#book louis would see show louis and hold his bag close and step far away if they were in an elevator together

[nashvillethotchicken]

It's so crazy to me when people say that book!louis and show!Louis would like each other when book!Louis was a racist slave owner who was literally terrified of black people and thought they were barely domesticated.

[caerwynherondale]

Wedding Bells

Caerwyn bounced on the toes of her stockinged feet, unable to stay still as she walked the length of her bedroom and back again, steps muffled by the carpet. She wrung her hands together, peeking up at the blue, cat shaped clock on her bedside table, the hands drifting silently across the face of it. She hated ticking clocks, the noise drove her batty, so this one had been a blessing when her parents had found it for her when she’d been about six. They could have simply gone with a digital one, but Caerwyn liked the classic look of the numbers and hands, in this case, each minute increment was marked by a tiny paw print and the numbers white on top of black cat head silhouettes. It was super cute, making her smile in that way girls who liked cute things did when they saw them. Most wouldn’t have pinned Caerwyn for liking adorable things like that, but she did. She supposed the only people who knew were her family and Rose, though, Louis may have picked up on it by now considering her usual go-to purse was shaped like a bunny.

“Winnie, I swear to fucking god...” Cleo, the girl’s sister spoke up from where she laid on her bed. The pair couldn’t have been any more different from one another. Caerwyn’s hair was inky and her body shapely while Cleo’s hair was light and she was skinny. At the moment, Cleo was on her stomach, knees bent, legs swaying as her ankles crossed and she perused whatever magazine she was currently interested in. She was on spring break from her school was well, but it wouldn’t have mattered either way considering she went to one of the local high schools and lived at home throughout the year instead of boarding like Caerwyn did. She had actually been quite excited to see Caerwyn when the girl had gotten off the train, showing it with the way she grabbed at her sister’s hand and dragged her along to the car without a single word. The past winter break had been the first they’d ever really spent apart and while they didn’t get along on a regular basis, Christmas time had always been a very important thing for their family. Not having one of them home had been kind of a big deal actually.

Carnegie had been even more thrilled to have Caerwyn home, clinging onto her the moment she walked through the door and refusing to leave her side even at bedtime for the first couple of days. She’d let him sleep in her bed, curled up against her stomach, a little warm package of heat. She loved it, his blond hair smelling still of newness and baby shampoo, his fingers slightly sticky in that way all little kids seemed to be. He was five now, having had his birthday a couple months back and he had even more to talk about now than ever. He’d jabbered on about everything under the sun. His favorite toys, his friends and teachers at school, all of the new things he was learning, and showing off how he could read simple worded books now.

As far as Caerwyn’s parents went though, things were still… strained to say the least. She was happy to see them, to have their loving arms around her and hear her dad’s dry jokes, but there was still that lingering sensation of worry underneath. The discussion they had had over the winter break was still fresh in her mind, but they had promised her that it wouldn’t be a subject they talked about this time. They would simply enjoy the holiday together. Both of her parents had been a bit on edge though, when Caerwyn told them she’d been invited to attend Victoire’s wedding. They knew who Victoire was, the nurse at the school Caerwyn attended, but she was also the cousin of their daughter’s best friend, Rose. Caerwyn had, conveniently, left out the information that she was actually going as a date for Victoire’s little brother, who also happened to be her boyfriend. She had thought it better to tell them it was Rose who had invited her along, easier to get them to agree that way. It had taken a bit of convincing, but her parents had finally conceded into letting Caerwyn spend the remainder of the break with the Weasleys.

“They’ll be along fucking soon.” Caerwyn shot back, but she flopped down anyway, sitting on the window seat between the two large built in bookcases. The bedroom was split evenly in two, everything matching, picked out by a mother who didn’t want her daughters fighting. Whites, light yellows, and laces decorated most of the room. White satin bed covers dotted with little silk roses sat upon the twin beds, curtains of tulle hanging down over the curved, white headboards, fairy lights intertwined into them. A bench sat at the foot of each bed, serving as both seating and storage, matching nightstands and lamps beside the beds. The walls were decorated with yellow wallpaper dotted with a small, pretty floral print. Each of the girls had taken over their own side though, adding their own touches to create a kind of drastic separation. Caerwyn’s bed boasted more throw blankets and her wall décor consisted of several of her own paintings and a limited amount of photos displaying friends and family. Her half of the bookcases was filled with old school texts, empty potion bottles, broken quills, and fairy tales. Cleo’s side of the room was nearly bursting in comparison. Posters, photos, a cork board and sticky notes plastered the walls. Clothes were scattered here and there on the floor and her bookcase held more girly items, like perfume, jewelry displays and magazines. There was still a faded bit and sticky residue on the carpet from the long piece of duct tape they had run across the floor years ago to make sure the other stayed on their side.

“You’ve got at least another hour.” Cleo chided, sitting up on the bed and tossing her magazine down in frustration. She stared at Caerwyn, eyeing her up and down. The way she kept tugging at the front of her baggy sweater, how she’d put on a pair of thigh highs instead of her usual tights, though, one wouldn’t be able to tell under her dress, and the little bit of make-up she’d used to accentuate her eyes and lips. She had even taken time to really brush out her hair, sitting down and running through it over and over again until she was certain all the knots were gone. “So, are you going to tell me who the boy is or not?”

“What boy?” Caerwyn asked, glancing up from where she had started picking at her finger nails. They were clean, the blue polish upon them fresh, but she swore she could still feel some dirt underneath them. She followed Cleo’s gaze to the newer photos by above her bed. The ones Louis’s aunt had taken on Christmas. She had kept the ones of just her and Louis hidden away in her things, but she’d hung up several of her, Louis, Rose, and Albus that she hadn’t noticed being taken on Christmas Eve. She didn’t look too terrible in them, with her hair all pulled back prettily and in the outfit Fleur had helped her pick out. She was particularly fond of the one where she was turned, drinking from a glass as Rose spoke to her and Louis was sat beside her, looking down at her as he tugged a loose bit of confetti from the Christmas crackers from her hair.

“The redhead.” Cleo pointed, her eyebrows raised in question. It wasn’t the first time she had asked, nor would it be the last. The answer was the same though, as it always was.

“None of your goddamn fucking business.” Caerwyn shot back, pushing up from the window seat. She snatched her duffle bag from the floor where it had been stuffed with the things she’d brought home from school, but also things she would need while she was staying with the Weasleys.  She dug through it, double checking the contents. Extra pajamas, her clothes for the wedding, a toothbrush… Last time she’d shown up with nothing but the clothes on her back, a book, her cat, and Louis’s Christmas gift. This time she was prepared. She already had Manson’s wicker carrier by the front door, his favorite cushy blanket inside of it for when it was time to go.

Cleo was, unfortunately right about the time. It took an hour and then a little bit before the doorbell was ringing through the house. Little feet scampered, slapping across the wooden floor of the downstairs portion of the house as Carnegie raced for the door. He loved answering it, though, there was usually always someone coming right behind him in case he didn’t know the person there, which was rarely. He reached up with both of his small hands, grabbing hold of the knob and twisting it, tugging the big white door open, a giant smile on his little face. The little boy was dressed in nothing more than a pair of overalls and a red towel tied around his neck as a cape. He’d refused a shirt that morning, saying superheros didn’t need them.

“Creoso!” The little boy stepped back from the door, his bare arms spread wide, eyes closed for a moment as he greeted the three teenagers standing on the front porch. He finally looked up at them, his head tilting back in wonder as his eyes moved up, and up, and up. The redheaded girl wasn’t too tall, but both of the boys standing behind her were quite a lot bigger than anyone Carnegie was used to seeing on a regular basis. He gaped for a moment before turning his little head and calling over his shoulder. “Mama! Da! Mae ffrindiau Winnie yma!”

“Ydw, ydw, Carnegie.” A woman’s voice called back. Her heels clicked against the floor as she appeared in the front room, her brown hair falling in curls around her shoulders as she stopped behind her son, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Hello there. How do you do? You must be Rosie and... I don’t believe Winnie mentioned your names. Come in, come in.”

“You fucking bitch!” A scuffling from above sounded as both Caerwyn and Cleo made for the door of their room. There was a small battle of pushing and shoving, the door banging against the wall as they both tried to get through it first. Cleo won as she tripped her sister, using her thinner frame to squeeze through. Caerwyn was right on her heels though, both of them using the corner of the banister to turn rapidly on the landing before they were heading down the stairs. Cleo skidded to a hault beside her mother, her hair pulled back into it’s usual messy bun on top of her head. She stared at the three strangers and then laughed, pointing with a victorious ‘ha!’ at the sight of Louis. The boy from the photo. He’d come along with Rose to get her sister, as well as a dark haired fellow.

“Rhosynie!” Caerwyn called brightly as she finally hit the bottom of the stairs. She laughed, reaching out to snatch at her best mate, hugging her tightly as Carnegie moved to close the door behind her friends. He took a few steps, his tiny hand reaching up to tug at Louis’s much bigger one, gazing up at him with big blue eyes.

“Ai chi yw'r dyn talaf ar y blaned?” The five-year-old asked curiously.

“Nac ydw, Carnie. Yw'r dyn talaf dw i.” A man’s voice filted into the living room as he came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a tea towel. Carnegie laughed, releasing Louis’s hand to race to his father, arms outstretched so he could be scooped up properly.

“Albus!” Caerwyn grinned, hugging him as well before she released him and stepped back a bit. Her eyes fell on Louis and she stared up at him, a small smile pressing at her lips, cheeks a bit pink at the sight of him. God, she’d missed him so much. It had only been a week away. She sighed, closing the distance between them more rapidly than she had with the other two. Her arms came up around his waist, face burying against his chest as she breathed him in. Fuck, he smelt so good. “Fuckface.”

*Welcome! Mama, Winnie’s friends are here.

*Yes, yes.

*Are you the tallest man on the planet?

“No, Carnie. I’m the tallest man.

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Six - Violet breaks a Birdcage

Klaus had already run to a far corner, standing on a chair to grab a thick book. Violet placed Sunny’s cage on a table, re-tying her ribbon and considering. 

“This looks to be wrought iron.” she said, feeling the metal. “It should break under pressure. But the question is how to apply pressure that won’t hit Sunny…” 

“This book seems to be on pet bird care.” Klaus said, sliding down onto the chair. “Let me see if there’s something here.” 

“Bite.” Sunny said stubbornly. 

“No, no biting.” Violet felt the bars. “Maybe-” 

“Oh, wow.” Klaus blinked at the book. “This is not the proper storage cage for pet birds. It’s far too small-” 

“Is that important?” 

“No, but it is interesting.” 

“Sunny’s in a cage, Klaus.” Violet glanced at Klaus, and then flinched. “We need to swipe some ointment for that bruise. It looks bad.” 

Klaus glanced down. “It… it feels bad.” 

“Klaus-” 

“How’s your arm?” 

Violet bit her lip. “If I’m focused, I don’t notice it. So let’s focus. Is there a bit on how to open a cage if you don’t have the key?” 

“I’m looking for this type.” 

Violet paused. “Go look for books on lockpicking. Or…” her eyes lit up. “Find something heavy. If we slam a thick book against the lock, it may break. It looks a bit rusted, that should help-” 

“Violet.” 

“Look, I know you don’t like using books as projectile weapons-” 

“The door’s opening.” 

Violet started, following his gaze towards a door they hadn’t noticed before, in the back of the room. It was, indeed, slowly swinging open. 

Violet grabbed Sunny’s cage and ran to a bookcase that stood in the middle of the room, as part of a column of similar shelves, followed quickly by Klaus. They ducked behind it just as the door swung open, and Violet held her breath. 

They heard the woman who lived there enter, mumbling something under her breath as she shut the door behind her. There was a few fretful noises of items jumbling up; she must’ve been carrying all of her gardening tools. There were some footsteps- shit, she was heading this way; she’d have to move between the aisles of shelves to get back into her house, she could spot them… 

Klaus edged towards the end of the shelf, and Violet quickly caught his drift and followed, while Sunny grabbed the bars of her cage and tried not to make any noise. Slowly, the children moved to the side of the shelf, waiting. 

Just as they saw the woman out of the corner of their eyes, stepping into the aisle and carrying a gardening bag, they ducked down, almost throwing themselves onto the other side of the bookshelf. They heard the woman stop walking a moment, and they froze, panic entering them, wondering if they’d been spotted, if she was going to turn around and see them. 

But after a moment, she just shrugged and continued walking. 

They waited until they heard the door close to breathe again, and then Violet said, “Heavy book. Go.” 

Klaus nodded and ran between the shelves, as Violet pushed Sunny’s cage against a shelf. Sunny edged herself into the corner, and gave Violet a trusting smile. “Tuo,” she said, which meant, “I know you’ll get me out, don’t look so worried.” 

“I’m not worried.” Violet lied. 

After a moment, Klaus returned with a dictionary of some language the children couldn’t speak. “This might work.” he said. 

“This will work.” Violet nodded. “Sunny, stay in that corner. If you think we could hit you, tell us to stop.” 

“Tsurt.” Sunny said, which meant something like, “It’s okay, I’m sure you won’t hurt me.” 

“Just be careful.” Violet said. She studied the lock, and then lifted the heavy book. “Klaus, step back.” 

Klaus obediently retreated a few steps, and Violet took a deep breath, and then slammed the book onto the lock. 

It wiggled and creaked, and Violet took another breath. That was a good sound, very promising. She’d just need to keep hitting it. She slammed again, and again there was a creak. She shut her eyes, scooted a little back, and then proceeded to slam the book against the lock as hard as she could and as fast as she could. She pounded and pounded, ignoring the loud pangs of the lock hitting the book and cage, of the book sometimes hitting the table Sunny’s cage sat upon, of Klaus gasping beside her and trying to say something. She couldn’t listen right now. She had to get Sunny out of there. 

Finally, after what felt like forever, after her hands had started to feel numb, after the wound on her shoulder started to hurt with the rapid movements her arms were making, and pain started spreading through her, she slammed the dictionary a final time, and with a loud, but satisfying clang, the lock sprang open, crashing onto the edge of the table, and then toppling to the ground. 

Violet tossed the book behind her, ignoring the flares of pain from her hands and shoulder, and she reached for the cage door, fumbling with the handle in her haste. Klaus ran forwards, too, just as Violet swung the door open. 

Sunny let out a cry of joy and leapt forwards. Violet caught her and hugged her tight, holding her up so that when Klaus raced to them, he could hug her, too. The three siblings embraced a moment, trying not to cry as they heard the cage door swing, and Sunny clung to her older siblings and muttered something about knowing they’d get her out. 

Then, after a long moment, they heard a voice behind them. 

“E-excuse me?” 

Violet whipped around, still clinging to Sunny, while Klaus hastily let go and reached in his pockets to see if he had a weapon available. 

The woman who owned the house was standing behind them, eyes wide. Violet swore under her breath. 

After a long moment, Sunny said, “Shit.” 

The woman jumped, and Violet ran over her options in her head. They could run, but the woman might make noise, and attract attention from next door. Not a good idea. They could fight, but they didn’t want to hurt this woman, she seemed innocent enough- just a bit surprised at finding three dirty and wounded children in her library with a broken birdcage. 

So Violet whispered to her siblings, in a low enough voice that the woman couldn’t hear, “C.” 

At that, Klaus promptly burst into tears, and Sunny let out a soft wail. Violet wasn’t quite as good at crying on cue, but she did scrunch up her face, adjust her position so that her wounded shoulder was in view, and pleaded, “Please don’t tell anyone! We’ll leave, we just needed to open the cage!” 

The woman’s face fell into a look of startled sympathy, which was exactly what the siblings had been hoping for. “Oh my goodness! Oh, dear, don’t cry, children, it’s alright, I’m not mad!” 

Sunny continued wailing, to send the point home, while Klaus just grabbed Violet’s non-cut arm, burying his head in her shoulder. Violet said, “We’re- we’re sorry, please don’t tell anyone…” 

“Oh, children, it’s okay.” the woman moved forwards, putting a hand on Klaus’s arm. “It’s okay. You’re not in trouble. What’s going on? How’d you get in here? Why are you hurt?” 

“It’s… it’s a long story.” Violet made herself tremble, and said, “I’m Malina. These are my siblings, Louis and Presley. Do you live here?” 

The woman nodded. “My name is Justice Strauss. You children look hurt- why don’t you come with me? I can get you some food and try to help with those…” she glanced nervously at Violet’s cut and Klaus’s bruise. 

Violet bit her lip. “We’re not supposed to go with strangers-” 

“I understand that, but I also want to help. Here, why don’t we say this- you three won’t be separated, and I’ll stay in your sight at all times. Will that help?” 

Violet glanced at Klaus, who looked up at her and gave her a subtle nod. 

“O-okay, but you…” Violet took a breath. “You have to promise you’ll help us.” 

The woman nodded. “I promise.” she said. “Now, let’s get you some food.” 

Justice Strauss brought them to the kitchen, where she pulled out some cookies for them, and then she sat beside Violet, working on bandaging her arm. 

“Now,” she said, as Sunny, sitting on Klaus’s lap, reached for yet another cookie, “What happened?” 

Violet glanced at Klaus. They hadn’t had time to come up with a convincing story, and he was the best at that. 

“We lost our parents at the store yesterday.” Klaus said. “And some scary men took us away and hurt us. They left to get their boss, and we managed to unlock a window and run away.” 

“They put Presley in a cage.” Violet said, flinching as Strauss tied the bandage. “So we had to take that with us. We were breaking it open when you found us.” 

The Justice nodded. “That would explain the noise, and the cage. I can’t imagine who would put an infant in such a thing.” 

Violet considered shaking a little, to sell their fear, but that might disrupt the bandaging. “We don’t know what they wanted with us, but they said if we went to the police they’d find us, so we were just hiding out until our parents… til they find us. They’ll protect us.” 

“Now, children,” Justice Strauss said, “It is best to go to the authorities. If they threaten you to keep you from going to the police, that means they’re scared you will.” 

“But we don’t want to get kidnapped again.” Klaus mumbled, reaching to stop Sunny from taking another cookie. “We were hoping to just find a place to sleep and then wait for our parents to find us.” 

“Children, as much as I trust you have the best intentions, it really would be best to contact the police. They can help you.” 

Violet, Klaus and Sunny shared a doubtful look. 

“Well, it’s getting dark. I don’t want you wandering around at night.” Justice Strauss finished tying the bandage, and continued, “You can stay here tonight. I have a guest room, but there’s only one bed, I hope that’s alright.” 

Violet nodded. “Louis and I fall asleep very easily. But only if you’re sure- I’m sure we can find somewhere else tonight.” 

“Nonsense. I’m not about to let you all out when you believe yourselves to be in danger.” Justice Strauss said kindly. “I’ll show you to your room, and while I don’t think I have a crib for Presley-” 

“Lindell,” Sunny said, which meant, “I can sleep on pillows and blankets.” 

Klaus translated for her, and then said, “Thank you so much, Justice Strauss. And please don’t tell anyone where we are.” 

Justice Strauss looked a bit distant and unsure. Then, she said, “I’ll make sure you children are safe.” 

Violet and Klaus shared a worried look as they stood. 

The guest room was quite large, with a long desk, several lawbooks stacked atop it. The bed was pretty big, too, and all three children could easily fit onto it without problem.

“Justice Strauss, are you a lawyer?” Klaus asked, running his hand over the books with interest. 

“She’s a Judge, Kl- Louis.” Violet sighed, sitting down on the bed with Sunny. “That’s why she’s called a Justice.” 

“Oh.” Klaus’s face went a bit red. 

“It’s quite alright.” Justice Strauss said warmly. “If you children need anything, my room is right down the hall. I have a phone in the kitchen and in the living room, and you can take whatever food you need. Tomorrow morning I’ll see if there’s more we can do about your injuries.” 

“Thank you again.” Violet said, though she actually did mean it. “There are plenty of adults who would’ve thrown us out or called the police.” 

“I’m sure there are, but I can never stand to see someone in need of help.” 

After that Justice Strauss wished them goodnight, and then went to bed. 

“She didn’t even ask why we had so much shit in our bags.” Klaus said, after a second. “She seems very naive.” 

“Very trusting.” Violet bit her lip. “Feel a bit bad about all the lies.” 

“It’s better than telling her we’re on the run for our parents’ crimes.” Klaus said. He sat beside her, putting an arm around Sunny, and said, “Do you want to sneak to the library and take first watch, or should I?” 

“I’ll go. Wake you up in a few hours to switch.” she said. She looked down at her baby sister and said, “How are you feeling? Did you get hurt inside the cage?” 

Sunny shook her head, and then said, “Dian,” which meant, “I like Justice Strauss, do you think she’ll let us stay a while?” 

Violet and Klaus glanced at each other, and then Klaus slowly said, “Maybe.” He glanced down, and then said, “Violet?” 

“Yes?” 

He took a deep breath. “If… if Mr Snicket is dead… can anyone clear our parents’ names?” 

Violet was very, very silent. Then she said, “I’ll come get you when it’s your turn for watch.”

[indomitablemegnolia]

It was edging onto the noon hour, eleven-thirty-six am to be exact, but you couldn’t tell by the light of the sun; Gods, it was as if Fenrir the wolf had jumped out of a Norse legend into the sky to swallow the sun; I had already been at the airport for five and a half hours; my red eye was cancelled, and I had been bounced from gate to gate to gate, to wait to wait to wait, only to be told nothing was happening; they always stressed the word yet, but what they really meant was, ever. It was really not a huge surprise, I had watched the weather report while listening to my neighbor get lucky; the animal noises and obvious gymnastics required to make such a ruckus would have left me exhausted for weeks, but here they go again, well, at least someone is getting some. I was surprised there wasn’t cracks and holes in which to watch in that shoddy, tiny, airport motel room, just barely a step above an S.R.O., but it was a bed and damn I was tired this was a trip doomed from the word go, giving me little glimpses of the movie ‘Fight Club’ after the first hour of meetings, suddenly I was Jack’s complete lack of surprise.  My agenda, my plan… my hope, now dead, dead as dreams, it began full of such potential; that was zapped away within seconds, so why should it end any easier, really? What did I expect traveling to a place called Port Chester, New York? God, it sounds like the setting for a soap opera, but truly, in retrospect more like an episode of supernatural, including a vengeful spirit.

Speaking of vengeful spirits, the dark icy clouds encased the airport in a swaddle of gloom, like the foreboding storm from poltergeist; anyone who can read the sky could see that the weather was only going to get worse. Those dark clouds only served as an ominous warning, a foreboding that should have come as a warning, or possibly in the form of a question. getting blacker, rain already turning to solid ice as it fell from the heavens; Shangri-La this was not, it had congealed into a complete and total ice storm.  Usually, storms brought a certain sort of odd comfort to me, though today, not so much; most likely due to the fact I was so far from my home; as if cued perfectly on time the song ‘Can’t find my way home’ played in my ears. I choked on my snarky laugh as I trudged to my next expected gate, lamenting the fact that I felt nine hundred and ninety years old today. No matter what direction I looked I saw that long dark sky had the look of hard wet sleeting ice in the nearness of the future. I wish I was home with a tall cuppa joe and a nice big book on my lap, with some good soft music cuddling me under a heavy blanket. Turning the corner that I wish could have been to my kitchen with its pretty little red potholders. I stop short, before me sat the largest conglomeration of unhappy people I ever remember encountering, all of them choosing seats at or near the ticket agents booth; the far wall and its bank of windows showing a clear view of a very Poe dark and dreary as well as the show inside, was beautifully vacant. I walk amongst the revelers, noticing the complete discontent on every face I passed.

Oh, the universe had such a sense of humour, didn’t it? I shake my head, suddenly I felt I needed a drink; nah, maybe I just needed a lot of life insurance; god, I knew I needed a vacation; or maybe I needed a home in the country; or more than likely a full once over by a qualified psychiatrist; though mostly I needed to figure out where this Phillip Marlow-esque monologue was coming from, but on second thought that drink sounded lovely. I snickered to myself, the morning I was leaving Mom and I sat at the kitchen table, enjoying our morning coffee, or so I had thought; as with all morning rituals there was a vast amount of time allotted for silent contemplation staring into that vast unknown.

“What’s wrong?” Mom had asked, worry evident on her face.

Taken aback, I snickered, possibly the coldest most patronizing snicker I had ever snickered; as if the woes of the world and the things that weighed on my mind could be delineated down to utterable words, instead of answering I shrugged, “nothing really, why?” I tried to sound light and unbothered.

Mom huffed, “I don’t know, you look like something is bothering you,” she took a huffing breath, “actually you look like you are seriously contemplating smoking or becoming an alcoholic.”

Damn, she just dropped that in my lap, I laughed a real laugh, “It’s not that it hasn’t crossed my mind,” I took a drag, “To tell you, yes, of late I have partaken of much more libation than I ever have before, but you know exactly how limp my lungs are, too limp for smoking and I don’t quite have the intestinal fortitude to become a full-fledged alcoholic, I think you actually need a stomach to tie a good one on. So, no worries mom, it is just the world today and the way it’s working that just bugs the hell out of me.” Good god, am I that easy to read? Good times, right?  “I am just tired of the feeling of a nine thousand gorilla standing on my neck.”

She reached over patting my hand… Ah, mom she always had the ability to knock me sideways, but then make it all ok.  I pulled my fakieciggy out, (an e-cigarette that had long since been empty of all nicotine, but still had the light flavour of vanilla; hell, it lights up; the motion alone was as satisfying in form and function. Taking the time to sigh, reset my Qi, was enough, really, just an idiosyncratic mnemonic device.) put it to my lips and took a long drag; “Freaking bat country.” I mumbled under my breath, batting at the invisible bats, wishing to hell I had my flask, but there was no way I was going to try to take that through TSA, hell they were already way too frisky for my tastes. Really, I am a two-date minimum to get to second base kind of girl; who the hell was I kidding, my threshold was much wider for the whole idea of bases, I really was tempted to yell, RAPE! So, I had to make due with what I had. What I had was a coat, a hat, and a gun; oh, god I wish; what I really had was a headache, my huge black messenger bag, my oversized dark purple purse that served as a computer bag, my WWI aviator cap, a Pea coat and my knee-length waterproof leather boots. I saw a seat near the window, with a perfect reflection of the passersby, so, I pulled my sweater sleeves up over my elbow and went out to stake my claim, sadly sober as a judge.

Taking a people watching post, sitting in the fourth seat in, perching on the edge of the chair, I push my messenger bag and purse under my chair, lay my coat across my lap, leaning my shoulder into the back of the chair, I watch.  I watched the rapacious soul eating mob move and ebb and flow as they would. Rock Hudson and Doris Day style husbands and wives in deep serious whispered fights, staring daggers at each other; a Calvin and Hobbes, pair of college students mumbling amongst themselves whether or not they had asked anyone to feed their bong water fish, which I highly doubted that the fish was ever alive; Mothers with children looking like the perfect advertisement for birth control, faces bleak, eyes sallow, looking at the world with a ‘someone kill me now’ appeal, my heart ached for them. Then like a ray of light a tiny toddling head went past, not screaming, not crying, he toddled on, chasing a large red and white ball. His tresses shorn close on the sides, the middle left long, his tiny Native American feet trotting to a mix of a babies walk and a fancy dance in his borrowed handmade mucklucks, like a Sherman Alexie character brought to life; he chased that ball, hunkering in the fashion that only a beautiful child can, accidentally nudging the ball, chasing and hunkering again.  His simple, beautiful, innocence was unmistakable, I wish I could capture that image to hold on to forever, but like anything and everything miraculous, possibly once in a life time, it could only be seen, witnessed, never captured for reproduction, no picture can be taken, no beckoning for others to see.  I watched him play, until mom noticed how far he had traveled, she motioned for him to come back, with a shriek of a laugh he finally captured the ball, it balanced awkward in his tiny hands as he scampered back to mom, I reveled in his beauty for as long as I could.

A shadow passed, a series of people walked into my vision, I watched a very rich woman, head to toe designer gear; from diamonds to Manolo’s, the cheapest thing on her could have been the down payment on a home, basically Marie Antionette circa 2017. I don’t know why, but I liked her, she was blonde; in fact, she was a blonde, to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained-glass window, you know the type, beautiful, petite with a touch of sad, the kind you know any of fifty men would commit a felony for, start a war for, but she was not the kind that could eat people alive, her money was new and she wore it like a crown. Sadly, there she was trying almost desperately to gain the attention of her Louis XIV, his must be very new money, there is a comfort that comes from old money that he utterly lacks, with old money there is nothing really to prove; this man wore his wealth, including his wife, as if it were a status symbol requirement, his BMW keyring dangling from his Burberry coat pocket, his hands soft, totally without callouses, nails perfectly manicured, his hair coiffed with gallons of product; by all counts he was a useless man. Despite Marie’s attempts for his attention, it was focused like a laser on his newest game, he chased a bedazzlingly big busted, slim-fit skirt, again you know the type all tits and flash. I saw Drusilla, Louis’s game, meet his chase; she was also blonde, not nearly as pretty; she reeked of five thousand an ounce perfume, cheap sex in a motel room, and cigarettes, it all came along with a none too subtle ‘I would suck your dick just to kill time’ look about her, but her attitude left way too much to be desired. She must have felt my eyes watching them, she gave me a look which ought to have stuck at least four inches out of my back.  I watched the movements of these people, friends worse than enemies; lovers as adversaries; families at war and at peace; and lonesome strangers all lost in this Dante’s inferno morass, helpless, stuck, stranded.  In this place, full of people there was only about a handful of humans.  Poor Marie, she doesn’t know that down mean streets, on these streets a person must travel; a human who is not themselves mean, but can be; who must be neither tarnished nor afraid; they must be the hero in this story. She must have been looking for a man whose lips tasted of faerie tales, and mistook the frog for the prince.  Oh, but she is a peach, there may yet be hope for her, they walked on.  Then as ships pass in the distance my eyes moved from them to another.

This other; this long, tall, dark cloud drifted past stealing my vision; he was head and shoulders taller than Louis; he walked to the agent desk, handing the agent his ticket, there was something about him that usurped every atom of air around me. His dark licorice coloured, supple leather jacket hugged him tightly, dark wash jeans detailed the rest, tight enough to highlight the merchandise, but loose enough to leave bits and pieces for the imagination; Goddamn, taking in the entirety of his goliath frame was breathtaking, my god, he was lovely. The desk agent said something and motioned for him to find a seat; he spun deliciously on his heel, with ceremonious attitude reserved for royalty; he walked away, sliding his sunglasses down to rest on his nose.  He moved like water, luscious, cool, delicious water flowing over smooth stones; I literally leaned foreword and watched that walk, it was magnificent. God, he was about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food cake; no reverse that he was the angel wings on devil’s food; he was like a prowling lone wolf looking… for what? I am not sure, but the way he moved over the crowd, not through it, it was almost enrapturing. I mean, look at me, I was amongst these adders, trying to make my presence small, wanting literally to disappear, but I felt their lies and hate sticking to me like hot molasses, but him, he, seemed to be coated with a repellent, a Teflon, not a thing stuck to him.

He was as honest as you can expect a man to be in this world where it was going fast out of style. Not only did he move above them and through them without a spot of tarnish, he walked with that sultry panache. He was a complete man, very complete, my eyes slid to the lightly bagging rear pockets; they showed enough definition, but not the detail; good god I can’t believe my mind went there; he was a common man, although, there was not a thing common about him, he was as unusual a man as could ever be found. He, to use a rather weathered phrase, an unutterable phrase, was a man of honor. Possibly, by a natural instinct, look at those shoulders he could support the world; maybe by inevitability, by the sheer thought that someone had to be so he was more than happy to pick up the mantle, without thought of it, and certainly without ever saying it; or maybe he wasn’t, I was none too sure about my instincts these days. Oh, but the delicious stride of his foot sure and while in his gaze no man faltered, even Louis straightened his head when this wolf was on prowl. He seemed a man whose story was a manly adventure in search of a hidden truth, oh and goddam by the looks of him he was fit for adventure; oh, to be part of that adventure. Christ, my mind and oddly enough my body reacted to the idea of what kinds of adventure he would be up for.  It would be no adventure if it did not happen to a man fit for adventure, and I have had enough of those not fit for adventure. If there were enough like him, the world would be a very safe place to live in, without becoming too dull to be worth living in… he was the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world; he would be something of a marvel in every world. No, no, he probably wasn’t, look at me running wild with a though; he was probably just a man who dressed a part, stuck in an airport, with a walk… I let him slowly move from my sight, he was already driving me to distraction.

I look out on the desolate grey landscape, the ice creeping up the window panes; maybe it was Marie, maybe it was that godly walk, maybe I was in mourning for the loss of his visage or just the self-destructive nature of the human condition, but it was something that not even those chubby little hands clutching at that giant rubble ball could chase away; I don’t know what or why, and frankly I don’t really care, it just was; I suddenly feel ages, years heaping onto my shoulders. To lean heavily of Dickens, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, mostly it was just times; really it always does seem like we are on the edge of evolutions end; though always like on the TV shows the countdown stops at 1, although this time is feels to be on negative numbers. I remember not too long ago, it seemed we were in an age of wisdom of invention and growth; now it is an age of foolishness, it is the epoch of disbelief, it is the epoch of incredulity; I miss the season of Light, for this is a damn season of Darkness, from which it seems there will never again be a spring, no hope, it is a winter of discontent, of despair. I remember the last day when we still had everything before us, though now in retrospect we really had nothing before us, we thought we were all going directly to heaven or maybe we were already there, we are all actually in a freefall directly the other way. I look at my world and succumb to the dark, dreary letting the weary days soak my soul. The world floods my brain, once upon a time not actually all that long ago.  

Oh, it was the leanest of times, those times where those I love sat before my eyes and macabrely joke about which of us will be the first we all should eat; obviously my brother as his meat would be soft and sweet and succulent; you know, those jokes that bring a forced laugh, for fear that if we didn’t laugh we would have to run in terror from the reality of these thoughts; in those horror times we were packing, cleaning, locking away the remnants of a fantasy, a dream that we held in our hands while it died a cold and horrible death.  An ancient card from the times when we were convinced it couldn’t be worse than that but we knew that if we just hang on one more day… the card fell from our hands and fell open; springing from this card comes the vivacious voice of one Gloria Gaynor;  Our hips lost the battle of staying locked, tears began to fall as our lungs let free a laugh that was not at all forced; that was the moment that pedantic break up song from the bygone disco era became our salvation and a battle cry to send Schrodinger back into the shadows.  From there light began to shine and there was air to breathe, but again Fate slammed that door.  DAMN HER AND HOPE

There no such thing as beauty anymore, all colours fade from vivid to dead gray.  It really is an amazing thing when you think you have reached that horrible craggy earthen bottom, Hope, the vicious bitch that she is, shows you exactly how wrong you can be.  For a second I reach back in memory to long ago, remembering giggles and birthdays and handmade cakes with half the necessary fixings.  I let myself float, a few weeks ago, in that warm pool of possibility, red wines flavour haunting my taste buds. Gods, she showed me a brief glimpse of lovely, of that haven, I actually, almost felt that sun on my face. I still almost feel that smile on my face, doused in tears.  Ice cracked in my chest at the memory of that instant my heart had defrosted.  I knew better, I fought, I tried to resist, I didn’t believe, but then I wanted to, I needed to, then I did… We drove for hours, maybe it was days, time begins to lose its continuity when the radio is playing great music really loud, sunglasses fitting just perfectly and the speedometer reads 85 mph steady and true. There is something about it that made my heartbeat strong and true. We laughed and sang along, and it was the first time since I can’t really remember when that mom smiled, she laughed, without letting that haunted look come back to her eyes.

We would stop for burgers and laugh about something from eons ago. Then we’d hop right back into the car and drive; my foot getting heavier as we went. I don’t know what we were running from, or maybe running to, or maybe just it was the idea of the freedom that neither of us thought about a damn thing… yeah. All I really knew it was no stop until… it felt right. So, we drove and we drove, miles ticking off the rented odometer; states flying by, for once we weren’t simply standing in one place, trying to make traction on a treadmill, for years we were running at full bore and never getting anywhere, literally, figuratively, however the hell you want to say. Philosophers and scientists like speaking of continuity, but those who are stuck in the spin cycle, too close to the damn agitator, pieces of life, of spirit, of heart, of dreams, of happiness, being mangled, breaking off falling to the ground. Then one day I stopped, I just stopped running; my soul too tired to continue, I stopped.  I stopped trying to make everything fine, everyone happy I understood finally that I was on a fool’s errand. I took mom’s hand in mine and she stopped running too, we stooped to pick up the broken scattered pieces, but fate showed us that it was like trying to grab on to Jell-O with your hands and hold tight. So, we let them drop, leaving them to wait for the chalk outline of their tragic death.

The Pacific came into view over the rural cattle covered hills, the radio suddenly silenced. My eyes misted over and I turned on the wipers as the chill October rain drizzled from the heavens. I take that right and head north on HWY 1 knowing where we were going. Childhood memories haunted behind unshed tears, living has taken on a new definition in the dozen years since last, I smelled that organic salty home. I would stop and relive bowls of chowder and giggling splashing icy surf on naked tender feet, but now, it showed in stark relief to what living now meant, those laughing giggles echoing in our hearts. My hand dropped from the gear shift and mom laced her fingers through mine, we took a moment to mourn this breathing cadaver we had become. I pull over and park, it took a hot second before I grabbed my small bag from the back seat, I clamber out, walking around I helped mom from the car.  Walking as quickly as tear filled eyes and our beleaguered bodies would allow us, we made our way to the beach; and we sit listening to the surf, dropping my bag off my shoulder and we walk down to an old drift log. I made sure mom was comfortable, stepping out of my sneakers and socks using only my feet I walked to the rushing surf. I stooped pulling my pant legs up as the waves began licking at my toes. The oceans icy tongue sliding softly over my skin. I wanted to keep walking, walking till It was over my head, but I stood still when the waves kissed up my legs to behind my knees. I breathe letting my eyes roll closed, the wind ran its fingers through my hair as it kissed my face. Mom is suddenly there, holding my hand, both of us knee deep in the surf, we giggle and smile at each other as if we were children with a secret, oh and that secret…

I turn from the wind’s loving kisses, mom’s hand snaking into mine; we stood LIVING, for these seconds we lived; we walk hand in hand back to that driftwood stump, mom sits, I pull out the bottle of red wine from my bag, pulled the cork and took a long drink. Passing the bottle to mom; I noticed that those unshed tears were no longer abiding behind their dam. I don’t know when they had started sliding down my face, but I look a damn state now. Mom passes the bottle back and I take a long drink, looking up at that dark gray cloudy sky. I know it should have looked sad, foreboding even dower, but to me, it looked like a hug from an old friend. The crash roared so loud I couldn’t hear my own breath. It was perfect, the screaming person who has been occupying my mind suddenly shut up and I could breathe.

At its most benevolent this life has, one sweet single unattended moment, set aside for each of us. One single moment in and out of time. We took this moment, this little heaven inside this Dante’s nightmare we have called living, we take our little moment out of time and we take a shelter in it. Stealing away from all the shocks are horrors that this too long, far, far, too long life is heir to. This definition of living and its toll that it has taken on our souls. Our distraction fit, and I watch as we both take a deep breath and bury our toes in the cool sand like an oyster taking shelter. We close our eyes, breathe deep, we became high on this freedom, away we float. Beauty like lost dust moat in a shaft of sunlight, wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning in the snow, or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply so intense that it is not heard at all, that fabulous unsound, but while that glorious music lasts.

Oh, and while it lasts.

One by one I watched those sorrows, the angst and pain the uncertainty melt from our shoulders, the time to hesitate is through, and sometimes the best fight is not fighting at all. I look to mom and pass the bottle, and we speak in silent words, we always knew that the possibility of an impossible fight would come, though yet I would glove up and take my hits, but it would be a heartless battle; all of my hits soulless. There is a freedom in acceptance; as a song says, freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose; the knowledge that losing a bout isn’t everything, but we both knew we were going to lose this one would take everything from both of us. There was a release; we both felt it, we collapsed into it, death would come and we would fall into his arms. Her eyes lead me, in their depths in a moment of ecstatic joy, with no expectations, not from THIS ONE MOMENT. A beautiful, simple moment of being.

No wants, no needs no worries. God, mom had always made broken look beautiful, strong look invincible; She walked with the gorgeous universe on her shoulders. When she shrugged that heaped heaven gracefully, making that pain and strife look like wings. In this moment of communion between us. That toll was gone, peace found us as we held hands like always. mother and daughter and we wanted nothing more than this peace.  We took it, we loved it. Yes, we both knew this was just our moment and the treatments and pain would return and lost, lonely, broken, we would have to drive back home… eventually. Though, in that long stretched moment, we were infinite… Mom corked the bottle and we walked carefully back to the car, we got in again and I drove for more and more hours finally finding a beautiful hidden paradise amongst the redwood trees.

The bed, it was comfortable, lovely and clean, luxurious and the room had an eighth story window seat that still didn’t look down on those trees. We sat in the early morning feeling the air, smelling of earthy redwoods, kiss our skin and our lips with warm, delicious, coffee. The water from the tap tasted sweet and fresh, like a childhood memory poured from a second or even third-hand crystal pitcher. Late morning, the bathtub was large and deep. This was a paradise, this heaven was perfect, as if god understood that I had just acquiesced to his summons and decided to send me an extended heaven, or possibly on that curving mountain road I had missed a turn and we had both passed those pearly gates… In this paradise, there was a grand restaurant that required reservations. We ordered three rounds of drinks called the golden eagle, that tasted like buttered sunshine with a citrus hint and a float of Chambord. I ordered the lobster and she the steak, sharing the asparagus and potatoes…everything was perfect. We laughed and walked the long way around and danced and smiled at the smell of the beautiful trees. We walked among the ancients and there is something to be said for being less than drunk, more than lucid and still infinite among the kings of the Earth.

A tiny pearl of a treasure I tuck into that little box lined with black velvet that I keep all my most precious things of beautiful in.  Stupidly I believed, stupidly I let the want the will pull my hand out…  Ages told me that it was a mistake, that hope would be the thing that kills me, but I let my hand reach out, I almost touched it, but then there was nothing; now I lay bleeding out.  Nothing, but air that my fingers slid through and I fell, I fell a million miles.  One shining second in horror years, I trusted that idea of hope, the bitch, and now one eon wiser I woke this morning my eyes rioting at the idea of waking to this world, my brain screaming its recalcitrance at the idea of still dragging air into my lungs and begrudging the world for letting the sun to continue shining.  I will never again trust to hope, I can never lift my eyes from the motion of my feet in this broken trudge, all marching to that horrible monotone beat because the living will never come to any good.

A buzzing distracts my mind from this drudgery and I look at my stupid phone. A text from my momma: “Happy Birthday Angel, text me when you are on your way or if you will be on your way.  I hope you are wearing your smile and your lipstick, you never know who will fall in love with you today.”  An ironic chuckle escaped my throat and a wry smile pulled the corners of my lips.  In 37 years, no one had ever fallen in love with my damn lipstick or smile for that matter, I doubted today was any different today from any other day. Although, yes, I had put on my lipstick before departing for the airport today…  dumb ass.  Suddenly, the landscape was replaced by the rushing crowds passing behind me, superimposed, reflected on the glass in vivid colour.  Oh, and the din of the people began to enter and drive away my own private hell; I let the relief wash over me.  There was an odd surety to the idea that life goes on, it goes on whether or not one would wants it to; I started watching the people, along with the storm raging outside the windows, but the activity made my mind move from that cold place.  I felt like an idiot to let myself bask in that much self-pity.

A gust of air hit me as someone sits a few seats down, I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t take the time to look, I would be leaving this section soon anyways, as soon as they tell us all that there will be no motion. It is the real human smiles in trouble, gathers strength from distress, grows brave by reflection. My brain reeled, shook from my own morass by a simple stupid misquote. Jesus, apparently, this birthday is getting to me; I know so many try to convince that it is not the aging that bothers them, but for me it is truth; oh, the passing of time, when I start counting is like a pall on my soul, but to just despise it would be terribly ungrateful, to hate adding to the tally of years lived when one is already well and past expectations.  I don’t care what number of years I have lived, I really don’t mind the few hairs on my head that have transitioned from this dullard nondescript brown to a tinsel silver, the crinkles next to my eyes are every one of my laughs counted out for me. I do mind, however, is that so much time keeps passing, days mark themselves in memory and unwanted thoughts surface, I mind marking how much I haven’t done. I do mind is that not once has this journey been anything other than an upward climb, fingers gripping, bleeding, over the roughest terrain.  I decided, enough pain…  I was never one to just revel in misery, I am not the kind of woman who breaks into pieces under the blows of abandonment and absence, I am not the one who goes mad, who dies; though I know I will, possibly quite soon. Unlike Marie, I know I am the hero of this story, it is my responsibility to make it good. Surveying myself I saw that the few fragments that had splintered off were pieces that always are supposed to be sloughed due to living and learning. For the rest, I was… well, I was, just me. I was whole, whole I would remain. Thusly being stuck in an airport for a birthday is just one of those things that just happen, and yes, mostly to me.

Their reflections, with the gales of wind blowing ice and snow pelting the large bank of windows. Ah, its time to face the truth, nothing will be flying in this mess; hell, the smart people stayed home and didn’t even bother. I sigh, I never could have been accused of being one of the smart people, I watch the strangers pass behind me, all of them seemingly stressed and kinetic, like little white rats in a closed maze; frantic to get to where they were going, none willing to admit that no one was going anywhere anytime soon.  I scanned all he miserable faces, yes, we are all in a way trapped, foreword motion was impossible, but always there is someone who seems to take it so much worse than everyone else, making that small claustrophobic feeling a teensy bit worse.  Most just accept that, yes, in this world not much seems to go the way we all plan, there is always that one total jerk who thinks that god and all that’s holy and unholy alike should bow to his will.  With that thought my mind decided to switch to the politics network; I literally shuddered, became nauseous and pulled it back front and center.

This jerk yelled and bellowed as I watched apparently, the Scandinavian Bruce Willis had decided that handing a helpless gate agent her own head on a platter was the best use of his time.  He was demanding everything under the sun.  From the loud whining and bluster, I gathered that he was supposed to be traveling to Maui, but he wasn’t going to be there in time and would lose the large deposit he placed on his room, most likely a common hazard for travel like that.  As if that was anything the gate agent could do anything about, it was really his own stupid gullibility. Yes, I would much rather be in Maui too, in fact I think the ticket agent wishes she was in Maui with a Chi-Chi in hand, but its not where we are, nor where I was traveling to. Finally, the mans blustering hit a fevered pitch, his face turned purple, I thought he was about to stroke out, but his wife finally stepped in.  I had already lost interest in the whole show about half a tirade ago, he was an overgrown child with the stupid notion that the world owed him something.

I shake my head softly and roll my eyes, a soft, rolling, deep chuckle moves through my ears, and movement catches my eye.  I let my eyes be pulled expecting to see disapproval in the reflected face.  I all saw was a man; my breath shuddered, not just a man, but that man, the wolf with the godly walk, that gust of air was him sitting, that man. Well, honestly simply man is an insufficient term, but one I would use for the long-legged monolith a few chairs to my right.  He seemed to be elsewhere, with more than a single dose of “I don’t give a shit” attitude, all I could see was crossed arms and Ray Bans, so I let my eyes peruse. He was long, tall, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, those legs alone reached at least 5 foot from the edge of the chair. He was thick; legs like tree trunks, but his shoulders alone took the space of two seats. I pitied the person who was seated next to him, hopefully, he wasn’t the middle seat, talk about crowding.  He wore a thin, white tee shirt, dark washed jeans.  I let the smile pull the edge of my lips, apparently, he didn’t look at the weather before heading out today, poor fool.  He sat trying to tuck his thick licorice coloured leather around himself tighter.

His opaque dark Ray-bans hid most of his face, ear buds tucked into his ears. His thick brows curved gracefully over the rims, his lips beautifully arched with a light pout to his bottom lip, a set of the most beautifully kissable lips to possibly exist. A day’s growth of scruff along his gorgeously chiseled jaw, god he was a beautiful man.  He couldn’t have been reacting to my derision, maybe he was chuckling at something on his earbuds. So, I swallowed my ruffled feathers and I just enjoyed the view of the reflection. His dark brown hair, blonde and ginger highlights deliciously sparkled, in what was once a deliciously close cut style, now grown out two months too long; the length silky enough to run soft fingers through, letting the long ends curl around fingertips.

I settle back, catching little glimpses, filing his form away for something fun in one of my writing exercises, I watched the ice creep along the glass of the window and the passing of the people while listening to my own ear buds, hitting repeat on some riotous punk. Social Distortion peps me up, I feel the beautiful sweeping warmth of eyes on me, I look up all I can see is the dyspeptic travelers and the airline ticket agents looking as if people had taken bats to them, circulating handing out food and hotel vouchers to make up for the surprise ice storm.  Curiosity draws my eyes back to his mostly obscured face, I wonder what colour his eyes are; statistically, they were most likely brown, but something told me they were some beautiful exotic colour. Seriously, look at the man, he is something made of myth and mists, he could never actually be real, like a unicorn or the truth. As with everything, the gods compensate, a man that graceful, that beautiful, with that luscious of a walk, there really must be something maybe just some single thing wrong with him, somewhere. Maybe he has a temper or maybe he is just stupid. A loud cacophony of uproarious yelling, uh oh, the natives are getting restless.  

God, how the hell do they expect airlines to circumvent nature and still get them to their destination safely, you know they would be the first filing suit in the case of an accident, and seriously how the hell an ICE storm can be so surprising, but low and behold, here we all are stuck. I tuck my vouchers in my book and keep watching the people reflected in the window, like an interactive ultra-widescreen TV. A Latin woman reminding me heavily of Anne Bancroft goes huffing by consigning herself with a beautiful grace to the fate we all in the airport now share, a night at the on a crummy airport motel mattress and airport food.  Again, that warm pass of eyes, perusing the faces, I assume it’s just another people watcher or a passerby.  A move in my peripheral vision drew my eye back to him; dammit girl, the cardinal rule of people watching is NO STARING, I chided myself.

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INSTAS

April showers bring May flowers.

Molly remembered that as she walked past Rosie Lee’s closed doors for the second time that morning, lights off, and noticed the ‘We’ll be closed for a week for a bit of a break, see you all soon’ sign that was written in what she knew to be Louis’ handwriting. Clive had been the one to tell her that for the first  time, as she sat in his cafe, with a pot of tea he’d made for her, a warm cheese scone melting the lump of butter she’d slapped onto it, on the verge of a breakdown over her first project disaster. It felt like everything was going wrong. Clive just smiled, and told her about April showers, and May flowers. And it had stuck.

As Molly glanced over her shoulder at the closed up cafe, Molly remembered it again. Right now it sucked Clive wasn’t in the cafe for a chat, her nervous tummy could have done with some wise words from Clive. But in twenty four hours, Clive would have a new hip and Molly could visit him in hospital, take him the toffees she knew he liked and the book she’d found in a charity shop that she was sure would be right up his alley, and once again promise him to take him up to the trundle and watch the horses. It would be better in the end, a closed Rosie Lee’s now, meant a better and happier Clive shortly. So Molly smiled, and headed home, watching her converse not quite scuff at the pavement, with the bouquet of flowers in her hand and two bottles of wine in the canvas tote on her shoulder.

It was a beautiful late April day, sunny and warm enough that Molly felt perfectly comfortable with bare legs under her sweet summer dress. Sure she had a bright pink cardigan on under her denim jacket, but she wasn’t sure that she’d be cold if she’d left it behind. The sun was glorious and Molly was revelling in it. Autumn always had been, and always would be her favourite time of year, but spring was a close second and it was thanks to days like that particular Saturday when Molly swore she could actually feel the world coming back to life after a long, cold winter.

It was as Molly was fishing for her keys in her bag, only a few steps from the front gate, that Molly’s phone tinged from the pocket off her jacket. Molly grabbed it, still searching for her keys, among her purse, crumpled receipts, water bottle, empty glass coffee cup and wine bottles, flicking her eyes to the screen as she rounded onto the front path.

Louis

They’d exchanged numbers nearly a week ago. Molly had been into the cafe just to catch up, but Clive wasn’t there. Just Louis. Clive could hardly walk, according to Louis, and finally he’d agreed to let Louis book him in privately and get it done. Molly would be lying if she said she wasn’t relieved, if a little disappointed Clive wasn’t there for her to see before his operation. But they’d spoken on the phone, thanks to Louis’ idea to swap numbers. Apparently Clive wanted to talk to her before the operation, though it conspired that was only to make sure she wasn’t going to go back on her promise to go to the Trundle with him and watch the horses on the course below, and apart from that Louis promised to keep Molly up to date with what was happening and so she knew when she could go and visit. And like his father, Louis was clearly a man of his word.

Dad’s going down at about two thirty, I’ll keep you posted x

Molly replied with a quick thanks and a request to send Clive her love, just as her hand stumbled upon her keys. She grinned, ignored the anxious butterflies in her tummy that were now thanks to the news Clive really would be going down for his operation, as well as the fact she now only had an hour to wait until Harry turned up and took her away, with Nancy, for a BBQ at Shane and Ellie’s where other members of his family would be. Apparently they were quite close, after everything, Molly assumed it made sense. Her family had family friends, and it was nice Harry had that too, all things considered when it came to his immediate family’s past.

It felt like that hour simultaneously flew by, and also dragged like nothing else. Molly sat on her bed, cross legged, sketching messily, initial ideas for her new project that had already started up, constantly turning to look out the window every time she heard even the distant hum of a car outside. Everyone else was out, and she couldn’t blame them, it was a glorious Sunday, but it meant she didn’t even have someone she could lose time with chatting and laughing. When she felt as nervous as she did, she knew she could have really done with Jimmy to take her mind off it, or Clive to rationalise her, but neither were available so she was turning to the next best thing, her sketchbook and a worn down mechanical pencil.

When Harry did eventually turn up though, his car sliding into the forever empty space outside Molly’s house, Molly seemingly completely forgot about her sketchpad, leaving it open on her bed with the pencil and rubber strewn close by, as she headed out to the hall to open the door and pull her converse back on. Molly opened the door to Harry, in jeans and a plain t-shirt, as seemed to be his uniform, a pair of black boots on his feet, not exactly fit for the weather, Molly giggled.

“Are you not boiling?” Molly asked, still wearing a wry smile along with her finished outfit.

“Nice to see you too,” Harry chuckled, leaning forward and snatching her lips up in a sweet kiss. “You’ll be moaning when you’re cold later,” Harry pointed out, not being shy about looking Molly up and down with her bare legs. “Though you do look cute,” Harry smiled, eyes rising back to her face.

“Thanks,” Molly blushed, dropping her eyes.

“You ready then cutie pie.” Molly just shook her head at the ridiculous nickname that would never stick, and chuckled, turning for the bag she’d left by the door. “What’s that?” Harry asked, that almost infamous line between his eyebrows appearing as he frowned.

“Just some things,” Molly shrugged.

“What things?” Harry asked, as Molly joined him on the doorstep, pulling the door closed with her.

“Flowers for Ellie, a couple of bottles of wine, y’know the things you turn up to someone’s house with when you’ve been raised not dragged.” The regret was instant, and Molly felt her stomach twist as her eyes closed for longer than needed to blink. “Shit, Harry, I didn’t m-”

“I know, don’t,” Harry urged, taking her hand and walking them towards the car where Molly could see Nancy was sat in the passenger seat, smiling happily through the glass towards them. “I know you didn’t mean it like that, don’t treat me like a kicked puppy, please?” Harry spoke quietly, almost as if incase Nancy could hear through the door of the car. Molly just nodded, as Harry opened the door behind Nancy’s for her.

“Hello love, how are you?” Nancy’s gleeful tone instantly put a smile on Molly’s face, and the pair of them embarked on a happy catch up as Harry drove away from Molly’s to where they were going.

Even whilst chatting away to Nancy, Molly was getting more and more nervous the further they got from her house, and the closer they got to Ellie and Shane’s. The house trickled out to main roads, and eventually the new estates started to unfold. Dustings of white houses with red brick and coloured plastic doors. Each the same, with little squares of grass outside each and a small path that ran from the road to the front step. Some of them were bigger, some smaller, but they were perfectly identical other than that. Molly found herself a little distracted from the conversation as she began to get too focused on the somersaults her tummy was doing. Apart from the people she was sat in the car with, Ellie and Shane, Molly knew no one, but she knew everyone invited was family in some regard.

It had confused Molly a little, why Harry’s family would be invited along to a gathering at Shane and Ellie’s for their families.In typical Harry form though, he’d been quick to eradicate any doubts or questions. At first Molly wasn’t sure, it seemed far fetched that just because Harry was Lola’s goddaughter, his whole family would have merged into hers. But Harry had explained how Shane had done a lot of work with his uncle, and considering how things with Lola started, Ellie not wanting him alone with her until she could trust him again, trust him not to go off the rails when things got out of control, look for trouble just so he had something worse to focus on, Nancy had spent a lot of time with Lola. It made sense they were all close. They’d all gathered around a young child to make her upbringing as normal and calm as possible, Molly could understand that at least, and apart from anything else, she knew she had to trust what Harry was telling her.

What was the point if she couldn’t trust him?

They pulled up outside Ellie and Shane’s, and Molly noticed the open side gate that hadn’t even caught her eye the last time she’d been there. Nancy took Molly’s arm, linking them together, Molly holding onto her things tightly. If it had been Harry’s arm wound around hers she knew she’d have been squeezing it, but as it was, the bag took the brunt of her anxiety. She hoped her face wasn’t showing it, but when she looked over her shoulder to Harry, his footsteps a pace or two behind her own and Nancy’s, the smile he gave her told Molly her nerves were reading loud and clear.

The garden was longer than Molly had expected, a small swing set sat at the end, and there was a paddling pool inflated in the middle, filled with both balls and water, there were toys strewn everywhere, and a mini yellow and red car, doors open and on its side just outside the patio doors, one of which was open. All of that was background noise though, to the small collection of people that were sat around in chairs as the BBQ smoked, waiting for the coals to turn from black to grey, every single pair of eyes trailing to her and Nancy, and Harry behind them. Molly swallowed down hard and fought to keep her smile on her face. Nancy let go of her then, but the support of her arm, as she wandered towards people with her happy smile, was replaced by Harry’s hand on Molly’s lower back. Molly didn’t flinch, didn’t even look up to him, but she knew, he knew, she was grateful, as she stepped out of his touch towards Ellie who was grinning towards her, and heading straight for her with open arms.

“Hey lovely, how are you?” Ellie chimed, wrapping an arm around Molly, who tried to do the same but failed thanks to her collection of things.

“Good thank you,” Molly smiled. “These are for you,” Molly told Ellie, handing her the bunch of pretty flowers she’d picked out from the florists that morning. Ellie gushed and smiled and thanked her and took her hand leading her through to the kitchen with a suggestion of getting Molly a drink.

The inside of the house was beautiful, and Molly found her eyes wondering over the space casually, without even really realising. It was literally sparklingly clean, overly modern, with sharp lines and glinting surfaces. It was open plan, right across the dining room and kitchen, it was a huge space the width of the house and the sunlight was beaming around it. Molly imagined Sunday mornings around the large oval dining table, were pretty dreamy. Nearly as dream as her Sunday mornings at Harry’s small table across from him in only one of his shirts and her underwear from the night before.

“What would you like?” Ellie asked, pulling open the fridge. “Shane made some punch, but, well, I wouldn’t advise,” Ellie smirked over her shoulder back at Molly. “Or we’ve got gin, rum, margaritas, wine, beer, whatever you fancy,” Ellie told Molly, and she could tell she meant it, not like going into someone’s house and feeling awkward and annoying for asking for a simple glass of tap water. The doors were literally open, and Ellie was willing to give her guests whatever they asked for.

“Just a glass of wine will be fine,” Molly smiled with a nod, stepping closer to the breakfast bar and laying her hands on it. Ellie just nodded, and set about fetching a glass and a chilled bottle from the fridge to pour.

“Has Harry given you any kind of heads up about today?” Ellie asked, and Molly shook her head with a wry smile, Ellie simply rolling her eyes. “Sorry to spring it all on you, it’s just family though, my dad, Shane’s parents and his sister but they’re not here yet, then Frankie and Nancy,” Ellie told Molly with a nod. Molly knew Frankie, at least by name, her landlord, Harry’s uncle, only she’d almost entirely forgotten the connection until Ellie said his name, and she felt herself stifen. Ellie didn’t seem to notice, just handed Molly the glass of wine with a smile. As Ellie rounded the corner of the counter, Molly quickly knocked back a mouthful of her wine and hoped the effect would take to her quickly.

Back outside, Molly headed to the empty seat next to Harry that had obviously been saved and left vacant for her. Harry was sat next to the man Molly recognised as her landlord, though was familiar as the other man from the photos in Nancy’s house, the one that didn’t look so much like Harry, but also as her landlord. The sun was belting down, and Harry was sat fully in it, his golden skin soaking in the rays and undoubtedly loving it as he literally glowed. Molly felt it prickle on her own pale skin as she stepped out of the shadow of the house into the sunlight, and she was glad she could still smell the sunscreen she’d lathered on that morning.

“Ok love?” Harry asked as Molly took her seat and a sip of her wine, she nodded, knowing full well her cheeks were blushing. It had been a long time since Harry had called her that, in fact she couldn’t remember the last time he’d used the pet name that seemed to apply to anyone for Harry. “This is my Uncle Frank,” Harry pointed out, and Molly noticed how what was usually a hint of an accent, was stronger, and more consuming of his voice as he flicked his eyes to older man sat next to him.

“We’ve met,” Frank smiled, and somehow it felt settling and familiar, and not just because Molly had followed that man around the place she now called home a few months ago, or because she had his number saved in her phone, or because she’d called that number on more than one occasion about problems with the flat. In the garden though, the barrier that stood up between them as landlord and tenant lowered as Molly became the girl his nephew was introducing to the family. The dynamic was different to what Molly was used to with Frank, but not in a bad way. The conversation continued with Molly included, and Frank asked her the things people asked when they were getting to know someone, they were the sort of questions her parents had asked Ryan the first time Molly had taken him home to meet her family. It was a role Molly hadn’t played in a while, but in a strange sort of way it felt nice, and Harry kept his arm laid over the back of Molly’s chair the whole while, his fingers occasionally brushing over her shoulder, which only made it feel something better and bigger than nice.

Even when Harry got up to fetch Lola from her nap, offering to go and get her as Ellie and Shane fussed over food, the conversation between Molly and Frank didn’t cease. For a few seconds Molly had quietly prayed Harry would be quick, and she wouldn’t be alone for long, but that feeling quickly eased. It seemed there was something about those green eyes they all shared, and the soft smiles, that were nearly identical, that encouraged openness and comfort. Even when Harry appeared back in the back door, a sleepy Lola resting in his arms, Molly only glanced and offered a smile, before turning her attention back to Frank who was talking about the time he’d worked in London, after Molly had told him she was thinking she’d move to London at least for a little while once she’d graduated.

“Lolly!” It was a sweet gurgling voice, a little scratchy from sleep, but Molly turned to it nonetheless, cutting her own line of conversation short at the sound. Lola was clambering down from Harry’s arms eagerly, and smiling widely as she ran across the garden to Molly. Molly chuckled and twisted in her seat to grab Lola and lift her up onto her lap.

“Hello you, how are you?” Molly asked still smiling, and sitting back to look at the little girl, tucking some of her messy from sleep curls behind her tiny ears. “Did you have a good sleep?” Lola nodded happily, small fingers reaching for the silver necklace Molly had clasped around her neck.

“I hope I’m gonna get a cuddle like that in a minute trouble maker,” Frank smiled from beside Molly, reaching out and tickling Lola’s thigh. Lola instantly got shy, burying her face into Molly’s chest and giggling to herself. Molly laughed and held Lola to her until she twisted her head to look across at Frank with a sweet smile. “You being shy for?” Frank hummed. “Got a new friend is it?”

“Lolly my friend,” Lola nodded, as Harry sat down between them.

“Lolly’s my friend,” Harry corrected with a coked eyebrow.

“No!” Lola practically shouted, frowning and lifting her head so quickly she nearly met Molly’s chin on the way up.  

“Hey now, careful little miss you nearly hurt Lolly then,” Harry warned gently. Lola’s eyes cast to Molly with a sorrowful look in her eyes.

“Can she not say Molly?” Frank asked from the other side of Harry.

“No, Harry can’t, and Lola caught on,” Molly jested with a smirk, eyes flicking to Harry as she let Lola off her lap, the little girl squirming to get to the floor.

“I can say it,” Harry started with a slight frown, clearly a little offended, before turning to Frank and explaining what had happened.

The mid afternoon passed in a blur of sunshine, laughter, more alcohol, at least for Molly, though Harry was refraining in favour of being able to drive them home, and excellent BBQ food. Molly’s skin was prickling, and she knew she should probably have put some more sunscreen on her shoulders, and she’d probably regret not doing so later, but she was so caught up in Lola, that it went unnoticed. The little girl was paddling around in the small paddling pool, asking Molly to come with her once she was changed into a bright pink and turquoise all in one swimming suit. Molly couldn’t say no, and so she’d picked up her nearly finished glass of wine and headed to the pool, where she crouched by the side and entertained Lola with the toys that were in it.

“You ok?” Molly didn’t even notice Harry arriving by her side, until he spoke up and dropped to the same level she was at, a can of Coke in his hand.

“Yeah I’m fine,” Molly smiled with a slight nod.

“Uncle Harry you get in,” Lola cried, jumping closer, splashing water all around her, though neither Harry nor Molly minded the few splatters that hit them, just both chuckled as Lola grabbed Harry’s hand and attempted to pull him into the water.

“No, not today angel, next time,” Harry told Lola with a promise, switching their hands so he was holding hers rather than the other way around. “Why don’t you hop out and come play with your cars so we can sit down with the grown ups for a bit yeah?” Harry suggested sweetly, pulling Lola closer to the edge gently. Lola just shook her head though. “Lola,” Harry warned.

“It’s ok,” Molly whispered, but Harry shook his head so Molly just sat back and let Harry deal with the situation.

“Come on out you get,” Harry tried to insist, but Lola just persisted to shake her head.

“Want to play here with Lolly,” Lola whined, trying to pull her hands out of Harry’s and kicking her legs aggressively, beginning to frown furiously.

“Lola, it’s time to get out of the pool, are you going to make me count to three?” Harry let go of Lola’s hands then, his eyebrows lifting up his head as he gave Lola a second to think about his offer. The little girl just pouted more though and folded her arms across her chest, looking away from Harry pointedly. “If I get to three you’re going indoors for a time out,” Harry warned one more time.

“Lola Belle, I hope you’re doing as Uncle Harry says,” Shane’s voice was stern, and Molly took it as he cue to walk away, taking her nearly empty wine glass back to her seat and letting Shane and Harry deal with the stubborn little girl who didn’t want to leave her pool behind. It was slightly out of sight for where everyone was sat, not completely, but enough that it wasn’t advisable for Lola to be left unattended, Molly could understand that, and though she would have happily sat by the inflatable pool for a little longer until Lola got bored, she knew undermining Harry wasn’t the way to play it.

Harry marched past Molly a few seconds later with a crying Lola in his arms, trying to fight her way away from him and back to the floor, though it was having little effect. There was a stern word about how she had to do as she was told, as Harry stepped back into the house and Molly found herself taking the final mouthful of her wine as the conversation around the circle of chairs went quiet. Nancy and Ellie were inside, and through the kitchen window Molly saw even their eyes follow Harry and Lola through the house.

“Terrible twos, more like terrible threes,” Shane sighed from behind Molly before he took a seat with a defeated sigh. Molly chuckled like she had any idea at all about the changes in children’s behaviour through their development, and looked down to her empty glass.

“Do you want a top up?” Shane offered, getting to stand up, but Molly saw how exhausted he looked.

“It’s ok I’ll get it,” Molly told him with a smile getting to her feet and heading for the kitchen. On the few occasions Molly had spent time with Lola, she’d never felt out of her depth, despite her lack of experience with toddling children. But she felt out of her depth as Harry had changed his tone to get Lola out of the pool, and warned her there’d be trouble if she didn’t do as she was told. She didn’t know what she was meant to do or say, and so she’d just walked away and she still didn’t know if that was right either. She could feel herself overthinking it, the whole thing, no one was worried about what she’d done or hadn’t done, apart from her, but she just didn’t want Harry to think she was out of her depth when it came to Lola and taking care of her. There was no real reason for Molly to feel that way, no one had made her feel like she had to prove anything, least of all Harry, yet still she felt it.

“Well it’s not fair on you and Shane, I’ll have a word with him.” It was clear Nancy and Ellie hadn’t heard Molly come in the kitchen as they stood at the sink washing up, and Molly got the distinct feeling it wasn’t a conversation she was meant to overhear, so before anything else could be said she placed her glass on the kitchen side, noisily and pointedly, announcing her presence. The two women turned instantly, and it was all over their faces, the worry she’d overheard what they’d been saying, and the panic on Ellie and Nancy’s features quickly found its way into the pit of Molly’s stomach.  

“Do you want a hand?” Molly offered quickly with a smile, trying to distract from the obvious awkwardness, no one quite sure what to say next. Whether to apologise, whether to explain it away, Molly would rather just skim past it, and ignore the new feeling inside her and look the other way. Again.

“Oh no don’t be daft, you after a drink?” Ellie asked, with a similar smile as she wiped a dish towel over the last of the plates, stacking them on the side to put away.

“I’ve got it,” Molly told her with a shake of her head, moving to the fridge and grabbing the half empty bottle of wine that her and Ellie had been working through. “Did you want a top up?” Molly asked before filling her own glass back up.

“Oh please,” Ellie nodded, a large stack of plates in her arms. Molly filled Ellie’s glass first, before moving onto hers.

“Did Harry go upstairs?” Nancy asked from behind Molly as she opened the fridge to put the wine back.

“I’m not sure, he took Lola for a time out I think,” Molly shrugged, glancing to Nancy for a second. There was something about her face that didn’t help the feeling Molly had inside her. Molly couldn’t put her finger on it, and part of her supposed she was just overthinking again, jumping to conclusions without any real evidence for how she’d got to them.

“What’s she done now?” Ellie groaned.

“Wouldn’t get out of the pool,” Molly explained simply, picking up her glass of wine, and looking at Nancy over the rim of it as she took a small sip.

“She’s really pushing those boundaries at the moment,” Ellie explained with a sigh, closing the cupboards and quickly grabbing her own glass of wine. Molly hadn’t noticed it before, but Ellie seemed exhausted, and not just physically. She seemed drained, like even thinking about Lola’s testing behaviour took it out of her.

“She’ll get over it, don’t worry about it love,” Nancy assured with a knowing promise in her tone, and Ellie nodded, seemingly supposing it was true before Nancy disappeared from the room. Ellie sighed again, and shook her head, looking down at the floor as she clutched her glass of wine.

“Sorry Ellie, where’s your bathroom?” Molly asked quietly, part of her thought maybe she should have asked if there was anything she could do, but Molly knew she couldn’t. She was literally the least qualified person in that house at that time to offer any kind of advice on Lola’s behaviour. To Molly Lola hadn’t even been that naughty, but then she supposed that was because she had no idea what she was talking about, and she didn’t really know Lola, or what she was getting up to between the times Molly had seen her. It was just proof how far out of her comfort zone Molly truly was.

“Oh if you go upstairs, and it’s like left around the stairs and then first door on the left,” Ellie told Molly, and Molly couldn’t ignore the look in Ellie’s eyes then, so Molly sighed, throwing it all to the wind and stepping forward.

“Lola isn’t a naughty child Ellie, she’s just seeing what she can get away with, it’s normal,” Molly assured with a gentle smile, reaching to Ellie’s arm. Of course she didn’t really know it, but Molly still believed it was true. “Don’t worry about it, she’s a gorgeous girl, and you’re a brilliant mum.” That Molly did know, and Ellie nodded just a little with a soft smile.

“Thanks,” Ellie whispered, before Molly backtracked for the bathroom, making her way through the house. As Ellie had said Molly took the stairs up to the first floor. The voices were very obvious, though it was also very obvious they were trying not to be overheard. Even so, Molly recognised Harry’s voice, and she was beginning to know she would recognise it even in the most crowded of rooms, let alone in a silent house. Molly hesitated on the stairs a little, taking them slower, she couldn’t really make out the words, they were muffled, hidden behind one of the solid wooden doors she could now see.

“Not now Nan.” Harry’s voice raised, virtually a shout full of frustration, nearly a growl, and it made Molly jump, throwing her into action. She took the last few steps quickly, pulling the bathroom door shut and locking it before she breathed again. Behind the door Molly closed her eyes, there was something going on, and she couldn’t run from the feeling that it concerned her. She could feel people tiptoeing around her, she just couldn’t put her finger on why and it was making her heart beat faster and her hands shake a little.

Eventually Molly heard the creaking of the stairs, and it was only then that she relaxed and actually used the bathroom. She checked herself in the mirror before leaving, her cheeks were rosy from the sun, and her shoulders had a definite pink glow. She patted both her cheeks and shoulders with a little cold water, trying to cool them, and thinking she’d put some more sunscreen on before going outside. There was a bottle of it in her bag, it was nearly empty but there’d be enough to see her through until the sunset and a breeze came in and she was forced to put her jacket back on.  

“Oh, hi.” Molly jumped a little at the sight of Harry, stood outside the bathroom, leaned against the wall opposite the door, looking down at his feet until the door opened and he looked up to Molly. He didn’t have to say anything at all, it was all over his face, ridden in his eyes. Something was about to crash, and Molly could almost already feel the burn.

“I need to talk to you,” Harry gulped, his lips barely moving at all, his voice low and dark as he stood straight and reached for her.

“Ok,” Molly chuckled breathily, nervously, Harry leading her away from the bathroom towards the room at the end. It was clearly a spare room, there wasn’t anything in it that suggested it was anybody in particulars bedroom. Just a bed and some bedside tables. None of it really mattered though, as Harry closed the door and turned back to Molly, swallowing thickly so that his whole neck seemed to clench and unclench.  “What’s going on?” Molly asked, somehow quieter than she expected.

“I haven’t been completely honest about some stuff,” Harry sighed, and Molly felt her shoulders fall. She didn’t want her gut feeling to be proved right, she wanted it be proved very, very wrong, time and time again.

“Is this what you and your nan were arguing about?” Molly asked narrowing her eyes a little. Molly saw Harry retract into himself a little, emotionally stepping back, clearly not expecting the question, but he nodded nonetheless. If he was being honest, he may as well be honest about everything, it seemed. Molly felt herself stiffen against it, walls going up, the blind side rising. “Look if you’re not ready to tell me whatever it is, it’s fine-”

“No it’s not,” Harry chimed in quickly, his words biting. He stepped closer and shook his head all at once, eyes beaming down at Molly. “You need to stop doing that, you’re too nice and you’re letting me get away with shit you shouldn’t be,” Harry told her, and Molly couldn’t help the confusion, it felt hypocritical and she winced a little, eyebrows dropping, eyes fluttering as she recoiled a touch.

“Who said that?” Molly asked.

“Me,” Harry admitted sharply. There was nothing then, not a nod, or a word, or barely even a breath. Just silence as Molly looked up at Harry and swallowed on nothing in particular apart from the realisation of what was happening, of what she couldn’t control. On the fact she was falling deep into something and someone she didn’t know. “Look Lolly, I need to tell you, it’s not fine that I didn’t tell you in the first place,” Harry told her.

“Ok,” Molly nodded and took a seat on the bed without any suggestion from Harry that she should do so. She looked down at her clasped hands, trying to keep the shake out of them, trying to keep the nausea down and trying to keep her heart from beating right out of her chest. Harry moved closer, but didn’t sit down, not at first at least.

“So,” Harry started, but a long shaky breath took over and stole the rest of his words. Molly glanced up, there were tears lining his eyes making them gloss slightly. Molly couldn’t tell if it was because of what he was about to say, or if that’s how having her in the dark was making him feel. Either way, she felt a crack shatter through her. “The thing is,” Harry tried again after clearing his throat; “You know how I told you about my sister? About how I’d find her if I could?” Molly nodded, still looking up at Harry from where she sat. “I wouldn’t be able to do that, I can’t do that because,” Harry cleared his throat again then and his eyes shot to the ceiling, nostrils flaring, jaw tightening as he tried not to cry. “Ida died,” Harry breathed shakily and Molly’s hand lifted to her mouth without her really meaning to do it.

“Harry,” Molly breathed, looking up at him, her hand still hovering over her lips, muffling her words a little. “I’m so sorry,” She went on, getting to her feet, Harry’s eyes firmly on the floor, focusing on forcing his emotions back rather than Molly’s words. He just shook his head.

“I should have told you,” Harry sniffed, and Molly could tell his attempts not to cry weren’t working. Molly shook her head, but he couldn’t see, he was still looking at the ground, even though Molly could see him blinking back the tears that were making his long thick lashes wet.

“It’s ok, it’s sensitive, I understand why you didn’t,” Molly told him, and that much was true. There was no way Molly ever would, or ever could, hold it against him. It was obvious how much it still hurt him to even think about, let alone say out loud. Molly supposed it was easier just not to tell people, maybe that way he could pretend it wasn’t true, at least around those who didn’t know. Perhaps he liked that she didn’t know, just one little part of his life entirely separate from a part he’d rather didn’t exist. Of course it would never have lasted forever, and Molly was glad he’d told her really, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear, or any easier to watch Harry come to terms with it all over again.

“I shouldn’t have lied like I did though, I had the opportunity to tell you the truth and I didn’t,” Harry mumbled, finally glancing up at Molly, his eyes bloodshot from where he’d been fighting so hard not to let the tears out. But he’d stopped trying, and tears were trickling down his cheeks, making his cheeks shine in the light that came through the windows. They were silent, he didn’t sob, or catch his breath, he just let the tears fall, swiping away at them occasionally.

“I’m not going to hold it against you Harry,” Molly sighed, taking the tiniest of steps closer. Harry shook his head though, somehow avoiding her eyes. And it was suddenly clear there was more, so Molly stopped and waited, patiently.

“Mum blamed me for it, that’s why I got sent down here to be with Nan, she didn’t want me around anymore, she couldn’t stand me,” Harry seethed, but Molly got the feeling it was more at himself than anyone or anything else.

“Why would she blame you?” Molly asked quietly.

“I was meant to be meeting Ida after school,”Harry started, any anger that had started to rise up, fading out then. “I met her everyday after school, but I got caught up, I got into a fight, a stupid- I don’t even remember, when I went to meet Ida she’d already left so I started walking home assuming she’d done the same, and she had,” Harry went on, walking through it all in his mind, not really looking at Molly, more straight through her, straight past her. “On the way back to ours from school you had to go through this alley, I always hated it, there were always rumours that some gang hung out there from time to time and mugged people, beat them up, girls mostly, so I was panicking a bit,” Harry went on, and Molly felt herself tensing up. Even though she couldn’t see exactly where it was going, she knew how it ended, and that was enough. “That’s where I found her, she was barely alive when I got to her, she’d been beaten bloody, her bags were gone, everything was gone, her tights were all ripped, it was…” Harry drifted off then, words trailing out into a shaky breath that hitched in his throat as he caught himself.

“You don’t have to tell me this,” Molly told him quickly, stepping forward once more.

“I do,” Harry told her with a sharp nod, eyes flicking to hers. The tears had all dried up, but there was enough emotion in his eyes that they weren’t necessary for Molly to know all the things he was feeling. All the anger and regret and fury and despair. It was all there, all mixed together in a jumbled mess shining sharply through those bright green eyes. “I want you to know,” He told her, so Molly nodded and waited for him to start again. “When she got to the hospital she’d fallen unconscious and from there it just never got better, she didn’t wake up, she died two days later and it was all my fault cause I was more worried about a stupid fight than walking my sister home,” Harry sobbed then, he broke, in every way Molly thought a person could. He folded in on himself, almost as if he’d cracked, Molly stepped forward then fully, wrapping her arms around him tightly and pulling him close. His head found her shoulder and Molly held it there, her fingers combing into his hair. She bit her lips together, holding it tight as he shook, his arms tangled around her.

“It’s not your fault Harry,” Molly whispered. “It’s just not,” She told him, speaking into his hair, but it only made Harry stand out of her arms. Molly didn’t want to let go of him, but he didn’t give her much choice with how quick and strong he stood again.

“I should have been there,” Harry choked. “If I hadn’t gotten into a stupid fight,” He told Molly, shaking his head.

“You didn’t attack her though Harry, it’s not your fault, that some awful people decided to do that, it’s not, it never will be, for all you know being there would have made no difference, it might just have been bot-”

“Me instead,” Harry interjected. “And a lot of people would have been a lot better of for it,” Harry told Molly, and she knew he believed that. It made her feel sick, it made her want to shake him, and scream at him. How could he not see how important he was, how loved, and needed, and wanted he was?

“That’s not true,” Molly implored. “And I don’t want you to tell me it is, because it’s not, I wouldn’t be better for it, your friends wouldn’t be better for it, your nan wouldn’t be better for it, don’t say it, it’s not true.” Harry said nothing, just began to chew at his cheek. It didn’t take long, in fact barely even ten seconds for the dots to join. “This is why you don’t like people walking alone?” Molly asked, and Harry nodded slowly. Molly closed her eyes, instantly regretting ever arguing with him over it, ever using it against him, every making him feel small for asking to know she was home safe even if they’d just had a blazing row in the street. Harry just chewed his lip, looking at his feet, toying with the ring on the fourth finger of his right hand. Gold with a square red gem placed into it, it was one he always seemed to wear, even when the others didn’t make an appearance and it caught Molly’s eye as he span it around his finger.

“I’m such a shitty person,” Harry sighed shaking his head, “I should have just told you-”

“Harry, no, stop, it’s ok, I-”

“You’re not listening,” Harry snapped, eyes on Molly ring forgotten. “It’s not just that, it’s shit, I’m sorry, fuck, I didn’t mean to shout,” Harry quickly apologised, but Molly shook her head, his tone of voice not even really registering with Molly until he made a point of it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you deserve better Lolly, I can’t, I’m…” Harry lost this words, and Molly found herself frowning at him.

“What’s going on Harry?” Molly asked, quietly afraid of the answer.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I can explain, if you’ll let me, I’m-” Molly’s phone ringing loudly in her pocket cut them both off, and Molly moved quickly to grab it and silence it, turn the call off. Nothing was as important as whatever Harry had to say. But then she saw the caller ID, and clearly Harry did too. She looked up to him. Louis. “Answer it, you need to answer it, it’s ok,” Harry told her, still a slight shake in his voice and in his hands. Molly nodded, and answered the call.

“Louis?” She asked, but there was no answer. “Louis, is everything ok?” There was a lot of loud background noise, the sound of vehicles moving around, Louis had obviously stepped outside to make the call.

“No, not really,” Louis’ voice was wobbling a little, and Molly held her breath. “Dad went into cardiac arrest…” Molly zoned out, eyes lifting to Harry, frozen, not really hearing what Louis had to say, not really taking any notice of the details, her mind simply whirring, wondering, thinking about her next step, about what she was going to do, trying to promise herself it was going to be ok. “They don’t know if he’s going to make it, you should probably come down, if you, well, y’know,” Molly nodded before she realised Louis couldn’t see her. “Molly?”

“Yeah, I’ll, erm, I’ll get there as soon as possible,” Molly told Louis, and the call virtually ended there, Molly staring at her screen trying to make sense of something.

“What’s happened?” Harry asked, clearly concerned, and unsure.

“Clive, he, they’re saying he might not make it, I’ve got to get…” Molly’s words got lost in her head as she started moving for the door, slowly in a blur, though it felt like everything around her was going a hundred miles an hour as she tried to find something, anything, stable to cling to.

“I’ll take you to the hospital,” Harry told her, pulling Molly out of her head for her to find she hadn’t actually moved an inch.

“No you stay, you should stay,” Molly told him, nodding her head, sure she was speaking sense even though nothing felt sensical.

“Not a chance, I’m coming with you, go and get in the car, I’ll go and say goodbyes,” Harry told Molly, and she found all she could was nod. She took herself off to the car and waited for Harry, wishing her mind would slow down and go over Louis’ words slowly rather than at a mile a minute and out of order so that nothing made sense. Though it made no odds how slowly she took it, it still made no sense.

Once Harry was in the car, neither of them said a word, Harry didn’t ask for an explanation just drove to the hospital as quick as he could, dodging through traffic like it was a video game, and that was a little how it felt. At least it didn’t feel like real life. What she was feeling was completely new to Molly, and she couldn’t make head or tail of it. There were things whirring around her mind and she couldn’t pin any single one of them down for long enough to understand it. It was nauseating and anxiety inducing, not to mention frustrating and soul destroying.

Molly had absolutely no idea how long it took to get to the hospital, it felt like time was as much of a loose concept as it really was, it didn’t matter, it didn’t make any odds. All that mattered was the minute she was in, the ones before and the ones to come felt like abstract concepts that Molly didn’t care for. It just slipped past as easily as Molly slipped out of Harry’s car and ran towards the entrance, quickly finding the reception and breahtlessly asking for directions. All that mattered was getting to Clive, anything else could wait.

Molly was all but running through the bright white corridors of the hospital, she was frantic and she couldn’t really even hear Harry calling behind her, or his heavy footsteps following hers. She was clutching her jacket in her hand. She didn’t know why she’d picked it up when she got out of the car, but she found she was squeezing it tight enough that she could virtually feel her nails in her palm through the denim, as she literally ran through the receptionists directions.

The ward was quiet, eerily quiet, apart from Molly’s arriving footsteps there didn’t seem to be another sound, no sense of urgency. In any other time, any other circumstance the calmness would have eased Molly, but as it was she felt tears beginning to prick her eyes. Looking back, she’d realise that she knew what she was about to find at that moment, but she chose to ignore it, wait for final confirmation even though her heart was already breaking. There wasn’t a soul anywhere, Louis was nowhere, no one she knew was anywhere, and she found herself stopped in the middle of the thoroughfare of the ward looking for a face she knew.

It was then she felt a firm hand on her shoulder, and she turned to it quickly. Harry was there, right behind her, and she could just about make him out through her tear blurred vision.

“Sit down, I’ll find someone,” Harry told her quietly, and Molly nodded. It didn’t feel like she was feeling anything, it just felt like she was going through the motions, and her legs took her to the seats, one of which she took, flopping down into it and staring up at the ceiling, puffing a shaky breath out of her aching lungs. It was all a blur, Molly was aware of nothing around her, all she could hear was the conversation with Louis on repeat in her head, and her eyes were beginning to sting from how intently she was staring at a single bulb in the ceiling. Until she heard her name, and she turned to it, her neck snapping back to normal.

Molly got to her feet quickly at the sight of Louis. If she’d known it before, there was no doubt then, as she took Louis in - red faced and glassy eyed. A sob bubbled her lips and choked out of her as she stared at who was essentially a stranger, though in that moment it didn’t feel that way. Louis just shook his head and Molly swore she saw how much his breath shook as he exhaled, how much he was fighting not to break down for what Molly could tell wouldn’t be the first time. Harry was stood in the middle of them, watching the strange interaction, neither able to speak, both just about able to breathed. Though without really registering, he moved to Molly, just before her knees gave way. She collapsed into him, fully sobbing, fat, wet, salty tears straight into his grey t-shirt. He held her, pulled her back to her feet, and made himself a pillar. Harry didn’t say a word, no one said a word, Molly just sobbed, though silently, into him.

“Molly, come in here.” It was Louis again, and somehow he seemed to be the one holding it together best. His voice was soft and gentle, and so was his hand that took hers once she was out of Harry’s arms, and led her to the room he’d come from. Inside there was a small collection of people, Molly knew instantly who they were. They all looked how Louis had, like the world and fallen down around them, and Molly supposed it had, at least that was the feeling that was settling into Molly, even with Harry right behind, ready to catch her no matter what.

“Molly.” The woman breathed, getting to her feet and striding to Molly. All Molly could remember of her, was her eyes, kind and bright blue, the way Clive had always described them, and she encircled Molly quickly without hesitation. Molly was the outsider in that room, but as had always been the way with Clive, it didn’t feel that way for a second.

Somehow Molly left the hospital, somehow she ended up on Harry’s couch, in a pair of his jogging bottoms and one of his hoodies. Somehow her hair got tied up and her make up got taken off. Somehow she got wrapped in a blanket. But she wasn’t sure how any of it had happened when she woke up in Harry’s living room, her head on his lap, his hand stroking her hair softly, his other gripping her middle tightly, holding her strong and steady.

The whole day felt forgotten, it had all been erased by just over an hour in the walls of the hospital. But when Molly opened her eyes, she remembered standing in that lifeless spare room with Harry, his eyes red raw, and his words tipping over one another.

“What were you going to tell me earlier?” Molly asked groggily, her throat sore and her voice croaky. Harry just stroked her hair a bit more, leaning over her and pressing his lips on her temple.

“It doesn’t matter right now baby, do you want some food?” Harry asked, but Molly shook her head, and curled closer into Harry, numb to mostly everything apart from the warmth of his body and the comfort she found being tangled up around him. It felt like Harry was the only person she could want, the only person she could need, when what she really wanted and needed was long gone. He seeped into the holes and into the cracks and filled it as best he could, not replacing, never replacing, because he was different in every which way, but just stopping anymore of her draining out of the cracks and the holes, before she was as much of a shadow as he was. 

Just gonna go find a rock to hide under

Have a good weekend <3

[atruththatyoudeny]

Monthly Reads | January 2017 ❤ THANK YOU TO ALL WRITERS FOR YOUR HARD WORK AND SHARING YOUR STORIES! ❤

Special mention⭐ & Top 5 + 16 more stories under the cut:

⭐ 2017 HL Prompt Challenge ⭐

“A small group of us came together to do a prompt challenge with fast deadlines to have some fun and see what we can do, and this is the result. Hope you enjoy!” Authors: taggiecb, afirethatcannotdie, QuickedWeen, waytoomanypeopleintheaddisonlee, Awriterwrites, allwaswell16, LadyLondonderry, lululawrence Prompts so far: Foundation, Bloodsucker, Hinge, Scream (revealed today)

Where Your Heart Is

by anhcor & tvshows_addict | College AU | hate to love | slow burn | 154k Louis is ready for his brand new adventure. So what if he suffers from a genetic condition that prevents him from being touched? College is going to be awesome. It has to. Karma kind of owes him right now. Forget about his overprotective mother, or Liam-- his entirely too chipper step brother-- or his mess of a roommate. Forget about the gloves he has to wear at all times. He’s here to expand his knowledge, write and drown himself in books -- No matter how distracting ‘Hallway Boy’ may be-- The obnoxious, flirty frat wannabe determined to become the bane of Louis’ existence. Or, a college AU set in San Francisco where two lost boys who seemingly have nothing in common find inspiration, each other, and themselves in the process.

Black With Autumn Rain

by whimsicule | thriller | crime | magical realism | 93k “Thank you,” Geoff says, taking a sip of his tea. “What did you tell him?” Louis has a sip as well, lets the tea burn down his throat too quickly, too hot, and he feels it all the way down to his stomach. “The truth. Essentially,” he replies after a moment, licking his lips, relishing the slightly bitter taste of the brew that’s never quite strong enough for Louis’ liking. At least it’s not decaf. “That my dog scented it. That I didn’t touch the body. That I came here first thing.” Geoff nods pensively. “Did he believe you?” “Probably not. There’s only so many people who can drown on dry land before it gets fishy.” or: Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren't exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

Hold My Heart

by Awriterwrites & phdmama  for H/L Exchange 2016 | famous/non famous | Mile High Club | Actor!Louis | Doctor!Harry | 14k “Excuse me, mate, I’m the window seat here.” The voice was soft, apologetic, and accented in something a bit unfamiliar — northern England, maybe, Harry thought. “Oh,” Harry jumped to his feet and moved aside, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you standing there.” The other man laughed as he swung a bag into the overhead compartment and slid into the seat. “You were well caught up in that book, mate. What are you reading?” Harry paused, wondering how to explain the fact that he was reading an epic and x-rated romance that was the story of a relationship between a prince and the man he’d enslaved. “Oh, you know, just some fiction my sister recommended.” He turned to look at the man and froze. Sitting next to him was Louis Tomlinson. *** Or, the one where famous Louis Tomlinson offers his hand and a lot more to his seat mate on a transatlantic flight.

What do you mean he's coming?

by MediaWhore for HL Famous/Not Famous Fic Exchange | Childhood friends | famous/non famous | actor!louis | photographer!louis | 15k When Harry accepted to be his sister’s Maid of Honour, despite how non-traditional of a choice he was, he didn’t think writing a speech for the wedding reception would be this hard. Now, not only does he have less than two weeks left to find something moving and inspirational to say, but Gemma just confided in him that her old childhood best friend is going to be in attendance. The one who moved to LA and they haven’t seen in fifteen years because he was too busy becoming an Academy Awards winner. But hey, no pressure. It’s just Louis Fucking Tomlinson. Harry is screwed.

Singing to tiny dancer

by BriaMaria | Famous/Non famous | Actor!Louis | 22k “Yes!” Harry punched a fist into the air. He laughed at the confusion that wrinkled the little space between Louis’ brows. “What?” “You’re flirting with me,” Harry smiled, letting his dimples pop. Louis’ face went blank for two seconds and then he rolled his eyes, one side of his mouth lifting. “Am not.” “You soooo are,” Harry sang out, poking him in the shoulder. “You like me.” “I was simply showing you how to actually bring… what did you call it? Your A-game.” Harry adopted a patronizing expression, sure it would piss him off. “And you did great. Really.“ “Oi, fuck off,” Louis said, but he was actually laughing now. Outright. It was gorgeous and Harry wanted to live in this moment forever. It was the very best one he’d experienced. He wanted to always remember the image of Louis’ crinkled eyes, the sound of his breathy giggles, the smell of citrus that radiated off him as he swayed in his amusement. And Louis didn’t even know his name. Or ... When everything gets to be a bit too much for A-list actor Louis Tomlinson, he runs back to the town he had never really called home and the boy who was the only one he did.

Beautiful Star 

by tommoandbambi for We Wish You a Larry Christmas Fic Exchange | famous/non famous | kid fic | christmas fluff | 17k “You know, when I pegged you for a druglord, I wasn't exactly challenging you to make me believe that you actually are one. What is this place?” Louis says after he swallows over the mild panic that's building up in his throat over the fact that he's literally sitting in front of the cause of his teenage sexuality crisis. or, the famous/nonfamous kid!fic AU wherein harry and louis have to host a school Christmas party and harry isn't actually a druglord.

Play The Odds 

by alivingfire | College AU | friends to lovers | 26k Harry and Louis are best friends since childhood who, after a night of drinking, find themselves locked in a bet: first one to kiss the other a thousand times wins. Wins what? They don't know. Glory, Harry supposes. Bragging rights, though those don't do much in this economy. All Harry knows is that this is one bet he can finally win. What he doesn't expect, though, is what happens when he starts kissing his best friend on a daily basis. Namely, he doesn't expect falling head over heels in love with his best friend. Now all he has to do is make sure the bet never ends, so he never has to stop kissing Louis.

Runner On Third 

by kikikryslee for H/L Exchange 2016 | slow burn | friends to lovers | 40k As Harry stood there, the other man turned around, and he knew he was correct in who he thought it was. “Louis?” he asked, still not quite believing it. Louis blinked. “Harry? Wh– what are you doing here?” “I work here,” Harry said. “What are you doing here?” “Um, I’m picking up my brother. The nurse called and said he was sick.” Harry felt like he was going to be sick. “Wait, Ernest is your brother? Since when do you have a brother?” “Since about seven years ago, I guess. Wait, how do you know Ernest?” “I’m his teacher.” “You’re his what?” Louis exclaimed. Harry gulped. This was going to be a long year. --- Or, the AU where Louis and Harry were best friends growing up, but lost touch after Harry moved away. Ten years later, Harry has moved back to town, but he and Louis don't pick up where they left off.

Taken Over By The Feeling

by whyidontknow1 | angst | fluff| baker!harry | 53k After almost a year of increasingly troubling behavior, Louis agrees to let his sister live with him. It's a last resort before more drastic measures are taken by their mom. Harry Styles runs Given A Chance, a program for troubled and disadvantaged teens out of the bakery he owns. He offers the kids in his program what he believes they need to start on a different and better path for their lives. Louis learns all too quickly that Harry's goodwill does not extend to him. Only because he happens to remind Harry of an ex he'd rather forget. It's not the smoothest of beginnings, but in the end Louis' own issues might be the real problem.

Haven't You Heard 

by allwaswell16 for HL Christmas and New Year Fanfiction | Christmas fluff | 8k Harry Styles has been in love with Louis Tomlinson since they were eighteen. After six years together, Harry is ready to propose to the love of his life. The holidays strike him as the perfect time for a romantic proposal, but his well-meaning friends and family (including his self-appointed best friend, Niall) seem to thwart him at every turn. Or the four times Harry tries to propose, and the one time he gets it right.

If My Yesterday is a Disgrace, Tell Me That You'll Still Recall My Name 

by Trytoescapeit for HL Christmas and New Year Fanfiction | 16k The boy, right now in front of Harry, most definitely has familiar blue eyes and the same thin lips. Those lips. Small, bitten things that are so close to splitting. All he can think of is a chorus of his name. Louis, Louis, Louis, and the name means nothing to him until the boy looks up. OR Harry and Louis are childhood friends for only a year when Louis moves out of town. Fast forward to the future and Harry is a used-to-be rich kid who cut off his family's inheritance to build a life of his own and Louis owns the small cafe that's hiring. Harry spends three days trying to get Louis to remember him (because he never forgot)

Let Me Be Good For You

by onlyhuman | canon compliant | PWP | 12k His distress over the bun is nothing compared to the thrill Louis feels shoot up his spine at the outfit Harry’s donned. He’s changed into leather jeans that cling to his legs, hugging his thighs snugly. On top of it, a floaty, black sheer shirt is contouring his frame, doing absolutely nothing to hide his puffy nipples or the endless array of tattoos scattered across his torso. It’s Louis’ favourite outfit in the entire world. Or, Niall's only birthday wish is to go clubbing with his boys in Vegas. Harry ruins it all by wearing that god forsaken black sheer shirt.

Oh How I Hate This Red String Of Fate

by CalamityK for H/L Exchange 2016 | soulmates | angst | 13k Harry thought being able to see people’s strings die would be the worst thing about his gift, until at twenty-two he finally met the other end of his own. --------- Or that soulmate AU where Harry can see the red strings of fate that tie everyone together.

Like a boomerang

by youwilll | Groundhog Day AU | College AU | 48k AU in which Harry gets trapped in a lift, Louis gets stuck in a Wednesday, and it's always February 2nd. Until it isn't.

Life as we know it

by Rearviewdreamer | friends to lovers | kid!fic | 34k When a couple dies unexpectedly Harry and Louis are brought together to care for their daughter.

Counting the stars behind the clouds

by simplestardust | blind character | friends to lovers | 28k The problem wasn’t that Harry was blind. The problem was Harry himself. or, in which Louis plays keyboard as part of touring singer Harry's back-up band, and spends his time stuck between being oblivious and in denial, while Harry just wants to know how many stars there are in the night sky.

Head head heart

by Anonymous for Sub Harry Fic Fest | canon compliant | BDSM | Dom/Sub | 11k After Dunkirk has wrapped filming, Harry struggles with his inability to reach subspace. He tries taking the matter in his own hands before Louis intervenes with a plan of his own.

Reduce Me To A Pleading Cry (Break The Skin and Tantalize)

by Anonymous for Sub Harry Fic Fest | BDSM | Dom/Sub | CEO!Harry | 37k As the CEO of Styles & Styles, Harry Styles cuts a brooding and handsome figure at the helm of a very successful business. His reputation for intensity is well known, but you would be intense, too, if you had to work numbers all day, give countless orders, and conduct endless meetings. When all you really want to do at night--ache to do--is give away the reins, let someone else make the decisions, be ordered around for once, just--let go. Harry has reached his breaking point when one touch from a man whose very stance commands attention leads him back to a place he thought he’d never return. Or Harry is a broody submissive boss, Louis is a natural dom who works in the mail room at Styles & Styles, Niall is a matchmaking oracle, and a slender, dark haired man stands mute at the coffee stand encouraging others to spill their secrets.

(I didn't mean to) fall in love tonight 

by zouisclimax | High School AU, mpreg | 35k Harry texts him back a thumbs up emoji before leaning forward and throwing up again. He groans, but stands after he’s done, wiping his mouth with toilet paper, and flushing the toilet. He washes his mouth out as best as he can before steeling himself and heading back to class, trying his best not to cry. He tells himself that there is no point in worrying when he doesn’t even know if there is anything to worry about yet. He still feels sick. [or, the American boarding school AU where Harry's infatuated with Louis and one night flips his whole world upside-down]

With your love we could breathe underwater

by luminescents for HL summer fic exchange | fantasy | Mermaid!Harry | 28k Harry’s brow furrows, a look of confusion spreading over his face. “But I am real. I exist, see,” he says, raising a hand out of the water and wiggling his fingers at Louis. Louis finds himself relaxing a bit. Harry seems harmless really. And he’s quite cute, for something that’s not supposed to exist. If Louis is indeed having a hallucination right now, at least it’s a cute one. AU where Harry is a mermaid, Louis is a human, and they both discover a lot more than they anticipated.

Sex Shop Fic Verse: It's My Pleasure To Introduce You  & Switch Out The Batteries

by LoadedGunn | Sex Shop AU | 8k Louis cannot help himself. He stretches a bit so he can whisper in Harry's ear, "That's what I'd do to you, when you're close to coming. Just think. You'll be so overwhelmed but you won't want it to end, not really, so I'll switch it to the seventh setting, give you just a few seconds to catch your breath but then it'll rock inside you, right against your spot, so hard you won't be able to breathe, but before you can finally come it'll stop again. How long do you think you could keep it there, just staying right on the edge?" "I couldn't," Harry whispers, definitely shivering now. "I just couldn't tease myself like that, I'd have to touch my cock. If I wanted to... I'd need someone to do it for me." Louis slips his hands from Harry's fingers to his wrist, where he clutches hard. "You would." Or, the AU where Louis is the most helpful sex shop salesperson in the history of sex shops, and Harry really was just looking for a vibrator with simple instructions (yet ended up getting a hands-on demonstration).

by istajmaal, LoadedGunn | BDSM | Dom/Sub | Daddy kink | Gangbang 88k Harry raises an eyebrow. "Sex dice?" "Yup," Louis nods. "You know the ones we sell, one die for a body part and the other for an action to perform on that… part." "Isn't that what old married couples buy from you to spice things up?" Louis frowns and opens his mouth to tell Harry off, but then he catches his absolutely dreamy expression and can only laugh. "Yes dear, we're just like any middle-aged married couple. Except for the fact that we're in our twenties and have a box full of bondage gear under our bed." Two years after meeting in a sex shop, Harry's just returning to Louis from a month-long tour in the States, and they come up with a wholesome bonding exercise.