn! Why didn't you tell me last night?" Bonnie said through gritted teeth, her hands in fists at her sides as she seethed.

"Mmh, guess it slipped my mind. Sorry, B..." she answered as she pushed the door closed, drawing out the 'sorry' in an all too familiar way.

"Rrrgh!" Bonnie snarled, hitting the closed door with a flat palm before turning on her heel to head back to her room.

"Sheesh, Bonnie, take a chill pill."

Bonnie blinked and saw Jonny leaning against the wall, not looking up from his video game.

"Quiet, nerdlinger!"

"Hmph," was Jonny's only reply, said through a smirk with a shrug.

"I have nothing to wear now!"

"Wow, nothing," he replied flatly, clearly disbelieving and disinterested.

Bonnie took a sharp breath in through her nose and was about to retort when Connie poked her head out of her own doorway.

"Nothing that'll help, anyway," she said with a slight giggle and smirk, giving Bonnie a once-over.

"Connie!"

Her eldest sister disappeared into her bedroom, and the sound of another door closing was her alert that her brother had departed too. Bonnie stood alone in the hallway for a moment, seething and feeling irrationally like she might cry before she shoved the emotion away and stalked back to her room.

Winners didn't cry.

She glanced into the laundry basket, noting all of her favorites wrinkled and wet from half a wash cycle, including her planned outfit for that day. She sighed and stepped to the closet, looking at the variety of things she didn't often choose because they were old, out of style, or weren't appropriate for school for one reason or another.

After several minutes pushing through every item and muttering about things being out of season, she grabbed an old favorite crop top she'd forgotten about and probably hadn't worn since freshman year. After scanning the array of bottoms in her closet and not finding a suitable match, she reached into the far corner and grabbed the old, baggy Club Banana overalls she'd used to wear with that top all the time.

When she got dressed she realized two things quickly: first, that sleeveless purple and teal tie dye racer-back crop top was quite snug, rode up higher than it used to, and showed her bra under her arms; second, that the overalls were also just a touch too small. They hugged her hips and her rear in a way she actually found attractive as she spun in front of the mirror, but the straps weren't fitting entirely over her shoulders and even hurt a little.

She frowned slightly as she unbuckled one strap and let it fall over her back, and the bib ever so slightly forward. It relieved enough pressure from the garment that she felt comfortable in the choice, and after looking at the very obvious sides of her bra showing under her arms, she unhooked the undergarment at the back, pulled off the straps, and then took the garment off through one of the arm holes in the style of Raquel Spring from "Pals." She dropped it in the laundry basket with a frown, determining then and there she would have to get back at Lonnie for potentially ruining her wardrobe.

After another quick spin in the mirror and deciding she looked good enough, Bonnie put on her socks and shoes and hurried back to the bathroom to quickly do her hair and makeup. Her parents would be upset, but she wasn't sure if she'd have time for breakfast anymore. The clothing problem had slowed her down, plus she suddenly remembered some math homework she'd left unfinished the night before in favor of working on memorizing the latest ballet routine.

Her focus fell to the unfinished math word problems—why were word problems so hard?—as she fixed her hair with the blow dryer and a round brush into its usual style, and then hurriedly put on her makeup.

After giving a satisfied nod to her appearance, she hurried back to her bedroom again. She closed her homework into her math book and shoved it in her backpack, knowing she'd have a better chance of getting it done and being on time if she did it after she arrived at school, maybe during her first class. It was with that somewhat shaky resolution that she threw her backpack over her shoulder and then grabbed up the laundry basket and headed down the hall.

She ignored the smirks of her siblings as she strode past them and quickly got the load of laundry started. Her mom didn't have to work for a couple of hours yet...

When she returned to the kitchen, she noted her three older siblings expressions had sobered as they sat dutifully around the table eating their usual breakfast meals, and her parents with them. Bonnie took a deep breath.

"Mom, when my laundry finishes can you put it in the dryer? And hang up the other things?"

Her mother looked up from her dish in confusion.

"I thought you did laundry last night?"

"I started to, but somebody decided theirs was more important," Bonnie said, hands on her hips as she glared at her older sister.

Veronica Rockwaller gave a disapproving frown toward the blonde-haired young woman, who merely shrugged.

"She didn't come back to dry it anyway," Lonnie said.

"I fell asleep doing homework!"

Bonnie's father, who until that point had been invisible behind his newspaper, cleared his throat.

"Bonnie..."

Bonnie groaned and rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know I'm supposed to sleep at least seven hours each night. I got them," she assured him. She didn't think it important to add they'd been spent tossing and turning, worrying about Brick. And that the same worry was what kept her from finishing the homework.

She turned to the cupboard and took out a protein bar before spinning around and heading for the front door.

"Bonnie!" her mother sang in a disappointed tone as she walked past. Her father looked up from his paper and coffee again with a raised brow.

"Sorry Mom, sorry Dad, I have just enough time to finish my homework if I leave now," she said by way of excuse.

"But Bon-Bon!"

Bonnie looked from her mother's disappointed face to her father's. Donald 'Donny' Rockwaller lifted his hand in a vague gesture that she could leave, and she grinned and flipped her hair with one hand as she turned to hide her relief.

"Now Ronnie, schoolwork comes first. At least she won't miss dinner," her father said pointedly. "Especially since it'll be the last family dinner before our trip this weekend."

Bonnie froze at the tone in her father's voice and glanced back over her shoulder. He was staring at her over his newspaper.

"Of course not!" she said with a broad, innocent smile. She thought a moment. "...But I do need to pick up my homecoming dress after cheer practice today."

"Oh, I can come with you!" her mother said brightly.

Bonnie's smile faded to a panicked frown and she started waving her hand in a stopping motion. But her attention shifted suddenly as her sisters spoke.

"You mean they found a dress to actually fit that shape?" Connie said.

"Clearly nothing else does," Lonnie said, giving a disgusted look at Bonnie's current attire.

"Ladies," their father admonished, and Bonnie turned to leave in a hurry amid her mother's scolding of her older sisters and her brother's snickering. She wasn't about to let her mother come along to the dress fitting, or anywhere else where they could be seen together by people she knew—not since the ski trip incident.

In the driveway, she dropped her backpack on the passenger seat of her white convertible and sighed as she sank into the tan leather driver's seat. After tuning the radio to her favorite hip-hop station and cranking the volume, she began the drive to school, letting the sound of the wind and the music carry her thoughts away.

----------------------

When Bonnie walked through the halls of the school and saw Kim Possible standing in front of her open locker, she actually perked up. She needed to talk to Kim about the complexity of the final sequence in the new cheer routine before practice. She began quickening her pace, but stopped short when Kim's locker was pushed closed by a confidently grinning Ron Stoppable, dressed uncharacteristically in his football jersey.

Bonnie stopped and took a step nearer the other wall of lockers as if it could hide her while the...the loser of a held-back senior Kim now called 'boyfriend' leaned over the red-head at her locker and set his hand on her waist, kissing her in a very suave move. Bonnie blinked at the scene in shock, feeling a sinking in her stomach and an actual camaraderie with Stoppable's hairless pet which was scrubbing at its eyes from the football star's pocket.

'Football star...'

"Whoa, put out the fire you two!" was the declaration of Kim's other best friend, Monique, who Bonnie could find no fault with except for choosing the other two as companions. The girl was confident, trendy, smart, and someone she could have called 'friend' herself. But apparently Kim had gotten to her first.

Bonnie passed the trio without a word as they began chatting and hurried to what was their joint homeroom. She needed to finish that math homework and would need a seat in the back if she was to avoid Mr. Barkin's watchful gaze. And the last thing she wanted right then was to hear about how great life was the world-famous world-saving cheerleader.

She remembered Brick's text and reached in her pocket for her phone, and then froze.

It wasn't there.

She remembered with a fury that she had dropped it earlier that morning when she tripped on the laundry basket, and she mentally swore further revenge against all of her siblings for the crime. They deserved it for the years of tormenting her anyway.

She dropped her math book heavily on the too-small desk and leaned over the homework paper, one hand on her forehead to hide her face as she stared down at the problems in the book.

She stared at the words and numbers while her classmates gradually filed in and took their seats around her. She barely acknowledged Tara's cheery 'good morning' as she read over the first word problem again and again, unable to focus long enough to finish it, and she tuned out the tardy bell and Mr. Barkin's gruff greeting to the class.

All she could think about was Brick's text. She couldn't remember another time he had asked her to call. In fact, their phone conversations usually ended with him interrupting whatever she was talking about and asking if he could call her back another time...which...he never did.

A telltale buzzing made her reach instinctively for her phone, and she frowned when it wasn't there. She glanced over at Tara in the next desk, who was grinning down at her phone in her lap.

Tara saw her friend's attention and after a moment and a glance at Mr. Barkin who was writing on the chalkboard, she passed the cell phone to Bonnie.

Bonnie smirked as she saw it was an update to Stoppable's blog, and she glanced to where the blond-haired boy sat next to Kim in the front row. He had his phone in his lap, and he seemed to be typing blindly with one thumb while his hairless pink pet typed at the same time. She frowned and shook her head in confusion as she looked back to Tara's phone for the latest gossip.

*A reliable source has reported that Dr. Drakken and Shego have been looking at real estate in Tahiti. Is it a new lair, or a romantic vacation home?*

Bonnie rolled her eyes and passed the phone back to Tara. While that pair of villains were among the most interesting, she was tired of the 'are they or aren't they?' that Stoppable kept spinning to keep interest in the blog.

"Well?" whispered Tara, and Bonnie looked at her while keeping one eye on Mr. Barkin. "What do you think?"

"I don't think it matters where they do it?" Bonnie whispered back.

"They're totally a couple!" Tara said with a small giggle, scrolling through the other posts on the blog.

Bonnie shook her head and looked down at her math book again, feeling like she might be able to focus at last. As she finally began writing figures on the paper to solve the first word problem, she realized she'd wasted most of homeroom and hadn't heard even a word of Mr. Barkin's lecture. She tried to tune into it as she wrote, ignoring the giggles off to her right and the grin of her cheer co-captain a few rows ahead.

It was bad enough she had to watch Kim and Ron making out in the hallway. The last thing she needed was to think about happy villain couples too, when she couldn't hardly remember the last time she'd had Brick's arm around her.

----------------------

"And five, six, seven, eight and aerial...three...down...V...and left, right, left, right and to-the-base!" Kim called out the beats of the cheer routine, watching with arms crossed in front of the bleachers.

Bonnie, up in front and with the mirrored role to Kim's, had the most difficult steps and was trying to complete her moves while also listening to Kim's commands to the rest of the squad for her timing. It was going well, exactly like she'd practiced in her bedroom the night before. They had collaborated on this routine and were sure it could win the next competition, but of course, they all had to start somewhere in learning it.

As she felt sweat beginning to form on her brow she remembered the competition last year, when Brick had sat in the front row cheering her on. She'd gotten a major thrill bragging about him to the girls from other squads, who had all been envious of her gorgeous, all-American boyfriend.

"And liberty...to scorpion... Bonnie!"

Bonnie felt the weight shift from Tara below who was her base, and realized she'd failed to shift into the scorpion pose. Which meant when Hope next to her, standing in for Kim, had nowhere to place her foot for the next move when their feet were supposed to touch. She watched in a mixture of annoyance, fear, and embarrassment as Hope went down despite Crystal's efforts, and she quickly lost balance too, landing in a forward lunge when her feet finally hit the gym floor.

When she righted herself she found every member of the squad staring at her. It wasn't often she found herself in this position, as it was usually her leading the glares toward Kim who was often distracted by her 'missions' and more recently, her steady boyfriend.

The heat came to Bonnie's cheeks and she crossed her arms and turned away with a frown.

"I didn't have the balance for scorpion, it would have been worse if I'd tried," she said by way of excuse.

"Maybe if you'd lose a few pounds," Tanzy said not entirely under her breath, earning a few gasps from the long-time members of the squad.

"Why, you—!"

"O-kay," Kim said with authority. "Bonnie, let's swap. You call the routine and I'll hop in."

Bonnie was torn in that moment between arguing that she wouldn't mess up again and taking the pass and actually watching the routine as she called it. She wanted to watch it again anyway, but she was uncertain in the moment which was the less embarrassing of the two options.

As Kim raised a questioning and slightly impatient brow in her direction, she rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"Fine, get up there."

Bonnie watched as Hope and Jessica swapped places, Jessica being Bonnie's stand-in as Hope was Kim's. Then when everyone was back in place in the starting positions, she began calling the counts and moves.

She was glad she'd made that choice, because she had no choice but to focus and for at least the rest of practice, Brick didn't enter her mind at all. Not even when they had played the music and she and Kim had both operated in their regular positions. She hated to admit it, but they were a good team as co-captains.

It wasn't until later after showering in the locker room and waiting for Tara to finish fixing her hair that Bonnie began to dwell on the situation with Brick again. She was also worried that he might have sent her another message while her phone was at home, somewhere on her bedroom floor. What if he had tried to call, and her lack of response made him think she was ignoring him? What if he'd wanted her to call right after school, or after cheer practice?

"What's wrong, Bonnie?"

Bonnie startled from her thoughts and realized her brow had been twisted in so much worry, that it hurt. She uncrossed her arms and pushed off of the wall in the girl's locker room where she'd been leaning.

"Nothing, you ready to go?" she asked Tara, who was fluffing her golden, wavy hair.

"You bet! I can't wait to see your gown! And guess what, the boutique left me a voicemail during practice. Mine came in today too!"

"Yeah that's great. I need to run home first, that all right?"

"Oh...sure, what for?" Tara asked, hurrying behind Bonnie who had slung her backpack on her back and started out of the locker room.

"For my phone," Bonnie answered somewhat impatiently.

"Ohhh right... Do you think Brick might have messaged you?"

Bonnie felt that pang in her chest again and increased her pace. She had confided to Tara about her missing phone, but hadn't fully admitted her fears that Brick was losing interest in her.

"Maybe. He usually waits for me to reply, unless he's asking for homework help."

Tara continued talking, but Bonnie barely listened until they reached her convertible in the parking lot. They tossed their backpacks in the trunk and then Bonnie sat heavily in the driver's seat with a sigh. The fall earlier during practice, though she had landed fine, had definitely been a shock to her system.

"Bonnie?"

"Hmm?"

"I said, do you think the hot pink will be too much?"

"I've been telling you for years to let go of the green."

"Well it's a kind of a—"

"Never-mind, I'll see it when we get there," Bonnie said as she started the car.

She stared straight ahead, ignoring the concerned and confused look she knew Tara was giving her. She grabbed her sunglasses off the car's sun visor and hid her eyes behind them.

She couldn't focus on the conversation about gowns with the possibility of a missed call from Brick swirling around in her head. Not to mention the sudden increased concern that her gown wouldn't fit after Tanzy's comment at practice.

Back in the locker room she had direly wanted to ask Kim if she had gained weight, knowing the red-head would be honest, but she hadn't. Now she wanted to ask Tara, but she wasn't sure if her friend wouldn't sugar-coat the answer just to please her.

Bonnie flipped the radio station to pop, Tara's favorite, and gave her a half-smile that seemed to assuage any concerns her friend may have had. She turned the music up higher to avoid any possibility of conversation and drove the familiar route back home, unable to deny the anxiety now coursing through her as the promise of getting to her phone was near.

----------------------

Bonnie parked her car near the house after driving perhaps too quickly up her family's long driveway, if Tara's slightly startled expression was any indication. She kept her sunglasses on to hide her slightly guilty expression as she grabbed her backpack from the trunk and hurried up the steps.

"If my sibs aren't around you can help yourself to anything in the fridge," Bonnie called over her shoulder as Tara hurried behind her.

She didn't feel like stopping at Bueno Nacho or anywhere else on the way to the boutique, but it had definitely been too long since lunch.

The house, gratefully, seemed empty when they went inside, and Bonnie nodded toward the fridge before heading down the hall to her room. It was just a quick stop for her phone and a snack before they would head back to try on their gowns.

In her room, Bonnie took her planner and the books for that night's homework out of her backpack and placed them on her desk, knowing she might forget otherwise after ballet later that night. She glanced at her watch as she dropped her backpack and began calculating how much time she would have, and then frowned. There was really only time to try on the dresses, make the final payment if they fit, and then drive Tara home. Then she would barely make it home through rush hour traffic in time for the family dinner, and then she would have to hurry off to ballet.

She wouldn't be able to start her homework until after eight thirty that night. Or call Brick.

A quick search of the room revealed her phone on the floor near the barre, and she flipped it open to find six missed text messages. Two were from Tara that morning, the second of which asking why she wasn't answering texts. Bonnie rolled her eyes.

She cringed at the text from Kim asking why she was late for practice, and it was with dismay she saw that the other three were from Liz, Crystal, and Hope. Brick hadn't sent any other messages, and there were no missed calls.

Bonnie put the phone in the hip pocket of her overalls, frowning at the discomfort it gave her since the older garment was slightly too snug.

'Or maybe you've just put on a few pounds...'

She shook that thought from her head as she fished in her backpack for her wallet. She glanced at the math book at the top of the pile of homework on her desk and frowned at the memory of turning in an incomplete paper earlier that day, and then she looked up at the mirror. Her hair was more limp for the rigor of cheer practice, but there wasn't time to do anything with it.

Bonnie chose a teal purse from the several she had hanging behind her door and shouldered it after putting her phone and wallet inside. She hurried back to the kitchen where she found Tara eating a pudding cup.

"Those are Jonny's," Bonnie commented, knowing her brother would be upset. Not that she cared... She just knew she would probably take the heat for it.

"Oh, sorry," Tara said with a small giggle as she licked the butterscotch from her lips.

Bonnie opened the fridge and after a sad perusal, she grabbed one of her brother's pudding cups too. She plopped down on the bar stool next to Tara and opened the cup, staring blankly at the cabinets opposite as she dug her spoon in.

"...Did Brick call?" Tara asked after a moment of silence.

"No," Bonnie said, then spooning a larger bite into her mouth. While she could no longer ignore the growing concern that Brick was losing interest in her, she still didn't want to talk about it. Because if Brick was in fact losing interest...she didn't want to think forward to what would come after that conversation.

"Ryan left me a message during practice," Tara commented.

Bonnie nodded approvingly as she licked her spoon.

"Status."

"But he was always trying to cop a feel," Tara continued with a frown.

Bonnie smirked. "And you care?"

Tara's frown deepened.

"Right, I get it. You're waiting for 'love'," Bonnie said, drawing out the last word sarcastically.

"So are you," Tara retorted, "unless something's changed?"

"Nothing's changed," Bonnie said, glancing back at the cabinets and letting her vision blur as she took another bite.

"Look, I like making out but Ryan just doesn't understand where the line is," Tara said thoughtfully.

Bonnie silently ate her pudding as she thought about her physical relationship with Brick. He was a good kisser, and she always felt a sense of pride curled up under his arm, whether they were at the movies or at a party after a game. He'd never given her any indications he wanted more, so they'd never talked about it. But what if...that was part of why he was losing interest now? Had he met someone else who gave him more?

Bonnie considered their on-again, off-again relationship over the past three and a half years. It was always she who had broken up with him when they were 'off,' due to his lack of attention or some rude comment he had made. She'd always just assumed he would be there when she had cooled down, and he was. Even the time he'd seemed interested in Kim during sophomore year, she hadn't worried, because she knew he wasn't Kim's type.

'Her loss!'

As she thought about it further, she realized that the last few times they'd broken up...she couldn't remember Brick protesting. Or even seeming that upset. Or...happy when she'd declared they were back together.

The pang in her chest turned to a swirling unease in her stomach, and she glanced to the side to see that Tara had just finished her pudding. She grabbed the small plastic cup and spoon out her hands, earning a surprised squeak, and carried them and her own unfinished pudding around to the sink where she dropped the spoons in and then tossed the pudding cups in the trash.

"Come on," Bonnie said abruptly, shifting her purse to her other shoulder. It had been on the one with the overall strap, and she realized the garment was a bit uncomfortable over her shoulder after all.

"What'd I say?" Tara questioned. "Look, I'm over that Ryan is a celebrity... Jason's never tried to push the boundaries, and that matters more to me."

"Fine, whatever," Bonnie said as she headed back out the door. "Long as he's got the cash."

"We go out," Tara defended her own on-and-off boyfriend.

"To places other than Bueno Nacho?" Bonnie accused as they got back into the car.

"Yes," Tara said emphatically, sounding almost hurt. "And he even told me he'll take me to Chez Couteaux before homecoming."

"How do you know he's not gonna turn out like Ryan did?" Bonnie retorted as she started the car.

"Bonnie!"

"Just saying," Bonnie responded with a shrug and a frown.

She turned the music back on as she backed the car out of the driveway. The conversation had only increased her worries about Brick to the point she didn't even bother denying them anymore. What if that was the reason he was distant from her? What if he had in fact found someone else who was more the kind of girl he wanted?

What...what was the kind of girl Brick wanted? Bonnie felt the uneasy feeling in her stomach intensify as she suddenly worried that she wasn't it...

----------------------

"I've been telling you for years Tara, jewel tones," Bonnie said, watching Tara look uncertainly at the gown she wore that in Bonnie's opinion was a dream come true.

Tara's choice that year was a dark hot pink strapless mermaid gown, satin until the mermaid flare at the bottom where the material was tulle. The bust was covered in tiny rhinestones that faded away down the bodice, which Bonnie thought were a great compliment to her figure.

"Are you sure?"

"Sometimes your favorite colors just aren't ones you can wear," Bonnie said, leaning back on the bench and crossing her legs again. "With your hair, eyes, and complexion... Jewel tones, Tara."

Tara's expression brightened at Bonnie's reassurance, though her brow still showed uncertainty.

"Look, it's perfect. Just take it off and I'll put mine on," Bonnie said, rising from the bench and moving into the adjacent fitting room. She quickly divested herself of her shoes, overalls, and tank top and then carefully removed her gown from its hanger.

As she stepped into the dress and slipped the straps up over her shoulders, she felt a comfortable, familiar confidence settle over her that she'd lacked that day—the confidence of looking good.

She zipped up the black dress and adjusted the raspberry colored chiffon sash at the waist which folded and had a panel that draped down the front nearly to the floor. The dress had two high slits up each side and a deep V-neck, with straps that thinned over the shoulders. She smiled as she mentally pictured the way it would look with her hair and makeup done to perfection, and black heels to match. Ruby earrings would complete the look...

She straightened up in front of the fitting room mirror as a vision entered her mind of Brick standing at her side wearing a black tuxedo, with a cummerbund and bow-tie to match her sash. They would have to be dyed of course, along with roses for the corsages, but there was still plenty of time.

The excitement that had bubbled up in her chest at how great she and Brick would look walking into the homecoming dance together burst suddenly as all of her insecurities about their relationship suddenly came back. She felt in her purse for her phone and after pulling it out flipped it open. There had been no messages or missed calls in the time she and Tara and been out so far.

She turned to face the mirror again, posed and grinned, and then moved her phone around in one hand trying to get the best angle and also capture the entire dress. It took three tries, but she finally got an image she was okay with and sent it in a message to Brick.

*Match everything to the sash.*

As she looked at the image once more before pushing send she felt her confidence returning. She was the hottest girl at Middleton High, and Brick had never looked at anyone else in the almost three years they had been together. She had nothing to worry about.

She sent the text, put her phone back in her purse, and then exited the fitting room. Tara was dressed in her school clothes again and seated on the bench Bonnie had previously occupied, her folded hands atop the knee of her crossed leg which she was swinging as she smiled and waited patiently. When she focused her attention on Bonnie, her mouth fell open in a gasp.

"Oh, Bonnie that's gorgeous!"

"I know. Doesn't it just scream 'me'?" she said with a grin, slowly spinning and then striking a pose.

"It's perfect!"

"Like I said. Me."

Just then, a wolf-whistle startled them and drew both of their attentions to where about ten feet away a vaguely familiar red-headed teen boy stood. Bonnie realized in a moment it was one of their classmates, but she wasn't entirely sure of his name. She couldn't recall ever actually speaking to him.

"Smokin'!" he said, giving her a thumbs up and a grin that revealed less than perfect teeth.

Bonnie recoiled in mild disgust, though she couldn't argue with the compliment.

"Yeah, way too hot for you," Bonnie said in retort. She meant it derisively, but the look Tara gave her made her wonder if it had accidentally come off as flirty.

The guy continued looking her over without any pretense, and Bonnie racked her brain for his name. All she could really recall about him was that his tired, baggy eyes were always staring at a computer screen and that he had never once been in gym class.

"So, got a date for the homecoming dance?" he asked, his look becoming practically lascivious.

The boy's name finally registered in Bonnie's mind.

"Uh, yeah. And if you come with twenty feet of me at the dance Reiger, I'll tell my boyfriend Brick that you asked me out."

Ronald Reiger seemed to snap out of his hormone-motivated stupor, but it didn't last long as a devious smirk returned to his face.

"I didn't think Flagg liked his babes with so much junk in the trunk. But I sure do," Reiger said, wagging his eyebrows knowingly.

Bonnie sputtered incoherently for a moment before a shrill scream left her throat. Every face in the boutique suddenly turned to look at her, and Bonnie's face reddened in both anger and embarrassment as Reiger left the store laughing.

Bonnie's hands were clenched in fists at her sides as she seethed, the conversation already replaying in her mind. So focused was she on the horrible things Reiger had said, that she didn't notice Tara had been speaking to her until she felt her friend's hand on her shoulder.

"He never even goes to the dances. Just ignore him."

Bonnie took a deep breath and tried to calm down, but she still felt the sting of embarrassment as multiple eyes continued to watch her.

"Tara," she began, not liking how pathetic her voice sounded, "have I gained weight?"

"No! If anything you're slimmer," Tara said, her usual happy-go-lucky smile back on her face.

"Really?" Bonnie asked, starting to straighten up from the hunch she'd not realized she'd fallen into.

"Oh yeah. You look great! Especially in the varsity cheer uniform. You rock it!"

Bonnie looked straight into Tara's eyes and saw the sincerity; she wasn't just trying to butter her up.

She pushed her hair back and fought the twisting of emotions in her chest, glancing away when she finally said a quiet, "Thanks."

"Besides, Reiger's been crushing on you since middle school," Tara continued thoughtfully, "but I've never seen him with anyone. He's probably got his own issues."

Bonnie looked up in surprise. "Since middle school!?"

Tara looked confused. "Yeah. I thought you knew."

"Ew! No, that's the first time I've ever acknowledged that loser's existence!"

Tara looked confused again. "Don't you remember he asked you to dance in seventh grade, at the welcome back dance?"

Bonnie blinked at her. "I thought you said he never goes to dances."

"Not since that one. He asked you to dance and you said no."

Bonnie searched her memory, but all she could recall of that first dance in seventh grade was how hot she had looked in her black and white leopard print skirt and hot pink blouse with the matching collar.

"Ugh, let's just pay for the gowns and get out of here before some other loser shows up."

"Hey," Tara said, and Bonnie felt a hand on her shoulder again, "this was fun. We barely hang out anymore. I'm glad we could fit this in."

"Yeah," Bonnie said with a quick smile before hurrying back into her fitting room.

As she changed back into her crop top and overalls she thought about Tara's words. It was true, they hadn't been hanging out as much since Tara had finally given up on that loser Stoppable part-way through junior year. Once she had stopped pining over him she found she enjoyed dating around, which meant less time for friends. And of course, varsity cheer took up more of both of their free time. They hardly saw each other outside of school activities anymore.

Bonnie considered the things in her own life that were keeping her busy. Ballet was four nights a week now that she was in the highest level, and for the past month she had spent all of her free time...worrying about Brick's diminishing communication. They had only been out on a date once in the last three weeks, but she realized she had been purposely keeping her evenings free just in case he wanted to see her. He was only going to the University of Lowerton after all, so it wasn't that far a drive.

But he hadn't mentioned going out once since their last date. He only responded to her messages, and barely at that...

Bonnie scowled as her mood soured again, but she didn't let it impact her carefully hanging the gown back on its hanger. The boost she had gotten from trying it on had already faded, and she was eager to get home so she could hopefully have a chance to call Brick in between dinner and ballet. A glance at her phone showed he hadn't replied to her message with the photo of the dress.

The overall strap on her shoulder was suddenly bothering her, and after a very brief moment she unhooked it and let the bib fall fully down and the strap down her back, a moment later looping both straps through the belt loops on the garment so they wouldn't flop too much. As she looked at her reflection in the mirror she reconsidered the decision for a moment, noting just how much of her midriff was showing due to the high crop top and how low the overalls fell. But she shook her head and shouldered her purse and turned away from her reflection. Because despite herself, she couldn't even distract herself thinking about Tara's compliment because she was no longer able to hide the worry in her eyes.

----------------------

Bonnie shut off the car and then sank low into the leather seat, exhausted as she stared at the reflection of the golden sunset off her dash. She ran her mind back over the day's events, each recollection interrupted by the harsh, stabbing worry about Brick's text.

She felt a small measure of calm as she remembered how Tara had leaned down into the car to hug her when she had dropped her off at her home. Her friend had thanked her for a fun afternoon and promised to see her the next day with her usual bright smile and wave as she left.

Why couldn't Brick be more like Tara? Bonnie never had to worry that Tara wouldn't answer a text, or be less than honest about their friendship. If Tara was upset about something, Bonnie knew it in a moment from the look on her friend's face.

She also realized with sudden guilt, which she quickly shoved down, that she wasn't always quick to make amends when she and Tara got into disagreements. And yet, Tara...was still there.

She forced away the strange swirl of emotions in her chest and turned her thoughts to Brick again. Had she done something to upset him, and that's why he was distant? He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, and he had always been extremely easy-going in high school. It was one of the things she liked about him actually... He did whatever she wanted, and she got to show off her man candy wherever she went.

She startled suddenly, her eyes seeking something to focus on as too many realizations hit her all at once. Could Brick be avoiding her because she only treated him like a tool? And...since when did she no longer want that with him, and want to be treated like an actual girlfriend?

Her mind was racing for answers, and when she looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror she saw the truth in her own eyes. She had wanted more for a long time, but hadn't been giving Brick anything to let him know that.

Another strange mix of emotions hit her as she fought against the revelation she had just had. She didn't need a relationship. She didn't need to give and take, or to care about someone else's needs. Winners didn't need other people, after all.

Even as her head spoke the defiant thoughts, an image of Tara's smile and the memory of her hug before they parted that evening flew across her mind's eye. She sighed and slumped back in the seat again.

Who was she kidding?

She grimaced as she reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. Brick had said to call her... It was time to put herself out of her misery and stop living in a high school fantasy. If she really did...want more...she would have to give more.

She pressed the speed dial with an ironic grimace and held the phone to her ear. It connected after four rings.

"Hello?" He sounded confused, which made her stomach twist in unease.

"Hey Brick, baby," she greeted with a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"Oh, hey," was the response in his usual smooth tone, but it was lacking the smile behind it.

"Did you get the photo of my gown?" she asked, avoiding any more difficult topic for the moment.

"Yeah, it's smokin'!" he said, and Bonnie felt some of the unease leave as she heard the smile in his voice. She also recalled that Ron Reiger had used that exact term to describe the dress, and her face fell.

"Do you need me to send you the address of the boutique to get your cummerbund and bow-tie dyed?" she continued in a hurry.

"Yeah about that..."

Bonnie felt her throat constrict and immediately tried to calm her breathing. Before she could speak, Brick continued.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore."

Bonnie's chest heaved as her breaths came more quickly.

"What... You...you...are breaking up with me?" Bonnie sputtered. They weren't the words she wanted to say, but they were the ones that came out.

"Yeah... So no hard feelings," Brick said. It sounded final, and Bonnie gripped her phone hard as she leaned forward in a panic.

"Wait! Can...can we talk about this?" she stammered.

"Talk...?" Brick sounded confused by the suggestion.

"Yeah, like...like...why?"

"Oh, well... I feel like since I went to college we've...grown apart?" Brick answered, still sounding confused. "And like...we didn't really know each other that well anyway."

"What do you mean?" Bonnie gasped, her instincts taking over again. "We talked almost every day for three years, we went out all the time, I even hung out at your house with your lame-o family!" Bonnie cringed at the instinctive insult she'd given and hurriedly backpedaled. "I mean..."

"Yeah, and like...that's just it," Brick continued in the voice she knew so well, sounding much more himself. "We did all those things and I don't...really know you."

Bonnie blinked several times, fighting the onset of tears. Her mind was a jumble of searching for excuses and counter-arguments, as well as the distracting interruptions of how she basically been treating Tara exactly the same way she had treated Brick.

"Well...then let's get to know each other," she finally said. She looked in the rear-view mirror at her stricken expression, and then her eyes fell to the reflection of the short crop top she was wearing. "And like...if you come over Saturday, my parents won't be home all weekend."

She had lowered her tone on the last, hoping to sound seductive. Her heart raced for fear with the implication she had just given him. That wasn't what she really wanted, but she was desperate.

"No thanks... It's just not gonna work between us. I'm sorry, but...it's over."

Bonnie clutched the phone tighter, breathing into the receiver as no words came while tears filled her eyes. A moment later the line disconnected, and she let a sob escape her lips as she listened to the dead air at the other end of the line.

She closed the phone and dropped it back in her purse, then wiping the tears from her eyes.

'Winners don't cry, winners don't cry...'

She tried desperately to force the tears away, but as she replayed the conversation with Brick in her mind they kept coming. She turned her gaze upward as she grabbed a tissue from the box in her center console, but she didn't dry her eyes yet.

The resounding finality of Brick's statement, 'it's over,' kept looping in her mind and causing a torment of indecision. There was a part of her that wanted to call him back and fight to keep him. She even wondered if driving to Lowerton for a salacious meeting would change his mind after all.

That idea made her heart pound in anxiety, and she recalled her earlier conversation with Tara. It wasn't what she wanted... But...she still wanted Brick.

She dried her eyes, and on that thought she shouldered her purse, and then carefully took her plastic-wrapped homecoming gown out of the trunk of the car. The sudden realization that she had no date for the dance started the tears anew, but she didn't stop and headed for the house.

'Winners don't quit...'

When she walked inside, the telltale sounds of quiet conversation told her that her family had already started dinner. She wiped her eyes once more with her free hand and held the gown up so that when she passed through the kitchen it would detract attention from her.

"Bonnie..." was the disappointed greeting from her mother when she turned the corner. Bonnie held the gown up higher.

"Sorry, I had to take Tara home. Her gown came in too."

"Ugh, why do you hang out with such fashion rejects..." Lonnie said.

Bonnie didn't even make eye contact. "For your information she got a hot pink dress this time. And even if she does need a little help with fashion, at least she's a real friend."

"Since when do you have real friends?" Connie said with a giggle.

"Girls," their father admonished.

"Bon-Bon, what are you wearing?" her mother asked, noticing her attire despite the gown she was holding up to block their view.

Jonny leaned forward on his elbows with a smirk and raised his eyebrows, and the three sisters glared at him.

"Gross!" they all said in unison.

"Just looking to see if she actually grew a pair or if it's still just socks," Jonny said.

"Like you've ever seen real ones," Lonnie countered.

"Right back at ya, Sis'," Jonny snickered.

"Ugh!"

"Like you've ever seen more than two brain cells," Connie continued the argument.

"Bonnie, surely you had something you could have worn a bra with..." her mother continued over the adult children's argument.

"I had the overall bib up all day," Bonnie said with a slight scoff, and then added in a mutter, "well, half of it."

Her slight embarrassment and annoyance with her family was overriding the hurt of losing Brick, for at least the present moment, and she hurried down the hall to her room to hang up her gown. After she had done so she leaned on her desk with a heavy sigh, staring down at the mountain of homework.

She looked up at herself in the mirror. Her face wasn't as puffy as she feared, and she hurried down the hall to the bathroom to wash off the tear stains. She made the mistake of replaying the conversation with Brick in her head again as she did so, and her tears flowed again. She permitted herself a few whimpering sobs this time, in hopes that doing so would help purge some of the emotional turmoil and let her get on with the evening.

A harsh knock at the door startled her, and she hurriedly splashed more water onto her face and added some soap to clean off her ruined makeup. She'd gone to ballet without it before, though she hadn't in awhile.

"Just a minute!" she called more loudly than was necessary.

"Take a chill pill, Bonnie," came her brother's mocking voice.

Bonnie felt a renewed embarrassment and annoyance about his earlier comments and scowled as she turned off the faucet and dried her face.

"There are other toilets in this house where you can sit and play video games, you know," she retorted.

"Yeah but I'll be bothered in those," he said matter-of-factly.

Bonnie checked her face again and after hanging the towel she opened the door with a sharp jerk.

"Whoa, fan the flame, Bon-Bon!"

"Don't call me that," she bit back as she stalked past him and back down the hall.

She listened to his snickering and the closing of the door as he escaped the family dinner for at least awhile, and she began changing for ballet. As she did so she told herself she wasn't going to think about Brick anymore. She could easily get a hot date for homecoming, and she could start work on that the very next day. All she needed to worry about for the rest of that night was dinner, ballet, and homework, in that order.

She forced her mind to think about the difficult routine she was going to need to rehearse that evening as she put on her pink tights, black leotard, and ballet slippers. After that she stood in front of the mirror, already feeling more composed for how elegant she looked in the attire that spoke of over a decade of hard work. The word 'regal' even crossed her mind as she pulled her hair up into a French twist.

She considered going back to dinner in just her ballet outfit, but considering Jonny's comments she threw on a baggy teal Club Banana logo t-shirt over her leotard. And then after checking that her pointe shoes were in her ballet bag, she dropped her purse inside and zipped the bag up and headed back out to face her family.

"Bonnie, you missed almost all of dinner," was her mother's sad greeting when she re-entered the kitchen.

Bonnie dropped her bag behind her chair and then grabbed a plate to serve herself some food.

"It was a busy day," she said, again more harshly than was warranted. She swallowed guiltily when her father looked at her over the rims of his glasses.

"Connie was just telling us about the seismology research project she's working on in college," her father said as he cleared his throat.

"Yeah," Lonnie interrupted, "and if we keep listening to it we're not going to have time to talk about my date tonight."

Bonnie noticed her bottle-blonde sister's attire for the first time—a too-tight strapless periwinkle mini-dress, with a sparkling crystal necklace and earrings to match. Her makeup was also overdone, which wasn't atypical.

"So who's this one?" Bonnie asked boredly, moving her spoon through the pasta salad as she sat at the table with her family.

As Lonnie described her 'hot date' who worked for a modeling agency, Bonnie's thoughts instantly drifted to her lack of a date for the homecoming dance, and then beyond. She considered her sister who dated anyone who might be able to give her a jump-start into a film or modeling career. Lonnie didn't seem interested in a serious relationship...

Bonnie realized all of a sudden that she herself was. She couldn't do what her sister did. And while she didn't yet know what she wanted to do after high school (another worrying thought that she would bury until she had no choice) she knew she didn't want to date guy after guy... She had never really enjoyed that. Which meant that apparently...she wanted something steady.

"Bonnie?"

She re-focused as she realized she was being spoken to—it was her turn to share about her day.

"Well I got my gown, not that anyone noticed," she began.

"It's lovely, dear," her mother said.

Bonnie tried not to frown at the aged-sounding appellation.

"Thank you, Mom," she said, tossing a glare at her sisters. "We also made a lot of progress on the cheer routine for regionals. It's too fussy, like all of Kim's routines, but I've got to admit...it'll be pretty cool when we've got it down."

"Have you given us that date for our calendars, Bonnie?" her father asked without looking up from his meal.

"Yes. And the ballet. And the homecoming game, and the dance so you don't schedule anything over it."

"Will Brick be taking you to the dance?"

Bonnie felt her entire frame tense, but she forced her face to calm and took a swallow of her food to both give herself a moment to compose herself and to force down the lump rising in her throat.

"No, he's busy," she lied easily. "Besides, I'll be voted homecoming queen so I should go with whoever is voted king."

"You? Queen?" Connie said, and she and Lonnie began to snicker. The sound of Jonny's deeper voice joining theirs was the family's cue that he had returned from his 'bathroom break' and Bonnie glared at all of her siblings in turn as her brother retook his seat.

"Well of course it will be me. Who else could it be?" Bonnie asked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms indignantly.

"Probably that red-haired babe you can't get along with, what's her name?" Jonny asked.

"Ugh, that fashion don't dating the biggest loser in the school? As if!"

"Check the facts, Bonnie, she's a world-famous hero and she was on the cover of every fashion magazine that mattered two years ago," Connie said.

"Yeah. Don't you remember when we all wore Kim-style?" Lonnie added.

Bonnie scowled and let her frustration out in a growl. "That was before she had a loser boyfriend, though."

"Are people treating her any differently?" her father cut in.

Bonnie blinked as she considered. People had always liked Kim Possible, ever since middle school when they had met. And that had never changed. Kim wasn't part of the 'in-crowd' or any crowd really, but everyone still liked her and she was—Bonnie mentally groaned—friendly to everyone. And nothing at all had changed since she'd started dating her long-time dweeb of a best friend.

"No," Bonnie admitted.

"Probably gonna be her then," Jonny said, between two large bites. "She's a babe."

Bonnie's face felt hot in a mixture of embarrassment and rage as she saw her sisters nodding in agreement, but she said nothing. To argue would only reveal a weakness on her part.

"Whatever. I'm going to ballet," Bonnie said, dropping her spoon and reaching behind her for her bag.

"But Bon-Bon, you just got home," her mother protested.

"Yeah, and the performance is in two weeks! I want the extra warm up time. I'll see you later," she said over her shoulder as she departed.

She tuned out the continued protests and snippy comments from her siblings as she left the house and hurried down the dimly lit sidewalk to her car. The sun had set and the air had begun to cool, but it had a different feel than that of the morning chill. The morning had felt fresh, almost hopeful, and like she could take on the world. This chill was a descending weight, and felt like it would sap every last ounce of her strength.

Bonnie put up the roof of her convertible as suddenly every conversation she'd had that day began playing through her mind. And try as she might, she wasn't able to stop them.

The blaring of the radio on her drive to the theater couldn't stop them, nor could attempting to distract herself thinking about the challenging steps she would need to complete in the rehearsal that night. Instead, she heard a chaotic chorus of voices that seemed bent on the goal of severing every last thread of what made her...Bonnie.

----------------------

The voices continued throughout her warm-up stretches, and through the initial routine that Mlle. Catriona had the dancers perform in the warm-up room. Bonnie uncharacteristically stood in the back, t-shirt on as she moved mechanically through the familiar steps.

"You mean they actually found a dress to fit that shape?"

"Maybe if you'd lose a few pounds."

"I didn't think Flagg liked his babes with so much junk in the trunk."

Bonnie barely heard the accompaniment of the bright piano rhythms, so loud were the day's memories. Was she actually gaining weight? Was that why Brick had really lost interest in her?

"If anything, you're slimmer."

The recollection of Tara's words didn't do much to calm her fear that she might in fact be heavier. She looked at her distant reflection in the mirror from the back row of dancers, and then started to look around at her peers. She was definitely more shapely than the rest, but...she wasn't overweight; she was just the atypical curvy ballerina, in comparison. Still...she was suddenly glad she'd kept her t-shirt on.

Bonnie focused on Tara's encouragement and let that carry her through the rest of the warm-up until the class moved to the main stage to begin rehearsal of scenes for the upcoming performance of Swan Lake. An unusual self-consciousness hit her as she pulled off her t-shirt after tying on her pointe shoes, but she shook it off and held her head high. She had earned the principal role in the ballet and clearly, her weight wasn't an issue to her teacher or the director.

Across the stage, Matteo, who played the principal male role opposite to hers, grinned and waved at her. She smirked and waved back. Matteo was a winner like she was, and they worked well together. She had been very pleased when learning he had been cast in the role of the prince.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore."

Brick's words over the phone suddenly came back to her like the stab of a knife, and her smirk dissolved. She saw the confusion on Matteo's face, but she glanced away and half-listened as Mlle. Catriona gave some last minute direction before they would begin rehearsal of the pas de deux that ended Act III. Thankfully, she had no feeling that she might cry at this recollection. But the crushing weight and pain of loss were still strong, such that she realized suddenly she had placed a lot more value on the relationship with Brick than she had previously thought.

The rehearsal piano began again, and Bonnie began moving through the practiced steps.

"We did all those things and I don't really know you."

The memory of Brick's explanation for the break-up sent another stab of pain through her chest. How could he say he didn't know her? He knew her class schedule, and all of her extracurriculars...

Her thoughts stopped suddenly as she realized that Brick was right. They didn't...really know each other. They knew their schedules, what kinds of movies they liked, and the local school gossip, and that they both understood athletic discipline. But otherwise...

Bonnie swallowed nervously as she considered the boy—young man—who had taken seven years to graduate high school that she had dated on and off for three years. Brick Flagg...was hot. That was it. She didn't really know much about who he was. That suddenly concerned her as she looked around at the other dancers on the stage. Some of them she knew more about than even the girls on the cheer squad. Yes, with the cheerleaders she could gossip. But the ballerinas talked more about real life—their jobs, their plans for after high school, their families... Some were even already in college.

Bonnie moved to the wings of the stage, catching her breath as the coda of the dance approached. Matteo's leaps were majestic, and Bonnie smiled as she watched the fellow athlete who was very attractive—just not in the bulky way that most appealed to her—and who she realized she also knew better than she knew Brick. She didn't even know what Brick was studying... But Matteo was preparing to audition for the New York Ballet. And as a hobby, he did woodworking.

She had no idea what Brick's hobbies were, or if he even had any.

"It's over."

There was a greater finality as she replayed Brick's words in her mind again, and it was with great annoyance she realized the tears were beginning to flow. She almost missed her cue as the piano changed, but she set her jaw and held her head high as she retook the stage.

She found her mark and set up for the fouettes. She had managed twenty-seven the last time and was hoping to make it an even twenty eight this time. She heard the anacrusis of the music and began to spin, executing the practiced technique with skill. But as she spun, blurred images of faces watching her suddenly brought the fears back to her mind.

Was she too heavy? Did the turns look awkward as a result? Did the other ballerinas gossip about her when she wasn't there, the way she gossiped about each cheerleader in turn when they weren't around?

"Since when do you have real friends?"

The memory pushed her out of the intense focus that her spin required, and with a small cry, Bonnie fell out of her eleventh fouette. She quickly moved back to the mark and resumed, not wanting to stop because it would only bring more negative attention. She caught just a glimpse of surprised faces and heard gasps over the piano before she resumed the turns, counting them even though there was no point in her desperate search for distraction.

She may have overheard the other dancers talking about their lives over the years...but she didn't really tell them about her own. They weren't her friends anymore than anyone at school was.

As she finished the last fouette—twenty-one—she posed and smiled confidently despite the tear rolling down her cheek. She didn't look at Matteo as she passed him while he began his solo.

"You? Queen?"

Her siblings were right. Who would vote for her anyway? She talked badly about those she called 'friends' to everyone, and she didn't even acknowledge people like Reiger who had been in her class since middle school. She had started faltering in cheer practice, which never happened. And now she was even failing as the star of the ballet.

It was with this swirl of dark thoughts that she began the final sequence with Matteo, who broke character to give her a concerned look as her tears continued to flow. When finally the piano held the last chord Bonnie smirked as her character required, and posed while breathing through her teeth, trying to calm down.

"Are you okay?" Matteo asked quietly through the small wave of applause their fellow students gave.

Bonnie held her smile and allowed the eye contact, which only had the tears flowing more.

The moment the music stopped and the director began giving commentary, Bonnie interrupted with a hurried, "Excuse me," as she began rushing from the stage. The murmurs that followed made her feel sick, and none more than one of the other girls commenting: "Maybe she's going to call Brick."

----------------------

The rest of the rehearsal had gone better. Bonnie had dried her tears and shoved the emotions away with her mantra of 'winners don't cry' and had channeled all of her focus and energy into making up for the earlier mistake and emotional slip. People acting differently toward her the rest of the night had only driven her further, and while she might not have given the most artistic performance, technically, she was flawless.

She had left the theater with that small measure of control giving her a touch of strength, and she maintained that feeling for the entire drive home. But once she had parked in the darkened driveway and saw fewer lights on in her family's home, she felt the roiling of emotions start to return.

She shouldered her ballet bag and silently moved up the walk to the house, hoping that everyone had retired to their respective hobbies for the evening. And Lonnie of course was on a date and wouldn't be home for hours. All Bonnie wanted to do was take a shower and forget the horrible day.

Thankfully, she moved quietly enough that her brother—playing video games on the big screen now, since her parents had gone to bed early due to their flight the next day—was unaware of her presence. And as she passed by Connie's room, she heard her older sister gossiping on the phone.

When Bonnie closed her own bedroom door she felt a huge relief come over her at the same time a weight fell. She barely had the strength to pull her purse out of her ballet bag, and her phone of that before dropping the former on the floor and flopping on the bed with the latter.

She let herself rest for just a moment, her muscles tired from their exertion throughout the day and night, and then she sat up intending to get ready for a shower. But her gaze fell upon the stack of books and homework on her desk.

"Unghh..." she groaned aloud, flopping down on her bed again and dropping her forearm over her eyes and plunging her vision into darkness. She began mentally calculating how long it would take to shower and then tallying how many assignments she had due the next day.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a buzz from her phone which was still on silent from rehearsal. She flipped it open, her chest constricting at the thought it might be Brick.

It wasn't.

It was just a silly update from Stoppable's blog. Bonnie sneered in annoyance and almost dropped the phone, when she saw a comment alert pop up on the new post. It was Tara.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she opened up the post to actually read it.

*Drakken and Shego seen dining casually at Croutons. Is it a business meeting or a romantic interlude?*

Bonnie felt a pang as she looked at the photo that Stoppable or someone had snapped of the villain duo... Was Stoppable actually following them for this silly obsession?

She scrolled down to read Tara's comment which was full of emoticons and hearts, enthusiastic about the growing evidence that the pair might be romantically involved. The pang Bonnie felt before grew stronger. Even the villains that Possible fought were going to find their happy ending. While her relationship-which-wasn't had just ended.

With a heavy sigh and a few yawns, Bonnie changed into her pajamas and decided to forego the shower for the evening. It would only make her more tired, and she had a couple of hours of homework at least. And it was already past nine o' clock.

She moved to her desk and sat down, arranging her books in the order in which she wanted to tackle the assignments. Another buzz from her phone caught her attention, and she glanced at it to see that a debate had sprung up on Stoppable's blog about the blue and green-skinned villains. It seemed even Kim was weighing in, in favor of the two being together, which thrilled Tara.

Bonnie considered her friend again, who she'd given so little time to throughout senior year. And who despite that and her general careless and casual treatment of her...was perhaps the only real friend she had.

An emotional tug of war began within Bonnie then, which she finally ceded to as she flipped to her messages and typed a quick text to Tara.

*Thanks for coming with me today. I'm going to be up late finishing homework if you want to join me in snore-ville.*

She sent the text and felt the emotions in her chest start to calm. She looked in the mirror and sighed as she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.

'Winners never quit.'

Her phone began buzzing with the notification of a call. On the screen was Tara's name, and Bonnie smiled.

----------------------

Days Later...

Bonnie stood on the football field and adjusted her black skirt, knowing she looked perfect, but unable to get Kim's and Monique's words out of her head. So strong was the swirl of nerves building in her stomach that she completely missed Tara's wave of encouragement from the sidelines.

"In case you didn't notice, now Kim is the one dating the star of the football team."

"Ron has broken more school records than Brick ever did."

Bonnie's siblings had been right... In the days that had followed her picking up her gown from the store with Tara, all the buzz around school was that Kim was the one slated to win the title. Bonnie tried to tell herself she didn't care, but the buzz had been equally clear: Ron Stoppable was expected to win king.

Bonnie tried to ignore what that would mean for her. Still dateless, humiliated, and no longer the center of attention...anywhere. The senior table in the cafeteria was meaningless, since they were all seniors. And the only people who cared anyway were brainless jocks, as it turned out. She was an equal with Kim on the cheer squad, but since they had taken roles as co-captains it was becoming very clear who was in fact more skilled between them at the sport, and it wasn't Bonnie. She was even slipping in ballet, and still wondered if her curves and weight might be an issue. And of course, ever since Kim had...saved the world...from those Bueno Nacho toys, everyone treated the red-head exactly like who she was: a hero.

While Bonnie herself was ignored and forgotten.

Soon Mr. Barkin would announce Kim and Ron as the Middleton High homecoming king and queen, and they would get even more attention. While for the remainder of Bonnie's senior year she would fade into obscurity. But without all of the things that cheer and ballet and Brick's status had brought to her...was she still a winner? Who...who was she?

"This year we replaced our old-fashioned paper ballots with our own state of the art electronic voting system, which snagged second place for Ron Reiger in the Tri-City science fair."

Bonnie absorbed Mr. Barkin's words and in a flash an idea struck her about how to get her identity back.

Ron Reiger was seated near the sideline with his whatever-device that everyone had used to vote for king and queen. Bonnie ran out of the row of nominees into Reiger's line of sight, who looked at her with the same leer he had back at the boutique. It turned her stomach, but Bonnie ignored it to give him a flirty smile and a 'call me' gesture. Reiger's leer grew, and after giving her a knowing smile he typed something into his device and a new paper printed out.

Bonnie sighed in nervous satisfaction as she hurried back to her place near Kim. She might not be the best cheerleader. She might not even be the best ballerina or best student anymore. She might have lost her boyfriend. She might be...all alone... But she was going to be homecoming queen. And once she was, she could start getting her identity back.

Because Bonnie Rockwaller was a winner, and she always would be.

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Note

Hey...I am AN ABSOLUTE jercy TRASH like A HUGE JERCY FAN and I was wondering if you could like a one shot of jealous percy...I have seen a lot of jealous jason fanfics but never really saw a jealous percy!!! Thank you and I LOVE YOUR BLOG SO MUCH...

Hello darling Anon!! Adore that you're #jercytrash (is there really any other way to be????) and I'm so happy you enjoy the mess of content i have🥺💙all the heart eyes

Anyway I loooovvveeeeeddddd this prompt and this is evident by the very many words I couldn't help but write! I do hope you love it as much as I loved writing it☀️please excuse any mistakes it's like 3am here and Ciara be tired as hell

Masterlist

"Are you coming to the party tonight?"

"Gods no," Percy shivers, face pulling into a look of distaste.

"Why not I heard Annabeth is gonna be there," Leo's eyebrows waggle, earth eyes sparkling.

He wants to laugh, to cry a little too. If only that is the blonde he is so infatuated with.

"Nah bro those parties always end up much wilder than they need to be and nine times out of ten they're shut down by the cops."

"That's half the fun Jackson!" Leo's smile widens.

"I'm good thanks, my idea of fun is sitting here playing Playstation and gorging myself on M&Ms."

"Will you at least promise to come on the trip this weekend?"

"I don't know man," He shakes his head, "I've got a psych test to study for and there's like three assignments due by the end—"

"Oh excuses, excuses Jackson you haven't gone out once since we started. It's gonna be winter break soon and we won't see each other for at least a month." Those brown eyes are puppy wide.

He sighs, half-ready to give in, "Who's gonna be there?"

"The usual gang. And Jason finally gets to come this year! His dad is on a business trip so he isn't spending the weekend for once."

Percy's ears get hot and he hopes they don't look flushed, "Oh that's nice I guess. If you leave me alone tonight I'll come on the trip."

Leo's answering whoop is enough to make him laugh. When he collapses on the couch, after waving goodbye to his friend, there is a warmth blooming in his chest.

Three hours, five packets of M&Ms and a stream of curse words at the TV later, he finally decides to head to bed. But as he's shoving on a pair of sleep shorts there's a knock at his door. He frowns, considers ignoring it but his mind whirls with all the possibilities.

What if someone got hurt? What if someone needs his help? What if someone is....oh gods he doesn't want to think about it. He brushes his fingers against the wooden headboard, rubs at his head, grabs his elbow and then he takes a deep breath and opens the door.

"Peerrccccyyy," A slurring, smiling Jason Grace stumbles into him.

"Jason?" He grabs hold of the blonde's arms and pulls them both into his apartment, "What are you doing here?"

"I came over because–" Pearl white teeth flash, "Wow you're so pretty." Those golden hands grab Percy's chin, pulling their faces together until there is nothing but tension and breath between them.

"What are you doing?" He swallows.

"Has anyone ever told you your eyes look like emeralds glistening at the bottom of a river?"

"Uh no can't say they have," He wants to laugh but Jason's lips are so close and his hand is still on Percy's face and oh gods he needs to move before he does something he shouldn't.

"Have we kissed before? No I'd remember that." Eyebrows scrunch, "I think you have a beautiful mouth."

"I think—" He inhales sharply as Jason's fingers dance along his collar bone, "I think we should get you to bed."

"Aw," Full pink lips pout, "But we are having so much fun."

"I think we'll have more fun when you're sober."

The blonde giggles, "I'm not drunk silly. I only had like... fifteen shots of vodka."

"Jesus Grace how are you even standing?"

"When you're this tall it takes forever for the liquor to do its thing and you need a lot of it otherwise it all goes to your toes and you never get drunk."

Jason is frowning again and all Percy wants to do is kiss the crease in his forehead and pull him closer. Instead he tugs him by the hand and guides him to the bed.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I'll take the couch." He pushes the blanket aside and let's the blonde fall into the sheets.

"Are you sure? You can always stay with me?" Those blue eyes are bright and big and so full of, of, of... "I promise I won't kick you. I stopped doing that in first grade."

He can't hold in his laugh this time but when he recovers enough to reassure his friend he'll be fine he is greeted by the peaceful sight of a sleeping blonde. He shakes his head softly, allowing himself a moment to take in the scene. Tangled white sheets, golden hair, soft deep breathing, a tiny splattering of freckles, and the wonder of tomorrow carried on the wind that stirs the chiffon curtains. This moment will live within his soul for the rest of his life. Of this, he is certain.

***

The treadmill beeps incessantly indicating the end of the session and the end of Percy's day. He's about ready to pass out from exhaustion and he couldn't be happier. The days are long and blurry and he would do anything to escape the weight on his chest. A blue-eyed, golden-haired weight. He snorts at the innuendo. If only the actual person was sitting on his chest, entertaining each other. But no it's just the feeling, the emptiness, the lack of anything weighted. His eyes shudder closed as he steps into a red-hot shower and let's the memories of his last meeting with the blonde wash over him. There is a time, mere months ago, where Percy would have scoffed at these feelings. Would have told himself it was ridiculous and stupid and there were much more important things to be focusing on than some boy. But every interaction with Jason Grace feels like the middle of a fireworks display, feels like crawling into the sun, or falling off a cliff only for the water to catch you. Every interaction feels electric. And he cannot help but overanalyse each touch, smile, lingering look. Are they for him, or for the world? Jason had always been easy. He could make you feel like the most important person in the world just by glancing at you. It was beautiful, magnetic, but it also meant Percy never really knew if anything they did was genuine. If the extra squeeze when they hugged was as a friend or something more. If those blazing eyes over the campfire was a trick of the light or... But tomorrow it's their annual WastedWinter trip and at the very least he can look forward to a few nights of bad decisions and sinful delights.

The day dawns bright, cloudless, and icy cold. He breathes in the fresh winter air and lets the sting travel through his lungs. There are few things as lively as the winter morning air. With a look through his apartment window to see the birds flying and the wind shaking the trees awake he ducks into the shower and gets ready for the trip.

At exactly eleven a knock echoes through his apartment. He clicks submit on his assignment and races over to throw the door open.

"Good morning Jackson! You're looking especially radiant this find day."

"Must be the seaweed face mask I put on last night."

"Oh," Annabeth Chase frowns, "And here I thought you got down and dirty with someone."

He snorts, stepping aside to let her in. "No such luck Princess, I'm down and out on laundry."

She smacks his arm, grey eyes sparkling, "I hope you know you're driving for most of this."

"Is this because I'm the only one who can be trusted to get us there in one piece,"

She gives him an incredulous look and then turns her nose up, "No Jackson it's because the rest of us want to get wasted and you don't drink."

"Ah, glad to know I'm of some use to the group."

"Oh you're plenty useful," She winks.

He laughs at that, mind flashing to the fling they had at the start of their undergraduate years. Both had realized pretty early that life was leading them in different directions and it would be better to stay friends. But tumbling in the sheets with her had been fun while it lasted.

"Alright who's in our car?"

"We got me, you," She starts tapping her fingers, "Leo, Jase and Rey,"

"Great so I'll be talking to myself for most of this trip." He rolls his eyes.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well Leo and Reyna will fall asleep about five seconds after we start driving and you and Jason will talk incessantly about gods knows what, which leaves poor old me."

"We will not!" Annabeth's ears go pink as she glares at him.

"Mhmm okay Princess."

"Shut it." She grumbles, shoving him.

Some minutes later they're all piling into the car: Percy driving, Reyna in the front, Leo at the back on the left, Annabeth in the middle and Jason on the right.

"Hello everyone ready to roll?"

"I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night," Leo mumbles and then he's fluffing his pillow against the door and closing his eyes.

"What was he doing?"

"Engineering project," Jason grins, "He forgot and had to sit up all night to submit before we left."

"I'm also out," Reyna throws up an uncharacteristic peace sign and settles into her seat, eyes already shut.

"And her?" He asks, a little sore his right-hand passenger is ditching him for dreamland.

"No idea," The two blondes shrug.

Percy refrains from rolling his eyes and puts the car in gear. With a final check to make sure everything is in its place he pulls onto the road and starts the long journey to Lakeside Lodges.

The music is soft, some pop song that everyone is raving about, and the city is alive with the lunch hour rush.

"Jason," Annabeth starts, "What are you doing for the structural—"

Percy tunes them out, content to let their university talk become background noise. He glances at the rear-view mirror and sees shining blue eyes staring intently into serious gray ones. He looks away, focuses his attention on the road.

Sometime later they leave the city behind, the sound of cars and sirens and endless people fading into calmer, more lilting noises. The quiet of the empty road, and the crackle of the radio, and the soft chatter from the backseat. He cannot help but feel at peace, feel as if the world is balanced just right.

Annabeth giggles, catching his attention and he watches in the mirror as Jason lays a hand on her thigh and laughs into her shoulder. Quickly he adverts his eyes, swallowing the sinking feeling and turns the music up to distract his thoughts.

"Percy," At tap on his shoulder. "Pers?"

"Yea what's up?" He smiles and it feels like surgery with no anaesthetic.

"Did you hear what Jase said? It was such a stupid joke I said you'd appreciate it."

He shakes his head, "Wanna tell it again?"

"Nah," Jason mumbles, "Won't be as funny the second time."

"Aw come on Jase," Annabeth pouts, "For me?"

He watches from the mirror as those blue eyes light up, "What do you mean for you? I thought I was telling the joke for Mr Driver?"

She giggles, shoving at his arm, "That's what I mean."

Percy isn't sure he can't take anymore of their whatever it is so he clears his throat and asks them for a pack of Sour Patch Kids.

"Oo I love those!" Jason gasps, rummaging around in their snack bag. A packet drops into the cup holder and he thanks the blonde.

"Jase throw them at me, let's see if I can catch!"

The six gummies shoved in his mouth turn bitter as he watches the two giggle and joke and share space. By the time Jason throws the last gummy Annabeth is practically in his lap to catch it. Percy wants nothing more than to get out of this damn car. His skin is hot and he's sure his blood is about two degrees away from boiling. The stones in his stomach are stacking up like rock scultputres. Pretty but destructive. Nothing can get passed but nothing can leave either. And the heavy, sinking feeling certainly doesn't seem to be going anywhere. Finally though they arrive at the lodges and after check in he practically vaults himself out of the car and disappears into a bathroom.

There staring in the mirror he can see his misery reflected back at him. His green eyes are stormy, and there seems to be a permanent crease in his forehead. His mouth is down turned and his hair is in a state of complete disarray. Tugging at it when he's frustrated is an unbreakable habit.

He stays in the little bathroom for longer than he thought because he is sharply pulled to the present by a rap on the door.

"Percy?"

"Coming," He sighs. He straightens his back, attempts to tame his hair, and plasters a smile on his face.

"You good?" Frank frowns when he walks out.

"Yea sorry, drank one too many slushies."

His friend laughs, "Tell me about it. I think my tongue is going to be stained red for a month."

"I mean that's your fault. Blue is clearly the superior slush."

"Blue is the worst flavor," He scrunched his nose, "It isn't even a flavor. They somehow managed to give colour a taste."

"Well red is nothing but iced medicine."

"Hey guys," Frank waves their friends over, "Percy thinks blue slushies are the best flavour, care to tell him he's wrong?"

There is a pause amongst them and then everyone is talking at once.

"No,"

"I mean I kind of agree."

"Green is obviously the best."

"There is no way, it's red all the way."

"What about-"

"Okay!" Annabeth shouts, "Let's settle this WinterWasted style,"

Leo rubs his palms together, a gleam in his eyes.

"Everyone who says red stand on one leg, everyone who says blue stand on anything but the floor."

They all shuffle around, pushing each other over and generally causing chaos but soon they're in their spaces. Everyone observes the room.

"That's four to red and three to blue." Leo announces.

Jason, Percy and Hazel are standing on the couches and counters. Piper, Annabeth, Leo and Frank are on one leg in the middle of the lounge.

"Yes! We won." Frank smirks, "Alright losers you know the drill."

"No!" Percy yells, "We're missing a person. If Reyna joins us then we're even and we go into death round."

"Okay Jackson, I see you can't take the loser title sitting down so we'll get Reyna's opinion. But if she chooses us you guys have to drink and jump." Frank's black eyes sparkle with mischief.

Percy narrows his own, pinning his gaze on his friend, "Deal Zhang."

Just then Reyna walks in and seeing the odd scene sighs heavily. "What are we trying to settle? We haven't even had lunch yet."

"First of all it's six o clock so it's a little late for lunch and secondly are you Team Red Slush or Team Blue Slush?"

She scoffs, looks over them and grins, "I'm Team Purple because grape is obviously the only valid flavour."

Everybody groans, cursing her.

"Grape is the absolute worst Arellano." Leo gives her a look of disgust.

"Mhmm," She simply smiles.

"Well if you had to choose between blue and red which one?" Percy asks.

She taps her head for a moment and then looks to the ceiling in exasperation, "Guess I'll choose Red."

"Hell yes!" Frank whoops, laughing as the blue team groans. "Guess who's doing the BigFalls jump tonight!"

Percy grumbles but there is a light in his eyes and as he swats away a hand ruffling his curls he decides it was worth it, even if his friends are wrong.

That night they all stumble to the GreatCliff, an area that had witnessed many a fall, kiss, and confession. Most importantly a place that held some of their favourite memories.

Percy, being the only fully sober one, constantly counts his friends, making sure none of them have gone over-cliff or landed in a ditch somewhere. Soon enough they make it to the clearing and lay down the picnic basket and their towels.

"Alright losers," Piper smirks, "You ready for this?"

Hazel pouts, "Do we have to?"

"Yes!" Annabeth exclaims, blonde curls bouncing as she jumps up and down in excitement.

Jason whispers something in her ear and she dissolves into giggles. Percy looks away, refuses to let their closeness ruin his night, weekend, forever.

"On the count of three," Frank starts.

Reyna takes off her sarong and settles down on the blanket with a smirk.

"One..."

Hazel bounces nervously.

"Two..."

"Don't get hypothermia," Piper laughs.

"Three!"

Jason, Hazel and Percy are sprinting, racing for open air. With a yell they jump and then they're free falling, flying, screaming.

Percy hits the water in a neat dive, barely flinching at the icy temperatures. When he comes up for air the world is noisy with laughter and cheering. He waves to his friends at the top of the cliff and checks to make sure his fellow jumpers are okay.

Hazel is grumbling about being fully sober again and Jason's teeth are chattering but there are smiles on their faces and stars in their eyes and Percy knows the weekend has just begun.

They all swim up the stream and climb all the way back to the cliff where a small fire is crackling and their friends are dancing sporadically to a bawdy ukelele tune being played by Leo.

"Oh gods," Jason groans, "How are we already at this stage of the night."

"Whatever Pipes put in the punch is going straight to our lungs," Annabeth giggles.

Reyna shakes her empty glass in confirmation and request. Soon everyone is hopping and bouncing and singing badly around the fire. Percy settles into the blanket and watches his friends. They are full of life and magic and he can't help but tear up at the love he has for them. Even Reyna is joining the revelry, laughing bright and beautiful at something Hazel says.

His attention catches on the twirling figure of Annabeth. And then Jason grabs her mid spin and pulls her to him.

"Dance with me,"

"Of course Mr Grace," She bows.

They draw together, his hands on her hips, her head on his chest, swaying slowly. Annabeth mumbles something and Jason's shoulders shake with laughter. She looks up, their eyes meeting. Percy can't stand to watch anymore. Abruptly he gets up, throws the blanket aside and stalks into the trees.

"Pers?" Someone calls. He doesn't bother to respond.

He hears scattered conversation and then footsteps are running towards his retreating figure.

"Percy wait!"

He manages to hold in a groan as he realizes who followed him.

"Pers slow down, what's going on?"

"Nothing," He grits, "I just needed some air."

Jason laughs, "We are literally in the middle of a forest how much more air do you need?"

They're still stalking through the woods, dead leaves cruching under their feet.

"Come on, what the hell happened? You just up and left?"

Percy stops in his tracks, whips around to face the blonde, "I'm surprised you noticed."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've been so wrapped up in Annabeth all day I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot to breathe unless she told you to." He spits.

Jason's face crumples, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Percy instantly regrets his words but he can't take them back, "Just nevermind. I'm going to the cabin. Be careful walking back." He turns to walk away but a golden hand on his arm yanks him back

"Um no, you're going to explain right the fuck now because this isn't like you at all."

"Isnt like me?" He laughs sharply, "What isn't like me?"

"This," Jason motions up and down, "You walking away, being angry with us? What is going on?"

"I'm just tired," He sighs, "Can we drop this?"

"No Percy. I've seen you tired. I've seen you so exhausted you couldn't even see straight. I've seen you sad and angry and frustrated and happy and excited and calm but I have never seen you so... volatile. So just tell me—"

"I'M JEALOUS OKAY!" He yells, "I. Am. Jealous."

Jason reels back, lightning eyes blinking, once, twice, widening, "You're jealous?"

"Yes," He breathes, "And I'd appreciate it if we stopped talking about this."

"Oh," Is the blonde's intelligent reply.

"Yea oh," He scrubs at his face, running a hand through his hair.

"You're jealous of me? If you liked Annabeth why didn't you just say so? I wasn't flirting with her, we were just being dumb. I've had a few too many tequilas and she's hilarious and gods I'll back off I swear I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll even hype you up to her if you—"

"You are such an idiot," Percy growls and then he grabs the blonde by the t-shirt, pulls him in and sears their lips.

Jason tastes like the sky, like winter breezes and lightning storms and home. He tastes like home.

When they break apart Jason is gasping, mouth opening and closing.

"Do you get it now?"

"You- and I- and we- and Anna- and just- and-"

"Are you speechless because you don't know how to let me down easy or because I took your breath away?" Percy winces.

He needs to know. Needs to understand if this is a one-sided thing, if he's been dreaming up their dynamic all these months.

"Do that again," The blonde breathes.

A slow smile spreads across his face and then Percy Jackson cups Jason Grace's cheek and comes home at last.

#I had THE MOST FUN #Jealous Percy #Jercy #Jason grace #Percy Jackson #Jason #Grace #Percy #Jackson #Baby fanfic #Baby fanfic series #PJSSG Fanfic #PJSSG asks #Ciara's Convos #She speaks #Anon requests #Not edited

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years

Text

Enemies to Lovers Noah Sexton x dawson!reader

requested by: @bitweird1

written by: @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: swearing, mature themes, child neglect, slightly Dawson bashing but they really just didn’t know, canon compliant threats

You had spent your entire life struggling and working your ass off. No social life, extracurriculars for the sole purpose of applying to universities, and spending the majority of your life studying because according to your dad at least one Dawson had to become a doctor and your older siblings had decided that it wouldn’t be them, leaving you to do nothing but prepare for the future that had been hand-picked by the man you felt abandoned you. And then Noah fucking Sexton just waltzes in having put in half the effort and riding the coattails of his much more intelligent sister who gave up a career as a doctor because of sexism. He spent far too much of his time flirting with everything that had boobs and a pulse. You didn’t like him because he took nothing seriously and didn’t have a responsible bone in his body, and he hated you because you were incredibly uptight and didn’t have a sense of humour.

“Maybe you’d have more friends here if you didn’t have a stick shoved up your ass.”

“I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to become a doctor.”

Everyone was getting really sick of your fighting, so they banded together and made things worse. They had badgered you until Doris had enough and dragged you to Molly’s. You refused to drink or eat anything, resulting in more snide remarks between you and Noah. Just when everyone was developing a migraine before they were anywhere even close to drunk your parents burst through the door and marched over to you. And suddenly, everyone in the bar, including your siblings, were subjected to and twenty-minute rant from your parents about how you should be grateful they pushed you towards medical school and all the activities that got you scholarships, that they didn’t abandon you, and that they clothed and fed you because a third child cost so much money, how you never took anything seriously and were always joking around, and how you were a disgrace to the family. Once they finished, your dad dragged you out by your arm, your mom followed muttering about why couldn’t you be more like Gabby and Antonio.

You walked into the ED the next day as robotic as ever. The pitiful and awkward stares were ignored with ease, it was something you were quite used to if you were honest. Your parents were always scrutinized by your teachers and DCFS. At the end of the day, though, they weren’t abusive enough for any charges or housing changes to be set. They weren’t like that with Gabby and Antonio, who had mostly moved out by the time you were in kindergarden, you were their last chance to help them prove to their family that they didn’t fail as parents. And they made sure you knew it.

“Dr. Dawson, you’ve got a patient in treatment one. Also, uh, are you okay? I feel pretty bad about last night.”

“Oh, don’t worry about anything. I’m fine, and my parents were right I should’ve been studying. It was a poor decision on my part not to. I’m gonna get to this patient, but you really don’t need to feel bad, okay?”

She nodded absently as you turned your back to her. ”Hi, I'm Dr. Dawson, can you tell me what brought you in today?”

---------------------------------

Your patient had just gone up to the OR to have a blood clot removed and you made your way to the doctor’s lounge, followed by Noah Sexton. ”Hey, Y/N, are you-”

”Yes, Noah, I am okay. Yes, I'm sure. I am fine, I am always fine.”

”From my experience when people say they're fine they're usually not.”

”Noah, I am okay.”

“I don’t believe you.”

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The next few weeks were a maze of pitiful stares, hushed concerned words, and a silent Noah. All of it was completely unnerving. It all came to a head when Dr. Charles approached in the ED you about starting therapy with him, talking continuously about all the points ‘brought to his attention’, not even giving you the time to tell him the majority were false. “Excuse me?”

Your stomach coiled in anger at his words. Not only were you more than capable of doing your job, but you already had a therapist. With basket case parents like yours, it was blatantly obvious that therapy was required. But the audacity of your co-workers to gossip so much that it came to the point over half the points Charles brought up were complete BS was astounding. Not only that, but he’d apparently spent the last few days internet stalking you to try and find some of your demons. “Dr. Charles, do you consider me a danger or liability to any of the patients or doctors at this hospital because of my relationship with my parents?”

“No, you actually seem to be well balanced mentally.”

“Then what, on earth, made you think it was appropriate to go around behind my back asking everyone at the hospital their opinion about me and what happened at Molly’s, or stalk me online to try and get a read on me, and then ask me blatantly at work, in the middle of the shift, in front of all my co-workers and superiors? What made you think it was okay to loudly bombard me with rumours and hearsay while I’m working?”

“Well, I thought that since it’s my job to check on all the ED docs, I’d check on you.”

“... You’re joking, right? I am the only person in this department who goes to therapy. Don’t kid yourself, you don’t check on anyone here. You judge them and make sure they know it. And quite honestly, you don’t have the best reputation for looking out for the mental and emotional state of your colleagues. This confrontation was not only completely inappropriate, but rude, obnoxious, presumptuous, riddled with unchecked errors, and unprofessional.”

“That’s not how I would word it.”

“It’s how I see it, and how I’ll word it with HR.”

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No one was pitying you anymore, not since the tongue lashing you gave Dr. Charles, who was on very thin ice with the hospital. While bringing up Robin and Sarah may have been a bit of a low blow, it exposed some issues with Dr. Charles that needed to be addressed. The only person who acted as if you were made of glass was Noah Sexton. While he had been a bit of a pain in the ass, this was worse. He was being sickeningly nice to you and it was getting on your last nerve. Yes, your parents were abusive. Yes, you had a messed up and traumatic childhood. But did that limit your abilities? No. Did that make you mentally unstable requiring therapy and fragility from your coworkers? Absolutely not.

He came in with coffee exactly the way you liked it, again. With a muffin, again. “You have to stop.”

“Stop what, Y/N?”

“Stop acting weird. You don’t like me, you hate me, actually. The only reason you’re being nice to me is because my parents resent my existence. I do not need or want your pity. So stop treating me like a china doll, and start treating me like your coworker.”

“Okay, okay, I uh... I’m sorry. I just, I feel guilty, okay? I gave you such a hard time for being so frigid and then when your parents showed up at Molly’s and started screaming at you for existing and having a life of your own, it just all made sense. And I gave you shit and trouble for coping with your crazy-ass parents. And then Dr. Charles came by to talk to you and I just felt even worse because even though I didn’t tell him anything, it was our fighting that put the spotlight on you in the first place. You shouldn’t have had your dirty laundry aired to the entire hospital, that’s happened to me a few times and it’s horrible, and I feel bad because I know that I was a contributing factor to all the shit you’ve had to deal with at work.”

“I get where you’re coming from, but let’s be real, everything would’ve turned out exactly the same way if you weren’t involved. The gossip mill runs strong at Gaffney.”

“Yeah, it does. I still feel bad.”

“Well, you’re forgiven then. So you can stop treading delicately, buying me coffee, and being creepily nice to me.”

“I am not being ‘creepily nice’! And how can being nice be creepy anyway?”

“Yesterday you followed me around offering to help me take my gloves on and off constantly, to the point where a patient who came in for falling out of the ceiling above the women’s changeroom said ‘that’s just weird’.”

“... Okay. I’ll stop. But I gotta be honest, I don’t think I can go back to arguing with you all the time.”

“That’s fine, just stop acting so weird that a couple I caught having kinky sex after an STD swab said ‘that made us really uncomfortable’.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. Seriously, you didn’t have to tell me twice.”

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SIX MONTHS LATER

You and Noah had actually managed to become good friends and roommates. Shortly after he started acting like a normal person around you, not an instigator or a psycho, you found yourself enjoying his company. And yesterday, when you’d come home to find your room completely torn apart by your mother because your father had tried to frame you for using weed, you were done. Most of what you owned had been destroyed in your mother’s search, which sucked, but it made packing up all your stuff into your car much easier.

So far you’d ignored 43 texts, 12 calls, two visits from Gabby when she brought in a patient, and one visit from Antonio who didn’t even bother trying to lie to you. He also threatened to impound your car, you threatened to tell Voight about the time he and Lindsay got drunk and hooked up. It didn’t even matter that she was in New York now, Voight wouldn’t even blink before bludgeoning him down. He swore at you, “how could you break mami’s heart like this?”, and “can’t you just behave and do what you’re told for once?”

You looked him dead in the eyes, heart beating erratically at you older brother supporting your parents belittling and abusing you, “You sound like dad Antonio.”, watched his face fall, and left. Noah stopped him when he went to follow you. “You good?”

“Uh, not really. I don’t have a place to go tonight.”

“Did your mom kick you out?”

“No, I left. I can’t do it anymore. I break out in hives whenever I even think about my mother now. I just can’t go back.”

“Well, you don’t have to. I have been looking for a roommate, we can move you into my place after shift.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Now come on, it’s prank week. Stohl pissed off Manning last week and she’s been planning revenge ever since, you do not want to miss this.”

And you didn’t. You entered the ED to find one of the most hated doctors in med spitting out Gatorade. “WHaT thE heLL?! That was sooo-ughghghg-” he couldn’t even finish his sentence before running to the doctor’s lounge to throw up in the bathroom. To Natalie’s credit, she didn’t crack a smile or react at all as she gracefully stepped over the spilled orange Gatorade. She briefly reminded you of a fae, graceful, beautiful, and cunning as all hell. You made a mental note never to cross her. Later at lunch, Natalie opened her sushi container, slightly deconstructed each piece, loaded all the pieces up with wasabi, reconstructed them, and popped one in her mouth. Everyone sitting near her had their eyes flash in recognition. Stohl had a habit of stealing other people’s food, and no matter how many times anyone told him to stop, they were just bullied into compliance. As a result, everyone had to dictate their food choices around his palette. Which meant no spicy food. Something that sucked for nearly everyone because hot food was a favourite for most people in the ED. But Manning wasn’t taking his shit. Not today. Something that worried everyone sitting around her because she would get in trouble for eating her own food how she liked it. It wasn’t until one of the HR workers, Holly, sat down beside Natalie and engaged in conversation that everyone realized the full scope of her plans. Stohl plopped down beside you and stole half of your sandwich right out of your hand. Ranting and raving, insulting everyone, stealing food, he made his way all around the circular cafeteria table until he got to Nat. He scooped up to pieces and threw them in his mouth just after he finished the words ‘insolent underlings’. Everyone held their breath as they watched his pale face redden exponentially. His eyes widened. And then he screamed.

He yelled, he swore. “I’m going to report you to HR! You tried to poison me!”

“You stole food from everyone, something inappropriate, unethical, and unprofessional. You stole her food. That she made spicy to her tastes. She didn’t try to poison you.”

“And just who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“Holly Scott, from HR.”

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You and Noah were doing great, as roommates and as friends. “Hey, do you have any plans for dinner tonight? My parents invited me over for dinner and they asked me to extend an invite to you. It’s nothing major, they wanted to meet my previous roommates, too. Make sure you’re not a hooligan.”

“Okay, sounds fun. What should I bring?”

“Yourself...?”

“It’s rude to show up at someone else’s home without a gift.”

“You don’t need to bring my parents a gift.”

“Oh, I’m bringing a gift. I’m just asking you for some input.”

“Okay, well they really like wheelie shoes-”

“Ha, oh my god, I meant for what your parents would like, not you. And want wheelie shoes? Those have been out for a while, Noah.”

“Hey, do not laugh at me! They are just a very effective and fun way to get around.”

“Would you like them to light up too?”

“... Is that an option?”

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You knocked on the door while Noah rolled his eyes at you. “I grew up here!”

“Well you don’t live here anymore and it’s rude to just barge into someone’s home and act like you own the place.”

“Oh, you must be Y/N! I wasn’t expecting anyone to knock, usually, Noah just barges in and acts like he owns the place. Come in, come in. It’s freezing outside.” You gave Noah a side-eyed smirk as you took off your coat, while he looked bashfully embarrassed. “Uh, here Ms. Sexton, I brought some homemade empanadas, they can be put in the fridge or kept in the freezer, and it’s best to reheat them in the oven. 350 F, ten minutes from the fridge and about 20 if they were put in the freezer.”

“Oh, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“I was raised that when you go over to someone’s house for dinner or an event, you bring a gift. And it was either this or a house plant.”

“Ha, good idea going with the food, it’s a Sexton family trait that will kill all the plants we touch. Thank you very much.”

“Hello, you must be Y/N. It;s wonderful to meet you- and what smells so good?”

“Y/N brought empanadas, and they are going away so that you and I can enjoy them later. Now everyone, to the dining room, dinner is just about done.”

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Things started to change a bit a few months later when Choi had to physically restrain Noah from attacking a drunk bar fight patient who called you a slut in the middle of the ED. You’d been confused but Maggie just kept saying that it was a matter of time.

When you’d been hanging around at Molly’s with Noah, Sarah, and Darren, Noah had his arm casually wrapped around your shoulders, something your sister gave you the eyebrow for from her place at the bar.

After you’d been mugged and beaten, you’d run to the 21st, where your brother promptly unleashed the most fearsome demon hell has ever cowered from, AKA Hank Voight, he also called Noah. And when your brother finally made an arrest and got Voight to calm down a little, he’d entered the breakroom to find you fast asleep, curled up against Noah. Who sat in an incredibly uncomfortable position, holding you and stroking your back. You missed the dark look that crossed his face, or the one of fear that had crossed Noah’s but something of an understanding had fallen to Noah. The two of you needed to talk.

So you did, and it went well, so well that you planned a date. Then another one. And another one, until you two had been dating for six months and figured it was time to tell your families. You were shaking in your boots, the Sexton’s were all incredibly close and incredibly doting on Noah, so even though they liked you, you had absolutely no clue as to what the reaction would be. To your relief, it was happiness, they loved you as much as Noah apparently, and they relished in the changed you’d caused in Noah.

Your family, on the other hand, did not react well. Which was why you’d made sure that you told them in a very public place, and had only ordered waters before you told them. There was yelling, screaming, your father waving his arms around so much Antonio had to use his cop voice on him. In the end, you and Noah had been there for around five minutes before throwing some cash at the waitress as a tip for leaving her with your family, and hauling ass out of there. The two of you had ended up just eating pizza on the boardwalk in your fancy clothes and heading back to the apartment late.You both had work the next day, but while you were an intern, Noah was not. And while you were off giving a patient a sponge bath, your siblings cornered Noah at the nurses desk. “Sexton, is there a place the three of us can talk?”

“Uh, sure, this conference room is free...”

“Perfect.”

“So, I take it this is about-”

“Nuh-uh. You do not talk. We do.”

“You are dating our baby sister.”

“We may not be as close to her as you are with your sister, but she still means a lot to us.”

“We love her. We are two people with some pretty dangerous skills. It is for these two reasons that you will not hurt her. Ever.”

“And if you do, don’t forget who I work with.”

“No one will ever find your body.”

“Are we clear?”

“Uh, hmmh... Clear. Crystal clear.”

“Good. Now do you know where Y/N is? We’d like to take the both of you out to lunch or something, just the four of us, to make up for the dinner of many disasters.”

#One Chicago #chicago med #Chicago Fire #Chicago PD #noah sexton #noah sexton x reader #antonio dawson #gabby dawson #maggie lockwood

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brelione · 4 years

Text

Just Wanna Be Happy (Pope HeywardxReader)

Warnings:Mentions of self harm,depression,medication,suicide.Please do not read if youre triggered by these topics.This wasnt written to glamorize mental illness this is kind of just my coping mechanism because I just got out of a depressing period.Depression effects people differently but this fanfic has ways that its effected me so yeah.

You had never been a very social person.Or a friendly person or even a happy person.You kind of just existed without purpose or reason.Its not like you didnt want to be happy because of course you did.It just wasnt something that could come naturally to you in your everyday life.It was summer and you had hardly left your house at all.Most time was spent in your room.It had been days since you had showered or brushed your hair or even changed your clothes.You hadnt done you laundry in weeks or eaten a proper meal in days.You were an absolute mess since you had stopped taking your medication.You didnt know why but you just couldnt bring yourself to take them anymore.You felt guilty for not replying to any of your friends messages.

“Hey :) do you wanna hang out with us tomorrow?”Read Tuesday 9:48 PM. “Hey have you been taking your meds?Your mom wanted me to check up on you :)”Read at 1:48 PM today.

Your mom was staying with family in California this summer to work on a book.She would transfer ten dollars to your bank account everyday.You hadnt spent any of it.She had sent you countless texts to ask how you were doing or if you had gotten your refill.Your skin was dull from not seeing the sun,the hair on your legs had grown long and prickly and you smelt like absolute shit.You heard a knock at your door,the sound echoing through your empty house.You worked up the strength to get up,dragging your feet as you walked.You felt dizzy and nauseous as you walked,couldnt even feel your feet touching the ground.Your kitchen was an absolute mess,frying pan with maple syrup stuck to it and the sink full of dirty smelling dishes.You opened the door,blocking your eyes from the sun to see Pope.

He let out a sigh of relief,pulling you into a hug. “God (Y/N)!You cant do that!Jesus,I thought you died.”He sighed,squeezing you tightly.You didnt bother hugging back,letting your head rest against him. “I was getting worried about you-its been like two weeks since you’ve talked to me.”He grumbled,pulling away from the hug and observing your face.You had a couple of pimples across your forehead from not washing your face,your skin was splotchy and your eyes puffy. “Have you been taking your meds?”He asked.You didnt answer,watching as he walked over to the cabinet to pull out the orange pill bottle.It was still half full.He looked at the date that it was supposed to be refilled.Two days ago. “You have to take these every day!”He exclaimed.You sighed,not really caring.THis wasnt what you needed to hear right now.You didnt exactly know what you needed to hear but that was definitely not it.

“When was the last time you showered?”He asked.You shrugged,not remembering.All the days had merged together.You slept a lot even when you didnt need it.The only time you really got up was to use the bathroom or vomit into your trash bin. “And the last time you ate?”He asked.You mumbled that you werent sure,embarrassed that someone had seen you in this state.He turned on your shower,letting the room get steamy from the hot water.He went into your messy room,making his way through the piles of crumpled paper and dirty clothing to your dresser.He grabbed you a new pair of underwear,a sportsbra,a loose t shirt and some comfy looking shorts.He assisted you in getting your hair out of the bun it was in,letting the snagglt knots loose. “I’m going to make you some food,okay?”You nodded.He closed the bathroom door.

You pulled off your dirty clothes,nearly gagging at the smell of yourself.You stepped into the shower,letting the burning hot water touch your back and head.You poured a fistfull of conditioner in your hair to try and help with the knots.You sat down,closing your eyes and letting the conditioner rinse out.You poured at least a fourth of the bottle of shampoo into your hair,scrubbing your scalp aggressively.You used the suds from the shampoo to wash under your arms and your back.You used the same suds in replacement of shaving cream to shave your legs only up to your knee.The water was going cold but you didnt care,laying down and letting the water smack your stomach.Pope knocked at the door before opening it. “(Y/N)?You okay?”He asked.You sat up,eyes still shut as you turned off the water. “I made you some frozen waffles.”He informed you before closing the door again.

You waited until all of the water went down the drain until you stood up,slowly stepping onto the bath mat.At least you didnt smell so disgusting now.What really worried you was brushing your hair out mostly because you knew it would hurt and half your hair would most likely fall out.You grabbed a towel,rubbing down your body.You had some faded scars on your thighs and calves but none on your wrist.Mainly because you knew no one would check your legs.It had been five months since you harmed yourself and you were proud.You probably would’ve relapsed eventually if you were even able to work up the energy to do it.You groaned as you saw the pimples on your face,grabbing your face wash that you hadnt used in so long.You scrubbed your face,rinsing the soap off and patting your skin dry.

You looked back up at the mirror.You could barely recognize yourself.You looked like a deformed radiation exposed raccoon.You saw the clothes Pope had picked for you,pulling them on over your damp skin.You slowly brushed your teeth,blood leaking from your gums as you did so.You dragged yourself out of the bathroom,the cold air of the kitchen hitting you.Pope wa sitting at your kitchen table.A plate of eggos sat on a paper plate,a cup of water sitting in front of it. “I’ll go grocery shopping for you later.”He offered as you sat down.You shook your head. “No...its fine.”You answered as you stared down at the plate. “You dont have anything to eat here.Let me go grocery shopping and cook for you.”He spoke softly,taking a pill from your prescription bottle and holding it in his palm.

“Can you please eat so you can take this?”He asked.You took a bite of the eggo,wanting nothing more than to spit it out into the garbage.You chewed it to mush and swallowed,looking back at him. “Good.”He handed you the pill. “I dont want to take this.”You told him.He sighed,nodding. “I know,I know you dont but it’ll make you feel better.”He told you.You dipped your head back,dropping the pill in your mouth and sipping the water. “All I want is to be happy….why is that so much to ask for?”You grumbled,looking down at your cup.He reached out for your hand,rubbing his thumb along your palm. “You’ll be happy one day.If you take your medicine and make your environment better you’ll feel better.”He had probably read that bullshit in some book.You rolled your eyes. “What does that even mean?”You asked.You placed his hand over yours,tapping his nails against your fingertips. “Just let me take care of you until your mom gets back,alright?”He asked.You hummed,too tired to argue.

He grabbed your hairbrush and a bottle of detangler from your bathroom and got to work on your hair.It didnt hurt too bad and he was careful with your hair almost like it was precious gold. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”He asked.You shrugged but followed him to your living room.It was the one room besides your mothers that you hadnt completely fucked up.He went on Disney Plus and allowed you to flick through the titles until you found something you liked.You chose Inside Out.He grinned at you,kissing your forehead before disappearing into your room.He picked up the clothes off your floor and assumed they were dirty,tossing them into your washing machine.

He stuffed your trash bin full of all the paper and random trash on your floor.He grabbed the stacks of plates,forks and molding mugs from you floor and on top of your dresser.He did a load of dishes,switching your clothes from your washer to your dryer.You had fallen asleep on the couch with the movie still on.He made your bed for you,killing a few bugs that had been hiding under all of the trash.He called his dad. “Pope?You okay?” “mhm..yeah.Um...im gonna be away from home for a while.” “What-no the hell you’re not.” “Dad-” “No-what am I gonna do with all these grocery deliveries?” “Dad-Its (Y/N).” Silence. “Is she….uhh..” “No-no.She’s been off her meds and i think someones gotta be here to take care of her while her moms out of town.” “Alright...just be careful with her.”The call ended.Pope sighed as he looked at your room.It was much much cleaner now that he was done with it.

He sat down on the couch next to your sleeping figure,paying attention to the movie in front of him.You sat up tiredly,wrapping your arms around his torso and moving him so you could rest your head on his tummy. “I think thats whats happening to me.”You spoke,gesturing to the TV.Joy and Sadness had just left the headquarters which left only fear,anger and disgust.He nodded,understanding what you were trying to tell him. “Maybe.”He replied.You sighed,tracing circles onto his skin through his shirt. “I wanna learn how to be happy...it might take a while but I just wanna be happy,you know?”You asked.He hummed,moving his arms so he was holding you. “I’ll help anyway I can.”He promised,stroking your hair lightly.

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caffernnn · 4 years

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I’m the anon that asked about some of your fave fics. I have read both the fics you’ve mentioned and they are soo good along with CupNoodles55’s new asakisu fic. Which btw has beautiful characterization in my opinion and the makoharu moments are really good! I love Extraordinary, I’ve been following the updates for a few months now and it is one of my favorite makoharu fics. I love makoharutokyo and this fic just highlights what I love about Makoto and Haru’s developing relationship there. If you want to share would love to hear some of your favorite chapters or scenes. For me chapters 45 and 46 are so soft for makoharu and so good. I won’t spoil if you haven’t gotten that far but I just love when Makoto says Haru’s full name, it just feels so intimate and exclusive to them! Like you said it’s so natural that I really feel like some of the things mentioned are happening behind the scenes. Anyways I’m rambling, I could talk about that fic all day.

Ahh hello again!! I’ll have to check out the asakisu fic soon 🥺 also I agree with you about the most recent chapters of Extraordinary; I love that they’re finally getting to have some time for themselves again, and revelations are gently being made on Haru’s end. Such a cool take on Azuma’s challenge/warning for Haru, and I’m excited to see Haru live up to his declaration to take on the world with his loved ones by his side <3

I’m trying to go back to cite some of my favorite moments (there are so many chapters lol) but I will say that chapters 24-26 (Haru’s birthday celebration) were very very sweet!! The little ISC Skype call in chapter 24 warmed my heart so much because as much as I adore makoharutokyo and their Tokyo fam, I’m always going to be so soft for Team Iwatobi. Other than that, I’m also a sucker for the makoharu conversations where they air out their dirty laundry and actually talk about their insecurities. Even if it’s hard, I’m happy to see more into how Haru’s ongoing struggles with fixations and socializing manifest in both things we’ve seen on- and off-screen, such as him isolating while at the training camp. I love this characterization of him because it makes Haru’s personality feel more tangible and realistic — Haru’s canon character always felt like it had more depth than just him being some cold, aloof punk with some quirky water obsession, and this story captures that complexity I think a lot of us recognize in his character.

One last thing: I’m very intrigued by Haru’s relationship with his parents in the story. It’s something that we don’t get to explore or see a lot of in the anime, but this story gives a glimpse into their relationship beyond the distance created from Haru living away from them for so long. With what we’ve seen of Haru’s dad so far, for example, I’m scared/curious as to how he’ll react to Haru possibly coming out and telling him about Makoto in the not-so-distant future 😳 Best of luck, Haru!!

#trying to remember what chapters I left comments on bc those were definite faves lol #so many good moments <3 #fic anon my beloved thanks for sending this #fic recs #go read Extraordinary pls #anonymous

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mxtantrights · 4 years

Text

✹ PART FIFTEEN

HAWKINS, INDIANA

MAY 21, 1984

It's my birthday. And I'm hiding out underneath the covers in fear that my mother is some weird memory erasing villain. I know I sound crazy, but it's not just me. It's also Dayton. He's called me almost everyday since the month of May rolled around, except for the past two days. He's on edge too.

I know the sun is out because I can see the light peeking though my comforter. I feel like I haven't moved an inch. Just to make sure. Not to give her any reason to come into my room and snatch my memory away.

But at some point this ruse has to come to an end.

My birthday falls on a Monday. School waits for no man or woman. Soon someone is going to come in my room and wake me up. Whether it be Mickey, My dad or my mom. And then my dad would have to start.

I don't think I play sick too well.

If I just jump out my window and book it to school I doubt I won't get reprimanded. Even if it is my birthday. Figures.

My dad has been throwing out things for me to do. Since I am turning 17 it is 'a lot of responsibility' and I should 'not take it lightly'. I don't know. I'm desperately wishing he brought me a car or something. It sucks having to be a junior and biking to school, or being driven by the parents.

I hear my door creak open.

Here we fucking go.

"Jessie? Are you up?" My dad's voice asks.

I slowly remove the covers from my face and take a look.

He's got a cupcake in his hand with a candle on top. The fire is dancing a little bit because I've got the window open. And I can't forget his partner in crime. Mickey is holding another cupcake with another candle.

Dad's cupcake as a one. Mickey's has a seven.

I smile. "Wow all for me?"

"It's your seventeenth! It's only up from here kid." My dad jokes and brings Mickey closer with him over to me on the bed.

They both hold up the cupcakes near my face for me to blow out the candles. If wishes really did come true, I really needed a miracle right now.

I wish to make it through my birthday without forgetting it.

I blow out the candle.

They cheer for me and put the cupcakes by my bedside. They don't say anything else as they walk out of my room and close the door. Looks like my day has begun already. If she doesn't know I'm up now, she'll know soon enough.

I throw the covers off of me and get out of bed.

Not even a second to spare and my bedroom door is being thrown open.

My mom looks at me with a smile. "Oh I didn't know you were up already. Well, now that you are I can ask what your plans are for today."

I need to lie.

I need to lie so well that even a part of me believes it.

"Well I'm going to school, there's an important test I need to take for math. And then after that is still up in the air. I'll think of something while I'm at school." I put lightly, walking to my drawer.

As I rummage though it to pick an outfit I can see her tense a bit. Wasn't expecting that now were we mother dearest?

"So you and me aren't doing our girl thing this year?" She asks, with a little pity in her voice. Like I'd have pity on her. She basically locked me in this house for two months. And after that it's like I'm on a leash with her. It's not fair.

And the whole, birthday thing.

I shook my head. "No mom. I just wanna try something new, something different. Don't mean to offend you."

I pick out a yellow tank top and some blue jeans. This will have to do. It get's hot here and it's not even officially summer yet.

She almost scoffs. I catch it at the last second but she turns it into a sigh. "Alright then. Happy birthday then Jessie."

She doesn't even close my door.

The bell that signals the end of last period rings. I can't get out fast enough because I'm flying out of my seat with my bag on my back. I don't need to linger here for any surprises. Today has been long enough with trying to keep a low profile with my mother.

Jonathan caught me at my locker and wished me a happy birthday, with a present in tow. It was a pick. Of course I had many at home but those were the ones that I had stuffed in my room from the old pawn shop. They were free with my guitar purchase.

He asked me if I was doing anything special and I told him no. I didn't tell him the whole truth, but some part of it. He's my closest friend here and I don't feel like lying to the only person who knows me well enough here.

Then Nancy caught me at lunch. She wasn't with her usual posey. I don't know what happened with her and Carol and Tommy. But all I do know is that she just rolls with Steve now. It seems like he's really shaping up for her.

Anyways, she wished my a happy birthday. So did Steve, but it was kind of under his breath. Maybe he feels guilty about being friends with Carol and her goons. Or maybe he's was just trying to be polite for the sake of his girlfriend.

She then asked me what I was doing. And I lied. I told her that my family and I were going out to diner some place fancy. I didn't have to lie but I didn't want to air out my dirty laundry with her boyfriend standing right there. I know I can trust her because after all she was there that night when I went looking for Mickey and the gang.

I don't know it's just complicated.

My thoughts must have blocked my vision because I'm colliding with a body outside of the school building. I don't fall though, but I do wobble. When I look up to apologize to see who I bumped into I stand back up straight.

It was Steve.

"Uh hey, sorry I wasn't watching where I was going." I apologized- I was raised with manners. Surprisingly I remember them.

"It's fine." He nods his head once. I wonder where Nancy is? "H-"

My mother's station wagon pulls up right beside us with a skid.

SHI-

My eyes search the vehicle for any chloroform or anything that could knock me out but I don't see it. Granted I doubt she'd carry a tank of it, or of anything in the back of the car. It'd be in like a napkin or something.

Instead I find my brother.

He rolls down the window and leans over to speak to me. "Come on sis, we've got plans remember?"

I almost collide with Steve again but he moves me out of the way. "Jes- sorry."

I don't hear his response as I run to the passenger side of the wagon and hop in. I slide my bag off and place it by my feet.

"What are you doing back? I mean- I'm thankful of course but, whats happening here?" I ask him as he drive out of the school parking lot and onto the main road. His eyes don't go off the road for a second.

"I'm here to make sure mom doesn't take you on a birthday special. And because school is out and I'm here for the summer." He explains to me.

"Wow for the whole summer? Aren't you gonna be missing your significant other?" I couldn't hide the smirk on my face when he looked over at me for a moment's glance. He was so whipped! I can't wait to meet him!

He chuckles at me. "Yes I do miss him. But he's back home in Pennsylvania. We can still call each other though and it's not like it's long distance forever."

"Oh you're so whipped! Wow! I really do want to see just who has a acquired your heart like this! It's amazing!"

Since my parents weren't expecting Dayton back home so soon, they didn't clear out the guest bedroom. It's filled with boxes of untouched stuff and clutter that neither of my parents wanted to throw away.

That means Dayton is camping out in my room for the foreseeable future. And I really really need to thank whoever it is that grants birthday wishes because I have been blessed with a miracle on this lucky day!

He fell asleep a few minutes ago- his snores gave it away.

The door creaks open and in pokes in Mickey's head. I rest on my elbows.

"Hey sleepyhead, what's going on?" I whisper to him.

He comes into my room and closes the door behind him. He never really comes into my room at night like this. Usually he comes in here to bother me, annoy me, ask me weird questions or whatever. But he has never in the dark of night walked into my room.

Mickey quickly hops into bed with me, under the covers and all.

"I had a nightmare." He whispers back.

And he never tells me about his nightmares.

This must be about the whole upside-down thing. It has to be. It's the only nightmare we share under this roof.

I turn on my side to face him. "What was it about?"

"You."

"And?"

"And the accident you had a few years ago."

Accident? What accident? When did I ever get into an accident? I think I would re- unless it happened on my birthday. In that case I need to hear every single detail about this.

"Maybe talking about it will let the fear go, Mickey."

He sighs and shuts his eyes.

"You and me were out in the yard at our old house, in the tree house. You were going down to get something and then out of no where you just fell to the ground. I tried to wake you up but it wasn't working. You were just laying there until mom showed up."

Of course.

"But I'm okay now. I'm right here."

"I know that it's just that when El fell that night I remembered it again." He opens his eyes and looks at me.

Is that why he grabbed my hand? Because it was like reliving a memory for him? He got scared again?

I hold out my hand for him to take.

He takes it.

"I promise you I won't scare you like that again. I'm sorry Mickey."

"It's okay." he squeezes my hand as he says it. "At least you remember now."

"What do you mean?"

"When I asked you about it after mom showed you to the doctor you couldn't remember. And she said that because you hit your head, you wouldn't remember. A few things."

"Mickey, do you know what doctor I went to?"

If I can get the name, I can get the number. And I can ask for a file. A file that I can use to explain why there are so many gaps in my memory. I know that whatever fall I took can't be the whole explanation for it, but it could be what I need to spark a memory.

He shook his head.

He didn't know.

"You didn't go to the doctor. He came to you."

I don't remember my regular doctor ever going house calls. Yes we were a small town, but he had an office. And it's not like we personally knew the man. He was the whole town's pediatrician so he had a lot of patients. No one I knew back home got house calls.

I don't think it was my usual doctor.

I think it was my mother's memory eraser. Or something to do with it.

#steve harrington x oc #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things #Steve harrington #here's part 15!!!#DAMSEL #okay I would very much like to talk about this part #and just Steve and jessie in general #like I have things to share if y'all want that

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grownups-are-the-real-monsters · 5 years

Text

C'est La Vie

Summary: “Riding around with the car top down and the radio on. Nobody looked any finer or was more of a hit at the Parkway Diner. We never knew we could want more than that out of life. Surely Richie and Eddie would always know how to survive…” Glimpses into Richie & Eddie’s lives.

Summary is lyrics adapted from: ‘Scenes from an Italian Restaurant’ ~ Billy Joel. Title from ‘C’est La Vie’ by Bob Seger…

Words: 18,691

Ship: Reddie

{October, Senior Year}

School was in session. Leaves were falling from the trees, Freshman were trying to get high under the bleachers and the air was beginning to crisp like maple fucking bacon…Richie was having the time of his life. He sniffled because of course, he was already getting his yearly cold…at the start of October.

“The bleachers are freezing my ass, Eds.” He whined loudly but his little partner only chuckled, still scribbling his pen across the notebooks in his lap.

A breeze passed over them and carried a few pages of Skippy Larson’s chemistry homework across the field just in front of them. The kid darted after them with impressive speed but-‘oh, too much confidence on the catching skills. He misses by a long-shot and falls face first onto the grass!’

Richie chuckled and habitually scooped Eddie’s free-hand up to cradle it into his lap. “In a few short months…we won’t even have to worry about…-” He paused to wave his hands around and audibly scoff “-AP Lit homework and shit.” He flicked Eddie’s pen. “Can you believe that, man?”

Eddie laid his pen down and decided to give his partner the full attention Richie so obviously wanted and in Eddie’s opinion…deserved. “No. I really don’t wanna think about it either, Rich.”

His sniffles were much cuter than any human beings should be. His nose scrunched up and his eyes got all squinty. Eddie didn’t care much for cold season but it drove Richie crazy.

“Why not? I’m so fucking excited!”

“Rich, I’m way too fucking nervous to talk about it. Probably way more nervous than you are excited.” He scoffed, already beginning to shove his books into his backpack.

“Really? Cause I’m so excited that I can hardly breathe!” He smacked Eddie’s hand gently.

With humor suddenly just as dry as Richie’s toast had been that morning, Eddie slowly and obnoxiously reached into his bag for the inhaler and shot himself up to space. His lips were still recovering from the lovely ‘O’ shape he’d had to make but he managed a wide smirk when his chin tilted back down.

“Funny, babe.” Richie rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but giggle a bit. His eyes drifted to the homework tornado again as a sigh built up in his throat. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t going to miss high school. Because in some ways, he would. Lots of great things happened either in that building or because of it.

Richie got to film the best student movie in the history of TV Pro which turned out to be collected found footage of the Losers in their natural habitat. Bill managed to write one killer story after another and really started pursuing his passion. Ben and Bev had their first kiss in Mr. Walker’s Algebra class and made history. The day Stan made the fucking baseball team had been one of Richie’s favorite freakin’ days of all time. And Mike organizing a completely made-up 'cinema’ club just to get the library all to themselves with the coolest teacher ever was a close second.

But the best thing that ever happened within those school walls was during the start of Freshman Year when Richie finally got the guts to ask Eddie out properly.

They’d basically been dating since they were kids. Hell, their first kiss was in a blanket fort in Bill’s basement when they were like nine. Eddie didn’t like to count that but Richie held it close to his heart because it was funny as shit.

Sixth grade had been a big year. Richie would carry Eddie’s books home for him and would stick by him even when the path became out of his way. They took the path that would lead them past the Neibolt Street Church so Eddie could hear a bit of that music he liked so much.

But it wasn’t until Freshman year when the true magic happened. The fact that Eddie agreed to the proposed date nearly killed Richie on the spot that day.

Richie smiled to himself before glancing at his partner who was now following the wind of paper from Skippy Larson too. His eyes were speeding fast to follow every moment of the twirling disaster.

They’d gone to that drive-in root-beer place that Richie had always been dying to try. It was across the street from the now abandoned 7/11 that used to be a CVS where no one had ever shopped. He’d ordered a hot-dog and Root-beer Float that became hard to keep down when all his nerves started shaking him. He remembered being scared that he was going to waste the date just worrying he might blow chunks onto the bright orange vinyl chair. “Honestly Eddie, why did you give me a second date? I mean that first one was so…I mean, you watched me dip my hot-dog into my Root-beer Float.” Richie chuckled, legs jittering up and down.

Eddie quirked his brow and paused. “Yeah and you watched me nearly fight that worker for dropping that order of fries and trying to shove them back on the tray before anyone noticed.”

“Yeah but that was hot.” Richie smirked

“Well, maybe I thought the hot-dog thing was hot…” Eddie shoved some of his papers away and finally gave his boyfriend full attention.

“I’m sure the puke was hot when you slipped on my chunks in the parking lot, ‘member?” Richie smirked and Eddie gagged at the memory.

“Never bring that up again, asshole.”

The two of them playfully smacked each-other around for a couple minutes before a peaceful silence fell over again. From his place above, Richie saw Skippy pick up his remaining papers and high-tail it outta the football field before any players decided practice started early. The question from before still bounced in Richie’s mind like those boxes never quite hitting the corner in those DVD wait screens. ‘Honestly Eddie, why did you give me a second date?’

“What’s your mom making for dinner?” Eddie laid his chin on his palm and smiled in that soft, genuine way that poked at Richie’s heart. In some ways, he felt they were like an old married couple. And he wasn’t using that term to excuse any nasty bickering like some other high-school phase couples. No.

It was just…-He and Eddie knew each other. They were so familiar and extremely comfortable with everything they did. “Mmmmm, Chicken Parmesan.”

They smiled at each other, just thinking about the calm rest of the day ahead of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie followed Richie inside the Tozier household, taking his shoes off at the door and setting them next to the others as Richie breezed past it, forgetting like usual. Eddie grinned to himself, shaking his head. The home was nothing special, sort of small but fleshed out. Photos on the wall in frames that were carefully thought out as they were purchased at some home goods store. It still put a smile on Eddie’s face to see that he was featured in some of those pictures.

He briefly passed by his favorite that was in the blue frame, the one that was chipped in the corner from when Richie dropped it. It was taken sometime during last Christmas, Richie and himself were having some sort of conversation that must’ve been highly amusing, what is was about Eddie doesn’t remember, but they’re laughing hard enough that Richie is falling forward onto his shoulder, The Tozier parents were actually looking at the camera with grins. Eddie smiled to himself as he glanced at it.

Mrs. Tozier was pouring a few drinks as they entered the kitchen, a warm grin on her face.

“Hello boys.” She smiled sweetly and handed them each a glass of water as she slid a cup of coffee to Mr. Tozier as he came in the room with a smile.

“How’s my favorite son?” He asked in that dad tone of voice that Eddie had only come accustomed to through him.

Richie swallowed a large slurp of the water and set it back on the table, the sweat dripping onto his hand. “I’m your only son…” He tilted his head with a confused but amused expression.

Wentworth blew down into the mug, the steam rising and spreading. “I was talking to Eddie.” He looked up just in time to catch Richie’s gasp of offense. He chuckled, picking up his mug and patting Eddie on the back as he passed him. “Which reminds me Eddie, I’m working on the garage again, can I count on your help-?”

“While I am flattered that you complimented me to butter me up before you asked but-” Eddie smiled, hand over his chest. “I can’t.”

“Ed’s and I are have a special date night tonight, pops.” Richie slapped Eddie’s back gently and stirred his water glass like it was a proper drink.

“Oooh, yeah.” Wentworth shared a small grin with his son and took down some more of his steaming hot drink. “You two kids have a great time. I’ll be all by my lonesome down there and I’ll probably break that damn car…” He pointed towards the garage door with exaggerated glum. “Unless one, Mrs. Tozier would come visit me, later?” He bumped Maggie’s elbow and she chuckled.

“I’ll bring you some dinner later. Make sure you take the laundry basket up to my room before you go off.” Maggie gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before he left that Richie mimicked on Eddie for chucks. It always made his mother giggle, anyway.

“Ok, so Chicken Parmesan for dinner….” Maggie gestured to the oven and smiled. “I’ll let you know when it’s done but for now…” She paused and picked up a dirty old box from the floor behind the counter. “I have some Halloween Decorations, would you boys help an ol’ mother out?”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Tozier!” Eddie stood on the tips of his toes to peek inside while Richie took the ghost string lights out and threw them around his neck like a scarf. With a salute, Richie took off with the box and Eddie darted after him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mrs. Tozier, Maggie, rooted her hands through the sock draw and occasionally pulled out a few pairs and folded them together. Her nails caught on the thread every few minutes, she’d pull and pull until the thin string would just snap. But on the eighth time she grew a little bit restless and snapped the string but quickly shut the drawer afterwards. “Wentworth?”

She turned to her husband, who was still lazing around with his coffee and blowing on it as if it was still hot. She gave him a small smile and walked towards him, putting her hand on his back. He looked up at her, waiting for her to speak what was on her mind. “Do you think-” She paused for a second before shaking her head. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

Wentworth smiled up at his wife and chuckled, swallowing his first tedious sip of coffee. “I say a lot of stupid things, I won’t mind.”

Maggie gave him a look a lot of wives give their husbands. One of amusement and familiarity. “Well, I was just wondering…” She began again, going back over to the drawers to root around for something to wear to work the next day. “Do you think the boys are starting to get serious?” She asked, a little unsure of herself.

Wentworth cocked his head to the side and looked lost. “Like how?” He asked, swirling his coffee in his hand. Maggie sighed and leaned back on the drawers behind her. Clasping her hands together, she spoke again.

“I don’t know really.” She frowned and folded an old t-shirt from Richie’s younger days…her eyes got a sad little glaze. “They seem….-they remind me of us in our good ol’ days, huh? When we were about to leave home, so in love…” There was a small hole in the shoulder of the yellow dinosaur shirt.

Her husband turned the soap opera off the box TV and crawled closer to where she stood at the edge of the bed, taking her hands. “Richie’s getting older, honey-”

Maggie surprised the both of them by bursting out with a small sob. In embarrassment, she stole a hand back to cover her mouth. “I feel like every-time I-” She broke again and Wentworth rubbed her skin softly.

She collected herself, tilting her chin to the ceiling fan and letting the loose tears fall. “I know that…when we planned this, I had the idea of a girl, you know?”

Wentworth nodded. That was a topic they never truly discussed but for a long while, they were both well aware of in those early days.

“But…He’s my boy. That kid…” She looked towards the door. “He’s what I had been waiting for and I didn’t even realize it. And now it feels like our time together is winding down with his high-school days close to over and Wentworth, I’m not ready to let him go.” Her lips trembled.

He gently shook her arms and rubbed up and down her skin until she grinned through the tears. “He’s still a teenager, sweet-heart. We got time left yet, huh?” He laughed which she returned. “Side-note, we are definitely still in our good ol’ days. As long as I’m with you.”

He stood up, putting his coffee on the old dried up water ring mark on the dresser. Maggie smiled at the back of his head, her hand on her heart as she sighed with pleasure before she stood to walk him to the garage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Richie still had the ghosts tied around his neck except now they were plugged into the wall behind him and slightly burning his neck. Eddie was digging through the box and pulling out all kinds of Halloween decor that Richie admired as a personal collection of his childhood…their childhood even. Eddie had just as much a right to claim memories to this shit as Richie. The other losers as well with how much time they spent at his home.

“How come people don’t send out Halloween cards…Y’know like Christmas Cards?” Richie pursed his lips and flipped the switch on an old light up haunted house.

Eddie shrugged. “People don’t really do Christmas cards anymore either…” He drifted off in thought. “We should though. It’d be really fucking idiotic.” He giggled and Richie smiled.

The two of them openly discussed their future together many times. It was just always part of their relationship and had never phased them. Maybe some thought of that as childish considering they were still high-schoolers but…it never seemed that way to them.

“Yeah. We’ll send it to all five of our friends.” Richie chuckled.

Eddie handed over some stuffed pumpkins and let his hands rub down his jeans as he sighed. “I can’t wait to annoy you in our own house one day.” He pinched Richie’s arm and handed over the hand-made paper Bat.

His boyfriends heart melted at that, his eyes absolutely worshiping the sight of Eddie. “Shit, Ed’s. Me too.”

Usually there’d be more said between them in moments like this. Maybe a discussion about what their house would end up looking like. But this time they just reached out for each others hands and gently swung them a little with soft smiles. “One of us has to learn to cook.”

“God, yes.” Richie nodded. “I love it but I can’t live off McDonald’s for long. Maybe my mom can teach me some shit. I can’t imagine it’s too hard.” He shrugged, letting their hands fall apart again to get rid of his ghost necklace. Their was a tiny burn mark on the side of his neck that made Eddie chuckle. Richie slapped the spot he was staring at with mock insecurity and a dazzling smirk.

The boy opened his mouth only to be interrupted his mother who came strolling in with a dish towel over her shoulder. Richie let his hand fall from his neck without thinking what that spot might suggest with Eddie sitting so close to him. Maggie raised a brow-

“It’s not what you think, Mrs. Tozier. Richie just burned his neck on the ghosts.” Eddie laughed and leaned over to hold the string-lights up again.

“Yeah, I can buy that.” Maggie rolled her eyes and laughed. “Can I borrow you for a minute, Rich?”

Richie nodded, hopping up and exaggerating a little spill from tripping on Eddie’s legs. He ruffled a hand through Eddie’s hair and followed after his mother.

Maggie messed with some dishes as she waited for her son to trail in and hoped her eyes weren’t still red. But as little Richie (called little Richard affectionately by his father for years) stopped in front of her, she found herself getting choked up again which was just silly. “You alright ma’? You seem like you might pass out or something.” He giggled and took a grape from the bowl on the counter to stuff into his mouth.

“Would you two be ok if your father and I went out tonight?-”

“Hot date?” He laughed and Maggie felt her heart tug.

“Yeah, sure.” She shook her head. “Hot date. Anyway, foods in the oven and should be done soon enough.” She rubbed the pad of her thumb against her nose. “You can make cookies for dessert, you know the number to call if you should accidentally start the house ablaze, do you love your father more than me? And we’ll be gone a few hours.” Maggie rushed her speaking and cringed. She was about to escape the room when Richie realized what she’d snuck in there.

“Wow, you pulled a real Richie Tozier with that ramble, ma. You know I’m the champion at those.” He started with an awkward laugh before raising his brows. “But um, you don’t really think that..do you?”

Maggie felt ashamed for bleeding this insecurity on her son but she sighed. “No. It’s just-…sometimes I worry that our relationship is a little rocky sometimes. I shouldn’t have…” She gestured to the garage door where her husband was and then to the living room where Eddie sat. “Bad timing.” She laughed.

“Ma…..” Richie had never been known to handle serious things very well was panicking a little. “That’s not-…”

“I just let so much precious time go by…not really understanding you quite like your dad does. I’m sure you must have felt it and I hate to think about it.” Maggie frowned, running the towel through her fingers.

Richie looked to the floor and rolled his lips together which was confirmation enough.

“Never-mind this, Rich. Go on back, ok?” Maggie attempted to laugh the conversation off like any good ol’ Tozier knew how. “We should be back later tonight.” With that, she pressed a kiss to his temple and sent him back to the living room.

Richie walked off with a dazed expression and tried to shake his mothers words but found them to be burying deep into his mind anyway.

His eyes met Eddie’s. His boyfriend was just sitting on the old plaid couch, the one where tiny-tot Richie had once fallen from and knocked his front teeth out, and a rush of love went through his body at once. It didn’t cover up the memory of that conversation but it relieved Richie of the guilty feeling some.

So he did what any sane person in love would do, throw his entire body atop Eddie’s. One of them let out a shocked sigh and their voices were too molded together to pin it. “Get off me, asshole!”

Eddie folded his body in such a way that it knocked Richie off him and onto the carpet below the plush couch. He peeked at him from the edge and giggled.

Richie ended up laying there for quite some time after his parents left, playing with Eddie’s legs as they hung over him and occasionally rubbing the soft skin of his ankles. Though he’d realized almost as soon as he started that it was sort of a trap. Every-time he’d take his hand away, Eddie would wiggle his feet again just urging Richie to start on again. And if he refused, he’d make that soft little whine. How could he say no to that?

It lead him to memories of being that tiny-tot version of himself again. On movie nights when Richie would glance through the corner of his eye, away from the show of ‘Aladdin’ to his parents to make sure they were watching. Maggie Tozier’s feet would always be shoved into his old man’s lap and she’d be insisting that he rub them. Though he’d complain, Wentworth always did it.

Richie rubbed another circle against Eddie’s skin and leaned his head against his jean covered leg. When his partners hand came down to run his fingers through his hair, Richie was in such bliss that he missed the first ten beeps of the oven timer.

“Rich, one of us has to get the dinner.”

“Set up the dishes?” Richie tilted his chin up, getting a bit of a static shock from Eddie’s jeans. The boy nodded and they went off.

This was a familiar routine that they had come to know for some time now. Since the beginning of the romantic side of their relationship, Eddie came over for dinner often. The Tozier’s were happy to have the company.

Richie plated their feast once the table was set and they took their favorite chairs across from each other. It was during these little dinners that Richie finally understood the no TV at the dinner table rule. There was no need for a distraction.

“How did none of your mothers cooking talent bleed into you growing up?” Eddie hummed happily as he slid his fork out from his lips.

“You’ve basically known me my whole life, Eds. You know I don’t have the attention span to learn.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and Richie poked his hand with the back-side of his silverware. “How are things with my dads car?”

Eddie hummed again. He’d taken up fixing up the thing with Mr. Tozier some weeks ago as a little hobby. He’d always had a fondness for fixing shit up like that and Wentworth had been thrilled to have a good hand around to help him because after all, Richie was not the best at that. “Good. I mean, I’m not car-genius but…I think we’re getting somewhere. Your dad seems excited but then again…he’s a lot like you.” Eddie giggled.

“What does that mean, Kaspbrak?” Richie reached over to pinch at him.

“Just that he’s excitable-”

“It’s a cuter look for me, right?” Richie teased and Eddie smacked his hands away. They went at it for a solid five minutes before settling back into their dinners.

Silence fell over them, all except the sounds of their dishes. “Hey, Ed’s?”

The boy glanced up, some strands of hair falling over his eyes as he hovered his fork just under his chin. A stray scent of the purple glue they used in their shared second grade class flew past Richie’s nose as their eyes met. “What’s say you & me go on a little road-trip right after graduation? Like the minute it’s done?”

“Little early to plan that. Just you and me? What about-?”

“I’d love to go on a big Losers Club trip but I have this idea…for just the two of us, right? Could be cool.” He waved is fork around and it kept catching the orange light of the hanging lamp above them.

“What kind of idea?”

“Well…hold on to your seat, baby. This might be too big of a kicker.” Richie giggled but it was soaked with nerves. Eddie rolled his eyes and made an exaggerated play of holding onto the chair with a wide smirk. They giggled together. “I was thinking that you and I could drive up to Castle Rock-”

“Ahhh the spot of romance.” Eddie let go of his chair to take another bite of chicken.

“There’s some cute tourist-y trap shops…” Richie started and he’d kinda been hoping for another interruption but Eddie just kept on looking at him. “But there’s also a cute little Chapel…?”

There was a small clink as Eddie dropped his fork onto his plate.

“Ed’s, baby. You’re…” He paused when his stomach turned painfully with nerves. He glanced down at the food. “You’re the guy I gotta be spending the rest of my life with. I can’t imagine a future without you in it and I think that’s reason enough to cut to the chase and get hitched sooner rather than later.“

Richie was expecting one of his partners famous ‘fast talking rambles’ but Eddie stayed silent and instead picked at the chicken on his rose colored plate.

“I mean the backseat of my car is no honeymoon suite but I’m sure it’ll be nice to us, you know? After all, we’ll still be running on our Wedding High.” Richie laughed but it was oh so painful to get out when Eddie wasn’t even humoring him. “Sorry. Fuck. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was a stupid thing to pitch-”

“Let’s do it.”

Richie hiccuped and choked on the forkful of food he’d just shoved in his mouth to keep quite. “What-?”

“I said, let’s do it asshole. I wanna marry you.” Eddie smiled, wide and genuine. Richie would never openly pursue this dream if it were anything but. He knew all of Eddie’s smiles and this one…oh it was his favorite.

“Holy fuck.” Richie let out a long breath and giggled. “Shit, I-…Ed’s-” The boy couldn’t find the right words so he just shoved his way off his chair and rushed to his boy.

Before Eddie could fully process it, Richie lifted him into his arms and he had to wrap his legs around his waist to keep balanced. “Everyone’s gonna say we’re idiots, you know?” Richie mumbled into his neck.

“I don’t care.” Eddie decided. Because for once in his life, he was 100% sure that this was something he wanted. He’d fight for it with no problem if it meant keeping the Loser in his life forever. He’d fight for it just like he’d always fought for his friends. “We don’t have to tell anyone.”

Richie nodded. “Just between us. Our little secret.”

They agreed to that knowing it would truly be a hard task. They told their fellow Losers everything and how could they not share something like this? Something so amazing? But they knew it had to stay a secret until the actual day was done.

A laugh bubbled in his throat and a comment escaped his lips without flickering thought. “I’m so glad I met you, Richie.”

“Me too.” Richie’s voice was a little too soft to not be emotional so Eddie kissed his hair. “If I call you tomorrow and ask…are we still gonna be engaged?”

Eddie pulled his chin back and nuzzled his nose into Richie’s curls. “We’re still gonna be engaged, Rich. All up until Gradation, like ya said.” He could feel the blush dusting his cheeks and the sense of pure joy was just too intoxicating.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{December, Senior Year}

Richie and Eddie didn’t really bring up their engagement again until the fall leaves started turning to winter snow.

Richie shut his front door behind him as he stepped outside, glancing down at his shoes as they walked down his broken concrete steps. He hopped down the last stair, the one with the chip that was just waiting to become an avalanche of rock. He pulled aimlessly at his jacket when he felt the sudden jolt of the wind being knocked out of him and legs wrapping around his waist. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.

"Ed’s, you can’t just jump on a guys back without warning.” Richie tried to glance up, as best he could as Eddie shifted around and looped his arms around his neck.

“As the shorter friend, I reserve the right to get piggy back rides whenever I want.” He heard Eddie laugh against his ear, his feet wiggling.

“Eddie, You’re such an asshole.” He shook his head and tried to hike his boyfriend up so he wouldn’t slip off.

“Your point?” Eddie hummed. “So…you’re walking to my house, what for?” Eddie smiled and Richie rolled his eyes fondly.

“To bother you…which by the way, where were you coming from?” Richie glanced his eyes up. Usually whenever Eddie left his home, one of the Losers was with him so he was more than curious.

“I was beating up Bill in the park.” He felt the boy shrug. -”And before you ask, he deserved it and he’s fine.” Eddie laughed again and Richie could see the incident now. Bill loved to mess with Eddie like he wasn’t aware what the little asshole was capable of.

Bill would make his fun and let Eddie charge him for a round of play-fighting like a couple of brothers in the living room of their childhood home. Man, did it make Bill happy. He’d light up like a damn Christmas tree. They all knew why and they never mentioned it. Georgie had passed away some time ago, an out of the blue accident. Such a shitty world sometimes.

“I was going to visit your mom, anyway-OW!” Richie felt Eddie pinch his neck. He chuckled. “Jealousy is not a flattering color for you.”

Eddie hopped off his back and started to walk on Richie’s left side. It was a habit from their younger days that just never faded. Little Richie used to wander towards the street from the sidewalk because his strut was for some reason…a little tilted. Not so much anymore. But Eddie, Bill and Stan still planted themselves to his left like the memory was still taking place. Richie thank God that Ben, Mike and Bev didn’t have to remember how dumb he was back then…just how dumb he was now. He laughed to himself.

“I was walking over to pick you up. Us Losers are taking a holiday trip to Mike’s place. I wanted to give you your gift before we see our favorite people.” Richie tapped his pocket and Eddie nodded. “Hey, now that I’m looking at your face…” Richie made a show of tilting his head and waving a hand in front of Eddie’s crinkled nose. He got his hand slapped away.

“You look a little glum, baby.”

“That’s a stupid word-”

“Melancholy? Sulky? Morose! You look a little morose, baby.” Richie pulled at Eddie’s arm and wasn’t pushed away this time so he rubbed up and down the boys jacket sleeve.

“You look like a moron, baby.” Eddie mocked and Richie giggled. “Sorry, I’m pissy today.”

“I got that, Ed’s. But why?”

Richie got another light shove. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Felt like I couldn’t breath and…” Eddie tapped his own pocket where his inhaler was once again. “Shit, Rich. I know it’s all in my head but…that doesn’t stop me from re-creating that feeling whenever I get the slightest bit of anxiety about something.”

Eddie sighed, sounding like a tired man some years their elder. “It scares the shit outta me that I just subconsciously do this to myself. How do you stop a thing like that?”

“I don’t know.” Richie shrugged with an honest tone and wrapped an arm around his partner. “But, I know that you’ll get there. Maybe not today…maybe not tomorrow but soon, baby.”

Eddie nodded but didn’t seem to believe him. Man, Richie really hated Sonia Kaspbrak for the shit she had pulled all throughout this poor kids childhood. “I got your back through and through, Eddie my love.” He shook him playfully and pulled back to get the small gift-box from his jacket pocket.

Eddie stopped in front of him and sniffled cutely. “I feel bad. I should get your gift from my house before you-”

“Nah, Eddie. I really wanna do this now.” Richie smiled and handed over a small box. It was wrapped in brown paper covered in mini-vintage Santa faces. There was an obnoxiously large ribbon atop it that he knew Eddie would keep for some odd reason. It was just one of those things he did.

As he tore into the package, Richie nervously rolled his lips together.

Inside was a velvet box that when tilted open, allowed a small silvery band to come into view. It glittered in the winter air and Richie got down on his knobby knee like a true gentleman and smiled up at his man. “I thought I should get you a little ring for our engagement, you remember right?” He teased but surely meant the question at least a little bit.

“Rich-”

“My mom helped me. And don’t worry you’re pretty little head, I told her I was getting ya a promise ring.” He waved his hands a little. “So it’s not a true engagement ring, per se but-”

“I love it.” Eddie slipped it on and slowly kneeled down to help Richie off the icy ground. “Get up and hug me, asshole.”

Richie happily obliged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{May, Senior Year}

From then on, Richie and Eddie kept on like normal but there was some kind of glowing secret between them. The Losers noticed something, as well they would because they knew their friends too well. But none of them could quite put a finger on what was so different between them.

Eddie was perched on Richie’s desk in Honors Lit. witch was about the only class that every Losers Club member had together. It was the last normal day of school before Graduation Day so the Senior class was basically free to do whatever.

Eddie was whispering things that Richie would seem to consider before writing down on his pad of paper in a list or something. Ben watched them with a curious smile but didn’t ask.

“I say we all drive to Graduation together so we can drive up to the Haunted K-Mart in the town over afterwards.” Bev smiled from her seat.

“Why t-t-there?” Bill asked.

“This might be our last chance to catch a spirit there!” She gestured her hands like that might impress them. “And there’s a Steak ‘N Shake right across the street.”

“Ahhh, the real reason she makes such requests.” Richie snapped his fingers and Bev shrugged.

“Any takers?”

Richie and Eddie shared a private worried glance. They both knew now that if the group agreed to go with this plan, they’d say yes too. They loved their friends too much to avoid plans with them for a big secret wedding they didn’t even know about. Especially considering Graduation night was sorta a big deal for them because soon enough, they’d separate.

It wasn’t so bad. Eddie, Richie and Bill were all headed to the University of Maine campus. Mike, Ben and Bev were all going to another 4-year just around twenty minutes away. But….Stan….he was shipping out to one in Vermont which was a cool, crisp…4 hour drive.

But they still had a whole summer to look forward too. At least that was something.

“Sorry, I can’t. My dad and Grandpa have been planning a dinner celebration at home.” Mike smiled sweetly as he thought about it and gave Bev a small shrug.

“Me t-t-too. My parents want me home.” Bill frowned and they weren’t too sure ol’ Bill was going to have such a great time.

Beverly sighed and turned to Stan who gave her a soft no for just about the same reasons.

“And count us out! Eddie and I will be feasting at the Tozier’s.” Richie slapped Eddie’s nervous hand and they both felt swept under the instant relief.

“My mom would love to have you over for dinner, Bev. She’s been keen on it for sometime.” Ben smiled again and a soft blush took over his cheeks just the same as it did on Beverly’s when she accepted this offer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{May, Graduation Day}

“Eddie, don’t be alarmed but…there’s an old man sitting in the passenger seat of my car.”

Richie narrowed his eyes and shook his head so the tassel on his cap would get out of his eyes. The sun was shining down onto the crisp green summer grass and had provided them comfortable Graduation weather all the day.

The ceremony had been a mess of Losers Club tears and a solid thirty minutes spent afterwards just hanging out in the field in front of the building. They talked to each others families, hung-out and maybe he and Bev smoked a little. There was also the moment where Richie hugged Stan and proceeded to refuse to let go when he had to go with his parents. It took the Losers a good five minutes to get Richie off. Stan pretended he wasn’t having fun and saluted Richie with a middle finger and spun off to his parents car. And soon after, all their best friends had gone off with their families.

The Toziers came for the ceremony but allowed Richie and Eddie some extended time for a ‘date’.

Eddie quirked his brow and crossed his arms. “No…are we sure that’s your car?” He saw the old man but it was still quite far from where they stood. Maybe it was just a similar-

“No, there’s the ‘Honk if you love Bruce Springsteen’ bumper sticker.” He pointed with his spindly finger and Eddie stepped back with confusion.

There was in fact, an old man chilling in the passengers seat of their ‘Honeymoon Chariot’ as Richie had been calling it the past few hours. “Oh, Richie…maybe he’s just confused?” Eddie frowned, eyebrows knitting together in concern. With that, he started walking over to the vehicle. Richie hung back because he wasn’t very good at confrontation or conversation with older people.

Eddie paused a bit in front of the passenger door and smiled. “Excuse me, sir?”

The man was small, wrinkly and kind-looking. He had a baseball cap atop his surprisingly thick curly gray. “Oh…is there a problem? Should we not be parked here?”

Richie stepped a little closer while Eddie dealt with the situation like a pro.

“Oh no, nothing like that.” Eddie inched closer and gave the man his warmest smile as the sunshine cupped his face. “I think maybe you’ve confused this car with your own…?” He made a salute motion to block the harsh sunlight and to maybe to offer a warm look in his eyes that the old man could relate to. Eddie had this kind, sweet nature to him when he wasn’t truly thinking about it. It was a gift blessed onto Mike and Ben too, though Eddie’s wasn’t anywhere near the level of those two.

“Oh…is this your-? I’m so sorry, my…I’m getting pretty forgetful, aren’t I?” The man made for the door and Eddie backed up and grabbed onto it when it opened to make sure there was no swing back. “It looks so much like my wife’s car.” He laughed, an old worn kind that Richie loved.

“Understandable. Once, I was visiting my aunts place right? And I went out for a smoke. When I went back inside…” Richie chuckled, hand on his stomach “It was the wrong house. Boy, were those people freaked out to see this gangly teenager walk into their home flicking a lighter.”

Richie enjoyed the familiar way Eddie smiled at him under the sunshine, he’d heard that story a few times himself. The older gentleman also seemed rightly amused. He took off his baseball cap and waved it as he laughed.

“That sure kicks me out of lonesome town, huh?” He wiped under his eyes which Richie might’ve been ashamed to admit made him feel really good. Not many people laughed that hard at his shit. “Good to know I’m not the only guy making himself a fool, son.”

Eddie happily grinned towards the man as he reached out to shake Richie’s hand. “So where’s the lucky gal who loves you, ol’ buddy?”

The man lit up, smile widening. “Should be on her way to wherever the hell it was we parked. Had a few words left yet to say to our grand-boy.” He stood on his tip-toes to catch a peek of the crowd.

“What’s say we walk you over? A car that looks like mine…should be easy to find, huh?” Richie tipped his chin to Eddie who nodded. So Richie offered his arm.

“What’s your name, sir?” Eddie asked, strolling over to catch up.

“Oliver…” He grinned. “The wife, she’s called Michelle…like that Beatles tune, I always say.” He chuckled. Richie and Eddie leaned a little forward to steal grins from each other. “She’s a real funny gal that kid.”

“Gotta love the funny ones, huh?” Richie bumped him gently and Eddie shook his head, most likely pairing it with a roll of the ol’ eyes. “We sure can make it hard, sometimes.” He laughed again and Eddie carefully reached over to smack the back of his head.

Oliver must have thought that was hysterical because he started joyfully laughing again. It warmed the boys hearts. “Sure can. Michelle…she does this little bit where she takes the quarters outta my ear…magic and all that.” Oliver rolled his eyes but not with annoyance but fond and genuine love. It was a look that Eddie knew oh so well. “Then she turns a whole bouquet of flowers out from her sleeve….” He paused. “No one else for me in the world except Michelle.”

Richie felt himself blush at the mere thought of how he felt just the same about Eddie, who was walking peacefully in the grass with the tassel hanging over his eyes.

“Oh! There’s the ol’ girl now.” Oliver let go of Richie’s arm and started to happily stroll over to the car that did look pretty similar to Richie’s. “Thank you, boys! Been too kind!” He waved and looked like he was far too excited to get back to his lady to stay any longer.

The sky was gold and a breeze was passing through the remaining crowd of graduates. Red gowns blew in the wind and families huddled together for pictures.

Richie leaned closer to his boyfriend. “Remember that old videotape we found in your room? The one from our dumb classroom Thanksgiving play?”

Eddie blinked at the abrupt memory but nodded. That seemed like a million years ago yet didn’t feel very far from them at all. The years bled together these days but that had been the age where the town of Derry felt like the whole world (and what a shitty world). Eddie could still hear the sound of Bill’s father coming home at 6:00 in his head, plastered there from all their sleepovers. Richie turned to fully face Eddie and kicked his leg gently so he’d turn too.

“I’ve been feeling for you, what he described with his wife since about then.”

Eddie felt his heart melt. “Rich, we were like six or seven. There’s no way-”

The man’s eyes were swelled with tears like a gutter full of rain which made Eddie stop in his tracks. Of course, Richie meant that sentiment. He was always so painfully genuine. “Please, kiss me and then drive me to our damn wedding. I’m so ready to be your husband.”

Richie didn’t need to be told twice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{May, Castle Rock’s finest Chapel}

“At least if your face turns blue, we can check ‘something blue’ off the wedding list-”

Eddie lowered his inhaler and smacked Richie playfully on the arm but soon pulled it back to wrap around his body. The summer breeze seemed somehow colder in Castle Rock. They had both paused on the steps of the Chapel, knowing they were feeling the empty spaces of their friends. They should be here but…they weren’t. Because at the time of planning, it seemed to be for the best. But they missed them.

Richie glanced down at his boy. “You ok?”

Eddie clutched his inhaler once more for something like comfort and shoved it back into his pocket. “I’m peachy.” He smiled.

The sun was near setting behind their heads and draped a rose colored light over their bodies. “We can back-out, you know? Just because we said we would, doesn’t mean we have to follow through on anything, Eds. If you want to go home just tell me.” He pulled him closer and laid his chin atop Eddie’s hair.

Eddie pulled off of him, kissed his cheek and took his hand.

They ran into the Chapel and lived a moment they’d hold close to their hearts forever. A private kind of memory. Just for the two of them to share.

Some ways away in Derry, in a car that looked an awful lot like Richie’s, a radio played ‘Michelle’…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{June, Derry. A week later}

The young lovers had been planning to share their news since the big day last week but each time a chance was gifted to them…they both backed out. They were classic chickens.

This night brought all the Losers together and stuffed them into Bill’s car, fresh from a fun little time drinking in his basement. They were all a little buzzed apart from Stan and Richie, who didn’t drink a sip.

Eddie was practically vibrating in his seat yet his eyes kept drifting shut. He usually got sleepy in cars, Richie pulled him closer and asked for the radio to be turned up.

It was getting late and they all seemed a bit restless. Beverly and Mike were having a hushed conversation about a deer they’d just seen on the side of the road and Ben mindlessly caressed Beverly’s hand. “Shit, I’ve been meaning to ask-” Bill started.

“I went over to your house after my dinner on Graduation, Rich. Your parents said you and Eddie weren’t around-?”

Richie glanced up at Bill’s eyes in the mirror and rolled his lips together. It wasn’t hard to just make shit up but he did not want to lie-

“Richie and I drove up to Castle Rock and got married.” Eddie mumbled, his voice in sing-song and his forehead pressed against the window.

“WHAT!?”

The whole car screamed and Bill accidentally hit the brake much harder than he intended to at the stop sign. The group all flew a bit forward from their seats and caused a chorus of restrained choking coughs when the seat-belts pulled. Richie tried to collect himself before Eddie but failed.

“We’ve been engaged-” He hiccuped and pulled out the ring he’d been hiding in his pocket. “Since October.”

Bill drove on, foot hitting the gas pedal with much more grace than before. The car fell silent until Beverly turned from the front seat…a most awful look of confusion on her face. “Eddie, tell me that Richie has just rubbed off on you and that’s a very weird joke.”

Richie scowled. “It’s not a joke. We got married at the Chapel in Castle Rock just like he said.”

Again, the car was full of tense silence apart from the sound of the wheels on the street. “Engaged….since October and you didn’t tell us?” Bill asked from the drivers seat, glancing at them in the mirror every once in a while.

Eddie fell against Richie’s shoulder like he was about to drift off into sleep again so Richie slowly wrapped his arm around him and ran his hands through his hair when he began to speak. “We thought you guys would talk us out of it-”

“Rightly so.” Stan spoke up and Richie snapped his head over to look at him. “Engaged? Married? You guys are eighteen years old.” He shook his head. “And before you go for a low blow, you know everyone in this car agrees that you two are meant to be together but…” Stan paused to find his wording but Richie wanted to jump down his throat.

“But what exactly?” He covered Eddie’s ears accidentally on purpose when he shifted but he figured the boy needed some sleep.

“Jumping into marriage that young is not going to work out. It could very well hurt you two.” Stan’s voice lowered into soft concern but Richie was heated up.

“And you got married.” Beverly turned in her seat again, this time with a nervous cigarette in her hand. “Without us.”

Richie’s stomach turned as a fresh wave of horrible guilt hit him. He really had nothing to respond to that with so he shrank back into his seat. The radio blanketed the riders with a loud distraction.

‘Heard it from a friend who Heard it from a friend who Heard it from another you been messin’ around…’

“All I’m trying to say here, Rich, is that getting married that early on can cause strain on a relationship.” Stan looked down at his hands but it only steamed Richie back up once again.

“You don’t know that, Stanley. You said it yourself, Eddie and I are supposed to be together-”

“Fate doesn’t matter if you make a bad decision, Richie. It’s only plain logic. You two barely know what you’re going to be doing in the very near future! Eddie, you told me back in September that you weren’t even sure you wanted to go to the University of Maine. What happened there? Any of that get resolved before this wedding?” Stan reached out his hand to gesture to Eddie but the boy was looking much paler and more and more like he might break into a sweat. Mike kept a close eye on the kid while the others kept with their noise and the radio grew more intense.

Richie glanced at Eddie and frowned. “You don’t know shit about our relationship-”

Stan looked offended. “Shit, Richie, everyone in this car knows your relationship almost as well as the parties involved.” He flicked his fingers at the happy couple. “You know that. The Losers, man. We’re in this life together, asshole.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m trying to help you. I don’t wanna see you-”

“Too late, Stan! We’re already married.” Richie laughed, full of pain.

“And happily too, it sounds.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“Hey Fuckhead! We were happy before we told you-!”

“You didn’t even tell us, your best friends, until after the fact. PLUS, Eddie only broke it out cause he’s drunk!” Bill suddenly piped up from the front seat. The screaming match suddenly involved everyone in the car. Though Mike and Ben were trying more so to calm everyone than yelling.

Eddie felt his chest pounding with anxiety, the familiar sensation of a lack of air built up. “Stop the car.” He mumbled, covering his mouth. No one seemed to hear. “Stop the car!” He tried once more with a hiccup of leftover alcohol bubbling from his throat.

Mike glanced over and finally, someone noticed.

“Stop the car! I’m going to throw the fuck up!” Eddie screamed at the same time that Mike shouted a strong ‘STOP THE CAR!’

Bill hit the brakes extremely hard again though the yelling continued even as Eddie opened the car door and hopped onto the curb. He kneeled over himself, palms pressed onto his knees as he dry-heaved. He glanced back into the car at all his friends screaming and bit into his lip…

The sound of loud feet hitting the pavement broke the screaming. The Losers all looked up just in time to see Eddie quite literally take off like a rocket. Richie could almost hear the gun blast signaling a race because the kid was sprinting faster than a speeding bullet. “Holy shit.” Beverly tried to open her car door.

The six of them all hopped out once Bill actually parked on the curb and started off after him. But the thing about Eddie was…he was fucking fast. Richie had a lot of energy but was no sport champion. He so desperately tried to push himself that he almost felt fire coming off his feet.

Mike seemed to be the one outta the group to get the closest but he turned the corner and skidded to a stop. It was so sudden that they almost all crashed together. “He’s gone.” Mike sighed, hand to his forehead.

They all started attempting to catch their breath, hands either over their chests or pressed to their knees like Eddie’s had been.

Richie stumbled and landed his ass on the middle of the street. “Fuck.” he spoke to the sky in his horrible exhaust. A hand hovered above him which turned out to be Stan’s. There was a bit of hesitance but Richie accepted the help up. “Let’s split up. Cover more ground. Our Ed’s is a speedy Bastard.”

Beverly played with her hands which meant she was either nervous or scared. Maybe both. But she nodded like this was the most import mission in her life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ben happened across Eddie first. His friend was sitting on a bench in front of the Gazebo in the park. Ben’s heart melted at the sight of the poor, tired and drunk kid.

“Hey, Eddie.” Ben gently approached like he was a skittish dog or something but Eddie didn’t seem to mind. He just scooted over to make some room on the tiny bench. “I know things got…pretty intense in the car-”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. I just…-yeah, I’m buzzed but I’m excited, Ben. So fucking excited about this and I just wanted to tell you guys.” He sniffled and Ben scooted closer. “We really didn’t mean to be such shitty friends. You guys always want whats best for us…so we knew you’d try to talk us out of it.” Eddie glanced up with wide, innocent eyes. Ben opened his mouth.

“So yeah, I admit that we knew it was kind of a dumb enough idea because we made that decision to keep it from you. We had to be aware enough to do that.” Eddie shrugged, his jacket now pooling at his elbows. He wasn’t completely sure that he was making any sense. “But it made us really happy, Ben. I love him…so much.”

Ben threw his arm around Eddie and sighed. “I know, Eddie. Trust me on that word. I do.” He rubbed his arm slowly and felt Eddie nod.

“And I feel his love for me every fucking day. Richie loves with his whole being, Ben.” Eddie giggled like the thought of it was enough to send him into a blush. “No one is gonna be in love with me the way that he is. So what’s the point in waiting?”

Ben went quiet because the sentiment was so genuinely lovely that it became hard for him to argue…

The two of them sat on the park bench, not knowing how to move on from the moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{October, Freshman Year of College}

There was nothing even close to a falling out between the Losers Club after that horrible night. That was just the kind of magic that came with their relationship. Far too much love to ever let them drift away. Though besides the screaming, the other thing to be forgotten after that night was Stan’s statement about Eddie confessing he might’ve been unsure about the University of Maine…

Tension rose on occasion but the happy couple seemed satisfied enough. The Losers were happy, as long as they were.

The Toziers were still not aware that their son had gotten hitched but Richie intended to tell them after completing at least one year of school. Sonia Kaspbrak….well she tried so desperately to keep Eddie right at home and to dig into his personal life. Eddie wanted nothing to do with that. So she also had no clue, Eddie would be lying if he didn’t say it was empowering.

The beginning of the school year had been extremely hard because Stan was ‘leaving’ them but 4-hours felt like forever. There’d been a lot of crying and hugs to go around when it came time for him to leave and boy did he wait until the last possible minute to go.

Richie basically cried his eyes out. Stan took him aside for a few minutes just to reassure him that this made no difference. The seven of them were forever tied together. He even gave him a nice framed photo of the whole group for the dorm Richie and Eddie had applied for together. “Call it a late engagement gift.” He added with a crinkle of his eyes, reminding Richie of an old man. Though there was a still a bit of tension on that subject, he knew Stan might still believe the marriage to have been a bad idea. Richie gladly accepted it anyway because it was a gift filled with genuine love.

They were all a good month or so into their Freshman years and already developed their routines.

And at the University of Maine, Richie and Eddie had already become something of a cool topic. Mr. and Mr. Tozier. The married couple in dorm 24. They would be lying if they didn’t say they enjoyed the attention. They were a couple of losers after all.

“What does he have that I don’t?” Eddie frowned and pushed at Richie’s shoulders.

“Don’t be jealous, baby.” Richie turned back and smirked. “It’s not a flattering color.” He giggled when Eddie tackled him on the bed, the one to the left of them was almost never used. The Bruce Springsteen poster Richie had been admiring watched over them as they fell into a make-out session.

The sloppier kisser between them pulled back and licked grotesquely up from the base of Eddie’s neck to his ear. From the new spot, Richie began whispering which he knew drove Eddie mad because it was a ticklish feeling.

“I got a bad desire. Oh-oh-oh, I’m on fire…” Richie mumbled and Eddie tried to kick him off the bed.

“Don’t sing me the lyrics of the man you’re cheating on me with! You cruel, cruel idiot!” Eddie giggled with insane love and new switched to trying to knee him in the stomach. Finally, Richie rolled off the bed and onto the floor with a loud thud.

“Oh, you are so juvenile, Eddie my dear.” Richie stayed there on the floor with a smirk.

“Me? You licked my ear, which is disgusting, and tried to serenade me with Springsteen.” Eddie fell comfortably on the bed, chin just on the edge so that he could look down at his…husband. Which was still odd to hear when it came rolling off their tongues.

They shared fond looks and Eddie turned to lay back on the bed but let his arm hang over the side so Richie could play with his fingers. “By the way-” Eddie turned his head though he was way above his partner. “Did you fill the gas tank in our car after class last night?”

Richie sighed. “Our car? I’ll have you know that ‘James Taylor’ has been mine since I was sixteen, Eds.” The smirk was present in his tone and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, did you fill it or what? It was really low and I need it for my Physics class this afternoon.” Eddie felt Richie pause from petting his palm.

“No, I forgot. Can’t you fill it before class?” Richie pleaded and Eddie ripped his hand away in annoyance.

“Oh so I can’t call it ‘our’ car but I get to pay for the gas almost every time it needs to be filled. Just cause you don’t like getting out of the damn car because ‘it ruins the mood of your drives.’” Eddie scowled.

Richie sat up and scooted so that his back would lean against the bedside drawer. “You’re borrowing my car, Eds. It’s only fair for you to fill it when you run the gas.” He shrugged and watched as Eddie hopped off the bed and started getting his things together for his class even though he had plenty of time.

“You’re parents are the ones who bought it for you. And now I’m paying for gas nearly every-time…so what, pray tell, makes it so wrong for me to refer to ‘James Taylor’-” He paused to roll his eyes “As ours?”

Richie looked up with a bit of a heated expression and sighed with frustration.

“Look Rich, if it bothers you so much, I can try and save up for my own car. I wasn’t lucky enough to get one when we were younger cause…well, you know my mother.” Eddie shuddered and threw his bag aside. “She’d never give me a gift that would only be a gateway for my moving on.” He scowled, completely irritated at her yet feeling guilty as she was not there to defend herself. Richie knew that look all too well and tried to convince his husband that it was ok for it to blossom. It was more than ok to be mad at Sonia. But…how do you make someone understand that their mother deserves hatred? Because no matter what, a mother is a mother in the mind of young Eddie. There would always be a shred of Eddie that would try to defend her because of that ‘A mother & her boy’ complex she had pounded in him.

The air in the room seemed to lose some of the tension and Richie took that as a good sign as he heaved his body off the floor. “No, I’m sorry. You’re right. ‘James Taylor’ is ours.” Richie sat on the other bed and took Eddie’s smaller hand in his own, pulled it with soft shyness and his husband leaned down so he could press a kiss to his temple. “We’re on for dinner right?”

Eddie nodded and rubbed the pad of his finger into the corner of his eye. “Yeah. We can probably splurge on that cool Shawarma place you like so much tonight, if you’d like?”

Richie lit up at that possibility and smiled. “Sounds peachy, Eddie my love.” He reached up to steal a quick kiss and twirled off the bed to see his love out the door if he was going to leave so early.

Richie didn’t have any classes today and thought he’d enjoy such a treasure by calling up Mike because he missed his voice even though they weren’t even that far away. Though, Richie hadn’t seen much of anyone in a while. He and Eddie spent much of their free time trying to get their schedules aligned and making sure they had dinner together in the spots between work and school. The pair of husbands hadn’t had much in the company department apart from…well, each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{December, Freshman Year of College}

Bill tightened his grip around Eddie’s body and attempted to tackle him into the snow but the little demon managed to turn the tables and get the advantage on him. He did not let him fall onto the cold snow but was trying to make sure Bill knew who had one this little play-fight. “Alright, I g-g-give!” He chuckled and Eddie backed off with a skip in his step.

“Ben and Bev s-seemed to have found their ideal apartment!-”

“So I’ve heard.” Eddie smiled and wiggled his cold toes in his shoes. “I talked to Ben on the phone for like two hours last night. Told me all about their plan.” He rolled his lips together and felt the bit of winter at the tips of his ears. “They got their apartment to dwell in for the next three years-”

“And than off to Chicago after graduation!” Bill chuckled, so excited for their best friends.

Eddie nodded but fell silent as they stepped into the same pace, walking through campus without a true destination. “How’s the search goin’ for you two?” Bill asked the question he’d been dreading to answer.

“Mmmm-” Eddie hummed and looked off to the side. “It’s going, alright. we’d like to have something to move into by the start of Sophomore year cause the dorm is way too tight. But it’s gotta be in our price range…” Eddie shrugged. The two of them had been doing fairly ok for a couple of college kids. He’d been balancing school and his job at the shop in town. But Richie-

“Man, I’m so fucking proud of Richie, Bill.” Eddie giggled happily at the thought as Bill threaded their arms together so neither of them slipped on any ice. “He’s somehow balancing classes, his job down at the restaurant and he’s doing the radio shows here…” Eddie glanced up at the school.

Bill shook their grip a little and his smile could’ve blinded. “I’m s-s-so happy for you two. Things seem t-t-to be going pretty smoothly.”

Eddie nodded, mind going back to the night he and Richie lingered in the radio broadcasting room after his show. It’d been snowing extremely hard that night and neither one of them had been eager to run on back to ‘James Taylor’ when the weather would surely bite and they’d have to wait forever for the car to warm itself up. So they stalled for as long as they could.

He blushed at the memory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{May, just before Sophomore Year of College}

The apartment hunt worked it’s magic and the happy couple had been to find themselves a warm building. It was fairly cheap so it wasn’t what one would call paradise but it was miles better then their tiny dorm room.

Their first year of school had passed them by and gifted them a better perspective on their wants & needs, whether they voiced them to each other was a whole separate issue. They moved in towards the end of June and Eddie had been prescribed his anxiety medication a short four days later.

Richie had noticed his husbands anxiety starting to come up on a rise the past few months. Eddie got sick quite a bit more often and seemed to hopelessly latch onto it. Making himself believe it’s still plaguing him when it’s more or less been gone. There’d been an incident some weeks ago where his husband got to his tipping point. He’d stayed up all night feeling phantom nausea because of a simple test. It’d never been so bad for him before.

So Richie held his hand through and through, making an appointment with the doctor who talked with his husband for a long while. And Eddie left with a piece of paper telling him a low-dose of medication to try out would be waiting for him at their local Walgreens.

“I miss the ol’ gang, we need to get everyone together soon.” Richie sighed and poured Eddie some of the red wine he liked so much, which in moderation was good for the heart, he’d always say. The shorter man took his glass and cuddled up against Richie’s chest and nodded.

They were preparing for a nice and calm movie night even though they should’ve been spending their time unpacking. The boxes were taking up a lot of floor space but with the messes that they could be sometimes, they didn’t really mind.

Two paintings from Sears, three from the local thrift store, a funky chair from Ben’s childhood-home basement and a plaid couch from Bill’s were some of their new ‘purchases’. But the apartment was already starting to feel like home, as long as they had each other anyway.

“Stan passed that exam he was so worried about, I damn well told him that would happen.” Richie chuckled into his own glass and fogged it up while the TV menu appeared.

“We all told him.” Eddie teasingly tipped Richie’s glass with the tip of his finger when he went for another sip. This was rewarded with a sloppy, wet red-wine kiss being pressed against his cheek. Eddie giggled and tried to shove his husband off. “I love you so much, asshole. You know that?”

Richie blushed like a lovesick kid and rubbed his nose into Eddie’s hair as he shook his head. “Not as much as I love you.” He spoke genuinely that Eddie felt that familiar melting sensation. So he reached his hand back to pet the man’s cheek and feel his heat.

“I don’t want to fight on our wedding anniversary but you’re wrong. I love you so much more-!” Eddie was interrupted by Richie shoving his tongue into his ear and his gasp of disgust mixed with laughter he couldn’t help.

The idiots began shoving and tickling each other without a care in the world, balancing their wine glasses because they were too focused to put them back on the table. They’d just have to risk spilling.

They might not have been rolling in the money but they had this. And that was all that mattered. It reminded Richie of a song, so he started mumbling the words into the crook of his love’s neck.

“-And even though we ain’t got money I’m so in love with you honey And everything will bring a chain of love And in the mornin’ when I rise Bring a tear of joy to my eyes And tell me everything is gonna be alright…”

Eddie couldn’t help but sing along with him, eyes glazed over with admiration and true, fine love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{July , Sophomore Year of College}

The sun was always very fond of Richie, at least Eddie always thought so. The light was consistently complimentary to the man and had this way of making him look like the picture of the sunny 70′s.

“What are you doing?” Richie squinted as he walked briskly to the front of the apartment building where Eddie was sat, hands shoved in his pockets. He’d been gone for a while now and the pair may or may not have left on bad terms…fresh from an argument about something stupid.

“I went out after you left….-” He pointed his thumb at the door behind him. “Got locked out.”

Richie rolled his eyes fondly and got his own key from his pocket as Eddie stood and followed behind him. “Where’s your key? And where did you go?”

The man behind him went quiet again in that eerie way could really freak Richie out sometimes. “Forgot it here. And I um…-I went to Marty’s.” He shrugged like it was no big deal but he knew for certain that it was an explosion waiting to happen. Richie looked at him with fury as they got to his door.

“You went to the bar to look for me?” He glared and it felt as if Eddie’s stomach was suddenly tied in a huge knot.

“You can’t blame me!” He went straight into defense and followed the guy into their lonesome apartment. The air grew with tension as his partner chose not to speak and instead went about the place doing small clean-ups. This only made Eddie feel even more angry. “You honestly can’t blame me. You’ve been known to go there a lot, Rich.”

“I’m not some sorry man that you need to look out for, Ed’s. I know I can…drink a bit more than planned but…” He suddenly turned from his position at the sink. “I don’t just go out drinking because we had a fight. The place had an opening for it’s open mic night and I thought I might try to get a spot for my comedy, you know?” He threw down a dish-towel and Eddie swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I feel like the asshole of the year” He ran his hand through his hair and sat down on the couch, hoping that the ‘fight’ would ease up. “I just thought…you were so upset when you left and it reminded me of the night I had to pick you up-”

“I’m sorry about that, Eddie. I…-losing the restaurant job got me all wigged out. I know that’s no excuse to drink myself sick but…it wasn’t that often and that shit is over now.” Richie grabbed Eddie’s hands and kissed him softly.

“This is not a good period for us, Richie.” Eddie got the hint that the fight had basically run it’s course and they sat down on their couch.

Richie opened and closed his mouth, deciding to just tilt his head back and sigh. There was nothing more for them to say. So they just allowed themselves to enjoy being with the one they loved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{September, Sophomore Year of College}

Richie felt a growing pain in his head. It flared every few minutes and he could almost smell the scent of something burning each time it hit him. The quick intensity was becoming harder and harder to ignore considering Eddie pitter-patting the length of their kitchen. There would be a few minutes of soothing silence and he’d think he was safe…just the distant and quiet hum of the television-*Slam* another clatter from the cold cracking dishes. His ache would start from the base of his back, travel up his spine in the form of a chill and then burst into his temples.

“What are you doing in there?” Richie finally broke their record-breaking twenty minute silence. It had been strange and he was glad the opportunity to speak came up. He turned and due to the small space, he could stare right at the other man in the dining-kitchen area.

“The dishes. Y’know. You eat off of them, I clean them. Ever heard of it?” Eddie remarked with snark. That would have usually launched them into a round of their usual playful bickering but for some odd reason, maybe the headache, it just irritated Richie to hear it.

“I do my part around here.” He scowled and spoke harshly, rolling his eyes. Turning back a little away from.

They’d made it through another week and were back at the beginning of another weekend, magically. Richie and Eddie had attempted many times in the past week or so to plan some kind of exciting date night. But the more time went on, they just seemed to forget or become far too busy. It was agonizing and isolating. Sure they had each other but it just wasn’t…fully satisfying?

Richie felt his lunch launch back up his throat, he harshly swallowed it and let himself feel sick to his stomach. And suddenly, he had a burning question in the back of his mind. It had lingered there for the past few nights but he’d been too…well himself to ask it. But it suddenly pained him not to. He turned again, leaning his arm on the back of the couch. “You’re not…mad at me, are you?” He played with his fingers.

Eddie looked up with a confused expression. “Your tone was hardly nice but I’m not mad-”

“No, not because of that, Spaghetti man.” Richie couldn’t help but grin a little. Eddie smiled right back and it was a nice moment. He bathed in it for a few minutes before deciding to explain himself. “I know I’ve been a piece of work lately…”

Neither had spoken that to light but it may have been true. Richie being fired from the restaurant job he loved which had been a whole event had cause some issues. The need for a job search was sudden and a little difficult. And he may have been a little on edge lately waiting for the bar with the open mic night opening to call him back. But Eddie knew the strain was only because Richie was concerned for their life together. In fact, Eddie was more disappointed that Richie couldn’t focus on the radio show at school that he loved so much.

Eddie thought about making another joke but decided against. Rather, he put his dishes to the side and strolled over and slowly sat beside his boy. Instinctively, he reached over to brush his hair back and lingered his hand there.

“And I don’t admit to that…like ever. So, take it while you can.” Richie stole a joke and laughed lightly. But both of them knew he was not too happy and both of them were worried.

“It’s not comforting when you talk like you despise yourself, y’know?” Eddie blinked. That comment hadn’t been one of Richie’s worst in the last week but it sure wasn’t warm. It was hard to ignore the man’s self-deprecating attitude as of late. And Eddie would never want to just ignore it. In all honesty, it was deeply unsettling but not uncommon to hear the other man talk like that.

As long as he’d known him, Richie put on a front that he was some confident, funny man entertainer. It was so smooth and effortless that it was entirely convincing. Hearing him crack jokes and smirk at his own reckless and daring behavior gave the illusion that it wasn’t stemming from insecurity. Eddie quickly saw through the facade after truly getting to know Richie.

“I’m sorry, Eds.”

“Don’t apologize, Rich.” Eddie kissed the top of his head and then trailed down to his temple. Not for the first time, Eddie felt a rush of guilt. Part of him felt responsible for the fact that Richie was stuck at the University of Maine instead somewhere like…California. Maybe if he hadn’t just pushed away that conversation with Stan all that time ago. Maybe if he’d voiced his confusion back then…

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Richie sighed into Eddie’s grip.

“Me too, Rich.” Eddie hugged him as tight as he could and dreaded the moment he’d have to let him go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{November, Sophomore Year of College}

Party streamers were burrowed into the carpeting of the apartment, pounded there from all the dancing. From the neat little window where the tiny balcony sat, the low-hanging sun scattered the room in gold flecks of light. The trees were changing for the upcoming season, Richie’s favorite holiday coming with it. The town was soon to be rid of the deep reds and beautiful oranges. Eddie had a fleeting moment of joy when he thought about the smiles Richie would soon get when observing the scenery. It lasted for a second or two.

The Losers Club had been fully reunited for the best Birthday Party one could imagine. Richie had spent ages organizing everyone’s return for Eddie’s special day. Stanley Uris had got past his 4-hour drive with a smile on his face because seeing all his best friends worth it.

But now came the end of the night, where the decorations hung with a lonesome kind of drowsiness. The apartment had once been tuned to an exciting F.M. but when the last guest left, the dial turned to the A.M. radio. Not literally, but that’s just how Richie felt about it…hard to explain the shit his mind compared things to.

It reminded him of the Christmas parties hosted by his aunt that he’d been taken to as a little tot. The holly-jolly music carried all the guests and filled them with their take of Holiday joy. But on the way home, Richie would be long tired and ready to sleep. As he would dowse, his parents played the A.M. stations. It signaled to him the end of fun and that was the energy in their apartment now.

Eddie started whistling a tune as he dug through their bin of CD’s, eyes never leaving his partners which only made Richie hide his blush behind the large wine glass he’d stolen.

‘You know I can’t smile without you I can’t smile without you I can’t laugh and I can’t sing I’m finding it hard to do anything…’

Richie faked like he was tired of this song but truly he was on cloud 9. “My lovely Ed’s loves his Barry Manilow.” He smirked and held out his hand so the exhausted love of his life could dance with him. “And please, don’t give me the excuse that it’s only cause it’s what you grew up listening to. You love him, Eds.”

Eddie pursed his lips and shrugged, accepting Richie’s hand and twirling himself to Richie’s chest. “This song reminds me of you…” He hummed when Richie ran his hand down his cheek. The dying evening sun cascaded in through the window and bathed their bodies in bittersweet tangerine light. They swirled about their living area carpet in the vacuum of dry and unforgiving air because their heater was on the fritz.

“You requested off work for Christmas, right?” Richie asked and Eddie sighed.

“No, sorry. I forgot.” He spun under Richie’s arm and allowed himself to be pulled right back. Richie softly slapped his shoulder and nodded. They were due back to the Tozier’s household soon. After Richie had told them about that runaway wedding and teen engagement…they’d been fairly pissed. But things were better now.

“S’fine, baby.” Richie mumbled into his hair as they swayed together.

“Richie?” Eddie sucked in some air and thought it to be a now or never kind of situation. His man looked down at him with wide, loving eyes and gave Eddie hope that everything would work out. They stayed dancing. “Do you remember the night we all fought in the car after we told everyone we got married…when I ran off?”

Richie nodded, opening his mouth.

“-Remember when Stan said something about my being confused about wanting to go to the University of Maine?”

“Yeah….why-ummm, why are we bringing this up now?” Richie pulled back a little but they kept swaying as the song went on and on. “Has something changed?”

Eddie bit hard into his lip. “I’ve been thinking about us lately.”

Richie was especially good at making himself look smaller. Sometimes, when Eddie looked at him it was hard not to just take the man into his arms. When Richie was upset, he felt it deep within himself just the same. One of the worst parts of this whole mess was having to witness such emotions from the man he loved. Richie was leaning with his back against the couch to better feel the warmth from the sun-spot coming through the window and it was a breathtaking image. Golden sun-rays threaded through his hair and glazed his entire body and there was a peace there that was soothing. As he admired all that it was and all that he would miss, it occurred to him that maybe the man needed to actually hear some of that love that was on his mind.“Richie?”

The man dropped their hands and nodded. “Sorry, sorry. What have you been thinking about, Eddie?”

Eddie swung his arms around nervously and sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if our friends were right…about our marriage.”

Richie felt his heart completely shatter. “Eddie, I-”

“Wait, just hear me out.” Eddie held up his hand to gently pause the man he loved so, so much. “I am so in love with you, Richie. I love being your husband.” He saw a quick picture of the face that old man, Oliver, had made when talking about his wife all that time ago. “It’s just…I think our relationship and later…our marriage kept you from going to California like you always wanted to.”

“Eddie, that’s ridiculous-”

“Is it though? The reason you applied University of Maine was because you wanted to be with me. The reason you ended up actually going was a commitment to our marriage…” Eddie sniffled back some tears and tried not to drown in the guilt. “And the reason I applied was because….I was scared to be far from my mom, not because I wanted to go.”

Eddie admitted that to his shoes and let out a horrible sob. Richie came over to pull the boy into his arms. “Hey, hey, hey…Shhhh, Ed’s. Take a breath.” He ran his hands through the boys hair and they went quiet so Eddie could collect himself. And when he did, Richie stepped back again.

“I love you but I feel like our marriage is holding us back, baby.” Eddie cringed when Richie let out his own sob. “I’m so so so scared that I’m gonna need someone to take care of me for my whole life…” Eddie went on and Richie tried very hard to listen. “I’m such a dependent person sometimes and…I-I don’t think jumping from a dependent relationship with my mother to a committed marriage was a great thing for me…no matter how much I love you.”

Richie’s heart shattered. “Eddie…but I’m not like your mother. I’m not gonna smother you or-”

“I know that.” Eddie frowned. “Damn sure of that. But the problem is me, Richie.” He shook his head and sort of hated himself. “This situation that my mother created for me has made me too comfortable with always having someone take care of me. I let it fucking happen because I’ve been forced to be dependent my whole childhood…my whole life.”

“And I don’t wanna live like that.” Eddie broke into a full sub and fell to his knees on the carpet, smashing more dead party streamers. Richie fell down in front of him and hopelessly pulled him in for a hug.

“Eddie…-”

“I don’t wanna hold you back anymore, Richie. And I gotta…” He hiccuped into Richie’s chest. “I have to get some perspective on life and shit. Be independent for once in my damn life.”

“Eddie, why didn’t you talk to me-?”

“I didn’t really realize this shit until a few days ago, Richie. And I was scared you’d think it was because I didn’t love you. Which is Bullshit. I love you more than anything. You’re the one I’m supposed to be with just…not like this. Not in this situation, right now.” Eddie pulled back, a little bit more relaxed and grabbed Richie’s hands. “So I think I should go. We should take a break. I don’t know for how long-”

“Eddie. We can work this out.” He pathetically begged and tugged his husband’s arms.

“We can.” Eddie agreed. “Just by ourselves first. Separated.”

Richie hiccuped himself and shook his head. “No, Eddie. We need to be together..I-.” He frowned. “If you walk out that door, that’s it. Not a break. We’ll be broken up. That’s it.” Richie stood up and looked down at the love of his life hoping to anything that would listen that Eddie might change his mind because of his juvenile threat.

Eddie looked up with wide, watery eyes. “This is something I have to do, Richie. Something you have to do too. I want the best life for you so if you’re gonna damn threaten me than I’ll have to take it. If being broken up means that you’ll get the life you deserve, well that’s the path we’ll take.” Eddie hopped up and ran to the bedroom, starting to get his shit together in a suitcase.

Richie felt the wind get knocked out of him as he chased Eddie around the apartment, slowly falling apart with everything he threw in the suitcase. “Eddie. Please slow down. Stop-”

“I’m going to Bill’s.” Eddie made it to the front door with a suitcase full of random clothes that he hoped would get him through at least a week. He hovered his hand on the doorknob.

“I mean it, Eddie. You leave and that’s it.” Richie sobbed. Eddie looked at him with all the love in his soul….

He turned the knob and left Richie to crumble onto his carpet and cry his eyes out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{A week later….}

The night was a trying one for Richie. The apartment was practically dead apart from the terribly busy sounding quick taps of a keyboard. And though he was the one making that sound, it didn’t stop it from slowly driving him insane. His stomach turned from the mixture of anger and nerves that were boiling inside. So instead of slamming his head into his palms and letting out the emotions, he composed himself. He sat straight and tall, threading his slim fingers together. He copycatted those relaxing breaths Mike had once taught him.

He was attempting to get some homework done and treated himself to glass of chocolate milk like he was a child. Just as the last drop splashed in the glass, his phone began ringing.

“Eddie’s coming over there in like twenty minutes.” Bill’s cool voice spoke from over the phone and Richie’s hopes climbed so high. “Don’t get t-t-too excited. He just wants to p-pick up some more clothes and his medication.”

Richie nodded and sighed. By now, the news must have traveled to every member of The Losers Club and for once in his life, Richie was glad Stan was far away. He couldn’t face him knowing his best friend had been right the entire time and he had to learn it the hard way instead of hearing him out all that time ago. He’d rather be in his father’s dentist chair than face Stan anytime soon.

“You ok, Rich?”

Richie shrugged even though Bill couldn’t see. “Try absolutely heart-broken, Billiam.”

Bill’s end went quiet until he let out a sigh. “I know this is hard on you guys but Richie, try to understand that this is really i-i-important to Eddie.” Bill echoed Eddie’s sentiment and Richie felt a tear try to escape. He was right. He’d been as jerk to refuse the break Eddie had offered. Living independently seemed like something that meant a lot to his…-to Eddie.

He hated to admit it but he waited around for Eddie pathetically for the whole twenty-five minutes it took for him to arrive. What really put the nail in the coffin was the fact that Eddie buzzed. As permission to enter the apartment building they were supposed to be living in together. He insisted that Eddie not knock once upstairs, just walk in the damn room.

The front door closed alarmingly soft but Richie picked it up nonetheless and his head snapped up. The sight he took in was to be expected but still extremely painful no matter what. Eddie seemed unable to let go of the doorknob, eyes watered to the point of boiling over. He slowly raised himself off the couch and made his way over. He gently reached out and unclasped Eddie’s hand for him which shocked the smaller man. “Let’s talk? Before you go.” He soothed. He then guided him inside.

The pair made themselves comfortable at the kitchen counter and stood their in silence for a few seconds. Eddie’s eyes dragged over the homework scattered around and couldn’t help but smile at the glass of Chocolate milk. It made Richie blush.

“I just want to say that I’m sorry for being such an ass.” Richie swallowed under Eddie’s watchful, wide and watery eyes. “You…you were trying to be honest with me and I-….”

Eddie shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. I sprung this all on you and just expected you to….-Well, I don’t really know what I expected.” His shrug rolled flawlessly off his shoulders and they both let out a long sigh.

“Ed’s, I don’t want our life together to start out like this-” Richie gestured between them, thinking of the strain lingering there for some time now. “So if this is what you want…-Something we need then it has to happen.”

Eddie licked his lips and looked away briefly. “You should get out of Maine, Rich. You belong somewhere…big in personality.” He chuckled a little.

“Correct you are, Eddie my boy-” Richie habitually grinned before letting it fall off his face. “This place…this school-” He gestured to the homework “They’re not where I should be…where we should be.”

Richie and Eddie’s eyes met once more but both seemed far too nervous to keep the contact. Both opting to stare off somewhere else. “I was selfish to ask this to be a break-to ask you to wait for me…”

Richie stood up straighter and frowned. “Ed’s no-…I was stupid for threatening a breakup…”

The two of them stared each other down again, both barely holding it together. It was pathetic really-the two of them standing in the crappy kitchen with tears just streaming down their faces. “I want you to live, Rich. That good, fast life that’s meant for you. I don’t want you to be waiting for me-”

Richie remembered some Billy Joel song, it played far off in his head. ‘You’re only standing there 'cause somebody once did somebody wrong. But you’ll be sleeping with the television on…’

“I don’t know what to say…for the first time in my life, huh?” Richie pathetically giggled but choked it down when Eddie grew even more concerned. “So, we thinking a divorce…or…?” Richie tried to be falsely cheer but it only seemed to break him in the last possible way. He hiccuped and bent forward as a sob wrecked his body. Eddie ran to him, he always did so.

And the two men stood in a shitty apartment kitchen and gripped tightly onto each other. Crying into Eddie’s shoulder or Richie’s chest. Whichever, didn’t really matter because soon that great option would be gone and anymore tears they shed would be coddled alone.

~~~~~~~

After Eddie left the place, Richie completely broke down in his living room in a mirrored way to Eddie’s breakdown in Bill’s apartment…though it took them both around an hour to truly let it flow…at almost the exact same time…they broke…

A small glass of perfume sat on a dresser in the guest room housing Eddie. It was the small and delicate glass with a large daisy stopper blocking any leakage.

It sat there, absolutely still, as a pair of hands quickly picked and pulled from the array of products sat around it. But with that speed came clumsiness and the hands just darted to fast on the pull-back of some papers and down came the bottle. Knocking it off the counter and revealing the ring of dust that had been living underneath it.

Eddie paused for a moment before peeking over the lip of the dresser to find the tiny bottle. The rounded broken piece was rolling just the slightest bit while the rest of the tiny shards bathed in the small puddle of the scent leaking out.

That perfume had once belonged to his mother, her favorite scent. He’d taken it with him upon leaving for school that first time because…it was a sort of comforting smell. Call it pathetic aromatherapy? It gave him a sense of her old coddling. Kneeling down, he intended to start cleaning the mess up but he hesitated. The tip of his finger laid frozen in the burgundy puddle as a wave of emotion fell upon him. He’d been holding back on truly coming to terms with what his mind and body ached for. But looking at the old shattered tie to his smothering mother on Bill’s hardwood floor…the gate was opened without his permission.

A flood of tears finally broke past his eyes again and rolled down his cheeks, the heat from his previous restrain could almost burn his skin. In an instant he was near hysterical. His breathing was rapid and short as it became harder for him to push-back the devastation. More then anything in his life he wanted to call Richie…he wanted him with him. But at the same time he was desperate to shove him away entirely and gain some damn independence…let Richie breathe.

The palm of his hand curled over his mouth in an attempt to block some of the sound from breaching the thin walls of Bill’s home. He did not want Bill to hear any bit of this breakdown, he didn’t need to see him so…sad. He was already taking him in until he got back on his feet and he didn’t need anymore stress so he just needed to be strong, he was usually extremely good at that. It was enough that he’d broken down when facing the love of his life. There’d be nothing more now.

A deep breath or two and he was off the floor and on his way to collect a dust-pan and broom.

But as always, Bill Denbrough seemed to sense the trouble and came to Eddie.

‘Fuck’ that broke Eddie again. Bill took his second ‘little’ brother into his arms and they both swayed. Bill, who wasn’t scared of anything at all in the eyes of his best friends…feared for these two. He looked up, some of Eddie’s hair catching his eyes, and he hoped to anything that would listen that Richie and Eddie will work it out. The Losers Club had always just assumed they’d be together forever since they were little…just the same as they assumed it for Ben and Beverly when they found each other.

Richie and Eddie were far too young to be going through a divorce.

~~~~~~~

Richie curled up on his couch, going from mindlessly watching the Food Network to sleeping to the sound of ‘Friends’. His eyes burned from all the shitty crying and staring at his laptop screen. He’d even managed to get that homework done. But now he was at a loss.

Part of him ached to call his parents. They’d know what to say but it gave him the same dread that calling up Stan would.

If he came to them crying, it only further hammered in the point that they’d been right all along. Marrying your sweetheart in High School was a bad idea. Who knew?

Richie was awakened by the sound of the buzzer. He shuffled out of bed and let whoever it was come up, hoping it was Mike. He was the best of em’ and he always had something kind to say even if you’d been in the wrong…Mike was always on your side.

When the knocking came, Richie eagerly walked to the door and…

“Hey.”

Stanley Uris hiked up a bag slung over his shoulder and smiled gently. Richie kinda wanted to throw up just the same as he wanted to hug him. “Big Bill told everyone, right?” Richie smirked and nodded to himself, bouncing on his feet. “Come to tell me how right you were-? Tell me that if i’d only listened to you this never would’ve happened-”

Stan took the bag of his shoulder and set it near Richie’s feet. “You know me better than that, asshole.” He frowned but opened his arms wide. It was a sight that drove Richie back into his fucking tears. He fell into the arms of his friend and sobbed again and again until it was time to breathe.

Stan rubbed a hand through his hair and tried to calm him. “You’re gonna be ok, Rich.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So life went on the way it always does for The Losers Club. Best friends. Before the start of his Junior year, Richie decided to take a good ol’ road-trip down to California for a small summer taste of it all. With him, he took Michael Hanlon who desperately needed the break.

But as life would have it, Mike returned to Maine alone. Richie’s summer taste turned into a full-on love affair that lead him to start the hectic process of transferring schools.

Ben and Beverly waited until graduation but left for Chicago the instant it was over. Both of them had worked internships at offices for their respective career choices and earned themselves singing recommendations.

Stanley Uris finished up in Vermont, meeting the loveliest girl in the process, Patty. And the two of them flooded off to Georgia where Stan was eerily 100% sure was the right place. And almost instantly, they seemed to fall into the dreamiest of job situations.

Michael went off to Florida. The place which had been calling him since he was young and became a full-time librarian at one of the finest library’s he’d ever set foot in.

Bill continued with his writing and traveled to New York in the middle of his junior year which funnily enough was where Eddie had been drawn too as well. From there, Bill met and fell for a girl called Audra.

As Eddie started work at a nice office for Risk Analysis, Richie got his dream job at a California Radio Station.

There were plenty of visits, phone-calls and group-chats to keep the love flowing. Because after all, Losers stick together…

Even if a once couple…married couple…seemed to drift away from each other. After the divorce papers were signed…Richie&Eddie became Richie and Eddie.

In desperate fear, they became the most distant of the bunch. Not with the others. No. Just each other. Which was truly devastating when everyone knew how much they loved each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{December, Ten years later}

“-And a real famous cat all dressed up in red. And he spends the whole year workin’ out on his sled. It’s the little Saint Nick. Ooooo, little Saint Nick!”

Richie Tozier turned right down the next small street and seemed to forget to use his blinker. He tapped his hands against the wheel as if it were his very own drum-set and chuckled to himself. Being back in Derry was certainly a trip.

But with the Holiday’s, it came time for Ol’ Richie to visit the parents who were still cuddled up in their tiny-town home. Part of him was kind of excited to see the little stop-and-shop piece of shit town again. It’d been a solid couple of years since the last time he’d set foot on Derry’s fine streets.

“She’s candy-apple red with a ski for a wheel. And when Santa hits the gas, man, just watch her peel-”

Richie hit the brake far harder than intended but the minor choking from the seat-belt was worth it. Right in perfect view was…damn Eddie Kaspbrak walking down the side-walk, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. The night air was a bitter kind of chill and snow was beginning to fall. Richie bit hard into the smirk now coming over his face.

He pulled the car close to the curb and rolled the window down. Sticking his head out, he did his best cat-call whistle (not that he did that kinda thing-ha ha). Eddie did not spare a glance, just walked a little faster so-

“HEY ASSHOLE!!” Richie laughed wildly, still cruising slowly.

Eddie stopped in his tracks and snapped his head to the right, eyes widening almost instantly. “Dick! That you? Didn’t recognize you in that…” He glanced over the supremely nice car with something of wonder…wanting to get his hands all over it. “Sweet car, man.” Eddie strolled forward, Richie felt his chest tighten with joy. “What happened to ‘James Taylor’?” he pouted his lips and rested his hands on the open ledge of the window.

“Ah, Ed’s my boy. You see….-” Richie tapped the mirror with charm and tried to hide his blush. “When you’re a successful as I am-”

Eddie hunched over slightly in laughter, bringing their faces much closer together. So close that Richie thought he might lose what little cool he had. “Good to know you stayed just as humble as you used to be.”

They chuckled together before Richie found himself astoundingly nervous again. “Your mom drag you back here for the Holiday’s?”

Eddie licked his lips and nodded. “Something like that-” He rubbed his finger into the corner of his eyes. “My mom died, actually. I’m in town for the um-funeral arrangements and all that jazz, baby.” He pathetically waved his hands in a mock dance. It struck Richie as odd, it seemed like more of something that he’d do.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” He hoped to sound genuine which in part, he was. But there was that large part of distaste and hatred in his soul for Sonia that only had grown larger over the years.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” He looked away and shivered a little in the night air. “I was just taking a walk to clear my head.”

“Wanna clear it in here?” Richie gestured to the empty passengers seat which was far from the picture of calm. The vehicle was decorated very closely to the way one’s home would be for the holidays. String lights around the ceiling and a Little Tree Freshener spun in fake toy-dollhouse lights hung over the rear-view mirror. It made Eddie unbelievably giddy. Such a Richie thing to do.

“Oh definitely.” Good to know that they were still just as good at ignoring the issues in favor of the natural chemistry they had together. It was a charm that got them into a lot of trouble in the past. But Eddie didn’t mind, he walked around and hopped inside with excitement.

Richie pulled off the curb and leaned over dangerously to open the glovebox where two Santa hats laid. “Wanna be go for matching?”

“Oh, hell yeah. Obviously” Eddie shrugged with his toothy grin that Richie had always adored. So they sat in their seats…in red & white holiday hats…like a pair idiots. But Eddie just had to admire this long lost love of his.

“I’m so proud of you, Rich.” Eddie let that comment slip and Richie blushed. “I watched that comedy special you did-”

“We did the right thing.” Richie interrupted Eddie no matter how hard it was to stop such a delightful giggle. His ex fell silent and time was passed in the company of the sound of the Christmas tunes and rolling tires on loud streets.

“Hey-”

Eddie blinked up to find Richie pulling closer to the curb again and pointing. “That’s the um-that’s that bench where Bill totally flipped over on his bike. Remember? He was distracted-”

“By you and your impression of that cop. I remember.” Eddie giggled again and the tension was lifted once more. “If you go up the street a little…yeah-”

Eddie snapped his fingers as Richie followed his direction, the bell at the end of his hat jingled. “That’s where I ran off to that night I pretended that I had to puke…”

The park looked a little deserted and Richie had to laugh at the picture of his once boyfriend sprinting down the sidewalk, so tipsy.

“Ben came and got me…” He looked towards the gazebo with love in his eyes. “He was really there for me that night.” He nodded and Richie decided to move on with this fun tour of Derry’s hot-spots.

The two of them cruised past so many of the Losers Club’s old favorite places and shared everything attached to them again.

They pulled down a lonesome street and found the sight of the drive-in root-beer place. It was still across the street from the abandoned 7/11 that used to be a CVS where no one had ever shopped. Except now, it was an open Walgreens. Both of them stared down the Drive-in….

“Still open…impressive.” Richie pulled onto the curb a bit and parked. He glanced at his friend who was now opening the car door and climbing out. “Oh, we’re going inside?”

“Hell yeah.” Eddie leaned back down into the window, eyes wide and hoping. Richie was overcome with a great sense of joy. He shut the car off and followed the man of his dreams into the restaurant that held all their first date memories.

~~~~~~~

“Would it impress you to see me eat AND keep down my hot-dog dipped in the Root-Beer Float?” Richie asked, swirling his airborne dog in the open air over the sweet drink.

Eddie giggled. “That’s disgusting. Please don’t do that for the sake of my entertainment.”

Richie set down his dog and leaned back on the orange vinyl, thinking of Skip Larson’s flying homework assignments again. “Why did you give me that second date, Ed’s?” He asked, looking away and at his meal.

Eddie slurped down some of his drink and grinned. “Easy. I was in love with you. No amount of vomit could change that.”

Richie covered his grin with his cupped hand. “Thank you for doing what you did, Eddie-”

“I don’t know that I’ll ever feel good about hurting you like that, Richie. For us drifting apart like that. That shit keeps me up at night.” Eddie shook his head and Richie sighed because ‘yeah, that shit sucked’. He set his napkin down and strolled over to Eddie’s side of the booth.

“The marriage was a mistake…” He nodded. “But you were never the mistake, Eddie.” He stared into his eyes with direct contact for the first time in a long while. It threw them both for a wild shake. “If we didn’t stop it when we did…” He shrugged. “We would have gotten too comfortable with the settling we were doing in Maine. It wouldn’t have worked out.”

“I still feel like shit-”

“Ok so, you feel like shit. But look at you, living a damn good life. You’re successful. You like your job-”

“Love my job.” Eddie added because it was true. It was something he was heavily invested in.

“Love your job. Got to New York, where you were meant to be…your soul place, I think. And hell, Eddie you’re so fucking independent. The guys talk about how proud they are all the time. I’m proud as shit too. A nice fuck you to Sonia Kaspbrak-” Richie paused, realizing how inappropriate that was considering. But Eddie only nodded in agreement.

“A nice fuck you.” He repeated in confirmation. There was still some kind of love and there always would be but…he didn’t have to like her to love her. Maybe that was sad.

“And I-…well, I got my radio show in California and it means so much to me, baby. We never…ever would have got that shit on the path we were stuck on. So yeah, we’ll feel like shit for losing these years but it’s better than the place we were all those years ago.” Richie threw his arm around Eddie and the smaller of the two sighed into it. “Now, I didn’t miss ya much myself-” Richie exaggerated his hand gestures. “BUT My parents, for one, missed you like crazy.”

Eddie giggled. “How are the Toziers?” he asked, a new fry hanging slightly from his mouth.

“Oh, my favorite old people are living it up. My mother and I have never had a better relationship, I swear on it. I talk to em’ like every other day. Just can’t get rid of them! Wentworth asks about you a lot if he’s not distracted by the other Losers which the ol’ Toziers begged me to ask them over for the Holiday’s last week.” Richie shrugged and Eddie realized just how much he missed Richie’s folks too.

“I’m still so crazy about you.” Eddie spoke in soft wonderment and bit hard into his lip.

“We’re in the same boat, babe.” Richie grinned.

“Could you give me another chance, you think?” Eddie asked, still believing he deserved for Richie to be mad. “Forgive me?” He added, looking unbelievably nervous.

Richie dunked the Hot-Dog in the float and grinned. “Eddie, my love, don’t ask such dumb questions.” He took a large chunk of the food and swallowed it down with his happy smile. “I said it before and I’ll say it forever, you’ve got nothing to apologize for. Now please, come make-out with me in the bathroom?”

Richie held out his hand which Eddie gladly accepted. They’d finally found their way back to each other and they couldn’t wait to share the news with their best friends.

#this fic is weird and kinda sad at points #hope you like it??#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #my fanfiction #it chapter 2 #it chapter two #i dont know #it's weird #please tell me how you feel #christmas #holiday fic

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thelonelymonths · 4 years

Text

Sisters. Am I Right, Ladies?

I’m 20 years old and presently sharing a very small room with my sister at my dad’s house. I honestly forgot how infuriating it is, which is surprising since this was a reality from 5th grade through high school. It is still the worst. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but having her as a roommate is a nightmare.

My day consists of waking up, brushing my teeth and washing my face, coming back to the room for my skin care, and then never stepping in there again, unless I need something, until I go up to go back to bed. She’s always in there. I know that we both need our space and I’m a very non-confrontational person, so I just let it be and hope that I’ll get some peace elsewhere in my house. This is usually in the living room or on the roof, though occasionally I’ll find things to do outside or in the kitchen.

When we were in grade school, she was terrible to me and I’d not come in until she was sleeping or in the bathroom and I’d pretend like I was sleeping so she wouldn’t be able to speak to me. I think in a way my mind still thinks that’s the situation going on. One of my favorite memories for how bad it was is from when I was in 11th grade and she was in 12th.

I had fallen down a flight of stairs at school, and even though the nurse said my ankle would be alright, she still told me to elevate and ice it when I got home. The issue with this was that my sister stress cleans, and back then would yell at us and be so mean trying to get us to help her. This happened to be one of those days.

There I was, elevating and icing my poor swelling ankle, and she entered trying to get me to clean a room. I basically told her “my ankle hurts and I’m elevating it to get the swelling down.” (I helped build homecoming floats in high school and was trying to be able to walk on it during the meeting later that night.) She went off loudly complaining and trying to contest it saying that she “bet[s] it isn’t even that bad.” I should mention that it ended up being swollen and bruised for the next two months. I was on homecoming court that year and had to wear some of my mom’s flats because they were the only thing that fit my gigantic foot/ankle. I like to taunt her with that sometimes, on her good days.

Anyways, my mind gets flashbacks to that and similar moments, because that’s what 7 years of my life were like. She’s better now sometimes, but she still cleans when she’s manic or stressed. The thing is, with her depression she doesn’t even open the curtains half of the time so our room stays pretty dark. I had to move my plants into my brother’s room so that they could get the sunlight they deserved. One day sunlight will pour back into my room, though I don’t know how soon. She plans to move in with my other sister, but I don’t know when that will be a reality. All I know is she moved the table that was by the window, upon which my plants sat, back to the foot of my bed. I hate it there.

Her method of moving and cleaning things is in a way that only benefits herself as well. I have no room of my own in the closet or under the bed. The boxes I moved around to make room to have stuff in there got stashed, courtesy of her, in my brother’s room. We plan to rebel and take the boxes to the attic. She also took my laundry bin and hasn’t given it back. I am protesting by leaving dirty clothes and towels in a pile on the floor.

I miss having somewhere peaceful to meditate and practice piano. I cannot do either of those things if somebody is in the room with me thought, unless it is my cats. Before she moved back in, my cats were allowed to come in and out as they pleased and I left the door open for this reason (and air circulation). They’d even get to sleep in there with me, which was the cutest thing. Vlad would sleep right on my back and stay there all night. I miss having him around in the room with me.

I do love my sister; she’s funny and we have good times together. But if you’re going to stick two mentally ill people in a room together, make sure that they can get along for long periods of time in enclosed spaces.

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inkribbon796 · 5 years

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Third Sunday

Summary: It’s the third Sunday of the month and Yancy gets some visitors.

A dark green jeep pulled up to the security gate around Happy Trails Penitentiary, the driver handing over both his ID and his solo occupant’s ID, and smiling nicely as his brother tried to change the radio. He failed.

Once they parked, the remaining occupant, Bim, stepped out of a car. The car ride had been pretty quiet except for arguing over the radio. Illinois stepped out of the driver’s side of his jeep, his feet crunching on some snow that had shaken off the car door. Dark refused to let them travel all the way through the Void because he didn’t want the authorities to have actual proof they were part of his network.

It was one of the many rules Dark had them swear to follow. Unless they had to go public, they couldn’t get linked to Dark’s network. Bim at least had a point where he might be able to be publically vocal about his connection to Dark and Wil, but as far as Illinois knew he’d probably never get that, or if he did it would be a long time from now.

“If you play anymore banjo music, I’ll lock you in the basement,” Bim warned. “I’m going to have that noise haunting my nightmares for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, you wanna do my job?” Illinois joked. He was in his tweed suit instead of his preferred attire. “I’d love to go off and check out this old set of ruins in Brazil, but the Old Man’s got me doing most of his leg work.”

“You wish,” Bim huffed. “Come on, my teeth are already on edge.”

“Try not to look for take-out while we’re in there,” Illinois smiled, making sure to clean off his circular glasses to look presentable.

“Ha ha,” Bim glared at him.

“Do me a favor and don’t sweat bullets in there, okay?” Illinois began walking, perching his glasses back on his face.

“Hey, I can be discreet,” Bim reminded, quickly catching up.

The two walked in, getting searched and having their ID’s checked again. The Warden waited to meet them by the door to the visitation lobby, smiling at them. “Welcome back boys,” Warden Murder-Slaughter smiled. “How are the dads?”

“Depends,” Illinois smiled. “How’s your tenure doing?”

“You’re a brat, you know that, right?” he frowned. Then he turned to his security staff. “They clean?”

“Yes, Sir,” the guard answered.

“Excellent,” he smiled with that sticky-sweet smile. “You boys behave now.”

“If we’re late to dinner, our ride will swing back around,” Bim reminded.

“You’re new,” the Warden’s attention turned to him. “I think I saw you on the TV. Nice show.”

“Thanks,” Bim smiled proudly. “We spent a pretty penny on the special effects.”

“Good to hear it’s fake,” the Warden kept up a knowing grin, as if the young show host was one misstep away from being placed in handcuffs.

“Isn’t it?” Illinois stood next to Bim, glaring at the Warden.

“Yes,” the Warden inclined his head a bit and opened the door for them to step into the visitation area. “Yancy should still be in there, he just had someone visit him.”

“Who?” Illinois asked, hoping it wasn’t the heroes.

“A beautifully handsome face,” the Warden admitted. “Y/N, I think was the name.”

“Ahh,” Illinois smiled. “Hope they’re doing well.”

As Bim and Illinois watched they saw Yancy taking to a guard who was standing by the door. The two of them talking.

“Hey, you doubled down on the accent,” Bim called out, smiling at Yancy.

Yancy immediately turned to look at them, confused, before his mouth gaped open. “What youse two doing here?”

“Visiting,” Illinois reminded as Bim and Yancy walked up to each other. “The Old Man kept a bunch of us under lock and key, didn’t even know you were in jail. Sorry we didn’t visit sooner.”

“Youse look like a teach,” Yancy grinned. Bim grabbed him around the neck, about to start wrestling around with Yancy like they were little kids on the floor of the Manor again.

“Bim,” Illinois grabbed him off of Yancy. “Come on, you’ll get us thrown out.”

The three of them sat down, Bim getting in Yancy’s space every chance he got even though Illinois tried to keep pulling him back.

“How’s everyone doing? Yancy asked.

“The Old Man’s being such an asshole,” Bim complained. “I had to beg to get my own show can you believe that?”

Illinois was just studying Yancy for a while, mostly at his tattoos, which neither of them remember him having when he was still living with them. “Where’d you get those?”

Yancy shrugged, “Got some of ‘em cause I’s was bored. Others I just woke up with ‘em.” He held up a diagram on one of his forearms. “Ol’ Man didn’t like is’n too much.”

“Likes the names less probably,” Illinois added, looking at the knuckles of his hands.

“Yeah,” Yancy rubbed at his arms. “But he’s was cool wit’ it. Anyways, how’s youse guys? Yan and Kay and Artie?”

“Artie? Don’t care.” Bim scratched his nails at the table. “Kay ran off cause he didn’t like the business. Yan’s being Yan, she’s chasing after some hero. I would of thought she’d of gotten bored by now.”

“What’d Artie do? Piss in youse coffee?” Yancy smiled.

That got a bit of a chuckle out of him.

Bim looked indignant, “I don’t get why no one is taking it seriously. Artie can probably access the Void and you two are laughing it up.”

“If Artie wanted to do something he’d start airing everyone’s dirty laundry,” Illinois leaned in. “Food for thought: you and Yan were minors when he skipped out, Artie could have had you two taken from the Ol’ Man. He could have written any number of things to get us all thrown in jail whether or not we even did them.”

Bim looked away.

“So yeah, Artie’s not gonna do anything, even if he wants to play at being a hero,” Illinois finished.

“Does that mean I’s shouldn’t make him a Christmas card?” Yancy asked, looking confused.

“Make one if you want but I don’t know if he’ll ever see it,” Illinois shrugged. “We don’t know where he is.”

Yancy held up his hand, “What’dya mean youse guys don’t know where he is? Ain’t the Ol’ Man looking?”

“Yeah,” Illinois evaded. “You just know how Artie is, if he didn’t want to be found, he would make sure no one found him.”

“Yeah, he always cheated at hide-n-go-seek,” Yancy smiled, before glaring goodnaturedly at Illinois. “Youse always cheated at tag.”

“Hey now we all got something, I just got intelligence.” Illinois smiled cheekily. Both his brothers laughed.

“More like sheer dumb luck,” Bim laughed. Illinois rolled his eyes.

The three brothers talked about what they’d been up to in the past couple of years. Then, all to soon, Yancy had to go. His time ever shorter than usual because he’d already had a visitor before Bim and Illinois arrived.

Snow was starting to fall again as the two walked out and towards Illinois’s jeep.

“Ughhh, it’s cold and the Old Man’s gonna be pissed,” Bim complained.

“Nah,” Illinois slid on a patch of ice over to the driver’s side of the car.

“There’s ice and snow,” Bim bit back, almost slipping on the ice but was able to grab onto the hood of the car. “Sides, you’ve been wandering around tropical forests. You should be an icicle by now.”

“No, hell man, it’s freezing and I don’t know why we couldn’t take a shortcut.” Illinois got in the car and tried to start the heater as quickly as possible. Bim got in before his brother could tease that he was going to leave him.

“So what’re we going to tell him, Yance is still in that hellpit,” Bim rubbed his hands together and blew hot air into his cupped hands.

“We’ve got good news,” Illinois began to carefully leave the driveway. “You ever actually met Y/N?”

“I think I’ve seen them once,” Bim admitted.

“Look let’s just say that Y/N taking an interest in Yancy and visiting him is a good thing for us,” Illinois smiled. “Means that Yancy might actually be getting out.”

“Wasn’t he arrested for double homicide?” Bim reminded. “I remember the Ol’ Man being furious about that.”

“Dark’s been accused of just about everything under the sun and I don’t think he’s even spent a night in jail,” Illinois shrugged, the car finally warmed up as they took a detour to make sure no one was following them to one of Dark’s unlisted sites.

Bim took control of the radio a bit to play some pop and rock music, both of them insulting the others’ taste in music as they drove away.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Markiplier #A Heist with Markiplier #Yancy the Prisoner #Bim Trimmer #Illinois Jones #Illinois the Advnturer #Warden Murderslaughter #prison #slight angst #cause it's Yancy

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grouchyhuman · 5 years

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I know it isn’t ALL men... but...

....it doesn’t have to be. I wrote this some time ago, when I was in counseling for depression and anxiety. I didn’t share this with the person I was seeing but getting it down on paper helped me. I don’t hate all men. I don’t hate men, period. Men don’t do shit like this. However I have absolutely no respect for males who engage in and perpetuate the sort of actions you are gonna be reading about. Fuck those fuckers with the vehicles they ride around in. And fuck the fucking females/people who support them. And fuck the society that is fine with half of its population living in fear of the other half. Also, my apologies for the gendered pronouns here. I tried to fix some of them but I really can’t read this again right now.

Yes, I know that "not all men" are doing awful things to women. There are four men in my life now that are very important to me that I know full well would never mistreat a woman. I'm married to one, I birthed another and the other two are good friends. I am also certain that at least two of those four would kill a man who was caught raping me or my daughter or any other female. Hell, possibly all four of them. I know that two of them wouldn't lose a wink of sleep about that death, either. They would “sleep the sleep of the just.” I don't think it would much bother the others either. So yes, I know the truth of "Not all men."

I also know the reality that enough men do things that entirely TOO MANY women have good reason to not trust the lot of you. I certainly have enough reason to wish ill upon a significant segment of your gender, fellas. And it is very personal. Probably not at YOU, sir, specifically, but in general? Oh, fuck yeah.

Introduction to bad thing with guys (well, society, really) was the fact that my mother was single. My father paid $100/month in child support so there's that, but my mom raised me. I remember hearing people talk shit about single mothers; now they are talking shit about wanting to ban abortions and talking shit about cutting welfare and generally dumping on single mothers. I never heard anything about how awful men were for getting women pregnant and running off, just how it was HER fault for "getting herself pregnant" and then having to raise that child alone. If men were so fucking superior then why were there so many single mothers? Why were so many women going without child support? Fuck anyone who has talked shit about single parents because you're part of the fucking problem.

When I was around ten years old I started developing breasts. Ten. That's 4th grade. I remember going over to some couple's house with my grandfather to deliver some clothes and towels and bedding to a family who lost their house in a fire. My grandfather took some stuff in and the old guy (old enough to have grandkids) had come out to "help." While my grandfather was in the house, the old pervert groped my breasts. I remember him saying something supposedly flattering about me being pretty but it was just creepy. He then said "We don't want anyone to know about this, now do we?" I was a child, I agreed just to get him away from me, though he made me feel dirty. He took a box in and I trailed along with another box. His wife offered me a piece of candy when I was inside. I was standing close to my grandfather. I don't know if she knew what her husband was about or not. The pervert said "Take two, You got two hands, don't you?" I knew he was buying me off. I took two anyway. I never said anything. What would I say or how would I say it? I knew that shit wasn't right, though. I started being wary of old strange guys after that. I became more aware of older dudes LOOKING at me because of what that one male did to me. That isn't an awareness a child should have. Not all men, but it was that one fucking creep. And all those other creeps leering at me as a child.

Second thing that I remember was my step-father. First and foremost, I LOVE my mother so no shit-talking about her. Fucking NONE. You all can keep your cock-holsters shut. Also my mother died a couple of years ago (surprise Stage 4 cancer) and I am still not over it. I don’t think I ever will be. My mother was happy with this guy while they were dating. They met sometime when I was in late 5th grade or the summer between 5th and 6th. My mom was a teacher and coached (and won state championships) for the extra pittance they paid her for coaching, which was, of course, less than what the male coaches got. (Yes, another problem I have with the patriarchy). This guy was divorced and his ex-wife had the kids. Divorced dad, nothing to see here, right? I was SUPER-STOKED when I heard they were getting married. I was gonna have a DAD! He was going to do shit with me and teach me stuff that other dads taught their kids and it was going to be great! He was going to threaten my dates and teach me to work on a car and whatever else dads do with their daughters. Then one day when he and I were hanging out, he said "Give me a kiss." I was like, sure, dads kiss their kids all the time, right? So I went to give him a peck and he turned it into a harder kiss than just a peck on the lips. He quickly backed off and said "it must be something in the air" or some shit like that. I believed him, though it made me a little leery of him. But I forgave it and assumed it was some anomaly. Elementary school kid at that time, remember? The wedding wasn't a huge affair. My mom wasn't much for pomp and circumstance, plus it was her second marriage. (My father married her so she would have his military benefits for prenatal care and delivery but they were divorced after that.) It was after the wedding that things started to change a little between them. Mom told me later that he courted her one way and married her another, but that was some years after they got divorced. What started for me was ongoing sexual harassment and some occasional mild molestation (he never got me naked, he never stuck his fingers inside me, he never stuck his dick on or in me). He made it QUITE clear that he wanted to fuck me. I was twelve when this full court press started. He would buy me gifts, he would try to get me to watch soft-core porn when my mom wasn't around. He would corner me while I was doing laundry. I'm pretty sure he would creep into my room at night to watch me. He would grab me and try to feel my breasts up. He told me one time, when I was riding with him one winter, that if I was cold he could warm me up. I learned that he felt guilty when I would cry, which I would. I was scared and I knew what he wanted, even if I didn't know the HOW of it.

I was NAIVE, dear reader. Horribly naive. Naive on a "Bless my little pea-picking heart" level. I didn't tell my mom about what was going on because I thought he made her happy and I could put up with his occasional shit to make sure she was happy. She was always involving me in things she was doing. She'd let me read her book collection and recommend books to me, she and I would sing together. She'd take me shopping for clothes and make really good recommendations, to the point that I about gave up picking clothes because she had really good taste and I always ended liking what she bought for me. I would occasionally get money off of that guy when he would have me count cash for him. I only later figured out that he was doing shady shit on the side and was having me count what he had because he wanted to somehow impress (?) me or convince me to crawl into bed with him. Given that I heard he was upset over losing a bag of corn when it hit the road and burst, I suspect he was moonshining with some other dudes. That or just dealing drugs. Or both. Don't know, don't care.

The breaking point was when he came into my room one night when I was sixteen. He and mom were sleeping in separate rooms by this time. I woke up and he was pouring chloroform on my pillow. He would drip some, wait a second, drip some, wait a second. I was waking up and thought I was dreaming. (The chemical he got from where he was working, claimed he could sniff it and get rid of headaches. We didn't question him and there wasn’t Google back in them days of Apple IIe computers to check on that.) I sat up and asked him what he was doing. He lunged for me and grabbed me legs as I scurried back on my bed. The light was on behind him. I don't believe he had a stitch of clothing on but I couldn't tell, not between the light and my not having my glasses on. He tried to pull me towards him but I screamed. He stood up, said "Alright alright I'm leaving" and walked out of my room. I grabbed a pair of scissors like a knife and ran to my mom's room upstairs. I told her what had just happened. She stormed downstairs like Baba Yaga and I heard arguing. What I remember is this: Her: What the fuck is going on?!!? Him: I don't know. I feel like I'm going crazy. (I knew it was bullshit because this had been going on a while. I never told her how long it had been happening.) Her: NOT AROUND (my name) YOU'RE NOT! GET OUT! After a few minutes she came back upstairs where I was in her bed. She was shaking a little. I know she was furious and probably guilty that she didn't have any idea that shit was going on in his head. I asked her "Are you OK?" and she laughed, the same laugh I have when I am between fury and tears, and said "I should be asking you that." I told her I was fine. We didn't talk about that night until years later. I was safe and secure with her. When I needed her, she was there for me and hell's fury was with her. They got divorced on a one year separation because she didn't want to put me through a trial about his treatment of me. Well, she never told me the reason for the wait, but I wasn't stupid. Naive, yes, but not stupid…not generally anyway. They divorced when I was between my sophomore and junior year in HS, if I recall correctly. That isn't really a date I've ever wanted to celebrate. Not all men, but it WAS that one.

Years later, I moved in with a guy and eventually got pregnant because of one instance in bad math in timing my cycles. I could have stayed at home but I was in my early 20's and full of the stupid that comes with that decade. (I absolutely do not miss those years and am sometimes terrified that reincarnation is real and I'll have to go through my teens and 20's again.) He was abusive when he was drinking. He was nicer when he was stoned. We were stupid poor. I had a minimum wage, ~25hrs a week part time job as a cashier at a grocery store and he worked as a painter for a shady guy. We made rent and the bills had a TV. I saw his potential (instead of seeing him) and thought I could help him reach it. Still being naive, though by now it was bordering on being stupid. But I was the idealist then, full of sunshine and rainbows and believing in fairies and spirits and the like. I remember us having an argument and him grabbing me by my neck and throwing me over a coffee table and onto a couch. Another time I was in another room and he threw a glass bowl so that it smashed against a wall near me. One time we were having sex and it started hurting and I asked him to stop but he didn't. I kept asking but he didn't until he climaxed. I was crying and he was strutting around the room. That’s rape, by the way. He did a great job of gaslighting, plus I didn't want to go home so soon after leaving and being an abject failure in making my own way. After I found out I was pregnant, he suggested we wait a while then he could push me down the outside stairs to our 2nd floor apartment. We didn't want a baby but I thought he was joking. He wasn't, actually, because I had enlisted on a delayed plan because my chosen school wouldn't start again for a number of weeks. By the time I would be able to go through basic, I would be too far along in my pregnancy for the military to allow me in. I couldn't afford an abortion so I got whatever amounts to a release from the service. I guess he was hoping I'd be his meal ticket and that didn't happen. At the pregnancy center I was going to, an official there pulled me off in a room by ourselves and told me that they had a couple willing to adopt and would give me $10,000 for the baby. I really thought about it but I didn't know what sort of people they were. I never met them. They could have been wonderful or they could have been a nightmare. I sometimes wish I had taken them up on the offer as it would have saved my son from the third guy. Not all men, but it was that one.

I was humiliated to have to move back home but I did. My mom was with me when I had my son. She doted on him and bought him all kinds of shit. That was awesome. I didn't have a social life because I was a mother. I did get out a few times but always felt guilty for leaving my kid with my family as he was my responsibility. An acquaintance of mine got me to go with her to a martial arts class. The instructor seemed really nice. He let me work around the studio to offset the cost of classes. I was good at the marital art and really enjoyed it. I eventually moved in with him. He was older and didn't mind my son, whom he later adopted. Everything was fine for a while then he started his shit. I remember he stopped playing chess with me because "You were good enough that you would beat me one day." He slowly started with the abuse. It was mental and emotional. I saw the signs but was thinking that no one would want to date someone as young as I was (23) who had a baby. Yes, I know, it was stupid but I was still starry-eyed and also horribly lacking in self-confidence. We talked about marriage and his occasional hateful comments decreased in frequency. I thought that marriage would help because he wouldn't have to worry about me leaving him. Besides, it wasn't that often and I thought things would get better. Plus he had a good job and his evening side job of teaching as well as another business that I took care of during the day. I never EVER got paid though. Things didn't get better. He became more abusive to my son, overly punishing him for wrongdoings. I learned later that when I wasn't at the martial arts school he would treat the boy even more harshly, though out of the eye of everyone else. He said my son had delicate sinuses which is why he had a nosebleed one time. If dinner wasn't on time, he'd yell at me or just NOT talk to me at all. Same with bills not being paid on a certain day. I had to get specific brands of foods. I was left with keeping up with the house bills and the business bills while he just strolled around as a bad-ass black belt. Well, he never did any work at the business but he did know everything, even if he didn't. He had a limited amount of stories he'd tell over and over and always had to one-up anything anyone else talked about. Except for my awful periods. (I was later diagnosed with PMDD) He wouldn’t one-up me on those. One day we met some Mormon missionaries. They were very polite and had a persuasive tale to tell us. We were interested and started taking lessons. It seemed that after each one we would later discuss them and would have questions for the next lesson. And those questions were answered during the course of the lesson. It seemed like some divine sign and we joined the church. And for a WHILE, things went really good. I was convinced that us finding this church was the answer to our problems. Home life got a lot better and there was more peace around the home. It lasted for about a year before the old behaviors started reappearing. In our maybe 8th year together I got pregnant (birth control fail) and we had a daughter. His behavior calmed again while I was pregnant. He got angry with me for something (probably me being sarcastic because I was fucking tired in my last trimester). We were passing in the narrow hallway and he body checked me with his shoulder so that I stumbled back into the wall. He walked on by and didn't say anything.

After I had my daughter (he was with me the entire time in labor, honestly concerned about me) and came home, he refused to make me anything to eat so I'd have to get up to do it myself because he was told that I needed to move around. This was two days after I'd pushed out a baby weighing over nine pounds, and after I'd had my tubes tied the day after her birth, and of course, vaginal stitches. I was fucking hurting. I'd have to get the food out the fridge (the church people had showered us with casseroles so we didn't have to cook for over a week) and nuke the food and put the shit away and gimp back to my chair to eat. I was nursing because I could, which was probably a good thing as I'm pretty sure if we were bottle feeding I'd have to do all that crap as well. He rarely helped with her, though. When we were at the business I ran, he'd come get her only when he saw someone pulling up so when they came in, they'd see him with the baby whom he'd bring back to me while he talked business with them. As if I wasn't working it the back or anything. When I had to run the noisy machines, he would refuse to take her home (about 3/4 mile away) or even outside so I'd have to call a friend of ours to come run the noisy machines so I could take her outside.

The breaking point was about a year and a half after the girl was born. They were going to a tournament and the boy had forgotten his belt (he was fucking eleven years old and I'm pretty sure that he was told to pack all sorts of shit up and not just his stuff). So instead of just going to get the belt or buying one at the tournament, this person loses his fucking mind and hits the kid then grabs him by the hair of his head, shakes him a little and yells into his face "I hate you. I HATE you!" then shoves him away. I stepped between them while holding the girl, terrified that he would hit me and her as well but he didn't. I realized then that his shit was never going to stop and that if I didn't leave then my son and I at least would end up as domestic violence statistics. I called my mom, who would come over every now and then to visit, when Captain Controlling would allow it. She came over when he wasn't around and I loaded up stuff I needed and she took it over to her house. This went on for a week or so until I'd gotten the important things. He went off one day to do I don't care what and she came over, got the three of us and we fucking left.

Because I ended up with a female attorney that was even less useful than a dry fuck with an oversized, 60 grit sandpaper dildo, I had to allow for joint custody even though I'd kept a journal. He paid child support right on time, though and would buy school supplies if they were needed. He never complained about the cheap child support or providing for the kids but he has only recently admitted that he did wrong by us. I guess that's something, but the apology won't erase the damage. Oh... yeah, the Church Of Jesus Christ Of Latter Day Saints. Fuck them. I went to talk to one of the leaders about three years before this crap happened. It was a wonder he didn't just pat me on the head and send me on my way. He didn't take me seriously at all. Then when I'd left the house, I went to talk to the bishop about what was going on. I let him read a couple of entries in my journal. I told him this sort of thing had been going on for several years. That motherfucking piece of shit tells me "You need to forgive him and move back in and make your family whole again." I could not fucking believe I just heard those words come out of his mouth. Was not the Spirit of the Lord supposed to be with him and let him know when truth is being spoken and when someone needed help? I was in fear for my life and that bastard tells me I am wrong for leaving. I spoke with a matriarch in the church and she told me the bishop was right. At that point I was done with the church. DONE. I knew good and well that they were full of shit. Abuse is supposed to be very much against church standards, but apparently it wasn't as important as maintaining the appearance of solid family units.

I also spoke with my mother's pastor after I'd left. I told him what had been going on and how the religious leaders had responded and he told me that they were right, that I should work on making my family whole.

For those of you wondering why I didn’t try to fix it? I wasn't the one heaping on the abuse. I wasn't the one refusing to go to counseling or talk to a doctor or anything. I did my best to make that marriage work but one cannot carry something meant to be carried by two. Oh... did someone say that I broke my marriage vows by getting divorced? Fuck you, too. He broke his marriage vows the minute he spoke with hate intending to hurt, the minute he laid his hands on us in anger. There is nothing loving or honorable about treatment like that. You don't abuse something you cherish.

So yes, not all men, but it was that one, and the three male religious leaders who didn't care and the bitch who also told me I was wrong for leaving. That right there is one abuser and four assholes enabling the abuse. Plus however many other people who knew and never spoke up.

I am currently married to an absolutely amazing man who, while he grew up in a physically abusive household, has never ever raised his voice or his hand to me. We each worship the ground that the other walks on. He has been a rock for me. He's one of those who most assuredly is an example of #notallmen. Yes, guys, I know it's NOT ALL MEN but it was four who had direct influence over me and two other men who could have stepped up but chose instead to sit back on their asses and believe the facade of my last abuser or some religious bullshit over the truth of my own words. It was all those other men who knew my son's adopted father was abusing him and did nothing, who said nothing. It was all those men who knew I was being abused and did nothing, either with my daughter’s father or my son’s. They knew. They saw things and they did nothing. Not all men do this, but it's enough of your gender that are shitting in the well and poisoning it for every other human that has to drink from it. And it’s women who know this is going on and condemn the abused for trying to leave it. It’s people in power who know and look the other way. It’s anyone who sees these horrible wrongs and doesn’t speak out. To this day hearing male voices raised in anger frightens me. When I see a balding guy with a moustache and glasses, I feel fear. Those males have caused me and people like me to look at every man with suspicion because we have learned that #notallmen can be trusted, that #notallmen are safe to be around and it is foolish to assume any guy is nice. They all are until they aren’t.

#abusesurvivor #notallmen #sexualabuse

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bussanbaby · 7 years

Text

It all looks like a postcard, Magnus muses as he steps out onto a wide branch, his hands finding purchase on a thinner one above his head to prevent a fall to his not-quite-death as he surveys the neighborhood.

It’s not very fancy, per se; after all, it’s only the suburbs, although there are white picket fences, trampolines and children’s toys scattered between lawn sprinklers, making for quite an idyllic view. Speaking of kids, there are none in sight, as it is only 10 a.m. on a Saturday morning and most of them are probably watching cartoons and eating sugary cereal in their pajamas.

The sun warms spots on Magnus’ skin where it breaks through the thick canopy of leaves, as he makes his way across the tree and jumps down onto the roof just below the branch. The window is already cracked open, so Magnus pushes it further up, enough to fit himself through it. It’s not that easy, with legs much longer than when he was a kid, but years of practice pay off and he manages to not fall on his face.

Magnus slips a dark tote bag from his shoulder and sets it on Alec’s desk – the only cluttered spot compared to an otherwise tidy room (for a teenage boy, anyway), before making his way to the bed pushed against the opposite wall. Alec hasn’t acknowledged him yet from where he’s lying on top of the sheets, a book propped up against his bare chest, part of the title being the word ‘mockingbird’. Only his best friend is nerdy enough to do the optional reading during the summer, on a Saturday, of all days.

The mattress creaks and protests when Magnus climbs onto it, plops himself down almost right in Alec’s lap, their legs tangled and Magnus’ back pressed against the poster-filled wall. Belatedly, he realizes it might not have been the wisest decision, because Alec’s shirtless and definitely incredibly distracting. Still, this is a foolproof way of getting his attention so Magnus just hopes he doesn’t embarrass himself.

Alec rests the open book down on his chest and pushes himself up onto his elbows with a soft sigh; the look he shoots Magnus was probably aiming for unamused and maybe even chastising, but it falls short and instead ends up being disgustingly fond.

“You know, you can use the front door like a normal person,” Alec says, a lopsided smile curling onto his face as he flops down again. He looks pretty like that – with hair a bird’s nest, sun-born freckles spilling over the bridge of his nose, and eyes glittering with a sleepy kind of mirth.

Magnus shrugs nonchalantly. “The tree is more fun.”

They lapse into a moment of comfortable silence and Magnus occupies himself by drawing shapes on Alec’s side with his finger, watching the muscles beneath the skin twitch and tense when it tickles.

“Where are your siblings?” Magnus asks, letting his head fall back against the wall to watch Alec from beneath a fringe of lashes; it’s eerily quiet in the Lightwood household, with only the subdued din of Miss Lightwood puttering in the kitchen downstairs.

“Izzy’s at her science club, then she has her self-defense class later in the evening. And Jace is off somewhere, disappointing God probably. Maybe committing minor crimes with Simon, who knows,” Alec answers with a hint of a smirk in the corner of his lips, playing into his and Magnus’ inside joke - Alec’s adopted brother has recently started his rebellious phase, trying to seem all tough and badass, which so far has only gotten him into more trouble and detentions than it’s worth.

“And you’re in your room, just waiting for your best friend to save you from boredom,” Magnus alludes, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. His knee bumps against Alec’s ribs, another point of contact that turns Magnus’ skin hot.

Alec levels him with an analyzing stare, one of his eyes squinted and the tip of his tongue trapped between dry lips.

“Okay, I’ll bite the bullet. What are you up to?” he asks, feigning suspicion while he tries to fight back a smile.

While people usually assume Magnus is the more reckless one, it’s been proven in the past they both have an audacious streak a mile wide, bouncing ideas off each other until they inevitably end up with amazing memories and maybe a scar or two.

Magnus straightens up, catching Alec’s eyes like he’s gearing up for a confession.

“I want you to shave my head.”

“What?!” Alec yelps, sitting up so violently Magnus worries he’s gonna get whiplash, hazel eyes wide with almost comical horror; his book thumps onto the ground, forgotten.

“Not the whole thing, you idiot! Just the sides, so I can have a mohawk,” Magnus explains, hands lifting to gesture towards his hair.

“You almost gave me a heart attack,” Alec chides, shaking his head. He gives a long sigh, one of his hands resting on Magnus’ knee. “And why me? I’m not a hairdresser.”

“Because my dad won’t let me make an appointment, since it’s ‘unprofessional and I will look like a punk’ as he put it.” While quoting his father, Magnus lowers his voice to make it sound menacing and smooth at the same time, adding air-quotes to the equation just out of sheer pettiness.

His dad has always been strict with Magnus in a different way than Alec’s parents were with him - Asmodeus Bane consistently put forth elegance and good reputation, his influences stretching far over the town as a big business figure. He didn’t want his only son looking anything else other than immaculate and poised all the time; obviously, a mohawk didn’t fit that sort of appearance, but Magnus was tired of answering ‘Yes, papa’ to every request given to him.

“I don’t really wanna be on your dad’s shit list, I feel like he doesn’t like me anyway.” Alec’s voice is quieter, almost unsure. His eyes drift to his lap where he starts picking at a stray thread in his sweats.

His dad has some opinions about Alec that Magnus doesn’t want to voice out loud, but after all the years Alec and Magnus have spent joined at the hip, Asmodeus had no choice but to warm up to the eldest Lightwood son.

With a cut off noise of protest, Magnus wraps his fingers around a warm wrist, squeezes once, making Alec look up at him, his lower lip worried between his teeth.

“He does, he just has a funny way of showing it. So, pretty please, with a cherry on top?”

Alec’s arm twitches in Magnus’ grip and for a split second, he thinks Alec’s gonna do something, either take it back or deepen their touch, but nothing like that happens. After a moment of deliberation, Alec rolls his eyes with such emphasis that something cracks in his neck.

“Fuck, okay. You know I can’t say no to you.”

The breathy way the swear leaves Alec’s mouth and the words that follow it confuse the blood in Magnus’ body - it can’t choose whether to flow up into his cheeks or go downstairs. Still, his face lights up with a pleased grin as he brings both his palms to cup Alec’s cheeks with theatrical seriousness.

“You’re the best, buddy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Say that again when you look like a cockatoo after a close meeting with a lawnmower,” Alec says defeatedly, but there’s laughter beneath the fake resignation, mixing with Magnus’ snickering. As much as Alec tries to make himself seem indifferent, Magnus sees right through him, notices the smile he tries to hide as he moves off the bed and towards his desk.

Hooking one finger into the edge of the tote bag, Alec glances inside, taking note of the trimmer neatly wrapped in its cord. “I see you came prepared.”

They relocate to the small ensuite bathroom, barely enough space for the two of them to stand face to face, but they make do - Alec subtly kicks a dirty t-shirt closer to the laundry bin and Magnus elbows him in the ribs as they try to switch places.

Magnus can’t count the times he’s been here before, taking quick showers before tucking himself in for sleep on the spare mattress by Alec’s bed, chilling on the closed toilet as Alec brushes his teeth on lazy mornings when they’re too tired to even go eat breakfast.

Magnus plops himself down in the tub to minimize the mess, then tugs off his shirt, throwing it aside. Behind his back, Alec tinkers with the trimmer, trying to get the interchangeable part to stay on, Magnus can see his reflection in the mirror above the sink - brows furrowed in concentration, mouth twisted into a sour line.

The soft light filters in through the small window near the ceiling, accentuating all the lines of Alec’s body and the ropy muscle he’s been building over the last couple of months in the garage gym; it paints all the fuzzy hairs coming in over his sternum and down the middle of his stomach gold as he leans back to plug in the cord.

The trimmer wakes up to life and Alec perches on the edge of the tub, his fingers carding through Magnus’ messy hair. “Only the sides.”

Magnus nods with a quiet chuckle. “Make me look beautiful, Lightwood.”

“I don’t have to do anything, then.” Alec’s answer is immediate, soaked with comfort, like the words have been sitting in the back of his throat for a while. His hand freezes for a split second, buried in dark hair, but then it resumes its work, with the help of a comb marking out all the areas to keep lines straight.

Magnus presses his lips together into a thin line, a smile trying to worm its way onto his face.

They’ve been like this for a while, all lingering touches and flirtatious quips, quick kisses dropped into hair when the other one is supposed to be sleeping. Magnus has been told that best friends don’t behave like this, that they’re weird, but he and Alec have never been anything other than strange.

Magnus doesn’t remember a single year of his life that didn’t have Alec in it - all through kindergarten, elementary school and now middle school, they’ve been by each other’s side; they played pirates and read superhero comics on the floor of Magnus’ living room, walked along the creek behind the town’s edge, casting stones into the water and telling bad jokes.

And they still do all of these things and so much more.

Magnus has never found anyone he felt as safe with as Alec, whose opinion mattered just as much, who could placate his anger and fear just with one touch of his fingertips. Back when he used to have nightmares, Magnus would climb over the tree and into Alec’s room. Even at three in the morning, the half-awake Alec would only pull back the covers and wrap Magnus up in his arms, murmuring something about kicking every monster’s ass out there before drifting back into soft snores.

They lapse into comfortable silence with only the steady buzzing to accompany it. At one point, Magnus closes his eyes, hangs his head slightly, focusing on the sensations around him.

One of his feet feels close to being asleep and Alec’s touch keeps surfacing goosebumps onto his skin, sending shivers skittering down the knobby line of his spine. Magnus breathes deep, focuses on the drag of those fingertips down the curve of his skull, how careful and diligent Alec is, making sure to get everything even.

“What if I shaved a dick onto your head?” Alec hums at one point, drawing Magnus out of his thoughts; surprised, he bursts into a fit of immature giggles and Alec laughs along, his palm fitted into the crook of Magnus’ neck.

“If you were Jace, I’d consider that as a danger. But I trust you.” Magnus turns to look up at Alec - it feels significant somehow, the way they hold each other’s gaze, Alec’s hand on his bare shoulder.

“Alright,” Alec hums and that’s it, another moment to tuck into their pockets like colorful autumn leaves just after they fall. Lately, everything feels charged, a storm waiting to happen between them, first thunder growling in the lingering glances, in the unspoken words left hanging in the air.

It’s some time later, when Alec straightens out with a sigh, stretches with arms high above his head. “Done, I think.”

He brushes off all the loose hairs from Magnus’ back and helps him out of the bathtub, before motioning towards the mirror.

It actually looks better than Magnus expected - the hair atop his head is still sticking up in all directions, but the sides are just the right length; when he runs his fingers across them, it feels funny, scratchy but soft at the same time.

“Thank you, Alexander,” he says, turning around and leaning against the edge of the sink counter.

Alec pushes off the tiled wall, crowds closer to Magnus until there’s little space between them, before reaching out to brush his knuckles against the side of Magnus’ face.

“Stray hair,” he offers for an explanation, but his fingers drift further, over Magnus’ cheekbone and the sharp line of his jaw to stop at his mouth, thumb pushed against the lower lip.

They’re teetering.

Always walking a thin line of something more, of a touch a second too long, of a heartbeat just on the side of too quick. Magnus loves it, hates it, a little bit of both. It makes him lie awake at night, imagining the moment when the tide breaks.

It also scares him, in a way. Because this is Alec, the person that knows Magnus better than he knows himself, his best friend that he loves with his whole heart. Maybe that’s the problem, maybe the love that used to be purely platonic changed directions, left Magnus wanting more.

A couple years back, Magnus realized he and Alec don’t fit the clean-cut best friends stereotype. Watching other boys run across the soccer field behind the school, hearing them swear and push at each other in pent-up anger, laughing about how ‘gay’ hugging another guy is, Magnus was left with a weird feeling sitting low behind his ribs, a realization he subconsciously already understood.

The signs were all there, from comments whispered as they passed through the school corridors, through meaningful glances from Izzy and Jace, to their parents’ reluctant confusion. And Magnus isn’t blind, he knows normally boys don’t watch the stars from the roof underneath one blanket and they don’t teach each other to swim only to end up in a tangle of limbs at the seashore. They don’t hold hands while falling asleep and they don’t wear each other’s t-shirts just because and they don’t pine after their best friends, because they love them.

They were never normal. They were them, Magnus and Alec, two boys against the world.

Magnus swallows, watches Alec’s eyes follow the movement, deer-like eyelashes sweeping slow against the delicate skin underneath. With a staccato tremble stuck beneath his skin, Magnus lifts his palms from where they hang along the line of his body, fits them against Alec’s sides instead.

Alec’s breath hitches, Magnus moves his hands up, up, up, over the plane of his stomach, over the lines of his ribs, to where his rabbiting heart sits in its cage.

Magnus is tired of walking on the tightrope, trying to keep his balance; he wants to jump.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers into the distance between their lips, feels Alec’s thumb slip to his chin, then around the side of his neck; his other palm settling at his lower back, tugging him just a fraction closer.

“Please,” Alec whispers back, voice trembling.

Magnus jumps.

It’s nice and strange and slightly overwhelming; Alec’s lips are soft and dry, he tastes faintly like tea and something sweet; his hands tighten on Magnus, bring him even closer until they’re chest to chest.

He starts to understand every line about kissing in books and all the movie scenes he has seen, where the world stops and only two people are left at their own mercy. Before, he could hear birds chirping on the branch outside and the buzzing noises of the tv downstairs, but now his ears are filled only with the hum of his own blood rushing through his veins, the marching beat of his heart.

Magnus forgets to breathe, forgets to think as he wraps his arms around Alec’s neck. His nose presses into Alec’s cheek as they shift together, fall into a rhythm that turns from testing waters into a fervent confession of want. They kiss harder, braver, like everything is about to end even when it isn’t.

They break apart to catch their breath, but being far from each other feels like a curse, so they gasp for air with foreheads pressed together, buzzing with a craving to touch. Alec tips forward, presses his warm mouth against Magnus’ neck, scrapes his teeth against the skin there, wrenching a soft moan from Magnus’ chest, heat curling low in his stomach.

He’s been staring at those pink lips for a while now, imagined how they would feel on his, but nothing he ever came up with compares to this - electric and exciting and so oddly familiar Magnus doesn’t know how he survived without them so long.

With a low noise in his throat, Magnus spins them around, surges for Alec’s lips, who kisses him back like his life depends on it; perhaps in that moment, it does. Those hands bury themselves in Magnus’ freshly cut hair, grip it tight in fistfuls and pull, not enough to hurt, but enough to turn Magnus’ knees into jello just for a second.

Alec calls his name in a breathy voice like it’s the only word he knows, makes it sound like so much more than six letters, like a plea and a command at once.

They’ve crossed a line they can never step back behind, but it feels good, it feels like the right thing to do; Magnus doesn’t care, because he’s not falling - he’s flying close to the sun that won’t burn his wings.

Shifting his weight, Magnus pushes a thigh between Alec’s, feels the taut lines of his body, how equally affected he is by what they’re doing. It sends a spike of white-hot adrenaline through Magnus, as he repeats the motion, kissing Alec again, reckless and open-mouthed and just a little bit sloppy.

Their hands roam freely as they kiss, Alec’s palms drifting from caressing Magnus’ cheeks to squeeze at his shoulders, then scratch blunt nails down his back, equally impatient and reverent in each gesture, as if he can’t believe he’s allowed to.

Magnus can’t believe it either, that’s he’s here, in Alec’s tiny bathroom, kissing the boy of his dreams, pressing curious fingers above the waistband of his sweatpants. He needs to feel more, make another memory to keep tucked into the favorite corners of his brain.

Swiftly, Magnus puts his hands under Alec’s thighs, hauls him onto the counter and oh, the new angle is something beautiful. Alec makes a surprised noise, fingers grabbing tight around Magnus’ biceps to steady himself; they break apart again and Alec looks utterly debauched - his lips are red and shiny, his face is flushed and his eyes hazy, focused only on Magnus himself.

“Working out paid off,” Alec teases, but it has no bite, as he’s breathless, smiling giddily at Magnus.

“I’m going to benchpress your ass one day,” Magnus barks back, half-thinking about what he’s even saying, busy with staring up at Alec; his higher brain functions might as well be all switched off.

Alec throws his head back with a laugh and Magnus uses that opportunity to nose along the line of his clavicle, catching hints of Alec’s favorite cologne.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Alec quips, wrapping his legs around Magnus’ waist to pull him closer; something behind him clatters to the floor, but neither one of them looks.

“You’ll see.”

Magnus slowly moves his palms up Alec’s thighs and over his hips to grope at his ass, but suddenly, there’s the unmistakable sound of footsteps on a creaky staircase.

“Alec, is everything alright?” Miss Lightwood calls out, knocking on the closed doors to her son’s room.

Both of them freeze, wide-eyed; Magnus swears his heart stops beating for a couple of seconds.

Alec’s mouth hangs open as he blinks rapidly to get back some semblance of coherent thought, his brain working on overdrive.

“Everything’s good, mom! I just dropped something!” Alec yells back and they both pray Maryse doesn’t hear the tremble in Alec’s voice.

There’s a moment of silence, a mother considering whether her teenager is bullshitting her or telling the truth; in the end, she believes him.

“Okay. Come downstairs, help me do the dishes.”

“In a minute!”

The stairs creak again, indicating Maryse’s departure and Magnus lets out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Alec’s fingers find his, tangling together, the previous mood simmering down to something more subtle, not forgotten, but put on hold in a silent promise.

“That was close,” Magnus huffs, swallows the cotton stuck in his throat.

“Yeah.”

Maybe it should be weird, awkward, filled with half-aborted confessions; it isn’t. It feels like nothing changed between them, like they’re still them, still Magnus-and-Alec.

Magnus lifts Alec’s palm to his lips, kisses the ridges of his knuckles.

They still love each other, that will never change.

#malec #shadowhunters #blushyalec #hwob #userrahul #magnusbaene #hufflebee #gayndsoft #belovedbane #magnusragnor #userri #magnusbanne #daddariossmile #confidentalec #magnuslights #userria #my fics #boxer au #this belongs in the same verse as one other fic bc i have no self control

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