#but he is being left bowls of food by all the neighbourhood guys who like him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mandoalorian · 4 years

Note

hi can i get a dio one shot where his gf is kinda little miss perfect like she always listens and never breaks the rules and her parents are always pressuring her to do really good but as she keeps hanging out with him and his friends she becomes more of her own person and she comes out of her shell more and starts liking the things he likes and maybe she stands up to her parents after they say he’s a bad influence for her ???

The Bet [Dio x F!Reader]

Author's note: Anon asked for a one shot but they’re getting a three part mini-series instead. 🖤 this is for all my lovely nonnies who have been asking me to write for Dio.

Warnings: mention of food and drink, brief mention of alcoholism, cigarettes etc

Word count: 2000

Masterlist

"You've been staring at her all day," Raven groaned, stabbing a curly fry into her pot of ketchup and shoving it in her mouth. "Just go talk to her."

Dio shuffled around uncomfortably. "I can't." he frowned, narrowing his eyes in your direction. There you were, sat at the cafeteria table alone, your head deep in a book. You'd left your lunch to one side, hoping to get back to it once you finished this chapter.

"Aw, does Dio have a crush?" Raven cooed teasingly, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Shut up," Dio retorted quickly. "You have ketchup around your mouth."

Raven's smile quickly faded as she pulled out a compact mirror to check her appearance. Dio went back to watching you. You were beautiful, and he just didn't understand how the world around you seemed to ignore you. He could somewhat relate. Although he had his group of friends, he still felt like an outcast. But you were always alone, your head in the clouds or stuck in some book. As far as he saw, you didn't even have friends. You spent your days cooped up in the academic library, studying or doing your homework.

"Pointless staring," Ash rolled his eyes, but Dio just swallowed, trying to dismiss his comment. "You could never get a girl like her."

Dio finally turned to face Ash, and even flicked a glance towards Raven who was still wiping ketchup from the corner of her lip, about to reapply her black lipstick. "I could get any damn girl I want." Dio folded his arms across his chest.

Ash hummed, scrunching up his nose. "Sure kid, whatever. If that's what you chose to believe."

Dio scoffed incredulously and leaned over the table. "You tell him Raven! I could get any girl!"

Raven didn't look up from her mirror once. "Sounds like he's challenging you, Dio."

"Is that true?" Dio hissed. "You're challenging me?" his voice was sour.

Ash nodded his head and picked up a curly fry from Raven's plate. "We're all still up for getting wasted in the park tonight, right? Dio, if you can get ‘little miss perfect’ over there to join us, I'll take back what I said."

"That's ridiculous," Dio shook his head. "She's not gonna come with us. Sometimes I don't even know why I bother going with you guys," Dio looked back over to you— you really were little miss perfect; with the perfect smile and glistening eyes. When Dio looked at you, it was like nothing else mattered. The whole world turned into a blur, only, he could just about make out Ash's chuckle in the background. "Fine. I'll do it." Dio frowned. He knew if he didn't at least give it a shot (or better yet, succeed), he'd never hear the end of it from Ash and Raven.

Dio threw the crust of his sandwich back down on his plate and pushed his tray to one side before standing up. He brushed down his outfit, trying to make himself look somewhat presentable before speaking to you, and sauntered towards you. He could practically feel Ash and Raven's eyes burning into his back from the other side of the cafeteria.

"Hey," Dio greeted, clearing his throat and sliding down on the unoccupied seat across from you. You looked up from your book and your eyes met with his. "I'm Dio— I'm uh, I'm in your science class and math class. You might not know me but-"

"Trust me, I know you." you shot back before you could even let him finish. You turned a page in your book and pretended to seem uninterested. It was difficult though, because the mysterious boy with jet black hair and pierced ears was for some reason giving you the time of day. You— out of all people. You usually had good intuition and you felt in your heart that there was something not right about this interaction.

"What are you reading?" Dio asked curiously, peeking over to try and get a glance of the pages.

"1984." You mumbled back.

"Oh I love that book!" Dio exclaimed with a grin as he kicked his feet back on the table, knocking your dinner tray slightly. Now that comment made you look at him.

"You've read 1984?" you raised your eyebrows in disbelief.

"Well, read… watched the movie… same thing really," Dio shrugged and you couldn't help but giggle. He was adorable— and slightly dorky which was something you hadn't expected at all. "It's about how there's someone always watching you…"

"Yep," you nodded in affirmation and pointed towards the table where Dio was once sat at. "Kinda like how your friends have been staring us out since you came over." you waved at them awkwardly. Raven avoided eye contact, looking back down into her bowl of curly fries.

"Shit, I'm sorry about them," Dio sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "The truth is, Ash bet I couldn't pick you up."

"Why would he bet that?" You asked, sliding your bookmark into the novel and placing it down on the table. You suddenly felt vulnerable but at least Dio was being honest with you.

"Because, I can't stop thinking about you," Dio shrugged helplessly. "And I want to get to know you better. Would- would you be opposed to that?"

You thought for a moment, and then shook your head. Elated, Dio smiled and scrawled down his phone number on one of your napkins. No person had ever shown you any interest, and now one of the school's most intimidating guys wanted to ‘get to know you better’? You'd be foolish to lie to yourself anymore and pretend like this wasn't something you'd thought about before. You'd caught glimpses of him at the back of class, you'd try to repress a smile every time he quipped a sarcastic comment back at a teacher or distracted the class from their work.

He wasn't the type of guy you ever imagined ending up with, but you were still intrigued by his enigma. Dio might've only recognised you from science and math class recently, but you'd known him since preschool. Before he dyed his hair, got all those tattoos and piercings. He even used to live in your neighbourhood, before his dad died and he had to move. You'd heard stories about him since then, about how he'd ‘gone off the rails’. But he still seemed nice enough. Truthful, and he still had that sparkle in his chocolate coloured eyes that you remembered from when he shared the sandpit with you in elementary.

The napkin with his number on weighed you down until you got home. You placed it on your dressing table and sat down. It was staring at you— begging for you to call. You sighed, giving into the temptation and rang the number. After three rings, Dio answered.

"Hey, it's me." you said quietly, nervously biting your lower lip.

"Oh hey! I'm so glad to hear from you. I was beginning to get afraid that you wouldn't call." Dio admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. You overheard some chattering in the background.

"Are you busy?" you wondered out loud.

"I'm just with Ash and Raven. We're having a few beers in the park. You're more than welcome to join us."

You winced at the thought of joining them for beers in the park. You'd barely took a sip of champagne at your aunt's wedding, nevermind drinking bottles of beer with the most intimidating group of teenagers in the whole town.

"Oh I don't know Dio…" you mumbled.

"Hey, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. It'll just be nice to have your company— and I promise, we don't bite." you considered his words and sighed.

"Okay Dio, I'll be there in half an hour. Text me the address."

"Got it," Dio grinned. "See you soon."

Ash chuckled as Dio hung up the phone. "We don't bite?" Ash quoted Dio with a smirk. "Oh, she's really that innocent huh?"

"I want you both to behave," Dio warned. "Don't scare her away."

You looked at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you should change your outfit to something maybe a little more alternative. You wanted to fit in with Dio and his friends, after all. However, you remembered Dio has come to you, interested in you just the way you were. And you swore that you weren't going to change yourself for anyone. You combed through your hair and grabbed your favourite pink lip gloss— one that you wore only on special occasions.

Your mother came in just as you were applying it. "And where do you think you're going?" she snarled, raising an eyebrow as you puckered your lips.

"Out with some friends." you shrugged nonchalently.

"What friends?" she questioned you further, her voice was highly strung and she stood with a hand on her hip.

"You remember Shane Morrissey from preschool?" you asked nervously. "Well- he goes by Dio now, and-"

"No." your mother narrowed her eyes. "That boy is nothing but trouble. Ever since his dad died and he and his mother got evicted, I've heard that he's turned to a life of crime. A petty thief. And his mother? An alcoholic."

You scowled at your mother's condescending and judgemental attitude. "You don't know him." you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

"And I'm not sure you know him either." your mother snapped back.

"I'm going whether you like it or not," you huffed, standing up and grabbing your jacket. "You can't shelter me your whole life."

Before your mother could even reply, you bolted out the house and ran down the street. Luckily, it wasn't too cold, and the address to the park was only a ten minute walk from your home. You spotted Dio, Raven and Ash almost immediately. The trio were sitting on a small grassy patch.

You sat next to Dio and tried to engage in conversation, although you weren't really familiar with the things they were talking about. Dio helped you out though, taking his time to explain things so you understood and he encouraged you to talk about your own hobbies and interests. The second Raven tried to peer pressure you into drinking, you politely declined and Dio whisked you away from them. "Are you uncomfortable?" he asked you in private.

"No, I'm okay, I think," you nodded your head in affirmation. You really didn't want to go home— you were having such a good time with Dio.

"Because if it's too much…" Dio trailed off. "Maybe we can go back to my place?" he suggested. "I know Ash and Raven can be intense. So it would be just us."

Your gaze flicked back to Ash and Raven who were sharing a cigarette and you smiled. "Yeah, okay," you agreed. "I'd like that."

"Good," Dio replied softly. "Let's go then."

Taglists— let me know if you wish to be added!

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #dio nypd blue #shane dio morrissey #dio x reader #shane dio morrissey x reader #shane morrissey x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian

239 notes · View notes

derireo · 4 years

Text

the workaholic ↦ tsumugi, tasuku, itaru, izumi

There was a reason why Izumi worked so hard.

A look into Izumi's self-worth and repressed memories.

「 3.3k words 」

cw: angst, hurt (no comfort), family issues. can be connected to my same age troupe series but doesn’t have to be.

Izumi didn't really like staying at home anymore.

Not after her dad left and her mom had to start juggling more jobs in order for them to have a few meals a week while on top of that paying for their bills.

She'd stay a little longer at school, hang around the lonely alleyways and shortcuts that ran along the neighbourhood, sit inside convenience stores until evening.

Just so that she wouldn't have to go back to an empty home.

Her passion for the things she used to love died out too, and she eventually quit her extracurriculars, including her theatre class.

She was grateful that she learned how to care for herself when she was young, but it was tiring. She didn't have enough clothes to wash when her mom rarely came home. There was no point in using the dishes if she was the only one eating. And if it meant saving more money, she wouldn't even turn the lights on in any of the rooms. Not even the washroom.

There were very few times when her mom would be able to spend the night at home with her, but again, there were few.

Izumi wanted to feel happy, seeing her mom's face, but it was hard when she always looked so tired. So angry.

They rarely talked when her mom was home, but Izumi would still cook her dinner and clean her room before she'd tuck in for the night.

And there were just some times when Izumi didn't want to be in her presence at all.

"You never do anything in this house." Her mom said one night in passing as Izumi was gathering their empty bowls.

The sentence caught Izumi off guard, making her pause in her ministrations. She looked up from the table to look at her mom in curiosity, and was met with an aggravated frown.

"All you do is stay out late and eat all the food that I work hard to put on the table." She complained quietly, tapping her finger against the wood that they sat at. "I don't recall you ever doing anything for this house."

"Mom, I–" Izumi's laugh was one out of pure disbelief, but her mother didn't let her finish.

"You're so useless.. You do nothing all day and complain about school and how you're always tired. You don't do anything. I'm the one working three jobs, for Chrissake." Her mom laughed in turn and ran a hand through her hair, standing up from the table with an exhausted shake of her head.

"I have work tomorrow. I'm leaving at four." She finished, standing to leave for her room. "Ungrateful brat."

And well; Izumi couldn't really say anything anyways. She took in a breath and made her way to the sink after she heard a door shut, a cold chill slowly running up her spine.

Her mom wasn't wrong. She wished she could do more, really.

"Welcome! Is this a job application?" A middle aged man bowed towards Izumi who held a neat folder for him to take, nodding her head to answer his question.

He opened the folder as Izumi clutched the strap to her schoolbag tightly. The man squinted at the few things on her resume and scratched his neck, offering Izumi an uneasy smile when he handed the file of papers back to her.

"You have all the traits we're looking for in a new employee," he said kindly, "but I fear you're too young for me to hire. I couldn't give you night shifts and graveyard like you asked anyway."

Izumi sighed, having already known the outcome. But she just couldn't let it go.

"I need this job." She said quietly, bunching the strap she held in her hand with a death grip. "I want to help ease my mom's burden."

And as much as she didn't want to use the guilt card, she really wanted the job. If it gave her an excuse not to be home, she'd gladly take it.

There was a frown, a pinch of the nose, and a sigh.

Suddenly, Izumi was being asked for her folder again and she quickly gave it back, her sad, doe eyes slowly regaining a bit of light.

"I'll send an email if I manage to get you the job." The middle aged man sighed once more, waving off a surprised Izumi who nearly shouted. "..Now go home."

"Thank you, Mister!" She saluted, regaining some newfound energy she never knew she had.

And with that, for the first time in months, did she go home before sunset.

She got the email a few days later during class. She was opening and closing her fliphone with a bored expression on her face as her teacher went to explain the difference between kanji and hiragana.

> From: [email protected] – I got you the job. Training starts next week at 4pm.

Izumi almost shouted. Almost.

What she did do was drop her phone in surprise, her legs jolting up and clambering against her desk. The loud noise obviously disturbed everyone around her and she floundered when her teacher glared.

"Something interesting happening over there, Tachibana?" He grouched with a frown, to which the classmates around her either giggled or whispered as she fumbled to grab her phone from the floor.

Her smile was elated, but at the same time panicked, and she shook her head in denial. Shoving her phone into her skirt pocket (that she had to sew in herself), Izumi straightened her tie.

"No, Sir. Just a rat startling me."

And like many other times, Izumi was the starter of chaos, everyone in the room beginning to panic at the idea of having a real rat inside of the school.

The class ended with all of the desks in disarray, and a flustered Izumi bowing in apology to her teacher who had his arms crossed.

And Izumi absolutely loved her job. Although it was busy on weekdays because students would visit after school, she loved the rush; she loved feeling like she was doing something.

She loved the feeling of being useful.

Time would fly by as if she was only working for an hour so; sometimes she wouldn't even want to leave once the next worker would come in for their shift.

She was a fast learner too, and her manager, that middle aged man, would watch with an impressed expression on his face.

Graveyard shift was another thing, but if it meant Izumi wouldn't have to be stuck home alone with her thoughts, she'd take any day they had to offer.

It was a boring shift, usually receiving visits from overworked business men or the occasional drunkard who needed something to sober up.

There were a few times where she'd have customers who were around her age; kind of odd, but at the same time not really.

There was one guy her age who would visit at around midnight to three in the morning, and a duo that would come by at six-thirty sharp.

"Energy drinks again? Chigasaki-san." She would scold the boy who donned a pair of glasses and their school's tracksuit.

His visit was always quick, and he never opened his mouth to speak to her after the night he introduced himself that one time.

"I see Takato-san has dragged you out again." She would comment when the two boys would stalk in; the taller one buying water bottles while the blue haired one would eat a breakfast snack.

The interesting thing with this duo was that, the blue haired boy would stay inside and accompany Izumi while the other would perform his daily morning jog; something that the young girl found distasteful.

"Are you sure you'll be okay going to school?" The boy would ask her every day he visited. He found out that when Izumi did graveyard shifts on a Sunday or weekday, she would head to school right after, not even bothering to take a nap or a break.

And to put the blue haired boy's mind to rest, the other friend would walk in; barely having broken a sweat: "We can walk her there. Let's go."

And this duo– she thought she would forever be grateful for them. They took care of her whenever she was barely able to herself; walking her home after they finished their classes at their own school and helping her with her assignments before forcing her to go to sleep on the days she didn't have graveyard.

But the thing was, when she met those three again while trying to revive the theatre her father left neglected, she didn't seem to remember any of them.

Meeting Itaru Chigasaki again was like meeting him for the first time, and he was surprised, but at the same time not. With how often he visited her konbini back then, maybe he would have stuck in her subconscious, but, maybe not. He didn't try to make conversation with her back then anyways so he couldn't blame Izumi for anything.

Meeting Tasuku Takato and Tsumugi Tsukioka again was much the same for her.

Tsumugi was devastated that she couldn't remember them, and Tasuku, annoyed.

"Oh. I don't really remember anything that happened during my high school days." Izumi had said in passing one afternoon when Muku asked her if she had experienced anything similar to the story of Ouran High School Host Club.

There was an incredulous gasp from Muku, saying that it shouldn't be possible. High school was probably a significant time in your life when you were still young!

"I just remember working and studying a lot. And I rarely stayed at home?" She answered him with a question and frowned, scratching her head. "It kept me busy because the house was always empty and I had nothing better to do."

"Eh? So then how did you get back into theatre?" Tenma asked from his side of the couch, squinting at Izumi through the sunglasses he didn't bother taking off after coming home.

"When Sakyo gave me no other choice but to save the company."

"But there was also the letter that Matsukawa sent, right?" Sakuya piped up, tilting his head. "I feel we would have been in a lot of trouble if she never got it."

"Yeah, I don't even remember what I was doing before I got that letter, honestly. It had nothing to do with theatre that's for sure." Izumi scratched her cheek.

Speechless, Tasuku plopped himself down in the chair that sat beside Izumi's side of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Do you remember anything between the ages of fifteen and nineteen?" He inquired, frown etched onto his face as both he and Tsumugi shot each other a look from either side of the room.

Itaru chewed at his granola bar with an unreadable expression on his face, but secretly anticipated Izumi's answer just like everyone else.

"Not really." She responded slowly, looking over at the man who sat beside her. Tasuku huffed out a breath; already giving up on receiving a satisfying answer.

"Do you remember any friends from high school?" Tsumugi inquired next, resulting in an excitable nod from Muku who had regained his energy.

Izumi frowned.

"I didn't have any."

Itaru sighed; feeling like they were going nowhere with all of this nonsense and beating around the bush.

"Yes you did." The blond argued albeit not as aggressive as he wanted to.

He couldn't be upset or annoyed when he didn't even try to become friends with her back then. He recalled the many nights he ignored her after their first meeting, never looking into her eyes as she tried to start a conversation with him.

But even if he wasn't her friend, he at least knew that Tasuku and Tsumugi were. He'd see them walk her to school every single morning and watch as they'd tentatively walk away as Izumi got scolded for the umpteenth time for arriving so late.

Izumi fell silent at Itaru's response and awkwardly crossed her arms over her chest; becoming defensive at his tone.

"How would you know?" She tried to keep her voice level, but she sounded small and embarrassed.

Tenma, Muku, and Sakuya began to frown at this new side of the director.

Tsumugi decided to pipe up at this time, eager to let the attention on the director snap towards him.

He gripped at his wristwatch with meekness riddling his features as he spoke. "Tasuku and I were your best friends in high school."

And then the lounge room went silent.

Tasuku visibly relaxed in his seat once the cat was out of the bag, and the three younger members with them whipped their heads to look between the Winter Pair in shock.

Izumi's face warmed.

"That isn't right." She shook her head and shrunk into the couch; still in disbelief. If that were the case, she wouldn't have said she didn't have any friends in the first place.

She wasn't exactly the best person to be around in high school and she always struggled to be interesting. How could she have friends when all she did was work, work, work?

How could she have friends when it felt like she'd been alone her whole life?

It...didn't make sense.

Not to Izumi at least.

"I didn't have time to make friends." She murmured, wrapping her arms around herself to get rid of the sad chill that crawled up her arms. "And the ones I had before left me when I quit theatre."

Tasuku pinched his nose between his fingers while Itaru flipped his phone in his hand several times, Tsumugi watching the gears turn in Izumi's head only to end up with them stuttering and breaking down.

Was she only remembering the bad things? Or was she repressing memories that she didn't want to remember?

...Did she want to forget them?

Tsumugi anxiously tapped his fingers against his knee. "You don't remember us."

"I don't think I've ever seen you two before I came to Veludo." Izumi twisted her fingers in the fabric of her sleeves. "Itaru made it sound like we knew each other too which is weird."

To Tsumugi it seemed like her brain was refusing access to this specific part of her life; the memories so heavily blocked that she couldn't retrieve them. Couldn't remember them.

Her high school days were so bad that she grew to learn how to send them all the way to the back of her mind; never to be seen again.

It was like she was experiencing repressed memory...

And, well, Tsumugi understood the severity of that at the very least.

Tasuku and Itaru on the other hand couldn't understand.

They couldn't find themselves to.

"I don't think there's a point to this conversation anymore." The violet eyed man resigned with a hint of aggravation swirling around his tone.

It looked like he was seething from where he sat beside Izumi, strong arms curled around his chest as his glaring eyes stared at Tsumugi who had an expression full of sadness.

"If it was that easy to forget us after all those years spent together then I don't want to hear anymore of this."

Tsumugi could feel the hairs on his arm stand at the icy tone lacing Tasuku's voice.

"Just let her explain why—"

"Why? Why what?" Tasuku tittered. His blood was starting to boil; he could feel the steam coming out of his ears.

It was unfair. Along with Tsumugi he spent four years taking care of Izumi only for her to forget them? Those early mornings and late nights they spent with her to make sure she was staying alive wasn't enough to have them ingrained in her brain?

She was ungrateful enough to forget all they had done for her? Feed her meals, keep her company, help her forget that she was alone?

She was like family to them. Was it not the same for her?

If she left the company, would she forget them a second time?

They never knew where she went after graduation.

"She was barely able to do anything back then. Who helped her pass sciences, math, and the like? Who helped her in literature? Comprehension?" Tasuku listed off angrily, unable to notice the way Izumi was shrinking in her seat while at the same time staring off into space.

It was like her ears were filled with cotton.

"Who carried her home every single night when she was barely able to stand from exhaustion? Who fed her meals to make sure she wasn't starving?" The Winter Troupe member continued, vision going red with anger as he remembered all of the times a limp Izumi would hang off his back.

Remembered the tears that would stain the back of his uniform.

He shook his head.

"I've never met someone so damn ungrateful. She would've been useless without us, Tsumugi." The exasperation in his voice was clear.

Izumi pursed her lips, ears picking up the words like she was resurfacing from a huge body of water.

"Tasuku." Tsumugi scolded—

Useless. Izumi mused.

His anger was understandable. If what all that Tasuku had said was true, she couldn't blame the betrayal and hurt they felt.

But as much as she wanted to remember, she couldn't pick anything up from her high school days.

What else could she remember other than the feeling of coming back to an empty home and a mother who ignored her existence?

...Tasuku was right.

But it still hurt.

She tried to ignore the words Tasuku was spewing in order to save herself, but it was futile.

She was useless for not being able to remember.

She was useless for not doing anything.

Useless for doing everything she could and it still not being enough.

What even was considered enough?

Stop thinking.

The empty house. The molding walls. The lonely bed.

Her mother—

Fuck! Just snap out of it.

"Er...Sorry." She laughed to cover up the fact that she was on the verge of tears. She shook as she struggled to get off the couch. Her sudden apology made Tasuku stiffen as Tsumugi and Itaru watched their director with shocked expressions.

The weight of the situation suddenly felt real. Very real.

Should— should they look away? Tenma, Muku, and Sakuya had already left once Tasuku went on his mini rampage because they were terrified of what was to come.

So it was only the four adults left.

"I just remembered something." She pointed her thumb behind her in the direction of the hallway, smiling as she did so. "I'm backstage crew for this theatre's rehearsal tonight, so... I have to go get ready."

She bowed deeply to the three men who sat there in stunned silence, profusely bending her body so that she wouldn't show her face as she backed away, only swiftly turning around when she reached the hallway.

"I'll offer her a ride." Itaru spoke up after a good minute of silence and stood up from his spot on the couch.

Silence blanketed the lounge room like a cloud wrapping around an airplane once the blonde left to grab his keys from mini table beside the stairs.

Tasuku brought his hand to his face to hopefully wipe away the stress that was riddling his features.

The rattle of Izumi's own keys were heard down the hallway, footsteps rushed as papers rustled in her hands while she bolted towards the stairs.

"Izumi, I can drive—" Itaru murmured once her hand reached the railing of the stairs, but was interrupted by her wavering voice.

"I don't need it. I'll be fine." She laughed a little, just to ease Itaru's worries if he had any but refused to look him in the eye as she walked down the stairs. "I'll call, if anything."

Itaru twirled his keys back into his palm and cleared his throat. Yeah, that's fine.

"Stay safe." He called out in his soft spoken voice.

"Yeah." Came her response, then the sound of the front door slamming shut.

He shuffled towards the kitchen window not too long after, to see Izumi sprinting down the street with a teary grimace.

Huh. He recalled a time when he came across a similar expression up on the school's rooftop.

But he had left her there just as quick as he had come.

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#act! addict! actors!#tasuku takato #tsumugi tsukioka #itaru chigasaki #izumi tachibana #dr: same age troupe #?

76 notes · View notes

underatedcharactersunite · 4 years

Text

Home Sweet Home

Summary; You and Maxwell move into your first home together and decide to explore the town while buying furniture for your first home together. Pairing: Maxwell Jacob Friedman x Reader WordCount; 1,507 Based off of a prompt from this prompt List; Warnings; None, just sweet old fluff A/N; So my sister @deansamore decided to challenge me to post everyday for the rest of the year. Not wanting to back down, I agreed with. If I win, she will redesign my blog and change my layouts every month next year. If I lose, then I have to buy her some diamond paintings. Game on!

Day 2

»»————-　🇰　————-««

As the movers unloaded the last box from the truck, it finally dawned on you the significance of this moment. You and Max had finally moved in together. It had taken the two of you many months of searching for your ideal first home together. The relatively new build was flawless. Every need that the both of you desired this home had to offer. Now it was finally yours.

As the early morning chill nipped at your nose, the two of you thanked the movers who had been perfect at moving your belongings to one home. Everything was essential. The two of you choose to purchase brand new furniture for your home together. The two of you couldn’t begin to settle into your new home just yet as there was the vital next step of picking out furniture that would complete your home. Grabbing ahold of your car keys, both of you made your way into town to locate the furniture shop that you located when you drove into your new town.

Slipping out of the car, Max instinctively strolled around to your side, holding out his hand for you to take, as your fingers laced with one another, he held your hand up to his lips so he could caress a tender kiss onto the back of your hand.

“I think we’ve moved into the right place, don’t you agree? The town seemed energetic yet peaceful enough. Hopefully, we can get everything we need here because I sure don’t want to end up in Ikea again.” You broke into laughter as you remembered the first time Max attempted to build your new coffee table. He was positive that he would end up being the one to help you put the new coffee table in place. However, after six hours of rereading instructions time and time again, he ended up calling Wardlow for help. Who in a matter of half an hour of arriving managed to have the table up and in place.

“Is Wardlow on standby just in case? I don’t believe you want another repeat from the last time you decided to assemble furniture?” Max quickly wrapped his arms around you, tickling your sides. You ignored the disapproving people giving you dirty glances as they walked by. Although, you were certain you faintly heard an elderly couple mentioning how adorable the two were. Your laughter was infectious as the two of you enjoyed a moment together.

As the perfect autumn day dawned, the two of you were surrounded by the leaves changing colours, the crunching of leaves on the ground with the farmers market in the background. The echoing of stall traders calls out their deals of fresh fruits and vegetables echoed over.

“Perhaps when we’re done ordering the furniture, we could head over there to grab some groceries for the house. You plugged the fridge in before we left the house, right?”

“Yeah, you don’t seem to be the farmers market kind of guy?” Max wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the two of you slowed down as you approached the furniture store you were after.

“You know I’m full of surprises, is that not why your with me in the first place?” Max was certainly one of the more interesting boyfriend’s you had ever had. There was a level of unpredictability to him. Your relationship was certainly interesting, and Max was able to keep you on your toes.

“It’s one of many reasons why I’m with you.” Max’s signature smirk appeared on his face as he played with your fingers that had reached up to entwine your fingers together.

“Many things, why don’t you name them for me?” Rolling your eyes, you playfully poked him in the stomach.

“I don’t have enough time for that now, maybe later.” Walking into the store, you both knew that there were some decisions to be made. Both of you had very different styles, so this was set to be an interesting trip.

In all fairness, the two of you had not argued about a single piece of furniture so far. Both of your styles appeared to complement each other well. The shop assistant commented on how perfect the two of you appeared to suit each other.

After all the furniture was ordered, the two of you decided to locate the farmers market across the street. The chilling early morning start appeared to disappear as the heat rose on this Autumn September day. As you began to feel too warm, you slipped your jacket off and tired it around your waist.

“That has to be one of my favourite things about autumn. Starting off the day, cold with the frost pinching my nose, and then the summer invades and takes over for a little longer.”

“You know you should become a writer you always have such a way with words. Let’s see if we can locate anything to fill the fridge.” Stepping into the market, everyone appeared friendly as market traders attempted to get you to come over to their stool.

There was a variety of fresh vegetables and fruits to offer. Everything smelt delicious and mouthwatering. Max and you began to purchase food off of the market as you tried to get everything both of you desired and things to help with Max’s food prep for when he went onto the road.

The two of you got separated you struggled to locate Max. Although you were not worried too much you continued to browse through the market, picking up some of your favourite fruits to create a fruit bowl, for your new dining table when he arrived on a couple of days.

As you stepped onto the following stool to browse to see what else the two of you could purchase for your home, a market trader around your age began to flirt with you.

“I’m sorry, but she is taken.” Max’s hand rested on your lower back as the Market Trader looked shocked.

“I’m sorry, Sir. My mistake, I was simply admiring your girlfriend’s beauty.”

“Well, she’s not yours to admire, unless it’s from afar. Come on there’s something I wanted to show you.” Stepping away from the stool, Max made sure to wrap his arm around you tighter as you noticed he was now free of any of the bags he had been carrying.

“So the other day, I looked over to see you were looking at porch Autumn designs.” Nodding, you didn’t understand where this conversation was going exactly. You became aware that you were heading back to the car, as Max took ahold of the bags and placed them into the boot of the car.

As the two of you went down a different part of the town, you wondered where you were going. Looking around you noticed that there were beautiful Autumn wreaths everywhere. You were already imaging how beautiful porch could look like, your inner interior designer was desperate to let itself loose.

“I will let you lose on our porch until October, then we can work on it for Halloween together, how does that sound?” You couldn’t have been offered a better prospect, you would finally have your project.

Moving in Max was going to be the next exciting chapter in your life and you couldn’t be more excited. You couldn’t wait for your furniture to arrive so the two of you could host your housewarming party that the two were so desperate to have.

“So does that mean you’ll be home for Halloween this year?”

“I’ll try to, but in the meantime, we’ll at least have the best decorated in the street.” Rolling your eyes, of course, you would know that this would turn into a competition. Max was competitive. It didn’t matter what it was about, who it concerned if Max wanted to turn something into a competition that he certainly would do.

“If we’re not careful then everyone is going to make us the most competitive house in the street.”

“Would that be a bad thing? Letting the entire neighbourhood know that we are here to say.” Rolling your eyes, you led Max over to the place that held the beautiful wreaths in their window.

“Let’s not get the whole street to hate us within hours of moving in.” The two of you walked into the store and prepared for Autumn. The two of you were about to explore a whole new world as your relationship continued to develop, who knows where it could end up.

Something was certain, you couldn’t wait to find out where life would take you in the future. You also knew the possibilities are endless as you became first-time homeowners.

As you exited the store with your supplies to decorate your porch, Max stopped you onto the pathway, without some much as a second moment, Max pressed his lips onto yours.

“Have I told you I loved you today”

“You might have said it once or twice. Why?”

“I don’t want you to ever forget that I do that’s all.

#AEW Imagines #AEW imagine #MJF imagines #MJF Imagine #MJF oneshot #MJF One shot #AEW oneshot #AEW One shot #deansamoreendofyearchallenge

66 notes · View notes

deckof-dragons · 4 years

Text

Poly

I wrote this by request for my friend Sora’s birthday, but I have a confession to make, I don’t actually know their tumblr name (when I changed blogs a while ago, I think theirs in one of the ones I missed when I was refollowing people over here, whoops) and at this point I’m too afraid to ask for it. So I can’t tag them, I tried. But I sent them the Ao3 link for it so it’s fine.

“Did you hear Slim and Edge are dating?” was the first thing Blueberry said when he spotted Stretch descending the stairs.

Having literally just woken up, it took Stretch a few seconds to process the words. “Uh… what?” He’d been hanging out with both of them just last night and he’d had no idea. He wasn’t even sure he believed it.

Always happy to spread juicy gossip, Blueberry grinned wide. “Razz told me this morning. Apparently, he caught them almost kissing last night. They got mad and told him not to tell anyone but he told me because why wouldn’t he? And I figured you knew since you hang out with them all the time but I guess not. It’s supposed to be a secret so don’t tell anyone.” With both Blueberry and Razz knowing, the entire neighbourhood would know within a week or less.

But… Stretch should’ve been the first to know, right? The three of them hung out together several times a week at least. Why hadn’t they told him? And well… he’d been thinking about asking one of them out for a long while now but he was too shy too and wasn’t sure which he wanted more because he liked them both so much and he hadn’t wanted to make things awkward. … It seems he was too late now though; it was his own fault for not making any moves.

“Uh… thanks for telling me I guess,” he said, forcing a nonchalant attitude before Blueberry could start to think his hesitation was anything more than his usual morning sleepiness. “Though you probably shouldn’t have since it’s not your thing to tell.” Not that that’s ever stopped him or would stop him from telling others.

He at least had the grace to look chagrinned. “I thought you of all people would’ve already known though and I wanted to know more about it.”

“Eh, I’m sure they’ll forgive you.” Heck, maybe the reason Stretch hadn’t known was because it had become a thing after he’d split off from them last night, both their houses’ were further down the street from his after all. So maybe no slight was intended. Not that that did much for his other disappointment but… the two of them were probably happier together than either would’ve been with him anyway.

The next time the three of them hung out was that very night, at the bowling alley again. It had become their favored hangout shortly after they’d all settled on the Surface, sometimes they go the others to join them for a few games but most of the time it was just the three of them. Afterwards they had dinner, it was Edge’s turn to pick where they went and thus it was one of the nicer options available in town.

But not once throughout the whole evening did either of them say anything about their supposed dating or kiss. Stretch would’ve dismissed Blueberry’s words that morning as untrue if it wasn’t for the looks the two of them frequently exchanged, occasionally accompanied by some incidental contact with their hands or arms. Something was definitely going on between them and they weren’t telling Stretch. … It hurt a lot. He hid it though because… he just did. If they knew they might just chose to abandon him as a friend entirely.

The next day there was no invitation to hang out anywhere. He didn’t propose to go out anywhere either, partially because he feared a denial. What if they were on a date together? Probably were, right? And they just didn’t want him to know because… who knows why? Maybe they just didn’t like him anymore.

The following day there was an invitation to go bowling again for a few more games and follow it up with dinner at Edge’s place. Stretch declined though, claiming to not be feeling well. He didn’t want to impose his presence on them if it wasn’t wanted. He’d be happier together without him there as a third wheel.

He declined the next invitation as well. What he couldn’t ignore though was a text from Edge that came the following day saying ‘We need to talk.’ There was only one thing they could possibly talk about, right?

After some debate, they ended up meeting in Slim’s house because Razz was off doing something with his Alphys for the weekend. Slim even tried to cook something but by the time Edge and Stretch arrived it was burnt to an unrecognizable crisp and the kitchen was filled with too much smoke for anyone to want to spend much time in it. Thus, they ordered delivery instead.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors by now,” Edge said, clearly addressing Stretch, as the three of them settled in the living room to wait for the food to arrive.

“Uh… yeah, you could say that.” It was hard not to, everyone was talking about Edge and Slim dating and many were asking Stretch about it since he was their friend. The fact that many asked if he was jealous of one or both of them made it harder to hide from his own upset over it. “It’s fine though, you guys are…”

“They’re not true,” Slim interrupted.

“Mostly not true anyway,” Edge corrected. “We have been talking and discussing stuff but nothing is official.”

Oh! That wasn’t so bad then; they hadn’t been keeping things from Stretch, they just hadn’t fully worked it out yet. “But you’re making it official now?” Why else would they bring it up? And that meant Stretch was going to be kicked out of the hangouts, right?

Edge and Slim exchanged a silent look, seemingly having an unspoken argument about who was going to speak next. Edge either lost or gave in. “That depends on some things, mainly you.” He even pointed at Stretch. “From what we’ve gathered, we’re pretty sure poly relationships aren’t common where you’re from so this concept might be strange to you and you might not want any part in it at all.”

“Which is fine,” Slim cut in again. “It ain’t for everyone.”

“True,” Edge said. “Feel free to decline if you’re not interested for whatever reason but we would like to officially start dating each other and you.”

Stretch opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. He’d heard of poly relationships before, they were apparently pretty common in the Fell ‘verses, he hadn’t thought much of them beyond being another cultural difference though. Despite his feelings for both Edge and Slim, he’d certainly never considered entering into a poly relationship with them. But… it was actually kind of perfect. He liked them both and hadn’t been able to decide between them and he’d felt left out when he’d thought they’d been dating each other so…

“Yes!” he said probably a bit too loudly, he was excited though. He’d gone into this conversation thinking he was going to be abandoned by his best friends as a third wheel but instead he was getting not one but two romantic partners. “I’d love that.”

“Wonderful,” Edge said with a pleased expression. “I’m glad that’s settled at last. We would’ve settled it sooner but you decline our invitations to hang out.”

“Oh, whoops, sorry about that.” That’s what Stretch got for jumping to conclusions. He was very glad to be proven wrong here though. He’d never been in a poly relationship before so he wasn’t quite sure how they worked but he was eager to find out.

#My writing #undertale #papcest #Edge/Slim/Stretch #Poly Relationship

28 notes · View notes

sprnklersplashes · 4 years

Text

heart of stone (14/?)

AO3

It’s a little after 10 when Damian comes home, his face paint starting to rub off and his puffed shirt untucked from his pants. While the bus is almost deserted at this hour, tonight it was half full, mostly consisting of drunk college students (and some high schoolers) on their way to or back from some party and reeking of alcohol. Damian had sat at the front the whole journey, his bag held between his legs and his eyes down. Maybe he should reconsider his stance on getting his licence.

When he opens the door, it’s to the sight of his mom standing in the hallway with their trick or treat bowl in her hand, her eyes shooting upwards when she sees her son on the doorstep rather than some neighbourhood kids. She looks a little disappointed too. She does love handing out candy, and fawning over every single costume, no matter how scrappy it looks. It’s her little Halloween tradition.

“Damian,” she greets. “You’re back.”

“Yep,” he replies, pulling off his coat and running his fingers through his hair. His mom nods, slightly speechless, but smiling, nonetheless. Damian peers into the bowl of treats in her hands. “Did we have much success tonight?”

“Oh, loads,” he says, holding the bowl out to her. He picks up a funsize KitKat and a lollipop, slipping the former into his pocket and the latter into his mouth. It’s one of those dark ones that’ll turn his tongue blue. “Sometimes I thought it would have been easier to just hang out at the door and wait for people. I had barely sat down before another one showed up.”

“Well, that may be because everyone knew you were making your famous death by chocolate this year,” he reminds her, poking their finger at his chest. His mom has a bit of a reputation in all circles for being a master baker. School fundraisers, boy scout meetings, weddings, funerals, she bakes for all of them and she bakes to perfection. Damian and his sisters have all insisted she go on some big baking competition and win them all a big juicy cheque. “Speaking of which…”

“Yes, your slice is in the fridge,” she tells him, caressing his cheek. She can barely ask if he has room for it before he speeds off to the kitchen, leaving her chuckling behind him. Cara and Maisie are sitting at the kitchen table, Maisie with a tutu attached to her skeleton outfit, Cara with a pirate’s hat beside her and a mountain of candy sits between them.

“Oh, someone had a good night,” he comments, giving Maisie a fright. “You two little terrors raid the neighbourhood?”

“Yep,” Maisie chirps. “Everyone gave us so much stuff! Mrs Jenkins at number 17 even gave us a whole packet of gummy worms each!”

“And where’s mine?” he asks.

“Mom says you got food at your school thing,” Cara reminds him, her eyebrow raised. She has far too much attitude for a 10 year old. He doesn’t mean to sound like a boomer, but he thinks kids these days grow up far too quickly. He knows that Cara may be on her last years of trick-or-treating and that she’s desperate to go out to parties with the big kids. “So she said you didn’t need to save you any.”

“I did indeed get food at my school thing,” he tells her, closing the fridge door with his cake in hand. “Thank you very much, little miss.” She rolls her eyes, but he catches her smile as he sits down beside them. “So, spill, I want to hear everything.”

“It was fun,” Maisie says. “We went all around this block and then we went to the next block. Just a little bit though, because we were worried about getting lost.”

“I wasn’t,” Cara says, an edge in her voice. “Damian and I used to trick or treat on that block all the time.”

“Yeah but we had Janis too,” he reminds her, watching her sink back in her chair. “And even then we didn’t do every house.” He loves Cara with every bone in his body, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to put her in her place. That no matter how big she gets; attitude doesn’t fly in this house. He dreads to think what will happen when he leaves and his mom is left with her. Hopefully, she’ll have mellowed out by then.

“Did you see Janis at your school thing?” Maisie asks, pushing her candy around the table. It’s an innocent question, a sweet one even, born out of genuine curiosity and his sister’s ever-growing love for Janis. And it’s an easy answer too. But none of that means he’s not uncomfortable with it.

“Yeah I did,” he replies.

“So she’s finished with hospital now?” she asks again and Cara visibly stiffens beside her. After telling his mom, they both agreed to give the girls slightly different versions, based on what they can handle. All Maisie knows is that Janis had to go to hospital for a while and that she lost her hair. Cara is the only one of them who knows about ‘the C word’.

“Not quite yet,” he tells her. “She will be soon though. But her doctor let her come out for a few hours to hang with us.”

“Oh,” she says. She tosses a candy bar between her hands, her expression thoughtful. “Well, that’s good. Could you give her this when you see her?” She pushes the bar across the table. It’s big, probably the biggest one she has, packed with caramel, according to the wrapper. And Maisie loves caramel. His breath catches as emotion stirs in him, pride swelling in his chest. “Just in case she needs to be cheered up.”

“Thanks, Maise,” he tells her. “Next time I see her, I’ll give it to her.” His sister smiles at his assurance and goes back to sorting through her own loot. Cara avoids his gaze, her chest rising and falling heavily and her fists clenched on the table.

“And… how is she?” she finally asks. “Janis, I mean.” He doesn’t miss the way her voice cracks when she asks, the anxiety seeping into her words, and he places his hand over hers.

“She’s good.” He doesn’t get why they words feel so clumsy in his mouth, because they’re the truth. He saw it with his own eyes, felt it when she jumped on him and wrapped him in one of those tighter than tight hugs. He could feel the strength in her body. She’s good. She looked good, not just costume wise (although he did like her minimal approach). She looked healthy. Ish. Not like she used to, but that’s normal. Even if her skin was a little paler than he remembered it, or the fact that she’s far thinner than she used to be. And she had to zip up her jacket as much as she could, and even then she was still shivering, but that’s fine. And as the night went on, she did spend more and more time leaning either him or Cady, but that’s normal. They’re all side effects, and they all mean that the treatment’s working. And once they get out on the other side of it, they’ll be fine.

He blinks, pulling himself out of whatever wormhole he just fell down. There’s a slight ringing in his head from it and he tries to shake it off, Cara and Maisie both eyeing him with concern.

“Janis is great,” he tells them firmly. He takes Cara back a little. He takes a deep breath in, his surroundings settling and grounding around him. “Uh, hey, you guys have a lot of candy here. How about we see if we can wrestle the remote from Mom and watch Halloweentown?”

“For real?” Cara asks, her face breaking out into a smile. “Okay, cool! I think Mom’s nearly done with her thing anyway. I’ll go check.”

“Meanwhile I’ll go change into something more comfy and movie-watchy,” he says, stretching as she stands. She nods, excitement sparking in her eyes, before she sets off down the hallway. Damian laughs and helps Maisie pile everything into two big bowls, planning to fit them on either side of him so that the girls can snack as they wish. Before he goes, he picks up the candy bar from the table and taps her nose with it, a soft giggle escaping her mouth as he does.

“And don’t you worry,” he tells her. “I’ll get this to Janis as soon as I can.”

“Can she come trick or treating with us next year?” she asks. “It’s no fun without her.”

He blinks at her and suddenly, the smile on his face feels fake somehow. Hollow. Like it’s hiding something, even though he doesn’t know what.

“She’d love that,” he tells her. “Now come on, this movie isn’t going to watch itself.” He runs upstairs to change, pulling on a pair of pyjama pants and his Halloween sweater, the comfort a treat after a day of walking around in character shoes. The photo sits in their message log, not changing no matter how long he looks at it. He makes an effort to be okay with it, really, knowing that right now there are any number of reasons she might not be looking at her phone, and that none of them have to be bad. She always does answer, nine times out of ten with a perfectly reasonable explanation like she was asleep, so why should this be any different? The day probably tired her out, that’s all.

It’s only when he realises five minutes have passed that he shoves his phone in his pocket, shaking his head like that will straighten everything going on inside.

“You’re losing it Hubbard,” he mutters to himself. And for the one who normally has it, that’s bad. He takes a deep breath in, and then another one, until he feels more like himself again, and heads downstairs.

Much as he appreciates how important what Janis is doing is, he also can’t help wishing they could just skip past all of it to the part where she’s better and they’re normal again.

It’s the day after Halloween when Janis makes a realisation. She’s sitting in her bed, shaking off the last of what she likes to call a “chemo hangover” when she notices something in the reflection of her phone. She doesn’t know how she hasn’t noticed it before, nor does she know how long it’s been there for, but now that she’s seen it, she can’t unsee it, especially not when she gets up and looks in the mirror to take a better look.

Her eyebrows are gone. Mostly. One’s half-gone, one’s about three quarters. Like a plucking job gone terribly wrong. And she managed to not notice until right now.

It makes sense. Her hair fell out, so the logical thing should be that her eyebrows disappear. Her eyelashes are gone too, most of them anyway. It’s normal, it’s obvious, and she should have worked out that this would happen back when she shaved her head. Maybe she should have went for the eyebrows too and plucked at her eyelashes. Just got it over with in one fell swoop.

She looks weird. Again, that’s news to no-one, but she does. She’d just started getting used to the being bald thing and the fact she looks like a skeleton now. But this is just something else on top of that and it feels like she’s taken a thousand steps back with it. All the way back to square one. And somehow it feels weirder. People notice losing weight and the beanie in place of her hair. People don’t notice her now having eyebrows until they get close enough and maybe even then it might escape their notice.

So maybe with that logic, she shouldn’t worry so much about it?

Nice try, she tells herself, flopping back down on the bed again. That turns out to be a mistake, as black spots dance before her eyes or a few seconds and the room seems to tilt and slide down to one side. It’s only after she squeezes her eyes closed and shakes her head for a bit that it subsides. Clearly, she’s not quite shaken off that last round yet.

When she opens her eyes, she nearly jumps right off the bed. Cassie, that woman from the Cancer Fund, is standing in the doorway, her mouth hanging in a miniature ‘oh’ and her hand half extended towards her. Relief floods her face as she power walks towards her bed, apparently oblivious to the heart attack that she just gave her.

“Oh are you okay, hon?” she asks her.

“Yeah I’m okay,” she sighs, shifting just enough to be out of her reach. Something about her means Janis want those peach-painted nails nowhere near her. Cassie either manages to pick up on that or hangs back of her own accord, since she simply sits down beside her, her hands folded in her lap.

“You left the door open, and I was going to knock, but then I saw you-��

“I’m fine,” she says firmly, pressing her hands into the mattress. She takes a deep breath and manages to not scowl at her, which is an achievement by her standards given how awkward she feels and her overall discomfort around her. Never mind that she was kind of dealing with something before she walked in. “Um… what’s up?”

“I just wanted to check you’re all ready for this Saturday?” she asks. “For the photography project.”

“Yeah I know that’s Saturday.” In the very, very back of Janis’ mind she does think that maybe, a little bit, she’s being slightly too gruff here. Especially since the woman’s only trying to help out here. “Yeah, I’m all set. My friends are coming. Well, my friend and my girlfriend.”

“Oh that’s great,” she says. “So it starts at 12:30, but you might want to get your friends around a bit before that just to make sure everything’s going to be set up in time. And the photographer’s said that you can have a little play around with the camera first, just so you can see how it all works. Although something tells me you’d be a natural with one of those anyway.”

“Well I wouldn’t say a natural,” she says with a shrug. “Although I did do the photos for my school paper in freshman year.”

“See. I knew this would be right up your alley with all your artsy stuff,” she says and Janis actually laughs. Maybe this lady isn’t so bad. She’s kind of like Karen in some ways with all that perpetual sunshine and optimism, just a little smarter. Maybe that’s what Karen could do after school. Work with people like her. Cassie taps her leg with the folder she’s carrying, giving her a smile that scrunches up her face. “See you Saturday, bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

“Aren’t I always, Cass?” she asks her.

“And your mom told me about all the fun you had at your school,” she adds on her way out. “I’m so glad you had such a nice time.” Janis nods at that, giving her a small wave as she leaves. She lets out a long breath and cranes her neck to look at the mirror again, sad to see that her eyebrows haven’t done a miraculous regrow since two minutes ago. They must have fallen before yesterday, she thinks. She has to wonder if anyone else noticed them. If Damian did after she tackle hugged him or if Cady did when she kissed them. Janis rubs the back of her neck as another unwelcome question creeps into her mind; did they simply not notice, or did they notice and just decide not to tell her?

It seems that today she’s the popular one, because Cassie isn’t the only one to call into her room. Because that night, when her last round is due, Doctor Wiley accompanies the nurse on duty that day. Her dad is over too, making her already small room feel even tighter.

“Good evening Janis,” Doctor Wiley agrees. “And Mr Sarkisian, nice to see you.”

“He’s here for the burgers and the burgers only,” Janis says dryly, smirking over in her dad’s direction. True enough, there is a plate on his lap with a half-eaten burger and the remainder of fries.

“Sometimes I just don’t want to cook for myself,” he replies, giving an over-exaggerated shrug. Janis chuckles; as does Wiley as the nurse hooks up her IV. Her eyes move anxiously towards her dad. She’s never been given the impression that this bothers him, but nine times out of then he comes over when she’s already been hooked up or is here way before it’s due. He rarely sees her getting hooked up and since it’s not a great experience for her, it’s not something she wants many people to see.

“So, Janis,” Wiley asks. “How are we feeling tonight?”

“Fantabulous,” she replies, throwing up a little reflexive peace sign. She always delights in the look of happy confusion on Wiley’s face when she pulls stuff like this. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, well I’m doing well,” he says. He goes to ask something else, but the nurse interrupts him.

“Okay, I’m going to put this in now, okay?” she asks.

“Just make sure you actually hit my vein, Lucy,” she says. Her dad laughs at that, but he’s the only one who does. She makes a mental note to tell him about every time she’s been made to feel like a human pin cushion. Luckily, Lucy is an old hand at this and she only has to bite her cheek and curl her toes in once.

You’d think that, over two months into this, she’d be used to stuff like this.

“Okay, that’s you for the next two hours, hon,” Lucy tells her. “You comfy enough?”

“Like a queen,” she says. Lucy nods and bids goodbye to her parents before heading off, surprisingly without Doctor Wiley. Something shifts in Janis, and she reaches out and pulls Purrlock towards her. Just in case.

“Would you mind I closed this door?” he asks. Janis holds Purrlock even closer.

“Um, no, of course not,” her mom says. “Is there something wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say so,” Wiley says. He sits down on the opposite side of Janis’ bed. “Just that I’ve been talking with some of my colleagues, and we think now would be a good time for a bone marrow aspiration to monitor Janis’ progress.”

“Bone marrow aspiration?” Janis asks. “What’s that?”

“Just a small procedure to monitor how well this is going,” he explains. “We’d just be taking a sample of your bone marrow to check how well the treatment is going. At this stage, we’d like to think you’re well on your way to being finished, but we just want to make sure. And if the results are good, we can carry on as normal and finish up as planned?”

“Alternatively, they could be super, super good and I could be let out early,” she says.

“Well, we’ve never seen that happen,” he says. “But we do like to hope for miracles around here. So what do you say?”

Janis looks over at her parents, but it’s a no-brainer really.

“Sounds good,” she says. “When do we start?”

“Well, any point next week really,” he says. “We’d obviously like to get it done as quickly as possible so we can give you your results as soon as we can.” Janis nods, chewing the inside of her cheek as her stomach twists uneasily. This test thing is important, she can’t deny that. And if it’s good news, then she’ll know for sure she’s on her way out of here. Maybe she can start packing everything else up and taking it back home, so she can move out as fast as possible.

But the last time she got a test like this done, it didn’t work out so well. That’s the reason she’s here to begin with. A little black cloud had followed her around throughout that day, dominating everything. Like she knew what was going to happen. And while it may just be her brain playing tricks on her, she feels an unpleasant kind of déjà vu. If there’s one day she’d never want to live again, it’s that one.

“You okay kid?” her dad asks. Janis blinks, back in reality, finding her parents both looking at her expectantly and Doctor Wiley having already left while she was zoned out. She probably missed something there and he just assumed she was listening.

“I’m fine,” she says. Her hand rests on her arm, just over where the needle breaks through her skin. There’s a collection of little bruises on that arm now, alarmingly dark against her pale skin. She looks like a dalmatian there. “Hey Mom, can you get me a yogurt from downstairs? I’d go myself, but…” She gestures at her IV and the conversation ends there.

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” she says, shooting up. “Be back in a second.” Her dad nods, squeezing her hand gently before she goes and Janis feels the need to avert her eyes. Not for the first time, she’s reminded she isn’t the only person affected by this.

“Hey dad?” she asks quietly. Her hand curls into the blanket, the question catching in her throat. “What do you do all week when we’re not home?”

It catches him off guard, it caught her off guard too. She may love her parents, and they may have been through more with them than other families have, but this kind of blunt and open earnestness is unusual for her. She gives him a shrug and picks at the blanket as he tries to find an answer.

“Well… I go to work,” he says. “I watch TV. I make dinner. I walk the puppy. I play with the puppy. I feed the puppy. I call people. I keep busy.” He hesitates for a moment before moving over to her bed, his dinner sitting abandoned on the chair. He pokes her side, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smile. “I’m okay, Janis. I keep myself entertained.”

“Do you… do you get lonely?” She doesn’t miss how her voice shakes as she asks the question and she suddenly feel so much younger than she is. “Y’know, without me and mom?”

There’s a long pause, and then he answers “Sometimes. A lot of the time, yeah.” His hand is on her shoulder now, where he would have run her fingers through her hair. “And that’s why I keep so busy. So time goes faster until I can see you again.”

She nods. She imagines him all alone in their big house, eating breakfast by himself, the kitchen being the only light on in the house. Maxie barking at him because there’s no-one else to bark at until she comes home. Watching TV and working and checking the clock. Eating dinner for one. She tries not to get too emotional when her dad is around, but the way the guilt comes is almost too much, rolling in waves over her. Even for someone as experienced in hiding as she is, it’s hard to suppress fully. It’s only because Damian has already chastised her for it that she doesn’t apologise for it, instead opting to squeeze his hand tightly.

“Oh, don’t tell Maxie I told you I get lonely,” he tells her, a serious edge to his voice. “I don’t want him to think I don’t appreciate him.”

She lets out a laugh at that, like a little patch of blue in her grey mood.

“I won’t,” she tells him, equally as severe. “Besides, I think Max knows you love him really.”

******

The first thing Janis does on Saturday morning is down a cup of coffee. No exaggeration, the first word out of her mouth when she wakes up is ‘coffee’. She normally doesn’t like eating or drinking anything in the mornings, having learned from experience that the nausea means she’ll only puke it up later, but she’s decided to make an exception this once. She did the calculations the night before; if she gets a coffee and drinks the whole thing before her first round is due, then her body will absorb all the caffeine before she can vomit it back. And then she gets another one about an hour before Cady and Damian arrive, just to make sure she’s at her peak performance today. It’s a fool proof plan if she does say so herself, even if Cady had been a little sceptical of it when she told them. Still, they had said that if Janis was sure, they weren’t going to fight her on it.

“Besides, I’m sure your doctor would tell you if this was a bad plan,” they had said. “Right?”

“Right,” Janis had agreed, silently crossing her fingers behind her back. It wasn’t technically a lie, since Cady had never asked if she’d run her plan by a medical professional, but it still felt like one.

But it seems to be working, since she’s walking into her room with her second coffee in hand, stirring the five sugars she had dumped in it. It’s not her usual order, but since she can barely taste anything, she figured she may as well go crazy. And more sugar plus more caffeine just means more energy, right?

In addition to planning out her coffee equation last night, she also planned out her outfit. She had sent her dad a list via text of what to bring over on Wednesday so she could pick it out; meaning he had walked in with a confused look on his face and a grocery bag full of her old stuff that she hadn’t seen in months. At some point she had started leaving her nicer things at home and started investing in comfort over style. It felt a little odd, taking out all her old stuff. Like she was looking through old photos of herself.

She spent more time than she cares to admit deciding between outfits, swapping out garments and swapping them back again, mixing and matching until she found a combination that she deemed cute enough. Still comfortable, but something she would have worn normally before all this started. That’s what she’s after. Something normal.

She locks the door, just in case, and takes her pyjama top off, picking up the grey sweater she had chosen for today, decorated with a white thread skeleton on the front. Just as she pulls it on however, she comes to a depressing realisation. It’s too big on her. She doesn’t-won’t-look in the mirror, but she can tell from how lost she feels inside it, the fabric swamping her. The sleeves envelope her hands, her fingers poking out like icicles on a roof. She pulls off her leggings and grabs her tights, hoping that it looks better when it’s all together. She can’t believe she didn’t think of this. She’s said to her mom that a lot of her stuff doesn’t fit her anymore and she’s even been grown up enough to order sweats and t-shirts and pyjamas in smaller sizes. She and her mom have even had arguments over who’s paying for it. So far, winning has been split 50/50. So how did this slip her mind?

The tights don’t pose a problem, and neither do the shorts up until she has to close them. They hold up, for now, but barely hang onto her hips. And that’s when she’s standing still. She looks through the bag until she finds a belt for them, glad she at least had the foresight to ask for one. She threads it through and pulls it to the last hole, relieved to find it at least does something. They don’t exactly feel like they used to, but they’re at least secure enough for her not to worry about them.

She never thought she’d be glad for that.

She completes the look with a little shimmering black beanie, gifted from Gretchen (“I just saw it in the mall and thought ‘wow it’s so Janis’,” she had said), before checking herself in the mirror. She doesn’t know what she was expecting really. The outfit looks good-she looks good, if she may be permitted to say so. She can’t complain about the outfit, really. She chose well. It just doesn’t look like she thought it would. Where the sweater would have hugged her body before it hangs limply off her frame. Tucking it into the shorts is only a slight improvement. She hadn’t thought about how wearing the shorts shows off how thin her legs are now, nor how much room she has inn. She looks like a kid playing dress-up. They don’t look like her clothes. Nor do they look like they belong on her body.

She pulls her eyes away from the mirror, swallows past the lump in her throat and picks up her phone. According to Cady’s text, she and Damian are five minutes away, her point proven by a picture she sends of the two of them cheesing at the camera while riding the bus. That brings a smile to Janis’ face despite her little wobble, and she slips the phone into her pocket and grabs her bag before heading out into the foyer, following the sound of echoing voices and the occasional flash of light following a camera shutter.

She isn’t the only one who got dressed up for this occasion, she sees. The pyjamas are all put away for today, her friends putting on what she assumes is their finest. They didn’t even plan this, but for some things they all go into a hivemind here. The place is packed and not just with patients; friends and family have come around for this. She recognises a few moms and dads and waves accordingly, but the friends are all foreign to her. Melissa throws her head back and laughs, talking to a dark haired boy Janis guesses is from her school. Janis waves and while she doesn’t get one back, she’s okay with it.

She finds Maddie in the crowd too, a camera around her neck and surrounded by what she can only describe as a group of ‘mini-Maddies’. They all look different, but all have the same toothy grin and wide eyes, all dimples in cheeks and limbs a little too long for their bodies. When Maddie tries to wave them over to a wall, they all move as one big flock of teenage girls, and Janis has to laugh. They’re adorable at that age, so she’s heard.

“Oh, hello!” A voice to her right grabs her attention and admittedly makes her jump a little bit. When she turns around there’s a young-ish guy in a leather jacket, holding a professional looking camera in his hand, and there’s no prizes for guessing where he’s from. “You’re one of the kids right?”

“Nah I just really like hanging out here,” she says flatly, only one corner of her mouth turned up. He gets the sarcasm, thankfully, and even laughs at it, extending his hand.

“I’m Sebastian.”

“Janis,” she tells him, shaking his hand.

“Okay, well I see you haven’t been given a camera,” he tells her. “So here.” The camera he had is deposited into her hands and despite her own experience with photography, she’s surprised at the weight.

“Oh, okay,” is her response, her body suddenly a lot less stable with such an expensive piece of equipment. “Uh, I’m still waiting on my friends to show up…” Her phone buzzes in her pocket, making her heart almost drop to the floor. She can’t take any shocks, not when she’s holding something that, again, looks like it costs her college tuition. “And that’s probably them now.”

“Okay, fantastic!” Sebastian says. “So here, I’ll just put your name on this here, and then you and your friends can go and take all the pictures you like. Did you bring any props?”

“All in here,” she says. She goes to pat the bag before thinking better of it and nods at it instead. “I wouldn’t call them props really. Just bits and pieces of stuff from my room. My paintbrushes, a flag, my stuffed animals.” She gives a shrug. “I’m only sad I couldn’t bring my dog with me too.”

“Trust me, you are not alone,” he says. “Anyway I’ll leave you to it… and I assume these are your friends?”

Janis blinks and turns around, finding Cady rushing up to her side, Damian just behind.

“Hey,” Cady greets, about to go for a hug.

“Woah, woah, I am holding possibly the most expensive piece of equipment in this hospital right now,” Janis says. She goes for a little half-hug instead, and it works just as well.

“Sorry,” Cady says. “Just excited. This actually seems really cool.”

“Really, really cool,” Damian chimes in. “They’ve got a proper modelling shoot going on over there.” Another flash goes off just as he tells them, and Janis can vaguely make out a girl standing pouting against a wall.

“Well you know what we’re like in here,” Janis says. “Any chance we have to get dolled up and pretty, we jump for it.”

“There’s a Zodiac joke in there but I’m not sure if it’s offensive or not to make it.”

“Okay, you joke about that,” Janis jokes. “But I’ve met three people in this ward alone who are actually Cancers! Crazy right?”

“Sure sounds it,” Cady says before clasping their hands together, looking around the room expectantly. “So… do you have a plan of action here?”

“I do indeed, Caddy.” She fiddles with the camera for a second before finding the strap and throwing it around her neck, leaving her other hand free to hold out to Cady. She takes it with a grin. “Let’s go my little poppets.”

She pulls them into a corner, away from the bigger action, and kneels down on the floor, the other two following suit.

“Okay so I kind of have this thing planned out,” she explains. “This whole thing is about showing the ‘person behind the cancer’, right? Like you know, show how we’re still… people. Individuals, right?”

“Noble cause,” Damian says as Janis opens her bag. Realisation dawns on his face as she does so.

“So I just brought a bunch of stuff that’s important to me,” she finishes.

“Do we count as stuff that’s important to you?” Cady teases, already knowing the answer.

“You two are my most important stuff,” she says, dropping a kiss onto Cady’s nose. She looks between the two of them, awkwardness slowly building up in her. “So I kind of wanted some photos of me like… drawing and stuff. You know, what I’d normally do.” She shrugs, a timid grin tugging on her lips. “And you two can play photographer for this part.”

“Oh fuck yeah,” Damian says.

“I also want photos with you two,” she adds. “A lot of pictures with you two. They said… like I’m not sure exactly but they said that they’d put up some of everyone’s work on the walls but we’d also get to keep all our own ones in this little book thing they’ll make for us. I don’t know, I’ve probably explained this to you before.”

“You did, sort of,” Cady says, tucking her hair behind her ears and straightening her shoulders. “Okay, so why don’t we start with some shots of you drawing? It’s sort of you in your natural habitat after all.” She looks over at Damian, excitement sparking in her eyes. “Uh… Damian? Do you mind if I use the camera first?”

“Oh, does someone like the big shiny toy?” Janis teases.

“Do I mind?” Damian says at the exact same time. “Young child, you take as many photos as you want.” Janis hands the camera off to Cady, her heart admittedly picking up a little as she does so. “Meanwhile, I want to play director.”

“Director?” Janis echoes, looking over at an equally confused Cady.

“Yes, director,” he says. “Well you can’t expect to model yourself do you?”

“Jerk,” she says, grinning even so. She sits up and shakes her head, tossing imaginary hair over her shoulders. “Okay genius. Sculpt me.”

That’s all the incentive Damian needs. He climbs over to her as she gets her sketchbook and pencils out of her bag. She tries not to let him see how much emptier her book is compared to last year’s. If he does notice he doesn’t show it even as she opens on a half-finished drawing. He pokes at her and turns her head as she fights off her laughter, her shoulders shaking with the effort.

“This lighting is terrible,” he declares.

“What lighting?” she asks, gesturing to the window. “The sun?”

“Yes. The sun is terrible. Fuck the sun.”

“I remember the myth of Icarus slightly differently to you it seems,” Janis says.

“Okay, okay, now just move that pretty little head of yours down by a millimetre,” he says. “And… perfection. All yours Cady.”

Cady mumbles something that sounds like ‘finally’ before the flash goes off in Janis’ vision.

“You know your way around that thing,” Janis comments when she’s sure they’ve finished. Cady shrugs, a proud grin on her face.

“Back in Kenya I took some photos of the animals,” she explains. “Research purposes, you know?”

“Indeed. So do I look good here?” she asks.

“See for yourself.” Cady fiddles with it for a bit and turns it towards her. Janis’ breath hitches when she sees it. She picked a good one, and Damian did a good job too; she sits with her book balanced between her knees, her fingers fiddling with the pencil. The light that Damian hated so badly drapes across her, chasing away the pale complexion she’s become used to. She has this faraway look about her, lost in her artwork, just the way she loves to be.

“Oh I do look good,” she says.

“Do you want a moment alone with the camera?” Damian asks, an eyebrow raised. She gives him a tiny flip off before pulling herself up, her muscles groaning just slightly. At least everything is sitting still for her today. That coffee she took must have been better than she thought. They take a couple more of her posing, looking wistfully out the window, Purrlock sitting on her lap, throwing peace signs up at the camera.

“Okay, I know what I want to shoot next.” There’s a little bit of a buzz about her as she pulls her next thing out of her bag; her pride flag. She still remembers the day she got it; she was 14 and practically shoved it across the counter of the little store in New York, the unplanned purchase that turned into her most cherished possession. She wraps it around herself now, the flimsy, thin fabric wrapping around her like a trusted blanket and grins at them.

“I love it,” Damian says as Cady snaps a picture of her again and again, her trying out a million different poses, being silly, being serious, trying and failing to be sexy, hoisting it in the air like a flag. When she asked about it, Cassie had told her to bring props that meant something to her, that showed who she really is inside. Of course her flag was one of the first things that came to mind.

“Hey, Caddy,” she says when the flashing subsides for a moment. “You brought yours too, right?”

“Yeah,” they reply. “I just brought the little one, though I don’t really get it…. Oh.” Realisation dawns on Cady’s face, lighting it up from the inside out. Janis opens her arms to her, laughing as she struggles to pull her own flag out of her backpack. After a bit of deliberating, she hangs the bag and the camera to Damian, who swings the former up on his shoulder, and rushes over to Janis, the colours of her bi flag meshing into a blur. When she crashes into Janis’ body, her head smacking into her chin and her waist, that’s when Damian decides to take the picture.

“Hey!” she snaps. “No fair, we weren’t ready!”

“But you looked so cute!” he squeaks, rolling his eyes when Janis gives him a pointed look. “Okay, okay, fine. Get into poses you little lovebirds.”

Cady’s head settles on her shoulder, her flag circling the both of them as she puts her arm around them, her cheek coming to rest against her hair. Cady’s free hand circles around her waist and slides into her pocket, her touch warm against her skin. Despite Damian’s wording, it doesn’t feel like a pose. It feels so, so natural, just like breathing.

She presses her lips to Cady’s head and feels her smiling against her just as the camera goes off again.

“God you two are so cute,” Damian sighs. She swears she sees his eyes misting over, overly sentimental monster that he is. Even if he tries to shake it off and pretend to be the tough guy. “It reminds me that I’m single and lonely.”

“And ready to mingle!” Janis reminds him. Cady’s hand trails off her waist and takes her hand, fingers laced together, and Janis swings their hands between them. “Okay I have one more idea… and I need the two of you in it.”

“Okay, then who’s taking the picture?” Damian asks, his eyes scanning the room for someone, as if they’ll come rushing over to help them. And around here that is often the case, but not today, what with all the nurses enjoying their momentary break. Janis shakes her head instead, a gleam in her eye.

“We are,” she says simply before grabbing Damian’s hand and pulling him closer. “Old school style.”

Getting into position for this isn’t easy, especially not with the two of them being so much taller than Cady and Janis feeling extra cautious around the camera. Bubbly lover of life that she is, Cady initially tires jumping on Damian, and he actually does manage hold her up, even if they do wobble a little. The two laugh at themselves and then each other, the sound so light and musical that it makes Janis’ heart swell. She snaps a quick photo of them, remembering to turn the flash off. It might not have been planned, but when she looks at it, a moment frozen just for her, she’s so glad she caught it.

“Hey Janis come over here!” Damian calls, Cady’s legs wrapped around his waist. “Or are you just going to sit there and look at yourself all day?”

“I’m coming, jerk,” she sighs, running over and kneeling beside him. Cady’s hand comes and rests on the back of her neck; she guesses it’s equal parts affection and trying to keep herself steady. Janis stretches her arm out as far as she can, the screen turned so they can see their themselves, laughing and helpless, fighting for a spot in the frame. Their backs slowly start to hurt, their cheeks aching from so much smiling.

“Have you got this?” Cady asks. “It’s fine if you don’t, I’m comfortable up here.”

“Speak for yourself you little twerp,” a red-faced Damian gasps.

“Okay, okay, okay there we are!” Janis says, tapping the floor in excitement when she sees all three of their faces in the frame. “Okay we only have this for a millisecond so say cheese you two! Three, two, one!”

After the shutter goes off they collapse on the floor, the sound of their laughter echoing off the polished walls. Nurses run over to help them, no doubt on alert seeing one of theirs on the floor seemingly suffocating, and the worst part is none of them can catch their breath long enough to tell them that they’re okay. All it takes is one to look at another and their progress in fixing themselves is gone; they’re one again reduced to cackling messes on the foyer floor.

God, Janis thinks as she sits up, pulling Cady into a sitting position beside her and hugging her close. What would she do without these two?

Later that evening, Damian is draped across her bed, flicking through her mom’s magazine. The three of them had hung out as much as they could when they had finished up, but Cady had been pulled out of it by her phone reminding her of another tutoring session.

“I’m sorry,” she had sighed. “It’s not normally on today, but they were sick so we had to reschedule. I should have moved it earlier, I didn’t think-”

“Nuh-uh, Heron,” Janis told her, tapping her nose. “Don’t you go apologising for your magnificent service to the North Shore community.” Cady scrunches up her face at that. “Besides, you’re probably bringing the average of the entire school up and I don’t want Mrs Norbury coming for me when her classes start failing again.”

“She never would,” she said. They paused for a moment, stuck in a half-embrace, until Damian took the hint and turned his attention to the outside of Janis window. Satisfied, Cady stood up on her tiptoes and pressed their lips to Janis’ in a sweet kiss. “I had a lot of fun today.”

“I had hoped so,” she murmured against her, sneaking another peck. She rubbed her nose against Cady’s, debating whether or not she should convince her to stay. Eventually she let her go, squeezing her hand one more time and promising to text her tomorrow before she left.

And now she’s here, munching on a cereal bar and scribbling in the corner of her sketchbook. All day, but especially since Cady left, her new development had hung around her mind, never really leaving and letting her have peace. The mere idea of not telling Damian just doesn’t sit right with her at all. Not just because he’d know if she kept something from him anyway. He’s given up so much because of this, all for her.

The question is how does she tell him? It’s not like it’s a ‘sit down and take a deep breath’ kind of moment, but it’s not something she wants to brush off either. It’s important, and she’d be stupid not to recognise that. After pondering on it, she finds just being blunt seems to be the best approach, so she taps his shoulder, opens her mouth and-

“So I have a thing next week.”

Wow she thinks. That went well. She guesses she put way too much faith in her communication abilities there.

“A thing?” he asks, turning to look at her. “What kind of thing?”

“It’s…” She clears her throat. “It’s a bone marrow aspiration.”

“Oh.” He turns around to face her then, his eyes wide with concern as he nods seriously. She lets out a snort in response, her demeanour the opposite of his.

“You have no clue what that is, do you?”

“I know what bone marrow is,” he replies. He picks at his nails, his jaw setting. “And I guess it’s about you. Your cancer, I mean.”

“It’s to see how well I’ve progressed since getting in here,” she tells him, her voice more quiet than she thought it would be. She shrugs weakly as he takes it in, growing only slightly worried at how quiet he is. “Just to check everything’s working like it should.”

“And are you…” He waves his hand in the air. “Confident about it?”

The question takes her by surprise. She had never really thought about it as a question of confidence. Confidence is for her the things she has control over; her friendships, her art, her future. Not for this.

“It’s not really up to me, is it?” she says with a shrug. “I mean I’ve been doing everything I should be doing. Guess all we can do right now is hope.” Damian nods again, his hands clasped in his lap almost like he’s praying. Silence stretches out between them, marked only by the ticking of the clock, and it’s unsettling. They’ve had their fair share of heart-to-hearts, but they’ve always ended with jokes and smiles, holding hands and resting on each other, one holding the other up. Now he’s sitting away from her, his eyes unreadable. “Damian?” asks after a long while.

“You’ll be fine.” He looks up then with a fierce determination in his eyes, his voice stronger than she’s ever heard it. Not even onstage has she ever seen him like this. “You will be.”

She takes a deep breath. That’s what everyone tells her; her doctors, her parents. It’s what she tells herself, really. That she’s been doing everything right, and with the way this medicine is kicking her ass, it has to be working. And she wants to believe that she’ll be fine, that everything will be as it should be. But that’s what she thought the first time around too. If there’s one thing she’s learned by now, it’s to not take things for granted.

And it hurts seeing him like this. It hurts seeing him believe something so much when she can’t guarantee it. She remembers clear as day the first time she told him, the two of them alone in her bedroom, how it tore at her heart to tell him. How much it had crushed him. How does she stop that from happening again?

She shuffles towards him, her heart crawling up her mouth, and takes his hand, finding it as cold and clammy as her own is.

“Damian,” she whispers. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

It’s only when she sniffles she realises she’s started crying.

“I think this will be okay,” she tells him. “I think when I go in and I do that test, I think those results will say I’m doing good. That’s what the doctor thinks.” She swallows past the lump in her throat. “But if it’s not-”

“Janis-”

“Can you just listen to me?” she asks. When he closes his mouth, lips pressed into a thin line, she continues. “But if it isn’t, I need you to promise me you’ll be okay with it. That you aren’t going to worry about me every day. That you’re going to go ahead and live.” She wipes at her face. “Just be okay for me. Promise me that.”

“You know I can’t promise you that.” He shakes his head. “I’ll be okay when you’re okay.”

“No.” She shifts onto her knees, looking him right in the eye. “Listen to me, Damian. You need to promise that whatever happens to me, you aren’t going to fall apart.” His hand comes up and he laces their fingers together. “I don’t know what I’d do if I knew you weren’t okay and it was because of me.” She pokes his cheek and wipes his tears off his face. “So just promise me that… in the unlikely event that it’s not what we want to hear… you won’t fall apart.”

It feels like a lifetime before he nods too, his own eyes wet and glistening under the lights. He then pulls her into a wordless hug, her fragile body held in his strong arms, his hand running up and down her back. She lets out a shuddering breath and it feels like weeks’ worth of frustration and loneliness and downright misery is let out as well, all as she melts into his arms.

“God you really know how to kill a mood, don’t you, Sarkisian?” he whispers and she finally laughs. “Here, I got you something.”

She pulls away from him just enough for him to reach into his pocket and produce a candy bar packed in a silver wrapper, one she vaguely recognises but can’t place.

“Courtesy of Maisie,” he says. She lifts it carefully, treating it with the utmost care. “From her Halloween haul. You should be real grateful; she doesn’t give that up lightly.”

“I am,” she says, a slight laugh in her voice. “Tell her that for me, okay?” He nods as she pulls it out of the wrapper and breaks it in half, holding one out to him. She raises an eyebrow when he shakes his head. “Come on, you deserve it too.” She looks up at his head, hidden under a rainbow coloured beanie. “You said I wasn’t going through this alone. And that includes the good parts too.”

He rolls his eyes but takes it all the same, a smile on his face that’s as soft as his soul is. She turns so that they sit hip to hip and her head can rest on his shoulder, their hands clasped between them, eating in companionable silence, sharing the occasional smile.

It’s not that she isn’t worried, she is. That foreboding feeling won’t leave her alone and she’s given up on trying. It’s just that when she’s sitting here with him holding his hand, the black cloud doesn’t seem as close as it was.

#mean girls musical #mean girls fanfic #mean girls #janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #cadnis #cadnis ff #fic: heart of stone

7 notes · View notes

elfrootaddict · 4 years

Text

HERALD OF ANDRASTE - Chapter 4/4

DESCRIPTION: El'lana’s entire world is turned upside down when she, a proud Dalish elf, is bestowed the title “Herald of Andraste”.

SERIES: Halla & Wolf

VOLUME: 3

Lana bursts into her cabin, slamming the door shut behind her and drops to the floor. Releasing her belongings from her tense grip, she allows them to fall where they may. Her breathing is heavy as her heart thrashes wildly inside her chest. With so much adrenaline surging through her body, her hands begin to shake uncontrollably as she brings them to her face.

Lana is all too familiar with having a temper, but the pure rage she’s feeling from this outburst has never happened before. Not ever. Especially towards someone she barely knows. How is it that possible that only moments ago she was laughing and enjoying his company. But now? Now she feels like a wild, savage beast wanting to claw Solas’s face off.

How dare he say such things? How dare he have such hatred towards people he’s never even met before? People, who I love more than life itself!

And yet, how can she allow herself to get so provoked? He was only expressing his opinion. Is she to get this enraged every time somebody vexes her? Shouldn’t she be used to the notion that the Dalish are ostracised, perhaps even by her own kind?

Lana brings her knees in towards her chest as she scrapes her fingers through her hair. She closes her eyes and takes several minutes to try and calm herself down; taking in deep breaths through the nose and exhaling out the mouth, just like the Keeper always instructed her to do.

Except this time, it isn’t working.

Resting her arms on her knees, she drops her head and quietly begins to weep. Her chest pounding at a rapid rhythm until finally she takes in one deep breath and releases a much louder, desperate wail. She brings her head back, hitting the cabin door, and brings her trembling hands up towards her face to help quieten down the volume of her cries.

And the tears keep falling. And falling. And falling.

Is she really that angry at Solas? No, not particularly. She is indeed offended towards his tackless accusations but when it comes down to it…

Lana is terrified. Beyond belief.

“Blend-in as best as you can mir da’vhenan, and discover the nature of this meeting. Return to me and report what has happened. Nothing more and nothing less. Ar lath, ma da’len. May the gods guide your steps.”

Lana realises that once word of the Conclave got to the Free Marches, and then to her clan, the Keeper would logically assume Lana had died with all the rest. In fact, Keeper Zatlen of clan Alassan has probably already sent word to the Keeper, and the clan has already planted a tree in Lana’s memory somewhere in the forest. Knowing the Keeper’s cautious behaviour, she would most likely move the clan to the safest location she knows because of the anticipated chaos between the mages and the templars.

And Lana knows that once they move, there would be no possible way of finding them again on her own. She is no scout or hunter, and only just managed to get here by following the Keeper’s strict instructions. Sure, she could go back to Kirkwall’s harbour somehow and travel through the cravis in the Vinmark Mountains, but then where would she go? East? West? North?

I will never see them again. The Keeper. Lhoris. Tamara. My home. I won’t be there for Lhoris and Tamara’s bonding ceremony. I won’t be able to see them raise their little ones. I won’t even be there to help the Keeper as she ages.

Lana looks down at the papers scattered around her with the ink spilled across the floor, and quietly whimpers as she begins to clean up the mess.

Lana wipes the tears from her face and looks around the cabin. With the sun almost completely set, the cabin is nearly pitch dark, and she can hardly make out much, save for a single candle’s silhouette on the windowsill. With only a flick of the wrist, Lana murmurs a spell and lights the wick. The small flame fills the room with a warm, soft glow which is when she notices a large bowl laying on the table.

Taking in a long, deep breath, and feeling somewhat calmer after that much needed cry, she forces herself up as she wipes her dripping nose with her sleeve, and slumps towards the bowl.

Lana murmurs a basic enchantment and fills the bowl with cold, fresh water. She then cups her hands in the liquid and splashes the water against her blotchy and tired face.

Lana leans against the table, hands placed on either side of the bowl and stares at her distorted reflection in the water’s rippling surface. As the water slowly begins to settle, Lana leans in closer and notices a large, dark line across her mouth. And with a quick gesture, she stills the water to get a better look.

“Creators…”

Still struggling to see under the current light, Lana glares at the meek, little candle light and significantly enhances its flame size.

Now satisfied by the more sufficient lighting, Lana uses one hand to hold her hair back as she leans in even closer to the water’s surface. And that’s when she gasps.

Using her free hand, Lana slowly glides her fingers across the massively brazen laceration starting from the left corner of her top lip and all the way down to her chin.

By the dread wolf, how long have I had this?

Lana turns her face from side to side and notices another laceration across her right cheek. This one is not as large, but it's deeper and also new. She’s grateful that at least her vallaslin is still intact.

Suddenly, a knock at her cabin door startles her. Lana whips her head around, stabilises the candle’s flame, and pretends she isn’t there. She is in no mood for any company.

“Lana?”

Nope.

“It’s me... your friendly neighbourhood dwarf.”

Funny. But, still no.

And for a short while, neither one says anything until…

“I have food...”

Lana’s stomach instantly grumbles. Releasing a soft sigh, Lana realises that she needs a warm meal more than pretending to not exist at the moment.

Desperate to appear nonchalant, Lana quickly brushes her fingers through her hair and straightens out her clothes as she walks towards the door. Taking in a deep breath, Lana opens the door by only a few inches, and peers through the small gap, as she is still in shock and deeply insecure about the scar across her lip.

Standing in the cold on the cabin’s porch is Varric, with two steaming bowls of Fereldan’s typical, hearty stew; chunky vegetables in a broth, and if the hunters had been lucky, there would be a few pieces of animal meat, too.

Varric stretches his arm out with one and Lana takes it gratefully, “Thank you, Varric. That’s really nice of you. I could have helped myself, you know? You didn’t have to come all the way here.”

Varric huffs with a playfully dismissive hand wave, “It was no trouble. And I figured with everything going on, you most likely haven’t eaten anything today, have you?”

Lana releases a gentle smile and sways her head from side to side.

“Thought so. Well, now that I’ve fulfilled my neighbourly duty for the day. I’ll see you ‘round, El.”

Lana smiles sheeply at Varric for calling her El, as it reminds her of Lhoris, and as much as she wants to wallow in self-pity, she could really talk to somebody who isn’t in the Inquisition's inner circle, a Chantry priestess or Creators-forbid… Solas.

She could use a good evening with somebody who could potentially be called a friend.

“Varric...” calls Lana, and Varric turns around to regard her with a gentle smile, “You can come in if you like? If you want to, of course. I don’t want to intrude on your evening plans or anything.”

“If by ‘plans’ you mean waiting around for the world to end?” and shrugs his shoulders sarcastically. “I think I can push that back.”

Lana laughs and lets Varric in.

Once Lana closes the door behind them, she frantically looks about the room for a place to seat her guest, “You can sit... here.” and quickly puts her evening meal down on the table as she drags the only chair in the cabin out for Varric.

“Hey, don’t worry about me, I’m happy standing.”

Lana stops moving the chair towards him as she is unsure of what to do next. She isn’t used to entertaining “guests” and doesn’t know what the “rules” are. So instead, she settles for an awkward stare down.

“Come on,” persists Varric as he moves himself to the corner of the table, placing his bowl down. “I insist.” and gestures for Lana to take the chair.

Lana releases a sheepish grin, brings the chair in towards the table and sits down, “Thank you.” and brings her bowl in closer as they both dig into their meal.

“So,” begins Varric. “Now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up alright? I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than just one day.”

Taking a big gulp of her stew, “I have no idea what’s happening anymore.”

Varric chuckles, “That makes two of us. For days now, we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. ‘Bad for morale’ would be an understatement,” Varric pauses and looks down into his steaming meal. “I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

“If it was that bad, why did you stay? Cassandra said you were free to go.”

Lana brings a spoonful of hot broth up-to her mouth and then slowly sips at the edges of the spoon.

Varric stops stirring his vegetables around and sighs, “I like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this,” shaking his head and looking mournfully at Lana. “Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them! And now there’s a hole in the sky? Even I can't even walk away and just leave that to sort itself out.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, thank you for staying. The Breach needs to be sealed. The sooner the better.”

“If it can be sealed,” Varric leans against the cabin walls and looks at Lana for a moment as he contemplates something, and then moves in closer to whisper. “You might want to consider running at the first opportunity. I’ve written enough tragedies to recognise where this is going,” and leans back to take a spoonful of stew. “Heroes are everywhere. I’ve seen that. But the hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle.”

Lana looks down at her bowl and begins to lose herself in the bobbing vegetable chunks in her stew, “I wish everybody else saw it that way. I’m just... me.”

Varric pushes away his empty bowl and sighs. “Look, I’m just going to say it…” and Lana looks up at Varric puzzled. “That stew was... terrible!”

Lana relaxes and laughs with a light and pleasant sound, “It’s not the best, is it?”

“Are you kidding?” Varric fans his fingers across his chest dramatically. “Even I could make a better stew than this nug-shit, and that’s saying something.”

“Yeah, I’m not a very good cook either. I suppose I never had to really learn. We always had at least two people dedicated to preparing the meals back home.”

Varric leans against the cabin wall again and crosses his arms over his chest, “You’re from the Marchers, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Pointing his thumb up towards himself, “Kirkwall.”

Lana smiles widens as she cries out, “I had no idea! What a small world! I’ve only been to Kirkwall once, although I’ve only been in the harbour mind you. Up until recently, I had never been anywhere else. Only Tamara would go to the towns or cities to trade with the shems.”

“Tamara?”

Lana shakes her head at her foolishness, “Oh right, sorry. Tamara is one of my clan’s merchants,” and pauses before murmuring. “But to me, she’s more like a sister.”

With kind and caring eyes, Varric attempts to console Lana. “You must miss her. Has Liliana managed to contact your clan yet?”

Digging and fumbling around in her almost empty bowl, Lana looks up at Varric with confusion. “No?”

“Maker’s breath!” cries Varric. “Okay, first thing tomorrow morning, find Liliana and tell her you need to contact your clan.”

“That’s sweet Varric but news of the Conclave would have reached them by now. They probably think I’m dead and moved on. I wouldn’t know how to find them.”

Varric leans across the table and looks at Lana with a confidant grin. “Trust me, Liliana can find them. Don’t you worry about that, kiddo.”

“Really?”

Varric stands up straight, crosses his arms over his chest and simply nods.

Lana quietly judges Varric’s confidence, and realises that if Liliana really can find her clan, then that means she can allow herself to hope to be reunited with her family once everything is over.

“I would be truly grateful! Thank you, Varric.”

“No problem,” Varric drops his arms and scratches the back of his head, “Man, I’m glad to have a warm meal but Maker’s breath, that was just awful.”

Lana releases another carefree laugh but is instantly interrupted by another sudden and unexpected knock at the door.

Varric turns his head towards the door and looks back at Lana with a cheeky smile and raised eyebrow, “Expecting someone?”

Realising his carnal insinuation, Lana blushes and cries out, “Creators! No!” and Varric laughs wildly while she calls towards the door, “Who is it?”

And a quiet, soothing voice answers back, “Solas. Apologies for the intrusion, but I was hoping for only a moment of your time?”

Lana's pleasant mood visibly dissipates and she slumps into her chair, rolls her eyes and releases a loud groan. Which causes Varric to raise both eyebrows in surprise at her sudden, dramatic shift in mood. She then shoves the chair back, causing a loud screech on the wooden floor and marchers over to the door.

With one swift motion, Lana opens the door wide enough to clearly indicate she isn’t alone and that Solas is indeed intruding on her very pleasant evening.

“Oh,” gasps Solas as he looks at Varric, who waves back at him awkwardly. “I didn’t realise you had company.”

With one hand on the door and the other resting on her hip, Lana snaps. “Is there something you need, Solas?”

Solas looks back at Lana, “It’s no matter. I will find you-”

“You know what,” mutters Varric from inside the cabin as he grabs both bowls. “I was just about to leave anyway,” and walks towards the door, and past the two very clearly, upset elves. “So if you don’t mind me El, I think I’ll be heading off. It was good catching up.”

Varric staying is the only reasonable excuse Lana can use to dismiss Solas. But with her excuse literally walking out the door, Lana desperately cries out, “Varric, there’s really no need-”

“It’s no problem,” insists Varric. “I need a few mugs of ale to wash down this stew anyhow,” and begins walking questionably fast as he shouts without looking back, “See you kids in the morning!” and leaves Lana and Solas to watch him disappear into the darkness.

Eventually Lana murmurs, “Good night...”

Shit.

With his arms behind his back, Solas turns back around and looks down at Lana, who is still blocking the entrance to the cabin.

Feeling his gaze on her, Lana ultimately looks back at him in return. Neither one says anything.

Well, this is just GREAT.

And as if they were in one of Varric’s cheesy romance novels, they both speak up at the same time.

Lana releases a forced, awkward laugh and averts her gaze while Solas holds his own without managing to break eye contact.

Clearly uncomfortable and wanting to get out of the cold, Lana attempts to speak first, “Do you... do you want to come in?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Lana steps aside, allowing Solas in and closes the door behind him. Still lingering at the entrance, she turns around and watches him stride to the middle of the room and then turn back around to face her. His shoulders pulled back, standing perfectly poised and straight.

Lana isn’t sure what to do now, so she folds her arms across her chest and looks around the room awkwardly.

Why is he just staring at me?

With a calm and controlled voice, Solas finally breaks the tension, “I wanted to apologise. Again. It seems I am constantly finding new ways to offend you,” Lana flicks her gaze back at him, visibly surprised. “I should not have allowed my previous experience with the Dalish to cloud my opinion of your clan. I regretfully admit that I have indeed ‘painted you with the same brush’ so to speak. And for that, I’m sorry.”

By his mannerism and delivery, it is clearly evident that Solas really means every word. He truly is regretful and Lana finds herself shamefully surprised.

After their confrontation, she had decided that he was an arrogant, selfish man who relishes in being superior in knowledge, intellect and rare experiences as a dreamer.

But now?

Lana visibly relaxes her tense shoulders and feebly murmurs, “Thank you.”

Solas turns his gaze away from Lana and walks towards the window, the candle’s light subtly highlighting the edges of his silhouette, “You see, I have wondered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion. I have offered to share my knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition. Most care very little about improving their lives. They already consider themselves perfect, the sole keepers of elven lore,”

Solas drops his head and closes his eyes, “Liar. Fool. Madman. There are endless ways to say someone isn’t worth listening to,” and he turns his head around with his eyes giving away his pain. “Over time, it grinds away at you.”

Lana can’t stop herself from staring at him as she left completely lost for words. His misery and suffering tugging at her empathic heart.

Lana takes a small step forward, “Solas-”

“Until today,” interjects Solas as he turns around fully with a gentle smile. “You are the first of your people to ask me about my travels, my stories,” and awkwardly tugs at his sleeves. “It’s been... a long time since anyone has shown genuine interest in what I have to share. And if you’d like, I would be more than happy to answer any of your questions, to the best of my ability.”

With a subtle nod, Lana smiles sincerely, “Thank you, I would like that very much.”

Solas smiles back and moves closer to Lana, his tall and broad physique blocking the candle’s light.

“Before I take my leave, I have something of yours,” and removes a rolled piece of parchment from his belt, and hands it over to Lana. “I believe you might be missing this.”

Confused, Lana takes the parchment, looks at Solas for a moment, and proceeds to slowly unravel it before him as she gasps. It’s her unfinished sketch of the Keeper.

“I had no idea I dropped it!” and looks up at Solas with a sincere smile, “Thank you.”

Solas nods with a gentle smile in return, “You’re welcome. And I believe I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

Solas walks towards the door as Lana follows him. He opens the door, steps outside and looks down at Lana with a sincere smile, “I will see you in the morning.” and begins closing the door.

Impulsively, Lana leaps forward and grabs onto the side of the door and calls out, “Solas, wait...”

Solas lets go of the door handle, turns around and stares at Lana curiously.

Lana opens the door a little further and looks down at the ground for a moment before looking back up at Solas with remorse, “I would like to apologise for my behaviour, too. I said a lot of things to you which were unkind and hurtful, and I let my temper get the better of me... ir abelas, lethallin.”

Solas releases a heartfelt smile and nods, “Thank you.”

After hearing Solas’s tragic story about how the Dalish have treated him in the past, she cannot help but feel embarrassed and ashamed, and feels she needs to apologise on behalf of her people, too, “And I’m sorry for how the Dalish have treated you in the past. I truly had no idea,” and with her deep set frown and pale, lavender eyes peering up at him, she bravely declares, “It isn’t right and if I am ever in the position to change things, I know exactly where to start.”

“You are a rarity amongst your people, da’len. And thank you for allowing me to speak with you this evening. I look forward to our many academic discussions moving forward.”

And with that, Solas turns around and walks away. Only once she can no longer see him, does Lana slowly close the door and look down at the unfinished picture of Keeper Deshanna. A bit crinkled, but no matter. She’s just happy to have the Keeper back with her.

Unbelievably exhausted, Lana decides to call it a day and puts the Keeper back with the others. She then takes the candlestick from the windowsill and places it in the middle of the room.

She then proceeds to take apart her nicely made bed and apologises, in her mind, to whomever makes her bed for her as they will find everything on the floor. Again.

Using the thin cotton sheet, she lays it neatly on the cabin floor next to the bed. Then, taking her loose wolf fur, she lays it down on the sheet and immediately follows with laying out the softer, stuffed blanket on top of that.

Once nicely centered, she visually divides the blanket into thirds, folding the right-third inwards and then the left-third over that. Then she tucks the bottom of her makeshift cocoon underneath itself and stands back to admire her work.

Well, if this is the closest I’ll get to what I have back home, then that's fine with me.

Satisfied, Lana grabs the last crucial element of her creation - the pillow.

Once changed into her sleepwear, Lana wiggles her way into her bed and turns around to face the candle, and stares into its dull, dim glow as it reaches the end of its wick.

First thing tomorrow I will find Liliana, so that she can try to contact the Keeper before Cassandra keeps me busy all day.

Then, I’ll find Solas in the evening to learn more about the ancient elvhen.

Lana closes her heavy, tired eyes and its not long until the flame of the candle runs out.

Oh, and don’t forget to ask him about that strange shoe-thing across his neck.

Oh wait, it can’t be a shoe - doesn’t it have teeth?

Elvish to English Translation:

“Mir da’vhenan” = my little-heart

“Ar lath, ma da’len” = I love you, my child

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

READ ON AO3

Halla & Wolf Series

#ElfrootAddict's Halla & Wolf Series #ElfrootAddict's Herald of Andraste #ElfrootAddict's El'lana Aemma Lavellan #Solas #Varric #Lavellan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dalish #herald of andraste #fanfic

11 notes · View notes

iamanoneyemouse · 4 years

Text

Olly

I’m not sure how many years I’ve had this account for, but this will be my first post, so I thought I’d make it count. I want to make this a very special post about our cat, Olly.

At 11am today we took Olly to the vet’s practice in Leeds for the very last time. I’d like this post to service as a humbling reminder about the importance of resilience, love and kindness; all of which Olly had in abundance.

So, let’s start with a little about Olly. He was hand-reared by Rachel’s Dad and his wife; he was the kitten of an unexpected pregnancy and they took him in as he was the runt of the litter. He is a half tabby, half Maine Coon cat, with a beautiful mixture of dark stripes spread across golden brown fur. He has white fur socks, a white mouth/nose combination with soft green eyes that only ever looked at you with dopey kindness.

I first met him when I first visited Rachel’s Dad’s place in the Hertfordshire area. He was surrounded by two crazy Chihuahuas and a rather grumpy smaller cat called Jake. What first struck me about him was how docile and patient he was; he was completely hounded by these two crazy little dogs, and whilst he clearly was harassed to a point, he would often put up with it until they were bored or ran off - mostly he would try and stay on the kitchen counter surfaces and out of their reach! He was so affectionate and loved the attention. Over the coming months Olly and I formed a real “bro” friendship and he’d lap up the fuss I’d make over him whenever I’d visit. Rachel’s Dad had said a few times that when I bought my own place he could come and live with me.

So when Rachel and I bought our own place in January 2018 he came to live with us - it was brilliant. He was a fantastic character; dopey, clumsy but full to brim of love with a playful nature (note - his idea of playful always involved claws!). There was never any malice in anything he did, and he was such a vocal cat! I’ve had cats all my life, but never had a cat chirp at me as if to say “hello” when you walk through the door. He loved to brush up against you and be near you, but he wasn’t a cuddly cat; he hated being picked like a baby, so he always enjoyed being near you on his terms only. He’d either lay next to, or on you, if it was to his benefit! Haha. He had a fetish for dirty clothing - we have too many videos of him rolling around in clothes from the wash basket, and even a picture of Olly entangled in my boxer shorts! He took his time to establish his territory, as he clumsily went about upsetting the multitude of cats in the neighbourhood that had clearly spent a long time establishing their boundaries, with our garden being a pathway to most of them. Eventually, he settled on a territory, which would then be shared (again) with the arrival of Jake as Rachel’s Dad moved to start a business further north. He loved food. A lot. To the point where he would wake us up at unruly hours meowing in readiness for his breakfast. To fix this issue we bought a timed food dispenser so he’d get regular food at set times. He never quite got the hint that we were no longer the food providers, and continued to wake us up quite often, only to run downstairs when he heard the food drop at 7.30am like clockwork... !!

His health did seem to plague his life, as he always seemed to have something wrong with him. It’s a good thing we had insurance, although sometimes it felt the amount they’d insure of Olly reduced by the week! When we first moved in he had a urinary tract infection, probably driven by the stress of moving; then he needed an operation on his eyelids as they were ingrown and causing him grief. He was sensitive to certain foods, so we put him on an exclusion diet to stop it causing aggravation (he would scratch his face until it bled sometimes!). Little did we know that, amongst all the surface-level chaos that were involved in what seemed like monthly visits to the vet (with the bills on top), that there was another deep rooted issue lurking that would prove to be terminal.

It all came to light as we were selling our house. Olly was subdued for a couple of days, which wasn’t completely unusual behaviour given the turbulent year he’d had having an eye operation and infections. He would usually be his buoyant usual self after a day or two, but once he stopped drinking this time it became clear was a very different case. Rachel took him to the vets, where they discovered his breathing was rapid, he was severely dehydrated and there was fluid in his lungs. He nearly died that night, but the vets managed to save him and he was transferred to the larger veterinary hospital for overnight care. He was kept in for two days in total whilst they stabilised him. It was then they were able to examine him properly and discover that he had a heart murmur caused by a genetic heart disease, which was common with his breed. He would need to be on 5 pills daily for the rest of his life. It was worrying news.

The vet was unsure of his life expectancy at that point “you could have him for a few months, or a few years”. This wasn’t what we wanted to hear; he was 6 years old and up until this point had been full of life. He was our very own dopey dose of positive energy each day. At this point we were relieved that he was alive and there was a chance all could return to normal if the pills worked. That was a big if... we’d had experience already of how much he hated having eyedrops after his operation the year before. There was added complication of being told the side effects of the pills that would stop his heart from clotting would also suppress his appetite and dehydrate him. It was going to be an uphill struggle.

I went to pick him up whilst Rachel was at work. As I let him out of his basket it quickly became apparent that he was not quite himself. He stumbled into the kitchen to his water bowl, which is where he stayed for the rest of the day. I watched as he tentatively lapped up some water occasionally and then rest. He was exhausted and very flat; no purring, none of his usual energy - it was like a part of him had already died.

He didn’t eat anything that day, which was worrying given how much he had loved food up until this point (he was a notoriously greedy shite who would eat until he threw up). Giving him pills at first was very traumatic for him, because the YouTube video we’d settled on following showed the guy (a vet) putting the pill at the back of his cat’s throat after simply opening the jaw. Unfortunately Olly did not play ball quite in the same way, refusing to open his mouth. With him being so weak and hardly putting up a fight, it was horrendous to know we were putting him under such stress; and there were a couple of occasions where it took so long to get him to take the pill that they’d started disintegrating and left his mouth with a horrible taste and foam coming out of his poor mouth. We had to come up with another battle plan: hide the pills in food and treats he’d like so he wouldn’t realise he was being drugged. We tried hiding the pills in his favourite Felix jelly pouches, but he quickly started to sniff them out and then rejecting Felix altogether. Quite quickly he was losing interest in other foods that had previously worked too. We were starting to run out of food he would eat, and also any ideas to get him to take them (it felt like he was losing trust in all of the food we were giving him, and rightly so!).

Some mouldable treats arrived, which worked for a few days, but he soon wised up to those as well. Rachel then ordered a special syringe that would squirt both water and the pill into his throat - we still had to get his throat open, but it became the most effective, albeit still stressful, approach. We soon noticed he was eating less and less food, to the point where he wasn’t eating any solids at all; If we could get him to eat one pouch per day of any type of food then we had done well, compared to the 4 he’d easily gobble up beforehand. He’d always been a big, chunky boy, but for the first time we could feel the bone along his back. As he ate less each day, over the next couple of weeks it became very clear he was wasting away in front of our eyes, and there was seemingly less and less we could do about it. We made an appointment with the vet for Friday 2nd October and they sent his blood off for a comprehensive test to see if there was anything else underlying. They were clearly concerned as he’d lost 25% of his bodyweight and wasn’t eating any solid food - their tone said it all: that it wasn’t looking good for Olly. We were told they’d contact us Monday or Tuesday with the results and that we should discuss a plan for him then.

It was the Monday that we received the call. His kidneys were failing under the pressure being put on them by the drugs to keep his heart working, and the weakened state of his body. His organs were now working against each other, and he had all but stopped eating. On the Tuesday they had prescribed potassium liquid to take and another liquid to improve his appetite, both to be taken once per day - the poor boy was now up to 7 potentially traumatic pills/liquids. The vet was very honest with us that it wasn’t looking good, and we should consider our options at this point if it doesn’t work. At that point we thought we’d see how it went for the week and give it until Wednesday 14th October and if there was no improvement then we’d bring him back and give him the peace he deserved, but Olly’s reaction to the first dose was really not good. He clearly hated the taste of the appetite inducing liquid, and it seemed to have the opposite effect. Rachel and I didn’t want him to suffer unnecessarily if it looked like it wasn’t working. By Thursday’s doses things had only gotten worse, he now was barely drinking, and we could only get him to eat Sheba liquid treats; even that was once or twice per day. His calorie and liquid intake was extremely low, so by the end of Thursday we had both agreed that we didn’t want him to suffer anymore; it simply wasn’t fair on him. It was heartbreaking to see that even the simplest of exercise would now tire him out easily - even getting up and enjoying a stroke would result in him sitting down after a couple of minutes looking subdued again.

Olly hadn’t been the same since he came home from the veterinary hospital. We’d seen flashes of his beautiful personality and happy nature, but it was becoming too few and far between that he was himself. We agreed to call the vets on Friday and stop his medication. It was important to try and make Olly’s final day or two as comfortable as possible, and the trauma of receiving pills now seemed an unnecessary pain for him. Rachel didn’t give him the medication on Friday morning, and called the vets to arrange for Olly to be put to a peaceful sleep at 11am on Saturday. And now Olly’s terminal countdown to a peaceful sleep had now begun.

The entirety of Friday 9th October was spent with both of us at home with Olly, giving him as much care and love as he would put up with. We brought out the catnip, which he went wild for until he got tired and sat back down. We brought out his favourite cat brush, which he lapped up until he once again needed to sit back down. He enjoyed some Sheba treats and even disappeared outside until midnight (resulting in me walking the streets calling for him, only for him to return on his own accord, meowing like he used to outside the front door). It was the first time we’d seen him consistently more happy and comfortable for a number of weeks.

It was far too quickly that Saturday 10th October arrived (today). I woke up before 7am feeling sick. I went out to the landing and sat with Olly, who was in his usual spot by the top of the stairs, which had been his residence for the past couple of weeks. I looked into the bedroom to see Rachel and Jake asleep peacefully. I let Olly have a whiff of some catnip, which he enjoyed but it was short-lived compared to Friday. After a while of chilling with him, I got up to head downstairs and he followed. I gave him 2.5 Sheba liquid treats, which he lapped up. He seemed energetic, so I let him outside... and he leapt over to Margaret’s garden next door! That was nothing unusual for a healthy Olly, so it was lovely to see him bounce over the fence like a gazelle once more. As time went on we started to worry that he may be about to repeat last night and not come back until later on! As I began to panic and consider wandering the streets again, Rachel pointed out that he had in fact returned and was chilling at the back of the garden in amongst the plant pots. I was relieved at first, but it was now past 10am and I knew that when he walked in from the garden, that would be the last time he’d ever step foot through what was his territory. This was starting to become a reality for me selfishly, and he was blissfully unaware of the fate that lie ahead.

Rachel was at the top of the stairs where Olly had settled back into his usual spot. She was giving him a good old brush, which he was loving. I came upstairs to join them and took a photo of the moment; he looked relaxed and happy, it was lovely to see. I sat on the top few steps and started brushing him; his purr was radiant and loud - louder than we’d heard it for a number of weeks - and in that moment it all hit me... this beautiful, kind little boy was about to be cruelly taken through euthanasia for something completely out of his control. I broke down in tears and couldn’t carry on brushing, placing the brush down near Rachel and tearfully declaring “I can’t do it” before crumbling into a blubbering heap on the stairs. Olly, being the happy little git he was, stood up at this point, and nuzzled his head into my head as I lay there crying. It set me off even more; trembling with a bittersweet mixture of joy and hysteric sadness, I was moved to even more tears by how affectionate he was still able to be, which also then set poor Rachel off. I’m a realist, but in that moment I felt like he was saying “hey it’s OK, I’m OK with this”. It was such a beautiful moment, it broke my heart - I should have been comforting him, but instead he was comforting me and Rachel.

Before we knew it, it was quarter to eleven and we had to go. We tearfully placed him into the catnip-sprayed basket, and left for the vets. When we got there, they took him in and we waited outside whilst they attached the drip to him. They then invited us in, where we sat down, they brought him out and placed him on my lap with a towel to wrap him up. He was clearly anxious about being back at the vets but we comforted him best we could as the vet started the anaesthetic. Fighting tears and trying not to shake with sadness, we comforted him until his head suddenly dropped and he stopped moving. Within a minute, he was completely gone. I couldn’t contain my emotion. Our beautiful boy had passed peacefully in my arms whilst Rachel and I comforted him. He was now at peace. He’d never have to make an effort to breathe, eat, drink, fight or feel any pain again. Our Olly had been set free. His ashes will be scattered at the communal area of the crematorium. We have tufts of his fur from where we brushed him, which we’ll put in the picture of him that’ll end up in our new kitchen. He will never be forgotten.

Olly, I didn’t just lose a pet today, I lost a pal. I lost a member of my family; we were part of a pride. You were such a pure and wonderful character, I’m not sure how anyone ends up with a personality like yours. I will miss your conversational chirp as I walk through the door after a day of work. I will miss your violent “claws out” approach to being playful. I will miss you making us laugh with your unique way of living. I will miss your clumsiness. I will miss your greed. I will miss sunbathing with you. You brought joy to so many of our friends and family. You will always be loved, and very much missed. Rest in the peace that you deserve Olly. You will never be forgotten. All my love.

2 notes · View notes

peterstanslizzie · 5 years

Text

Re-watching Lizzie Mcguire: Episode 1.24 (Night of the Day of the Dead)

Skipping ahead to the Halloween special

- Matt and Lanny are devising a plan to collect the best candies and treats around town on Halloween Day. Lizzie interjects and suggests Matt should dress up as a troll. So, Lizzie likes to stir the pot too; I thought Matt was the only one.

- Matt asks his parents if he could borrow a wheelbarrow that he could use to collect candy but they tell him he’s not going Trick-o-treating this year. Instead, they want him to go to Lizzie’s school’s ‘Halloween Fright Night”.

- Lizzie freaks out because she doesn’t want her little brother to ruin her night. What happened to all the progress made in their relationship before this, like in episode 1.15 (Sibling Bonds)? I guess that was just a one time thing.

Planning Fright Night

- Kate, who is in-charge of planning ‘Halloween Fright Night’ is holding a meeting with her fellow classmates, including Lizzie, Miranda and Larry on what each person is going to be doing. Larry wants to do his ‘Darth Vader’ impression but Kate isn’t impressed.

I wish I was able to look this friendly when putting people down lol

- They move on to decorations and Miranda brings up her idea of displaying skeletons from ‘Dia de los Muertos’, which is a holiday celebrated in Mexico to remember friends and family members whom have died. This ‘Day of the Dead’ celebration begins around Halloween Day and ends a couple of days later.

- Kate rejects her suggestion because she finds it to be lame. Lizzie backs Miranda up by saying it’s cool to bring in stuff from other countries/cultures. Everyone else in the meeting seem to agree with her as well. Kate has no other choice but to give in to the miniature skeletons.

- Miranda also adds in a little warning to Kate to make sure she treats the skeletons well or else she will end up like that kid who made fun of spirits and was found in a coffin full of skeletons. I didn’t think it was necessary for Miranda to add that story in but go off sis.

Kate is definitely spooked out from that story Miranda just told.

- Lizzie wants to sign up to be ‘Vampire Mistress’ in the Dungeon of Terror. She’s been sick of wearing her mom’s old marching band uniform every year before this. Kate hesitantly co-signs with Lizzie on this but on the condition Lizzie cleans out the utility room where the dungeon will be located.

No wonder she’s over wearing that costume. That wind instrument (Is that a tuba or a French horn?) looks like it weighs a ton.

Kate is Not So Great

- After the meeting, Lizzie and Gordo head inside the utility room to clean it out. Lizzie thinks Gordo came in with her to lead a helping hand but he didn’t agree to such thing. She insists he should help her but he calls her out for always doing whatever Kate asks her to do. Ugh, here with go with Gordo and his anti-popularity speech again.

- Strategically, Lizzie tells him that her cousin, Heather (I assume she’s attractive) is coming to town in the summer and she will be able to get him to go on a date with her. Who is Heather? Have we ever seen her on screen before? Anyways, I didn’t know Gordo was this girl-crazy because he suddenly wants to help Lizzie now.

- We then get a montage of the two ‘cleaning’ the room and Lizzie goes over to Kate to inform her she’s finished.

Now that’s a very condescending thing to do to someone

- Oh and despite doing what Kate told her to do, Kate changes her mind and tells Lizzie that she’s going to be the Vampire Mistress instead and Lizzie will now dress up as ‘Floppy the Clown’ and give out balloons. I would have popped Kate in the forehead at this point.

- Back at the Mcguire home, Matt is doing some prep to make his own Halloween costume for the party. He wants to go as himself, but inside out like his organs and bones are exposed. If I was Jo, I wouldn’t give Matt anything from the fridge to be used as his prop/costume; She just gave him an entire bowl of perfectly delicious-looking sausages!!!

OMG, is this Sam and Jo’s first on-screen mouth-to-mouth kiss? They are honestly #couplegoals

Meet Miranda’s Parents

- The students of Hillridge Junior High are busy prepping for the upcoming party and we finally get to meet Miranda’s parents for the first time!

I love how Miranda isn’t afraid to call Kate out on her BS in front of her parents. I bet she tells them plenty of stories about Kate at home.

- Kate goes into her fake, ‘nice girl’ mode and greets them with her over-the-top innocent voice. Even when Miranda’s parents are talking to her about ‘Dia de Muertos’, she tries really hard to look interested. Side-note: this celebration sounds pretty much similar to how the Chinese pay tribute to their ancestors. We also leave out food in front of their tombstone or at least a prayer altar.

- As soon as her parents dropped off the miniature skeletons and left, Kate demanded that Miranda take them away from the refreshments table. She even tossed them over to Miranda as if they were made of crap. Kate’s definitely being a little racist here.

Miranda warns Kate again that messing with her ancestors will bring bad luck upon her.

- Well, it seems like Miranda’s ancestors are going to play a trick on Kate after all:

The supernatural have arrived

Time For Fright Night!

- We shift things over to the actual party and Lizzie, who is now dressed up as a clown is handing out lame un-twisted balloon animals to everyone. When it’s Matt’s turn to get a balloon, homegirl who has been mean to Matt all episode even popped his balloon right after she gave it to him. She should tone down the attitude with her brother, I’m just saying.

That football player looks a lot older than an average middle schooler or even a high-schooler I’m just saying

- Side-note: When Lizzie said to her friends, “Can’t you guys believe Kate?!”, Gordo takes a glance at Kate and he seems to be taken aback by her beauty. He really is girl-crazy!

- Matt is seen eating the tamale that was left as an offering to Miranda’s ancestors and this shocks Miranda. She should kinda have left a note telling people to not eat the tamale by explaining that it’s for her cultural celebration. And then it hit me; Miranda explaining to Matt about how him eating that tamale has angered her ancestors and they will be coming to wreck havoc on their world is all just an elaborate scheme to get back at Kate.

- Plus, we all know how bad of an actress Miranda is ;)

I gotta say; Kate’s hair and make-up looks on-point.

- Anyways, it seems like their scheme is working because Kate is believing that all the weird things happening around her is real from Matt’s lemonade changing colours to the miniature skeletons disappearing all of a sudden. On top of that, Lizzie and Miranda are definitely putting on a show in front of Kate when they are acting worried and questioning everything that has happened.

- They even talked about Matt disappearing all of a sudden like it’s nothing. Lol, if Matt were really missing, Lizzie would freak out! But I guess Kate wasn’t wise enough to catch onto that. Gordo, on the other hand is playing the role of the level-headed guy who believes there’s a logical explanation to everything.

Actually, this brief scene with Animated Lizzie already revealed to us that this is all just a plan. She literally said, “The truth is, if Matt did get spirited away to the realm of the dead, who’s going to be in trouble with mom and dad? Me.”

Jo and Sam’s Night In

- Since the kids are out of the house for the night, Sam and Jo are ready to spend some ‘quality time’ together after giving out candy to the neighbourhood kids. Suddenly, the doorbell rings and Sam opens the door to a kid who was just at their house getting candy like 10-15 minutes ago.

- He demands for more candy from them but Jo gives him their chicken pot pie, which is better! But not if you are vegetarian like that kid. That little brat even threw the pie back into Sam’s face.

I would’ve wrecked that kid if it were up to me lol.

Kate Gets Her Well-Deserved Karma But Was It Too Much?

- Things get worse (or even more fake, in my case) as they discover that Gordo is now ‘trapped’ inside a toy. Kate and Miranda argue about one bringing the skeletons to the party and the other dissing them, to the point where that toy Gordo’s trapped in falls to the ground and breaks. At this point, you’d have to be dumb to believe that Gordo was actually in that toy.

Lizzie as a scary clown ready to bring Kate down. Hey, that rhymes.

- Lizzie bursts into the room, now all zombie-like and proceeds to walk towards Kate and call her name at the same time. Kate and Miranda is now running away from zombie-clown Lizzie and they both hide in the utility closet. Kate wants all of this to go away and so, Miranda recommends her to do a few things to get the spirits to forgive her.

- First, she asks Kate to shower in dirt and blood but because they don’t have those at the moment, she tells her to improvise by heading over to the cafeteria to cover herself with chocolate cake and punch. We then get this iconic moment:

Lizzie and co. really likes getting Kate wet or dirty huh?

- Without thinking, Kate’s just doing everything Miranda asks her to do and was even going to apologize to Lizzie. But finally, she finally realises what’s actually going on. Even Miranda’s parents were in on the prank.

At this point, that’s just public humiliation. I feel so bad for Kate. Lizzie and Miranda really made an overkill this time around. I mean, what Kate did was bad but I don’t think this is the way to go about it. They are lucky she didn’t go Carrie on them.

- The episode ends with Sam and Jo about to play their own prank on the vegetarian kid but when the doorbell rings again, it is Miranda’s parents whom were on the other side of the door and unfortunately, they are sprayed with a water hose and tossed with oats.

Jo says, “We thought you were trick-or-treaters!” and Mrs. Sanchez replies, “I see, we give them candy at our house”. That dialog is hilarious!

Overall Thoughts

- The highlights of this episode to me were two things; The costumes and the prank on Kate. Lizzie and Kate looked great in their costumes and the Skeleton bride and groom looked awesome as well. And it’s really smart for them to incorporate ‘Dia de los Meurtos’ into this episode, which lended a lot of background and meaning to this Halloween story. I just watched Coco last month and I was proud of myself for knowing how much this celebration means to Mexicans.

- The message of this episode is also pretty strong, which is to respect other people’s cultures and traditions. Kate was pretty ignorant and closed-minded in this episode. And although I don’t agree with the public humiliation she’s experienced, I do hope that Kate or those cut from the same cloth as her would learn to think twice before being disrespectful.

- Jo and Sam’s storyline was short and sweet. I actually love seeing those two all lovey-dovey with one another. Overall, I really enjoyed this episode; It’s certainly re-watchable and a great 20 minutes to spend watching on Halloween.

#lizzie mcguire #hilary duff #disney #disney channel #disney plus #dia de los muertos #day of the dead #halloween 2019 #ashlie brillault #adam lamberg #lalaine #jake thomas #robert carradine #hallie todd #happy halloween #episode recap #episode review #cultural traditions #family show

12 notes · View notes

redroseinsanity · 6 years

Text

Grounded

Late for Daichi’s birthday and Daisuga Day and inspired by passengers stranded in Taiwan on NYE.

This is possibly the worst way I can spend my birthday, Sawamura Daichi thinks to himself, wedged into a middle seat with a baby bawling its eyes out two rows back on a plane that’s been stuck on the tarmac for two hours.

He knew he’d start his birthday in the air when he booked a flight that left at 8pm, but he’d also hoped that he would be able to spend the rest of the day after he landed exploring the city before his business meetings started on the 3rd of January.

Sadly, fate seemed to decree that he was to turn twenty four feeling like a wretched and squashed marshmallow, a bit too dried out from the aeroplane air and desperately wanting to go to sleep but feeling painfully uncomfortable in the too small chair and with the dig of his seatmate’s elbow in his side. He glanced over at the owner of the offending joint and found a flabby middle-aged man fast asleep in his aisle seat.

With a sigh, Daichi shifted a smidgen over, just enough to escape the jabbing elbow and enough so that he was looking out past the person in the window seat to gaze out at the lights of the airport runway. At least that was beautiful in a way and mildly remedied the fact that Daichi was likely to start his birthday contorted into an unspeakably tiny aeroplane chair with a very sad selection of entertainment available and no water.

“Holy cheeseballs, this plane doesn’t take off soon, I’m going to charge into the cockpit and fly this thing myself,” the window seat passenger muttered, fingers drumming on the cover of his book which lay, rather abandoned, in his lap.

Catching Daichi’s sharp, surprised (and slightly amused look) his way, the window seat passenger offered a wry smile.

“Sorry, I don’t really like being in enclosed spaces, two hours is three hours too long on the tarmac.”

Daichi chuckled as he tamped down rising butterflies in his stomach when he took in porcelain skin and bright eyes framed by soft, tousled silver hair and the most perfect beauty mark.

How had he not noticed this absolute stunner sitting right next to him the entire time? Probably because I was too busy wallowing in self-pity for having to start my twenty fourth year on earth in a flying tin can that refuses to fly.

“Yeah, I wish they would just tell us what’s going on so that I would at least know why I have to spend my birthday in absolute agony in an airplane that’s going nowhere,” Daichi smiled crookedly, rubbing the back of his neck in the manner of a truly resigned man.

The beautiful stranger’s hazel eyes widened as he inhaled sharply.

“It’s your birthday?” he hissed, looking far more aghast on Daichi’s behalf than Daichi had felt in the past two hours.

“Not yet!” Daichi assured him and then checked his watch, “But in two hours.” He sagged into his seat.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time, landing in a gorgeous city on the morning of my birthday and taking the time to wander around,” Daichi explained, shaking his head at himself, “Obviously in hindsight, not such a good plan.”

“This is a travesty,” the gorgeous seatmate pounded a fist on his book, his voice turning into an angry whisper, “We shouldn’t be stuck here with no sign of moving and you shouldn’t be trapped here on your birthday!”

Opening his mouth to assure him that now that he had dug his grave, he was quite prepared to lie in it, Daichi was cut off by an overhead announcement.

“Good evening, everyone. This is your captain speaking. As you all are aware, we’ve been trying to remedy an electrical fault before taking off. However, I’ve just been notified that we require a new part to fly safely and so, we invite all passengers to disembark and we hope to fly within the next three hours as we wait for the new part to arrive and be swapped in,” there was a collective groan that reverberated around the cabin and immediately, people began murmuring among themselves. Daichi strained to hear the rest of the announcement.

“We sincerely apologise for this delay and will be offering complimentary dining and entertainment vouchers for you to use while waiting. Thank you and we ask for your understanding.”

Half an hour later, Daichi found himself back in the brightly lit walkway filled with shops and eateries, backpack slung over one shoulder and clutching several vouchers.

“Hey!” A familiar silver head bounced over, “Y’know, I’m kind of glad just to be out of there,” Daichi’s flying partner beamed up at him, smile rivaling the brilliant lights from above.

“Any longer and I may have lost it and started climbing the walls,” he grinned cheekily, a smile so contagious that Daichi involuntarily smiled back.

“Plus! They gave so many vouchers, you know what that means?” Daichi shook his head, “It’s a sign,” the silver haired angel stage whispered and Daichi stifled a laugh, “You weren’t meant to start your birthday in that torture device disguised as a mode of transport,” he cast a narrow eyed glare back at the plane, “You were meant to eat copious amounts of food and milk their PR team for all their worth!”

With a handful of vouchers being waved gleefully in his face, Daichi couldn’t control the laughter that escaped him.

“Of course,” he held up his own set, a smile colouring his voice, “Would you do me the honours of spending a ridiculous amount of money that isn’t ours with me?”

Linking a fairly toned arm with Daichi’s own muscled one, the fair stranger peeked up under lowered lashes.

“Why,” he purred, setting Daichi aflame with a single word, “I thought you’d never ask.”

“My name is Daichi, by the way,” Daichi said suddenly, when they’d finished two bowls of ramen each and were digging into ice cream, “I forgot that we never really…”

“Try this, Daichi, it tastes like it was made by the gods themselves,” A spoonful of creamy goodness was held up to his lips by a slim hand, “I’m Sugawara, but you can call me Suga.”

It did taste like it was crafted by divine hands and Daichi told him so. He didn’t tell Suga that he was the most insane and fun person he had ever met in his life, he just drank in the other man’s enthusiasm and excited gestures as he told hilarious stories and kept eating his rum and raisin.

“Obviously, when put in that situation, you’ll have to take your shirt off and then run screaming into the traffic!” Suga exclaimed, waving face cream around as he told Daichi about his colleagues who honestly sounded like lunatics.

“Absolutely,” Daichi replied with as straight a face as possible, “In fact, in those kinds of extreme circumstances, I would also recommend dousing oneself with luminescent paint and then running around the neighbourhood banging on a bucket or some kind of crockery.”

“Without question,” Suga nodded gravely, setting the cream down. There was a moment’s pause before they succumbed to a bout of hysterical giggles and Suga moved on to another moisturizer. Suga was devastatingly handsome and with his eyes crinkled at the corners, clear laughter pealing from deep in his belly, Daichi wondered if it was too soon to be falling for someone. He definitely had a crush, but laughing in duty-free at god knows what time with this shining being was messing with his head and heart far more than he had anticipated.

“You can’t say that if you’ve never tried it!” Suga gasped, sitting upright in the cushy armchair that he’d settled into with his loot of creams and a cup of juice.

“I don’t need to try it! I have smelled it and I know that I never need to even lick it ever in my life,” Daichi stated, feeling a little sleepy even though it wasn’t yet midnight. He usually slept relatively early so anything past eleven was technically past his bedtime. His friends teased him for being an old man, but Daichi liked his sleep and woke up early to run so he didn’t mind the good humoured jibes.

“No way,” Suga leaned into Daichi’s chair, adjacent to his, “This is life changing, I swear. You have to have tried it at least once in your life before you say no.” Shifting a little, he folded his legs into the chair, curling in on himself a little. Suga rested his chin on the arm of Daichi’s chair, peering up in so adorable a manner, Daichi nearly had an aneurysm.

“Nope, you can’t trick me into this, I know it’s a trap,” he retorted, taking another sip of his own smoothie and trying to steady his heartbeat. Easy, Sawamura, you hardly know this guy, he warned himself.

I think I know enough to know I want to know more.

Suga let out a shriek that cascaded into laughter as he tore down the hallway perched on a trolley that Daichi was pushing. Daichi’s lungs were protesting and he could feel the two bowls of ramen slopping around in his stomach but he kept going, chasing the honeyed chimes of Suga’s delight.

It was addictive, really. He had no business being so greedy but here he was, hoping that they’d never get called back to the plane so that he could keep spending time in this limbo with the most unreal person he’d ever met. It seemed like a dream, an impossible and far-fetched fantasy set in a space that didn’t exist where time slipped into darkness and all that mattered was this man, burning brighter than the sun.

When the call for them to re-board came, Daichi was sorely disappointed and it may have been his imagination but Suga might have looked a tad upset as well. They trekked over to the boarding gate until Suga turned abruptly, Daichi nearly walking into him before pulling up short.

He halted inches away from ploughing Suga down and stayed there, staring down at the brilliant light in the other man’s eyes as he smiled gently.

“Happy birthday, Daichi,” Suga tilted his head, “I hope you had fun! Better than being stuck on an airplane anyway, no?” Startled, Daichi checked his watch and found the numbers 2.37am flashing back at him.

“Suga,” he started, one hand reaching out to brush the other man’s arm. Suga who had turned to go wheeled back, eyes expectant, expression soft.

“That was the best birthday I’ve had in a long time. Thank you for spending it with me,” he grinned bashfully, earnestly and Suga’s expression turned softer and triumphant all at once.

They’d certainly exhausted themselves in the airport because the moment they’d gotten on the flight, the pair of them had conked out before the plane even managed to pull up off the runway and into the air.

The next thing Daichi knew, he awoke to a fluffy argon hair pressed against the side of his face and a warm weight on his arm. He looked down and realised that Suga looked even more ethereal in morning light. The clear gold glinted off eyelashes and bathed a face that looked even sweeter when asleep.

There was a sudden pang in his gut when Daichi realised that he’d never see Suga again once they got off this flight. With a sudden fervor, Daichi cast his gaze back down and tried to memorize the planes of Suga’s face.

“Well then, this is me,” Daichi said quietly, hauling his luggage off the conveyor belt.

“Well then,” Suga echoed, eyes fixed on his shoes, eyebrows vaguely knitted.

“If you-”

“I was-”

They spoke at the same time and then both tried to gesture each other to go first. Suga cleared his throat.

“I was just gonna say,” Suga hesitated and then seemed to decide to steel himself with the words coming out in a rush, “I’m free today if you’d like to spend the rest of your birthday together.”

Daichi stared at him, the words ringing in his ears but barely processing. Then it hit him, a smile blooming on his face as ecstasy exploded within him.

“Yes,” he heard himself say, and then again just in case he dreamed it, “Yes! I’d love to. It’s already been the best birthday, and it’s all been thanks to you.”

Suga turned a faint pink, then held out his phone.

“Exchange numbers so we can fix a place to meet after dropping off our luggage?”

They parted ways at the taxi stand and just before Suga dashed off to load up his taxi, he turned breathlessly to Daichi, face alight just like it had been hours ago in the airport.

Stretching up on his toes, he pressed a tender kiss on Daichi’s cheek.

“Happy birthday, Daichi,” he breathed, “See you in a bit.”

Daichi watched him go with the sense of being hit by a boulder of some sort, a silly grin plastered on his face and a glow lighting him up from within.

#sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi #daisuga day #daisuga #haikyuu fic #fluff #au #happy birthday daichi #redwrites #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfics

28 notes · View notes

toumakibangs · 6 years

Text

°*TouMaki - Advent Calendar 2018*° DAY 18 - “BAKING” (”Character A can’t go home for Christmas, so they invite over their grumpy loner neighbour Character B”) by @evvazi

Mod’s Note: There’s a fine line between “Sharing the cheer” and “Shoving Christmas down people’s throat”. Toudou and Makishima hold different opinions on where that line falls. At least at first. Nothing a batch of cookies can’t fix… Thanks for making the sweetness literal, @evvazi!

Author’s Notes: “I love baking christmas cookies so toumaki get to do that too! Our family recipe, no less! And I used the side prompt ‘character A can’t go home for christmas so they invite over their grumpy loner neighbour character B’ because it sounded like a toumaki kind of prompt. I hope everyone has a very toumaki advent!”

While most people enjoyed a break during the holidays toward the end of the year, it was an incredibly busy time for a fashion designer like Makishima. Christmas brought with it an array of possible sales from sexy Santa costumes to ugly Christmas sweaters. His brother insisted he had a talent for making the latter, which Makishima didn’t agree with, but he was fine with them if it meant he didn’t have to design the former.

Needless to say, he’d barely slept the past weeks, but now, on the 24th of December, everything had to be done, and whatever wasn’t wouldn’t get done anymore. But he still didn’t have much time to rest. New Years was coming up, and he still needed to finalize some designs for that, especially something “fancy and inspired by traditional wear” that he could show off at the New Years gala he was invited to attend. His brother had accepted the invitation for him, saying it was a great chance to make their Japanese branch more widely known, while totally ignoring that ‘traditional’ was exactly everything Makishima’s designs were not.

He wasn’t making any progress on that though, so he’d taken on the equally unpleasant task of answering to e-mails that were asking about statements for some of his previous designs or just his whole work of the past year, all aiming to include them in some kind of article that reviewed the year as it came to an end. Words weren’t his forte, so Makishima had procrastinated answering, meaning they were now piling up in his inbox.

Just as he’d copy-pasted his usual polite greeting and intro text that he only slightly modified by adding names and other relevant info into the spaces left for them, his doorbell rang. Makishima’s first instinct was to ignore it. He wasn’t expecting any online deliveries, and he hadn’t ordered takeout yet either. Maybe he should soon, it was already pitch-black outside now that he paid attention. But then, it was only 5:30pm, so no need to rush.

The doorbell rang again. Damn, seemed like he actually had to answer the door if he wanted to continue working in peace.

He realized the mistake in his logic as soon as he opened the door. How could he work in peace if the man standing at his door was the definition of annoying? While Makishima didn’t know his name, he still recognized his next-door-neighbour. He was the kind of guy who looked annoyingly cheery when going for his morning jog at 6am, which Makishima only ever witnessed when he’d pulled an all-nighter and was making himself coffee or a snack in the kitchen. He also had the annoying habit of vacuum cleaning his apartment every Sunday between 8am and 9am, a time at which Makishima would really love to be asleep. Knowing they were just too different to ever get along, Makishima had blown off every one of the other’s attempts at conversation and generally tried to avoid running into him.

“Merry Christmas!” His neighbour beamed at him, but Makishima only stared back with a grumpy expression.

“It’s only the 24th.”

“And it’s evening, isn’t it? So it’s Christmas Eve!”

Makishima sighed. He didn’t want to have such a pointless argument. “Fine. Christmas. Can I help you with something?” Maybe he just wanted to borrow something and Makishima could get this over with really quick if he handed it over or didn’t have it either.

“Yes! Or well, actually, it’s more like I’ll be helping you!” Makishima stared blankly at his neighbour. He… really didn’t need any help…? But the guy smiled at him with utmost confidence. “You see, I work from home a lot, so I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t leave your house a lot, and nobody ever comes to visit you either. And, worst of all, you order takeout almost every day! That’s terrible for your health! So, since nobody should be alone on Christmas, and you could definitely use some fresh, healthy food, I’ve decided to invite you over! What do you say?”

“Actually, I’m still working, and there’s a lot that I still have to do…” That wasn’t a lie, and it seemed like a great way to turn his neighbour down without being too rude. He had half a mind to call him out on knowing way too much about Makishima’s habits, like some kind of stalker, but it was a fact that their kitchen windows both faced in the direction of the walkway to their apartment complex. If he spent time in his kitchen regularly, he was bound to see the deliveries Makishima got. And notice the lack of people coming over. Even Makishima couldn’t help but notice that Toudou had lots of people coming to visit him. Mostly pretty girls. He’d seen some of them multiple times as well, and silently wondered if one of them was his neighbour’s girlfriend. Especially since they sometimes stayed the night. Not that he cared, of course, but it was fun to imagine there was some kind of drama going on there, like a love triangle or his neighbour secretly having multiple girlfriends at once.

“Nonsense!” His neighbour’s shrill voice startled him out of his thoughts. “It’s Christmas! Nobody should be working unless it’s absolutely necessary. And you need to take regular breaks anyway. I can sweeten the deal for you too, how about we bake Christmas cookies together, and when we’re done, you can take some home with you.”

“You’re not letting me get out of this, are you?”

“Nope!”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Toudou Jinpachi. And you could’ve known, I introduced myself to you before, right after you moved in!”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t care enough to remember it.”

That made Toudou pout, but it didn’t make him leave or retract his offer. With his last resort plan of being rude having failed as well, Makishima resigned himself to his fate. He wasn’t one to turn down an excuse to procrastinate or an offer of free food anyway, and this was both in one. So even if Toudou gave him a headache in the process, it might still be worth it in the end.

“Fine. Just let me save my stuff, I’ll be over in five minutes.”

Toudou left with a beaming smile on his face. Sighing, Makishima went to turn off his pc, and then to brush his hair and put on some decent clothes. This was probably going to be awkward regardless of what he did, but he didn’t need to add to that by looking like he just fell out of bed. Toudou always looked flawless, the difference would just be too great.

Only when he rang Toudou’s doorbell a little bit over five minutes later did it dawn on him that he could’ve just not gone over. Well, too late now.

Toudou opened the door within seconds, eagerly inviting him inside and directing him towards the kitchen, as if his apartment didn’t have the exact same layout as Makishima’s own. All the appliances you might need for baking were already spread out on the kitchen table, so Toudou had probably planned to do it from the start. Everything else was meticulously cleaned and stowed away properly. Somehow, Makishima didn’t doubt Toudou’s kitchen always looked like this, completely opposite to his own.

“Maybe now is a good time to mention that I’ve never baked anything before.” Makishima could cook some easy meals, but all he’d ever used his oven for was baking finished stuff like pizza or lasagne. He wasn’t a big enough fan of sweets to make them for himself, and for most of his life, he could just get all the baked goods he ever wanted from Tadokoro’s bakery. Nothing he could ever make himself would live up to that, anyway.

“No problem! Anyone can bake with a recipe, and the cookies we’re making aren’t all that difficult. Besides, I’m a fantastic baker, so you can just ask me if there’s anything you don’t understand or need help with. Back home, we made these with the neighbourhood children, and they always turned out great, so I know it’s foolproof.”

Great, so if he fucked up, he was officially worse than a bunch of children.

“Alright, so what do we do first?”

“Gotta measure and mix all the ingredients for the dough. You can start with the flour.” Toudou handed him a jar filled with flour – who the hell kept their flour in a jar instead of just using the bag it came with? – and weirdly shaped transparent cup with all kinds of writing on it. On closer inspection, those turned out to be measurements. It had litre, which was to be expected, but also various common baking ingredients like sugar and flour, measured in gram. Makishima had no idea something like this existed. Fascinated, he began shovelling flour into the cup. Because of course there was a designated spoon to do just that in the jar.

Once he had 250g, like Toudou had told him, he looked around. “Do you have a bowl for this?”

“No, just pour it on the table. That’s what all the space is for. Just make a nice little mountain and then make a small crater on the top, like a volcano.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” He snatched the recipe book from Toudou’s hands and looked at the instructions himself. To his surprise, the recipe did essentially say what Toudou had said, even if it didn’t use the word volcano. The recipe had also been altered with a pen and there were annotations all over. Maybe Toudou really knew what he was doing? Makishima had sort of assumed he was just bragging when he said he was a fantastic baker. Then again, the recipe book looked like it might be older than Toudou himself, so maybe this had been passed down to him like this.

Ignoring Toudou’s smug grin, Makishima made the flour volcano. Then they proceeded to add all the other ingredients. Sugar, vanilla sugar, rum, cinnamon, clove and whip cream that hadn’t been whipped yet. The dry ingredients were put on the sides of the volcano, while the fluid ones were poured into the crater. Makishima had to admit that it was a smart way to keep them in one place without a bowl.

Lastly, Makishima was delegated to cutting butter into slices and putting them onto the sides, while Toudou carefully cracked an egg and dripped the white part into the volcano crater. The yellow part went into another cup and was put aside. Glancing at the recipe, he could see that they’d use it later. He also noticed Toudou had left the eggs on the counter the entire time, unlike all the other ingredients, and hadn’t asked him whether he wanted to do the butter or the egg. So he probably wasn’t trusted to cleanly separate the egg. Toudou really was treating this like baking with the neighbourhood kids. Sure, he’d said he couldn’t bake, but it was kind of annoying that Toudou seemed to think of this as some kind of community service. Just because his friends lived either in Chiba or in England and therefore didn’t often come to visit him didn’t mean that he didn’t have any. He wasn’t lonely. Definitely not lonely enough to need his neighbour to take pity on him and spend time with him just because of some holiday.

Makishima pushed those thoughts down. He was starting to actually have fun, more thanks to the baking than to Toudou, so it was better to just focus on that. If he cut up the butter with more fervour than strictly necessary after Toudou had mixed the liquid ingredients with flour, that was just him having fun and being thorough.

At least, Toudou was pleased that he was so motivated. Kneading the dough was next. Makishima wasn’t sure he was doing it right, the flour was all over the place and pieces of butter kept sticking to his fingers and the whole thing just didn’t look like dough, but Toudou told him to keep going while he started on dinner prep, and to tell him if his arms got tired or he thought he was done.

Silence fell over the room. Just as Makishima was starting to feel weird about it and wondered whether he should initiate conversation somehow, Toudou started talking on his own. About how he’d made these cookies with his mother as a kid, and then later with the neighbourhood kids, who were much more excited than Makishima but much less helpful, and about his high school friends who’d been over yesterday and had eaten all the cookies, even the ones he’d stashed away to bring home to his family – “leave it to Shinkai to find any and all food in the house and devour it without asking and then still complain there’s not enough.”

Makishima just let it wash over him, grateful that he didn’t have to do any talking himself. Half his concentration was focused on the dough, which still didn’t look like dough. Had he even made progress at all? It kept falling apart, and too much of it still just looked like pure flour that just wouldn’t stick to the rest of it. Maybe he was doing something wrong? His arms were starting to hurt, too.

When Toudou asked him how it was going, all he could do was shrug. “I don’t think I did anything, to be honest…”

Toudou poked the dough. “No, you definitely made some progress! But it’s taking longer than I thought…” Then, out of the blue, Toudou grabbed his hand. It felt slightly weird with the flour and butter of the dough still sticking to Makishima’s hand, but Toudou’s hand was warm and soft, and Makishima could feel a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

Before he could do anything except panic internally, Toudou frowned. “Your hands are way too cold, no wonder this is going so slow. Let me take over for a bit, and if you wanna do the finishing touches, wash your hands with warm water right before so they’re nice and warm.”

Makishima nodded, and yanked his hand back from Toudou with just a little too much force. After washing his hands to get rid of everything that stuck to it, he settled against the kitchen counter. Toudou picked up the conversation again, elaborating on his earlier story about his friends. But this time, Makishima didn’t have anything to do, so he just watched Toudou work.

He was kneading the dough expertly, like Makishima had seen in passing in Tadokoro’s bakery. The dough was still crumbling beneath his fingers though.

Makishima let his gaze wander higher, up Toudou’s surprisingly toned arms to where the tips of his silky black hair brushed against his shoulders. Makishima might have admitted that the headband on top was a practical choice for baking, but he knew Toudou always wore one, so he probably just liked the silly things and just got lucky it served a purpose for once. But then, Makishima wasn’t in any position to say something against outlandish fashion choices, so finally, he settled his gaze on Toudou’s face. His lips were constantly moving, forming themselves around an endless array of words that Makishima was paying less and less attention to. Toudou’s purple eyes were alive with emotion, excitement and affection and annoyance, and Makishima couldn’t help but wonder how they’d look fixated on him, even more intense emotions swirling in them, emotions you wouldn’t show towards your friends…

“Alright!”

Makishima was startled out of his thoughts and immediately chastised himself for ogling Toudou so openly. This was still the annoying guy who woke up early and probably had multiple girlfriends! Makishima had already known he was also annoyingly handsome, no need to act so desperate.

“Now it’s almost done, so you can do the rest, Maki-chan!”

He turned away, using the excuse to wash his hands with warm water like Toudou had suggested before to hide his embarrassment. Then he realized what Toudou had said. “Maki-chan, really? What’s that supposed to be?”

“Your nickname, obviously! You’re already in my kitchen and baking with me, so no need to be formal, right? You can give me one too!”

“…Headband, then.”

“Hey!” Toudou pouted, making Makishima laugh.

“What? You’re wearing one every time I see you.”

“Well, yeah! It’s one of my distinguishing features, to bring out my natural beauty! But you still can’t call me that because… because Arakita already does! Yeah! It’s his nickname for me! Too bad, but it’s already taken!”

That didn’t sound convincing, but Makishima just shrugged. “Your name will have to do then, Toudou.”

Makishima focused back on the dough, ignoring Toudou’s sputtering. It was finally looking like dough, only a few pieces of butter where still not properly mixed with the rest. Maybe he should have paid attention to see how that change was possible instead of staring at Toudou’s face.

Five minutes later, they deemed the dough to be finished, and Toudou wrapped it in plastic foil and placed it in the fridge. “Now we have to wait about half an hour, but there’s still plenty to do! You can start by taking the trays out of the oven and setting it to 175° so it starts heating up. And then you can smear some butter on the trays. I’ll clean up what we don’t need anymore and finish dinner prep so we just have to heat everything up once we’re done.”

Makishima followed the instructions, but unsurprisingly, he was done way before Toudou. So he stood around awkwardly, knowing he couldn’t really be a help with what Toudou was doing. He didn’t know where anything in Toudou’s kitchen was supposed to be, and a quick glance over to the counter with dinner confirmed he had no idea what was going on there either. He couldn’t even name half the vegetables that were spread out, much less guess what to do with them.

Thankfully, Toudou started talking again. “So, while I’m working, why don’t you tell me something about yourself? I’ve only been talking about myself the entire time!”

He honestly sounded like he had just now noticed that. And here Makishima had thought he was trying to be helpful after he’d realized Makishima didn’t really know what to say. Instead, he was just dense. Or he liked talking about himself too much. Possibly both.

“Uhhhhhhh… like what?”

“Anything! Like what you do for a living. Or something about your family. Where are you from? Do you have siblings?”

“Um, yeah. I work as a fashion designer for the Japanese branch of my older brother’s brand.”

Toudou turned to look at him, giving him a once-over. “A fashion-designer?”

Ah. There it was. The disbelieving, disapproving tone of voice he always got. It wasn’t like he’d expected anything else from standard-beauty Toudou. Barely anyone understood his work. “What? Got a problem with that?” he shot back, more annoyed than he’d thought he’d be.

“No!” Toudou brought his arms up defensively. “I just wasn’t expecting it, even though it totally makes sense with how you dress! Like, I’ve never seen anyone wear anything like your wardrobe! It’s creative, and it makes you stand out!”

Uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Makishima couldn’t help but notice that Toudou hadn’t said anything necessarily positive about his style, and he knew Toudou probably still thought it was ugly, but at least he’d been sort of polite and honest about it. That was more than what Makishima usually got. He’d take it.

“So, what about you?”

Toudou looked at him, confused.

“What do you do for a living? Are you a chef or something? Can’t say I know anything about cooking but that-“ he gestured vaguely towards all the ingredients and tools spread on the counter “-looks kind of professional.”

“You think so?” Toudou beamed. “I’m a nutritionist, though. But my family owns a ryokan – Toudou-an, the best ryokan in all of Hakone, with perfect service and relaxing hot springs, you should come visit some time, I’ll give you a discount! What was I about to say? Oh yeah, I learned how to cook from my mom and the professional chefs there from a young age, so my skills are top-notch!”

Makishima decided to ignore the obvious bragging and exaggerated advertisement. “So you’re a nutritionist, but you’re still making sweets? Aren’t they unhealthy? I distinctly remember that we added twice the amount of sugar than what the recipe originally said, too.”

“Yes? There’s nothing wrong with eating sweets. And if you’re gonna put in so much effort anyway, they might as well actually be sweet and not just bland like in the original recipe. Two tablespoons of sugar is no problem, especially not spread across multiple people on multiple days. People always act like sugar is totally evil, but in truth, it’s healthy as long as you eat it in the right doses, mixed with plenty of other stuff.”

It dawned on Makishima that he’d made a mistake. It had only been ten minutes since the dough was put in the fridge. Twenty more to go. They were filled completely with Toudou ranting about all the misconceptions people had about proper nutrition. Makishima didn’t care at all, he honestly knew that his diet was unhealthy but he just didn’t want to make any effort to better it. But Toudou talked over any attempt of him to change the subject, to Makishima resigned himself to his fate.

Finally, twenty minutes later, the dough saved him. Toudou cut it in half and rolled it out on the table, telling Makishima to pay attention so he could do it with the other half of the dough once they were done with the first part.

Then, Toudou emptied a bag of cookie cutters on the table. “I don’t want to have to wash all of these, so I thought we’d just use the Christmas-y ones, but if you like one or two of the others, we can use those too.”

Toudou started sorting out which ones were Christmas themed – a star, a Christmas tree, a shooting star, an angel, a reindeer – while Makishima looked over the others. In the end, he chose a hippo, because why not, and a bat, because it’d be great to have a Christmas cookie in the shape of Halloween’s symbol. Toudou added a flower as his own personal not-Christmas choice, then put all the other ones away.

Cutting out the cookies turned out to be quite fun, especially once he copied Toudou’s technique to press down the cutter with his flat palm and then wiggle it around a bit to properly separate the cookie from the rest of the dough without damaging it. Besides, Toudou had stopped talking and made an adorably concentrated face as he tried to figure out how to best get all the different shapes to fit together so the least amount of dough would be left over.

Makishima got to mash those leftovers back together and mix them with the second half of the dough while Toudou put their cookies on the oven tray. They had to be decorated before they could be baked though, so that half had to wait. Instead, Makishima finally got to use the yellow part of the egg that had been left over earlier. He painted the cookies with it, using a brush specifically meant for baking, something else he’d never even heard of and definitely didn’t possess. Toudou spread sugar crystals on the cookies, which took much longer than painting the cookies, especially since he had to pick any crystal that fell off a cookie back up so it wouldn’t get baked to the tray. Makishima helped him once he was done, carefully grabbing the crystals out of the bowl Toudou had placed between them.

It was honestly kind of tedious, and Makishima had a hard time not being hyper-aware of the fact that his fingers brushed against Toudou’s every so often.

Once they were done, the cookies were placed in the oven for about 10-15 minutes. Toudou pulled up the second tray, and it was rinse and repeat with the second half of the dough. The only difference was the leftover part, which Toudou rolled into a sausage shape and then cut into circles.

They didn’t quite finish the second tray before the first one was done baking, but Makishima just kept going with the sugar while Toudou pulled the hot cookies out of the oven.

Once the second tray was in, Toudou quickly pulled up pots and pans to start cooking their dinner. Again, Makishima could do nothing but watch. Toudou eventually noticed he was just standing around awkwardly and showed him where to find bowls and chopsticks so he could fill them with rice once the rice cooker was done and carry them over to the coffee table in the living room. Toudou didn’t seem too happy to be eating there instead of in the kitchen – less space, less comfortable and a floor that was harder to clean – but the kitchen table was still dirty and full of baking utensils.

Makishima filled the bowls once the rice cooker beeped to announce it was done, then carried them over to the living room. He took the time to look around a bit instead of going straight back. As expected, Toudou’s apartment was clean even outside the kitchen, but there were plenty of personal items strewn around the room. The walls were decorated with copies of famous Japanese paintings, along with some calligraphy. There was also a giant photo of a traditional house, which the sign over the door identified as Toudou-an. He had to admit, it did look nice.

Below it, plenty of photos of Toudou were put on display on a dresser. Makishima saw him in two different school uniforms, and with what had to be his family at a shrine, and even with the girls Makishima sometimes saw when they came to visit. His theory of the secret multiple girlfriends fell through with this, as they all seemed to know each other. Still, Makishima couldn’t help but notice that Toudou was always surrounded by people, and always vary obviously actively trying to be in the middle of the photo and striking a pose. He really couldn’t fathom why a guy like that had developed enough of an interest in him of all people to invite him over. And on what he declared to be Christmas, too.

He was still mulling it over when Toudou arrived with the rest of their food, but forgot about it for a moment, busy appreciating the luxurious dinner spread before him. Alongside the rice, there was miso soup, two different vegetable dishes – one hot, one cold, and he really should try and learn what these were – and fried fish. When was the last time he’d had rice with more than two side dishes? It must’ve been when he was still living at home, and even then, he often had western food.

It all tasted great, too. When Toudou excitedly asked how it was, all he answered with was “Fine.” He didn’t want to inflate his obviously already large ego any more, but Toudou ignored his effort, taking it as a compliment and proceeding to detail just how great he was for making it.

In turn, Makishima ignored him, instead focusing on the food. Only when most of it was gone did he remember what he’d been thinking about before. He just didn’t understand what Toudou was trying to do.

“Why did you invite me over?” Maybe he could figure it out even if Toudou didn’t answer with the entire truth.

“I already told you, didn’t I? You shouldn’t be alone on Christmas. I just wanted to be nice, and I think it worked out great.”

Well, it had gone much better than Makishima expected, but he still didn’t see why Toudou wouldn’t rather spend time with his friends or family.

“Ah. You just didn’t want to be alone on Christmas yourself. For some reason, you’re not home in Hakone, and your friends were already here yesterday, probably because they’re going home for Christmas. The only one left is the neighbour who never leaves his apartment or has anyone over. I see how it is now.”

“T-that’s not how it is at all!” But Toudou didn’t provide any other explanation, so it probably was exactly like that. Somehow, Makishima liked it way better than Toudou pitying him.

“So, why aren’t you home?”

“Because I’m scheduled to work on the 26th already, and it’s not worth it to go back home for two days in the middle of holiday season while everyone is incredibly busy and I get more time off during New Years anyway, so I’ll be home then. But I’m still not lonely!”

“Sure.”

“Sheesh, is it really that hard to believe I thought you looked like an interesting guy and it’d be a waste if you stayed holed up all by yourself, when you could also be at least my friend?”

Makishima could feel a blush creeping back onto his cheeks. Interesting? At least his friend? “That’s. That’s not what you said so far.”

At least Toudou looked just as embarrassed about it as Makishima felt. But he didn’t respond, and that wasn’t good for Makishima’s thoughts who wanted to spread out in every direction this could possibly lead to. It was just weirdly phrased. He needed to say something. Change the topic. Crush any hope in his dumb gay heart before it got away again.

“Uh, you know, I wanted to ask this for a while now, but which one of these girls that always come to visit you is your girlfriend?” There. That should do it. A smooth change of topic that could simultaneously clear everything up. Makishima was a little proud of himself for finding the right thing to say for once.

“What? None of them. They’re my friends from college. Almost exclusively girls only because nutrition is the kind of subject way more girls than guys major in. We’re still pretty close even after graduating, but it’s purely platonic. I’m pretty good at making friends only with girls who don’t want to date me even when most girls do. So I never have to turn down anyone I actually care about and make things awkward because I’m just not interested.”

Just not interested? Just not interested? In what? A relationship? Romance in general? Sex? Girls?

He’d been wrong. This was not helping. This was making things worse. He should stop saying things forever. Just go home. They were done eating and baking anyway maybe he could excuse himself to get back to work.

Before he could decide, Toudou got up without a word and started taking their dishes back to the kitchen. Just when Makishima wondered if he should get up and help or not and which one Toudou would consider rude, Toudou came back with a plate of the cookies they’d made.

He placed them in front of Makishima with a grin. “Some sweets for the sweet guy?”

“Was. Was that a pickup line?” Makishima burst out laughing. Toudou had said something so stupid with such confidence, there was no way he could not laugh.

“Hey, stop laughing, Maki-chan! It was perfectly smooth and relevant to the situation!”

“It was terrible. No wonder you’re single.” Makishima still had trouble breathing, wheezing between sentences and breaking out into giggles again when he was done talking. Until his brain caught up to what was happening. “Wait, so it was a pickup line? An actual, genuine one?”

“What else would it be?” There was a definite blush on Toudou’s cheeks as well now. He sounded like a petulant child, but maybe that was just how he got when he was embarrassed.

Makishima shrugged. “How would I know? Maybe you’re just a weird guy who says weird things.” He took one of the cookies, biting off the angel’s head. It really was sweet, and the soft cookie with the crunchy sugar on top was a good combination.

“These are good though, I should definitely take some home with me. Absolutely worth it talking to some weird guy for these. Maybe I’ll even talk to him again if he makes me dinner again. Or actually, maybe just letting me sit in this room will be enough, because I do need to work on something traditional and this is a much more fitting environment than my own home.”

Toudou just gawked at him, and even Makishima couldn’t really believe what he just said. Since when was he confident enough to invite himself over into the apartment of a handsome guy who was making advances on him?

“Uh… yeah, sure. You can come here tomorrow and work on your stuff. Or anytime when I’m not working. I can make dinner too?”

Yeah, Makishima definitely liked flustered Toudou. This was shaping up to be really fun. Sadly, with how the conversation was going, he’d probably have to leave soon, but he’d be back tomorrow.

When he had a nice box of cookies packed and Toudou brought him to the door to see him off, Makishima suddenly leaned forward and said “See you tomorrow then, Jinpachi” right into Toudou’s ear. The poor guy couldn’t even answer before Makishima left.

Toudou may have initiated whatever game it was they were playing, but round one definitely went to Makishima.

#toumaki advent calendar 2018 #submission #toumaki #evvazi #evietan

10 notes · View notes

justasmallbloginabigklainefandom · 6 years

Text

Rec This Thing: Troye Sivan Bloom Tour AFAS Live

Troye Sivan Bloom Tour AFAS Live

My story: I had Panic! and Hayley booked, and I said to myself: “oh man, if only Troye would come to the Netherlands”. AND HE DID.

Story: It’s a concert.

Rating (1 to 10): 9

Why?: Man, I had a fucking blast.

Together with Sammy and Alex, I travelled to Amsterdam once again. The queue was fucking long, but we didn’t want to queue anyway. Instead we had Japanese food and entered the venue around... idk... 19:00?

We all bought t-shirts. I bought a lila one with Troye’s face on it.

We also ran into Maikel. We knew he was going to be there, but he was going with his uni friends. Still, it was nice to catch up.

I also took my brand new ace flag with me and Sammy had her bi flag. Alex was a bit sad, because she didn’t have a flag, BUT FEAR NOT, SINCE I ALSO HAD MY RAINBOW FLAG WITH ME. After using those flags to make a make-shift changing room (long story), we had a lil photoshoot with the flags.

The crowd was, just like Hayley’s crowd, GAY. Just one big bowl of GAAAAY. Just like at Hayley’s concert, there were rainbow and glitter everywhere. Alex regretted not coming to Hayley’s concert, since being in such a crowd just feels fucking amazing.

One thing I also liked is that people from all ages came here. On my way home, I heard some middle-aged men (end 30s, begin 40s, I guess) talk about the show and in the venue, we saw three older men, who must’ve been around 60-70 with their grey hair and ear protection. Alex called them silver foxes. It just makes me happy to see how the older generation gets to experience this.

We got inside and we had the highest balcony seats. Leland started his set. He was the opening act. During the set, Alex decided she wanted to go to the floor, where people could stand. She did and she joined Maikel.

Sammy and I joined them during the break between Leland and Troye. We didn’t have the best view, but I could still see him from the side. See my video of HEAVEN to find out where I stood. I saw Troye, but unfortunately, only when he was front stage. I couldn’t see the set or the band.

Now, Troye was sick. He had a sore troat and probably a huge cold. He apologised for sounding croaky (he didn’t!) and he asked all of us to sing along to fill up the void I guess. (jk). Because of that, he played a short show, so not the full set. He cut 5 songs. Some kind soul put most of the show on YouTube here (well, apart from FOOLS, WILD and Dance To This).

After Leland, the curtain rose and Troye opened with

Seventeen - During the song, the curtain rose fully, revealing his entire stage. It was wonderful seeing him and I think Maikel burst into tears. Again.

Bloom - The crowd roared. Troye was just jumping around and dancing. Man, I love watching this guy dance.

Plum - This song is one of my favourites of the album, so I was really glad to hear him sing it. It sounds even better live. Cold who? I don’t know her!

HEAVEN - I don’t want to film, but there’s one song that I wanted on video, namely HEAVEN. Troye started by telling people that this was about his coming out and the uncertainty that he felt after he realised that he was gay. Now, this song came on a moment where someone close to me had said some quite homophobic things due to their religion, so this song felt really fitting. At one point, the audience started screaming and I saw that there were rainbow lights. Since I was on the side, I couldn’t see them in full glory, but boy, it was great.

FOOLS - Apart from WILD, YOUTH, HEAVEN and for him., I am admittedly not that well-known with Blue Neighbourhood, so it took me a moment to recongise the song.

Lucky Strike - Ah yes, Lucky Strike is one of my favourite songs from Bloom.

WILD/i’m so tired... - Troye stared by saying that this song was going to fucking kill the audience. So far, we’d been somewhat idle, but not anymore. WILD started playing, and to make it better, it slowly transitioned into i’m so tired..., which was fucking amazing. I love that song and I was hoping he’d play it.

Then, Troye left to change into a different outfit and he continued with

BITE - Woopsie. I don’t like this song. I mean, it was still nice to listen to and Troye killed it, but eh.

Dance To This - Troye wanted to see us dance, so he did Dance To This, with the female singer that sang Betty Who’s part in HEAVEN singing Ariana Grande’s part, and boy, people were dancing. This kid next to me fucking lost it and he sang along at the top of his lungs. Honestly, it was a bit much and it made me miss church.

YOUTH - After staging his own encore, Troye sang YOUTH, which was amazing.

My My My! - ENCORE TIME! Troye ended with My My My! which is my favourite song. He added some kinds of dance breaks and confetti was everywhere, which I saw coming, since I was standing close to the confetti canons. My fucking god. What a show. Please come back with the full set and I’ll be there!

And that’s how it ended. The train station was crowded afterwards and Alex joked that there should be a headline saying “GAYS TAKE OVER AMSTERDAM BIJLMER”. On my way home, I saw those four men and also the person who caught the setlist, which is amazing. It was a wonderful night.

Recommend?: YEAH

#lb 2019 #rtt: concert #rec this thing #troye sivan #troye adam

2 notes · View notes

littleredroseonthevalley · 6 years

Text

Dejame

Summary: Wildest Dreams sequel. In the wake of Nathan’s wedding, Emily decided to pick up and leave the city. So many miles away, at a bar on a border town, will she find someone new?

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Notes: Here we are. Two-hundred followers, which is 199 more than I originally expected. Thanks to all of you, and a special thanks to @wickedgypsymoon, who joined the rank as my two-hundredth. Thank you!

Let’s get to business, shall we?

The inspiration for this fanfic is Dejame, from the Argentinean pop band Miranda! Yes, they style themselves with the exclamation. As this is a Latin American song, I placed a few references to the continent, and Argentina in particular, throughout the story. So, yeah, that’s where those are from.

Without further ado, enjoy.

It was sometime around three in the morning, in some lonely highway, right on the state line between New Hampshire and Maine. From the side of the road, it was possible to see the summer moon reflected on the calm waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

Emily was deadbeat tired, driving non-stop ever since she crossed the Martha’s Vineyard ferry. Her initial intent was to return to her shitty apartment in Boston, but when she got to the injunction, she just drove past, kept going north.

Finally, she reached Portsmouth, NH and ran out of gasoline. As the nearest station she could find already closed for the night, she decided to go over to a small pub that seemed to be open and running, still.

As she crosses into the threshold, she notices why: there was an ocean of men in navy blue Air Force suits, merrily shouting and singing drunken songs with long neck bottles of beer.

The thought of it being a private event did cross the redhead’s mind, but she dismissed it. She was much too tired, and depressed, to leave without even trying to argue a case favourable for her getting something to drink.

So the still-finely-dressed woman slithered her way through the heavy mountains of muscles that passed as soldiers, mostly inconspicuously. Reaching the bar, she raises a finger and the barman slugs tiredly over to her.

“A Bud, if you still have one.” She asks.

The middle-aged man bends down, places a bottle in front of her, and says, rather snotty: “There you go.”

“Thanks.” The woman gives him a weak smile, out of sympathy. “What’s going on here?”

“It’s the air base in town.” He says, gruff. “They’re going out on summer leave and come here for a last hurrah before heading home. Last call’s been hours ago and there’s nothing that gets them outta here! Anyways, if you need anything else, just call.”

“Thanks.” She smiles once more. “I’m sorry for all the rowdiness.”

He gives her an acknowledging nod and walks over to yet another customer demanding booze.

The clock goes on, while she admires the little bubbles and the cold fog on the muddy-coloured glass of the bottle. She does not know how long it been, until such time a man slides on the stool next to her.

“Hello.” He greets, amicably. He was tall and blond, as muscular as any of the men in the perimeter are, but with a naiveté of sorts on his light blue eyes, something that screamed boy-next-door.

“Hey.” She greets back.

“You’re not from around here.” He stated, clearly not meaning it as a question.

She smirks slightly with the question, amused. “What gave it away? The accent? The dress? Those stupid clasps on my head?”

He shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. Just that you’re kinda crashing our party, and the locals try to avoid the military people.”

The woman could not help but laugh softly. “Coulda fooled me. But, anyways, I’m from Michigan, originally, but I live in Boston these days.”

“The Great Mitten!” He exclaims, well humoured. “Detroit?”

“Grand Rapids.” She corrects, and then asks, “Yourself?”

“Not a local, either, but I’m closer to home than you.” His grin shines on the dim lighting of the bar. “I’m from Cherryfield, Maine. A stone throw from Canada.”

“Cool.” She responds, not really knowing what to say. “You got anyone waiting for you over there?”

“You mean, like a girlfriend or something?” The blond asks, capisciously. “No, I’m a single man. Though, my mom’s still up there. I’m going over there to see her in the morning.”

“And your dad? Out of the picture?” She asks, bluntly.

The man did not seem to mind. “Yeah. He walked on us when I was little. And how about you? What’s waiting for you in Michigan?”

“A mother, and a bunch of busybody aunts and their harlot daughters.” She responds with a grimace. “I also don’t have a dad, though mine died when I was little.”

“Only child?” He follows up.

She nods. “Yup. You?”

“Two siblings.” He responds, with some wear. “AJ’s at San Francisco. She’s a freelance visual novel artist. And there’s Kyle. He’s a surfer.”

“Aren’t you guys from Maine?” The redhead asks, legitimately confused how a surfer could rail from such a chilly place.

“He moved to Hawaii for college.” It was the simple answer. Trying, and failing, to disguise his discomfort, the man asks: “I’ve just realized we never introduced ourselves.”

“Then by all means.” She extended him her hand. “I’m Emily Harper.”

“I’m Christopher Powell, but you can call me Chris.” He took her hand in his much larger one. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise.” She checked the sleeves of his shirt and salutes him slop and mockingly. “Captain Powell.”

“At ease, Cadet Harper.” He responds, in equal humour. “So, what brings you to New Hampshire?”

“Aw, man.” Emily says, self-depreciating. “How long do you have?”

The dirty-blond-haired man looked at his watch. “My bus leaves at five, so I’d say about one hour and a half.”

“Let’s hope it’s time enough, right?” She winked and threw him a smirk.

He chuckles. “That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.” The woman says, in all seriousness. “Well, it all began last New Year’s…”

And so, Emily told Chris everything that had happened between her fateful encounter with Nathan Sterling to her crashing his wedding earlier that night. The man listened patiently to her tale, making appropriate interruptions for comments and elucidations.

“Now I’m not sure what exactly I want to do with my life. I’m pretty sure I don’t have a job anymore. I don’t want to go back to Boston, never liked it, really, but I’m on the fence about Michigan, too. Perhaps I need somewhere new, to start fresh, you know?” She finishes the tale. Checking the clock, she cheerily says, “Looks like I wasted exactly one hour and fifteen minutes of your life.”

“I had fun.” He says, earnest. “Deployed life doesn’t allow for good conversation, and you’re a good storyteller. I’m hung up on every word.”

The redhead laughs, self-conscious. “Don’t flatter me.”

He raised his arms in rendition. “I’m telling the truth. In fact, I want to make you a deal.”

“Hm?” The woman nods for him to proceed.

“Cherryfield isn’t far. It’s a few hours on the U.S. 1. Why don’t you take me there on your car? I’ll pay for your gas, and you get to be somewhere you’ve never been before. If, by the time we arrive, you decide to go back to Boston or to Michigan, I’ll help you out, too.”

She let out a wide grin. “Let’s do it.”

It was a fair weather day in Maine. The sun shone, and people could walk the sinuous and forested streets of Cherryfield with sleeveless tops and open shoes, and most preferred such, so they would soak in the rare sunlight that shone on that part of the world.

Emily sat alone with a book on her lap on the lonely red brick house that served as that little New English town’s library.

Ever since the last librarian’s retirement, some six months earlier, the place had been closed. It was an understatement to say the town council had been only too glad to have a Northwestern English graduate like Emily to take the job.

The pay was not anything to be proud of, but it came with a small loft and utilities paid. As long as it paid for the food, clothing and a health insurance, it was more than good enough.

That afternoon had been quiet, as usual. The only visitors she had up so far was a couple of schoolchildren looking for help on their summer assignments and a lady after her book club’s weekly title.

It left her plenty of time for leisure reading, cleaning and organizing the dusty shelves of the library and, most importantly, for her poetry writing. It was the greatest progress she made ever since moving to Boston, and certainly her new material was of a higher quality than whatever she had written since college.

On that particular part of day, the redhead had put on some music on her phone while she cleaned and repaired a pair of shelves on the far back of the library, which held several volumes in Maine history, as much so as the books were mostly history themselves.

“Déjame que te comparta, todo que lo siento dentro de mi alma.” She sang along the lyrics when the front door’s bell rung, signalling the arrival of a patron.

It was Chris, and he held a salad bowl neatly wrapped. “Hey, Emily.” He greets with a wide smile. “Nice show you’re having there.”

She smirked. “Glad you like it.”

“What is it, though? Never heard it before.”

A sad smile ran through Emily’s features quickly, before she supresses it and responds: “It’s Argentinian pop music. I grew up on a minority neighbourhood in Grand Rapids.”

“Argentina, huh? That’s nice.” He attacks her from behind, placing his hands on her waist, turning her facing him dead in the eye and dipping her very low, on a quasi-90º angle. “Land of romance. And tango.”

She laughs and slaps his arm. “Let me go, Casanova! Sneakers and t-shirts are hardly tango-appropriate.”

The man lets his ‘dance partner’ stand up straight and, with a wicked turn of lips, says: “Well, I think the one thing we were short of was a rose.”

“Those are usually provided by the gentleman.” The girl makes a slight swirl with her hand on her red hair and then continues, “What brings Captain Powell to my humble establishment?”

He held up the bowl. “I come bearing gifts. I’m starting to think my mom likes you better than me.”

“You brought me into your home.” She shrugs. “You should’ve had thought it through beforehand. It was pretty clear I’d steal your family and murder you from day one.”

“Of course, a grave oversight on my part. Please be kind when chopping my body into pieces before dumping me into the river.”

“I’ll think about it.” She winks. “What’s on the menu?”

“It’s chicken alfredo. She’s been testing that cookbook you got her. I don’t know whether to thank you or damn you.” He taps his still-hard-rock stomach for emphasis.

The woman rolls her clear eyes. “If ya gaining weight, it’s you who is lazing around. Go for a run, for Christ’s sakes! The weather is mighty nice for it.”

“I would, but it’s oh, so boring on my own.” He complains. “Would you like to come with? You didn’t see anything on Maine yet except from the town hall, the library and my house.”

She fishes a piece of chicken and plops it into her mouth before responding: “I thought that was it.”

“Very funny, big city girl.” Chris teases. “Come on, tomorrow morning?”

“Fine, but if you rush ahead on your big, G.I. Joe calves, I am taking away your library card.” She points an accusing finger at him. “And I’ll have a mighty good time slashing it into pieces.”

Chris takes a deep breath, filling his expansive lungs with the clean air of the Northeast. Smiling with the placidity of the taiga forestry, he stops for a moment so he could enjoy the feeling of being home, a feeling yet not made redundant by the two weeks he already spent at Cherryfield.

He was thrown back into what he was presently doing when a strained, woman’s voice called from down the trail.

“Oh, God!” She complains. “How long did you say until we reach the top again?”

“We’re close. It’s just after those trees.” He points to a pair of pines a few steps in front of him. “C’mon, Emily, it’s just a teeny, tiny hill.”

“What does the military feed you?” The woman wonders, rather bitterly. “I can’t. I really can’t! If I take another step, my foot is going to fall off.”

“We��ve walked greater distances over the week.” The blond points out.

Emily huffs. “I remember I whined quite a lot in all of those occasions. Something on the lines of ‘how a man who spends most of his time piloting an aircraft isn’t a fat slob’, perhaps?”

The man chuckles. “Yeah, how could I forget?”

“Go, Chris, go on without me!” She dramatically plops on the overgrowth. “Finish your hike, walk away into the sunset! I’ll be fine here with my calluses for company.”

Chris rolled his eyes and walks over to the girl. He kneels down and says: “Hop on.”

“What?” She shot him a puzzled look.

“Hop on.” He repeats. “We’re so close, I’m not letting you give up now.”

“You can’t carry me!” Her pitch rises in disbelief.

“We’re going to have to see about that, ain’t we?” He grinned, cockily. “I’m not going to drop you. Scout’s honour.”

“Were you a scout?”

“Not really, but I’m on the Air Force. Big-ass jet planes should trump needlework and pinecone arts and crafts, right?”

She looked wearily at him once more, and finally complied wordlessly. Chris smirked and navigated through the last leg of the trail until the forest clears into a small cliff that overlooked Millbridge and Narraguagus Bay.

The late-morning sun shone on the ocean water, reflecting placidly on the dark azure wideness. The small town on the seaside was far from bustling, as it was Sunday, but the stillness made it seem like a model train station underneath a Christmas tree.

Chris places Emily down gently on a rock where she could sit up straight. The Midwestern woman, however, was marvelled with the scenery.

“Chris…” She breathes out. “This is so beautiful! How did you know it was here?”

He shrugs lightly. “This is a small town. When I was a teen, I didn’t have much to do on weekends besides hanging around the town square with the other kids, so I thought I ought to put the time into something productive, so I explored the trails on the woods around here.”

“And you never got lost?” The woman wonders.

“Nah, I had a map, and most trails are marked.” The blond man points to the path downhill. “It’s not much different from walking down a street.”

“What was like? To grow up here, I mean.”

He scoffs in good-nature. “What’s that about now?”

“I just noticed that I’ve told you all about my life back in the Midwest and all the Nathan crap but I don’t know much about your past.” She weighs. “Your mom wouldn’t show me a single embarrassing baby photo!”

“I don’t think she has any.” The man stated, a little unfazed by it all. “As for not telling you anything, I guess I don’t have many interesting stories. I never crashed a wedding, I haven’t dated a People magazine’s eligible bachelorette, nor have I moved across the country to pursue a writing career.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m not interested on what you have to say.” The redhead counters.

Chris sighs. “Fair enough. What would you like to know?”

“Everything.” Emily says, rather excitably. “What was like when you were a child? What do you like to eat? Have you ever been in love? Why have you gone into the military? Have you ever robbed a bank?”

He shook his head. “Nope, never robbed a bank, sorry to disappoint.”

“How sad.” The girl laughs it off.

“As for my childhood, well, my dad was a truck driver. He worked for a shipping company here in Millbridge.” He pointed at the compound, on the other side of town. “He was on the road a lot, so it was mainly my mom and I.”

“What ‘bout your siblings?” She wonders.

“AJ and Kyle are close in age to each other, but I was eight when AJ was born. And, anyways, my dad bailed on us when Kyle was seven months old, so I guess it’s been mom and I for most of it.”

“How old were you when your dad left?” Emily asks, on a low, tactful voice.

“A little over ten.” He responds, grim.

“That’s rough.” She says with a sad smile on her face and a comforting hand on his arm. “My dad died while I was in college and it was hard enough. It must been terrible to lose yours so young.”

“Not really.” The blond says, chilly. “He was just this guy who would stop by once every two months. He was never there. I know this sounds rather terrible, but I didn’t miss him all that much when he was gone.”

The redhead woman smiles kindly at him. “You don’t have to feel sorry about that, you know? If your dad was lousy, then you’re not obliged to miss him. I wish your dad were a good man and that he stayed, but that’s because I wanted for you to have that experience, not that just because the man is your father, he’s any less of a dick.”

Chris gave her a thin, constrained smile in recognition. “Thanks, Emily. Anyways, where were we?”

“You were telling me about your rebellious years.” She shot him a lopsided smirk, full of mirth and wickedness.

The blond scoffed. “I had no such thing. High school and I was more of the dorky wallflower. The basement of the social totem, wallflower.”

“I have trouble believing that.” She states. “In fact, I see three pairs of muscle right about now further my point.”

He snorted. “That’s the work of the military. Well, that and a part-time I took junior year. Up until then, I was thin and scrawny.”

The redhead laughs and throws back her head. “Fine, whatever you say, Mr. Wet Dream.”

“I’m serious!” The Air Force official defended, his pitch a little high due to the stifling laughter that resonated through the otherwise silent forest.

“You also didn’t tell me anything juicy.” A thin, pale finger pokes him on the tip of the nose. “Tell me ‘bout your girlfriends, and make it saucy.”

“I only had one. Sorry to disappoint.” He responded.

“Tell me about her.” The librarian nudges.

He had a nostalgic smile on his face. “Her name was Nicole. She was the head cheerleader and my boss’ granddaughter.”

“The Geek and the Princess?” Emily scoffed. “How MTV-esque.”

“I have to admit it’s kind of a cliché, yeah.” He nods, slightly humoured. “We dated throughout our senior year. Come summer, though, she broke up with me. She was heading to Orono for college and I was to stay in Cherryfield, I was no football star or super genius to have a scholarship and I couldn’t afford tuition.

“She said college would be a new experience for her and she didn’t want to string me along.” He could not contain a pained grimace. “I know, though, that the truth is that she didn’t want to be with someone who was going nowhere in life. The following week, I enlisted on the Air Force, and that’s that.”

“What. A bitch.” Emily deadpanned. “Where’s her now? Please tell me she flunked out and has to flip burgers for a living.”

Chris shook his head. “Nothing like that. She met a guy from Presque Isle freshman year, really nice sort. Last I heard, they’re engaged to be married.”

“Twenty dollars say he’s gay.” Her eyes glinted on nastiness. “Nicole’s a beard, I’m sure of it.”

“You don’t even know the guy.” He points out.

She shrugs. “Don’t need to. If he’s willing to swear in front of the community, a minister and God to spend forever and then some with Nicole, either he’s retarded or gay.”

“Whatever you say.” He smirks at her. “Anyways, I’m starving. What you packed for lunch?”

“Oh, right! Pass me my backpack.” She said and the man complied. “Straight from Latin America, another devious concoction of mine to make you fat. Tres Leches cake!”

Emily stood in the middle of Augusta bus station with a tickle on the side of her clear right eye, the spot where a tear threatened to form and spill through her cheek.

The place was busy and loud, an expected scene on a summer Sunday, as people leave the vacationing bliss of Maine for their own grey, stressful lives in the south.

“Thanks again for driving me here, Emily.” Chris said, with the pitiful attempt of a cheerful smile. It ended up looking more like a grimace.

“No problem. I wanted to say goodbye here rather than back in Cherryfield.” She rubs her eye softly.

After a rather long leave, some twenty-something days, Chris was summoned again at the base in New Hampshire, and Emily drove him to Augusta, where the military had set up a bus, serving the enlisted from northern Maine. Having finished his pilot training the month before, he was to be sent into combat.

After a rather long moment of silence, Emily says: “God, I hate those things.”

“Goodbyes?” He asks, kindly.

She nods. “And geopolitics.”

“Geopolitics?” He asks, confused.

The young woman shrugs. “What I’m blaming over the fact you’re going to war.”

The blond chuckled softly. “I’m not going to war. I’m shuffling soldiers between Ramstein and Bagram. I won’t be seeing much action, it’s more like a very exclusive airline.”

The woman huffs. “Well, excuse me for worrying about you. I promise you it won’t happen again.”

Chris let out a vociferous laughter. “Don’t be offended. I’m even a little flattered with your concern, but don’t waste energy on it. I’m going to be fine.”

The young redhead cannot help herself but to let out a sigh. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He smiled confidently. “So much so, I’m willing to give you a keepsake, so that I’ll have to come back to get it.”

“Are we really going to do that? Because if you die anyway, I’m throwing whatever you give me in the river out of spite.” She nudges an accusing finger on his toned, stone-hard chest.

The blond smiles. “Yes, we are doing it, and please cooperate. You’re ruining the mood.”

He takes a step towards the young woman, places a calloused finger softly under her chin, and bobs her head upwards. With the shiny green on his eyes peering deep into hers, he closes the distance between their faces and gives her one of those toe-twirling kisses you see at the end of a romantic comedy movie.

However, it is fair to say, it was not the end of a movie. They usually end at a rekindling of a relationship, a meeting on a busy airport or at a ‘Happily Ever After’-kind of wedding.

This was nothing of that.

Much the opposite. This was a separation, and that tone peered from the edges of that kiss. Which, despite being very much pleasurable for both parties involved, lost a nickel of its glamour, its momentum.

Nevertheless, the two of them broke apart breathless. Chris seized the silent moment of his companion and says: “Emily, being with you this last month was one of the best times of my life. You make me feel like I could do anything, like I mattered more than anybody else in the world. I love that feeling, I love being with you, and I could very well see myself falling in love with you in the future.”

At a first moment, Emily’s lips were pressed together on a thin line of incredulity and appraisal. As he went on, it gradually dissolved into a smile, and finally, on a scandalous laughter.

It wasn’t the reaction Chris expected, and his face turned into a grimace. Then, the young woman pressed her hands on each side of his face and kissed him sloppily.

“Oh, God, that was so cheesy! I loved it!” She said and kissed him again. “I can see myself loving you in the future, too.”

He chuckled. “Good. But don’t laugh next time I tell you I like you. It’s not much of an ego boost.”

She smirked. “Duly noted, sweetheart.”

Afterwards, the joyful mood dissolved back into melancholy when Emily hugged the man’s broad frame as tight her puny arms could hold him.

“I’m going to miss you.” She whispered against his chest.

“I’m going to miss you, too.” He whispered back.

With that, they break apart and Chris walks over to his bus. As he boarded, he takes a last look behind and there she was, red hair and short stature, looking teary-eyed at his retreating frame.

She waves at him, which he responded with a small, rather depressive show of hands.

He will come back, of that much he was certain. What was still left to be undecided was how much it would pain him until he does.

The snow fell softly yet constantly over the small town of Cherryfield, Maine, forming a thick white carpet over the land and the houses.

It was Christmas night. Late enough for most children to be asleep, dreaming about the visit of Santa Claus, while parents spread the gifts under the tree and gorged on cookies and milk.

On a red brick house, near the school and the town hall, Emily sat alone, nursing a cup of hot cocoa. She gazed through the window, admiring the falling of snow from the sky.

She peered at her open laptop on her bed. She wanted to check and see if Chris had sent her something that night.

The two of them had been communicating via e-mail, mainly, ever since he was deployed overseas. But as of late, their exchange was spotty at best. The last message she received was about a week ago and it concerned her. She knew internet connection in Afghanistan was hardly worth mentioning, but the man had said that he would send word whenever he was in Germany.

That must not have been happening often as of late, must it?

She sighed one last time and reached for the computer to turn it off. There was nothing new in there, and it was depressing enough to spend Christmas alone, on the internet was sticking a little too far.

Her puny salary, even lower than what she made at the shipping company, was not enough for a plane ticket to Michigan. Some families in town had invited her to spend the night with them, but she did not want to impose on family time. She could pick on the leftovers in the morning.

As for Barbara Powell, her none-the-wiser mother-in-law, she went on a cross-country trip to San Francisco to see AJ and Kyle, last Emily heard.

She did not talk often with the older woman, funny enough. Mrs. Powell hardly ever came by the library, and Emily never seemed to find the woman at home when she swung by.

The redhead finished her tea and was about to cover herself for the night when she hears a loud banging noise coming from downstairs.

Cherryfield was as tranquil as one can expect from such a town, but Emily was from a rather rough neighbourhood in Grand Rapids and was wary of urban violence. A stint in Roxbury did not help, either. Not to mention, for a girl alone at night, any loud noise was enough to throw reason out the window.

She picked up a curtain rod she swore she would be putting up for weeks now and starts making her way downstairs, careful not to make any sound. Skipping the creaking last step, she sees him.

A large, dark figure was by the wide-open backdoor. He had a considerable amount of melting snow pooled on the floor by his boots and was fumbling with the door, having his back against Emily.

Thinking it to be her chance, she runs forward to hit him with the rod, all in the while shouting, “GET OUT OF HERE, YOU PERVERT!”

“What the hell!” He winces in pain, trying to protect the injured ear with one hand while turning on the lights using the other.

Emily drops the rod. “Oh my God, Chris! What are you doing?!”

“Trying to make a romantic surprise, that’s what!” He complains, between groans of pain. “Why did you hit me with a stick?”

“I thought you were a burglar or something!” She shouts back, still high on the adrenaline.

“What kind of person tries to rob a library, Emily?!”

“I don’t know! I panicked, I’m sorry!” She walks over him and checks his wound by moving his hand away from his ear. “Does it hurt?”

“Not so much.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, I should have known better. Looking back, it does sound pretty stupid to break into a single girl’s apartment.”

She smiled, in spite of the situation. “But I’m not single.”

“You’re not?” The blond’s voice raises a pitch.

“Nope.” The girl shook her head emphatically. “I have a very handsome, very kind boyfriend who’s kinda slow sometimes, but I’m very glad to see him, nonetheless.”

Chris grinned, wide enough for one to wonder if his face was going to crack. “Well, I’m pretty sure he’s very happy to see you, too.”

“Good.” Emily kissed his cheek. “Now let’s get you to bed, you feel too cold.”

He swept her off her feet. “Lead the way.”

Taglist: @alicars; @boneandfur; @choicesfannatalie; @emerald-bijou; @kennaxval; @liam-rhys; @liamxs-world; @lizeboredom; @mfackenthal; @mrsdrakewalkerblog; @radiantrosemary; @topsyturvy-dream

#the junior #chris powell #nathan sterling

27 notes · View notes