#but i already have a whole semester of work dumped into this thing so neither my advisor nor myself wants me to tear it apart and start fro

[thelaststarfalling]

just once i'd like to complete one (1) bigger project that i can actually be proud of

[wh6res]

three's a crowd | nomin

synopsis. picking favorites is impossible when you like neither of them.

warning. read at your own risk. abuse, bullying, poly relationship, yandere themes, manipulation, nonconsensual touching, noncon, degradation, smut threesome oop

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think jaemin or jeno would act like this in real life.

note. this was meant to be a new year's gift lmao i obviously got a lil carried away 👀 anyway a late happy new year to you all! we survived 2020, let's start living in 2021, yeah? lmao if covid lets us grr mwah!

the relationship you had with the two of them was a weird one, bordering on taboo, but it wasn't as if you willfully chose to be who they wanted you to be and it took jaemin's unwanted pining and jeno's intimidating demeanor for you to fall right into their arms.

it was a joint effort on their part, you couldn't've possibly stood a chance.

"this many?" the cashier asked. "are you sure?"

stepping back and studying the whole situation, you figured you only had your addiction to caffeine and procrastination to blame. it was a chain reaction you didn't even know will lead up to your inevitable doom.

if you hadn't been slacking off during your first semester of junior year college, you wouldn't be forced to overwork yourself trying to catch up to the looming deadlines, but to be able to 'work yourself to the bone' you need your boost of energy… and that was when you met one of them.

"uhm," you scratch the back of your head sheepishly as you eye the six glass bottles of iced coffee. sure, it looks bad and you kinda appreciate the look of concern the cashier throws your way but it was none of his business.

"yes. now could you, like, you know… hurry up? i'm in a little bit of a time crunch right now."

screw it. although you hardly snap like that with other people on a daily basis, it'll be a whole different conversation if you were under a significant amount of stress and today, unfortunately, is one of those days.

now can he just fucking stop asking questions and give you your six bottles of death drink to keep your fucking brain going so you can pass an eight-page essay tomorrow? thank you very much!

the guy snickered, the beeping sound of a barcode being read sounding a thousand times more annoying than it usually sounds as he keeps his hand busy by punching your items out.

you fail to notice how he studies you through the gaps of his lashes, finding you interesting rather than threatening as you stood before him with your messy hair and oversized hoodie.

"haven't seen you around university grounds 'till today," he tries striking another conversation with you. "you new? i'm jaemin."

this was your first mistake, you shouldn't have been so… downright rude when you met him. if you were granted the miracle of meeting him a 2nd time, you would've acted more nice, throwing yourself at his feet even to blend in with the rest of his fangirls you didn't even know about at the time. you would've done anything to make sure he never gives you a second glance, to never pique his interest.

jaemin is the pep squad captain. flying over colored blue mats and doing tumblings in the air with no ounce of fear. he was the best in his team, that much was evident when your friend dragged you into watching a pep rally practice. his landings were clean, balanced, and executed to the best he can at all times.

no wonder he was popular, his talent is outstanding and his looks are a bonus. his killer combo of a smile and wink after pulling off a tough flip is enough to send them squealing in their seats.

he spotted you that day and since then, he snuck the quickest glances at the bench during practices. recognizing you as the coffee girl he met during his convenience store shift. jaemin tries not to let his disappointment show too much when he doesn't see you, but of course, a pair of cold calculating eyes could see right through him.

"i saw that," his boyfriend said, hand darting forward to hold jaemin's gym bag for him. "you kept looking at the crowd. do you want to see her that much?"

"but she reminds me so much of you, jeno!" he retorts, pouting at the slight grumpy tone the other boy used. "i can't help it. she doesn't seem to give a fuck around me so she's quite interesting. maybe she can even be a great addition to our relationship!"

"well," jeno replies after a beat of silence, plastering a small smirk on his face before slinging an arm around jaemin's shoulder.

"convince me?"

you don't like jaemin's attention. not in the slightest. and it seems that was enough reason for the reign of terror his little fanclub has subjected you too.

it wasn't the petty elementary forms of bullying like pulling at your hair or calling you names. they pale in comparison to the other things they do to you—beating you up, messing with your homework, "accidentally" dumping their food trays on you.

and you weren't stupid.

you knew exactly who was behind it, knew how jaemin spectates the whole thing from afar so that he can swoop in at the end to play your knight in shining armor.

"oh, you poor thing. do you need help?"

the first time you accepted his "help" you ended up in a supply closet near the gym during your free period, cornered and weak as your cries for help drowns under the squeaking of shoes and the booming sounds of rubber balls hitting the floor.

if it weren't for jeno appearing out of thin air and prying the boy off of you, you would've been painted blue and red from the death grip he had on your wrist, neck, and waist.

you can still remember feeling the soreness of your scalp from when he pulled your hair too hard. remembered feeling his teeth gnawing at your lips as if he wanted to tear them off.

that time hadn't been the first time you saw jeno. you've shared a few classes with him and it strikes you how polar opposites they are with one another.

while jaemin likes to bask in his professor and classmates' recognition by confidently reciting his answers, jeno would rather keep to himself. liked sitting at the last row, near the window, so he'd be the first to go once the professor ends their lecture. while jaemin loved the attention of his fangirls, jeno preferred solitude. while jaemin is impulsive and wild, jeno liked to think things through.

it was within these reasons that you decided to do what you did. but your judgement of character has never been more wrong.

you approached jeno one day in the library, tried to make yourself appear as stoic and confident as possible. but your constant slouching and averting eyes was a dead giveaway.

you came to talk to him about what jaemin has been doing, hoping there's one person left in this entire school that isn't under the cheer captain's trance. the one reasonable person that has already saved you once and (hopefully) is willing enough to save you again. the only one that probably has a certain level of control over jaemin, if the supply closet incident is anything to go by.

but you've overestimated lee jeno.

"you should've just given jaemin what he wanted."

"but—but aren't you two lovers? isn't it bothering you?"

you try baiting him, only for an uncomfortable shiver to start crawling down your spine when he chuckled humorlessly, pushing his school materials to the side while pinning you with an unreadable stare.

how can a person make someone feel so small just by a gaze alone? it was nothing like you've felt with jaemin. this is way worse.

"the only thing that's bothering me is why you're not ours yet."

you feel cold fingers creeping their way under your shirt, going higher and higher until it brushes against your bra. and when your eyes meet, the look on his face was unmistakable—what are you going to do about it, huh?

you stood up in lightning speed, the chair you've been sitting on scraping loudly against the floor.

you've never ran out as fast as you did.

and jeno swears it'll be the last.

you tried everything in your power to ignore them for the next following weeks but it soon became useless when the two boys took it upon themselves to give you your space.

although judging by the pinpricks you feel on your back, and the constant weight of a stare you feel on your shoulders, you knew they weren't done with you yet. far from it. and for some reason, you just knew they wanted to lull you into a false sense of security first before striking again.

and while they continued to ogle at you from afar like a hawk circling its prey in a desert, you took it upon yourself to return the favor. not because you were the slightest bit interested in those creeps but maybe, just maybe, if you look hard enough you'll find a way out, a weakness.

but what you realized made your insides churn in great discomfort—although it may seem that jeno holds the reins in the relationship since his reserved nature fits the role, it's actually the other way around.

jaemin might appear too self-centered, too focused on himself to give a fuck about his surroundings but in actuality, he has quite a knack for reading people. even more so than jeno. and it was scary how he used it to his advantage, and paired up with his devoted fangirls? it was hell on earth.

you found it alarming how the two seem to magically appear wherever you are.

although you weren't in the least bit surprised. for some reason, you can't take your eyes away when jaemin's devotees flock around him (and jeno) in a circle.

it almost reminds you of a shoal of piranhas, waiting for their meal to drop into the water before ripping it to shreds with their teeth. only their "meal" isn't actual flesh but the carefully crafted words jaemin says that drive them into a sick frenzy.

one that has them doing everything in their power to satisfy him like the loyal dogs they are.

so this was how he got them to bully you?

"oh, that? don't worry! yangyang just ran into me during cheer rehearsal. no biggie. my cheek stung a little bit, though…" is what he said but really he's telling them "scruff him up a bit for me, why don't ya?"

"of course, i can't be the best all the time. haechan is just too good, maybe even better than me…" is what he said but really he's telling them "can you remind him where his place should be?"

all the while jeno did nothing to hold him back.

no matter how wrong jaemin is, how much of an asshole he is, jeno will stick by his side through and through. so as much as jaemin is a puppeteer that gets a kick for controlling people, jeno is as much at fault for looking the other way.

because in jeno's perspective, why the fuck would he do shit when he can just get off from the entertainment that comes with jaemin's sweet little mind games?

we lost :(

you had been busy sorting through paperwork for one of your professors in the faculty when your friend texted you the results of the intercollegiate cheer dance competition. a frown paints your face, heart feeling heavy at the bad news.

in all honesty, you still supported the pep squad—you just hated the captain and his boyfriend. they've been practicing non-stop for this and prior to the weeks of the competition, jeno looked a lot more tense and jaemin less smiley than usual. you swore you even saw the latter snap at one of his fangirls.

not to mention, they paid less attention to you, too, and it was the best three weeks of your life.

tension starts rising in your shoulders, fingers absentmindedly running through the edge of the papers you had been sorting until you became immersed with your thoughts.

jaemin must be in the worst mood yet.

and jeno too, probably. if anything, that guy gets triggered the most when something bad happens to jaemin or when he catches snippets of people talking shit about his oh so "perfect" boyfriend.

jeno is a lot scarier when jaemin is in one of his mood swings, you noticed. he steps up in the relationship to offer comfort to the other boy and for outsiders? it isn't a great experience to go through—being on the receiving end of jeno's ice cold stare is a position you don't want to find yourself in after that time in the library.

he is still as much a threat to your peaceful life like his lover.

you snap out of it when the blinding headlights of a vehicle seep through the closed blinds. you hear the gentle hum of an engine switching off as the headlights vanished as quick as they had appeared. that must be the cheer squad's bus.

as you look around the empty faculty room, something in your gut tells you to ditch file sorting duty for professor kim tonight and fucking get the hell out of campus grounds as quick as you can.

after haphazardly throwing the unsorted papers back into the cabinet, you groan aloud when the keys to the office drop out of your skirt’s pocket.

the indoor gym where the cheering squad practices is right across the hallway. you sure as hell don't want to bump into jaemin. or jeno, too, if he had decided to ride along the cheer squad's bus on the way home.

you kept looking for the keys underneath the cubicles, cursing aloud when you heard the telltale squeaks of shoes rubbing against linoleum. you almost hit your head against a table when you quickly got back up your feet, darting forward to shut the lights for the faculty room.

they can't know you're here. alone. and if it meant sitting in the dark for a few hours 'till they leave, meant going back home a little later than usual is what you have to do then so be it.

you try not to react so violently when the door you're leaning on jolts when someone from outside slams their back against it.

"it's not like we didn't do our best, right guys? i don't have regrets. it might sound fucking cheesy and although i'm sad myself, atleast we did what we can."

it's jaemin. his voice clear as day.

you try peaking, craning your neck up from your place on the floor. only to see the back of his head leaning against the glass section of the door. someone else joins in on the conversation, followed by coach park himself, and you slowly tune out whatever they're saying as you stealthily start scanning the faculty room.

you curse under your breath. is there no other exit other than this door? jesus christ! even classrooms in this university had two doors—

"what are you doing here?"

the switch flickers on, basking the once dark room with light. only when you hear an echo of your name being called, did you snap out of it and quickly picked yourself up from the floor.

"i said, what are you doing here?"

their coach asks, drilling the question as he looks at you skeptically with his arms crossed. you try not to look at the people behind him.

particularly, not at his cheer captain standing on his right.

particularly, not at jeno, who stands out like a sore thumb with his blue hair, a protective arm snaked around jaemin’s shoulders.

this isn't your lucky day, too, you guess.

"i was…" you cursed yourself for stuttering. "i was, uhm, i was file sorting for prof—professor kim, sir."

coach park looked like he didn't believe you as he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. your nerves are going haywire and you can feel the sharp pins of their stare with how close they are.

you kept juggling your weight with the balls of your feet, hands fisting and unfisting behind your back. you want to leave. you have to leave.

"file sorting… in the dark?" he asked incredulously.

fuck this.

"uhm, you can ask professor kim himself tomorrow, coach. for now, uh, i'll be going now. i'm sorry you guys lost…"

originally, the exit is on the right side, at the end of the hallway. but no, you are not going to pass by those two while on your way out so you ducked behind a random student standing on the coach's left instead and practically ran away from the scene.

everyone had been too busy. too busy looking at your retreating form to even notice jaemin and jeno exchanging glances, too busy to notice the latter untangling himself from their captain to slip away unnoticed, his hurried steps filled with a burning purpose.

you didn't know why you ran, but you did. your shoes practically booming against the floor as you sped away through darkened hallways. you're sweating profusely, heart hammering in your chest. you can worry about professor kim tomorrow but right now you just had to—

"why are you in such a rush, pet?"

crashing into jeno felt like crashing into a wall. if it hadn't been for his arm quickly wrapping around your waist, then you would've landed on your butt before him.

with the small distance between the two of you, jeno could see as clear as day through your eyes.

jaemin was right.

it was addicting to stare into them.

especially when he can see every single one of your thoughts flying through your pretty little head. but hey, it wasn't their fault you were so easy to read.

jeno barely conceals the wicked smirk on his lips when your hands come up to his chest, trying to push him away but to no avail.

he can see your eyes shifting from shock, to confusion, until it finally settles on fear—to which it's slowly becoming a favorite emotion of his to see on your face.

"you know, jaemin is in a really shitty mood right now. and we were wondering, maybe you can cheer us up?"

no. this can't be happening.

"jeno, please." your dilated eyes and disheveled hair made his blood run south. "let me go. you don't want me. you don't need a third party in your relationship."

you yelp when he lets you go, literally shoving you against a wall—which you found out is actually a door, as it swings open as soon as your body crashes against it.

with jeno looming unforgivingly before you in his full height, the tears stung extra hard but you won't let them fall.

if he wanted to bask in the image of your weakness then it'll be something you'll deprive from him for as long as you can.

"i don't need a stupid bitch like you to tell me what i feel." he scoffs. "don't fucking kid yourself, you little whore—i don't want you. i'm not jaemin."

the echo of the classroom door shutting closed surged through you like a wake up call.

this is really happening.

you've always led a decent life, had done nothing too questionable and you've always thought maybe life will spare you if you lived quietly enough. but the feel of jeno's freezing hands crawling against your skin felt like life itself had spat at you in the eye and left you to rot in a ditch.

"i've always liked how you wore skirts," he comments. playing with the ruffled hem of the soft fabric as he purposely grazed his knuckles against your supple thighs. "gives me easy access, don't you agree?"

you scream when he flips your skirt up to reveal the innocent pink of your cotton panties. it was as if a switch had flipped inside of you and the will to fight started coursing through your veins.

"stop! jeno! i don't want this!"

his brows furrow, grunting as he struggles to push the waistline of your skirt up higher with how much you're thrashing underneath him. you buck your hips, tried curling in on yourself, anything to prolong what he wants to do to you.

with your legs trapped underneath his, you blindly reach forward, relying on your upper body instead to push and scratch whatever your palms and nails reached.

you continue screaming like a banshee until he shoved two fingers into your wet cavern.

"stop fighting me," he sounded strained, as if he's holding himself back. you feel him fisting the fabric of your skirt and you fear he's simply going to rip it apart.

you tried responding to him, only the sound had been muffled, gurgled by the flat of his fingers pushing down against your tongue mercilessly. when you reach forward to push him away, your hands land on the apple of his cheeks, nails digging through skin.

until it slips and—

you lie rigid when red scratch marks in the size of your fingernails slowly appear on jeno's skin, his head turned to the side as he paused. your actions slowly start sinking in to him as he shuts his eyes and bit his lip 'till it looked like it was about to bleed.

oh no.

"jeno—"

the slap he planted on your cheek left your ears ringing. all those hard earned muscles of his put to good use—if the tears hadn't fallen for the last few minutes, then it definitely started falling now.

the hit had been so strong, a few of your hair flew astray, the buzzing feeling of your skin tempting you to reach a hand up to soothe your abused cheek.

until jeno let out a low growl and your hand immediately drops limp against your body, afraid of whatever else he can do to you other than a slap.

"that's more like it," he whispers under his breath. you let out the tiniest of whimpers when his hand darts forward to fist your hair. "do you know what happens to bad girls? they fucking get busted up. do you understand me?"

his patience is nonexistent.

jeno slams your head against the floor when you don't answer because you thought his question had been rhetorical. it felt like your skull had been split in two as you wail in pain.

"are you fucking deaf—i asked you a fucking question!"

the hand that cups your jaw is painful as he squeezed your cheek with his blunt nails. your hand shoots up to wrap around his wrist, silently pleading for him to let up as you sobbed out loud. you started nodding as best as you can despite his firm grip on your face.

your reply was nothing short of pathetic. with lips forcefully pursed and the steady stream of your tears and snot rolling down your face, your response is gargled and hardly incoherent and jeno seemed to thoroughly enjoy your anguish if the condescending curl on his lips is anything to go by.

"look at you," he whispers, his face coming close to yours as he holds you down. there was something in the way jeno stared so intently that it made your skin crawl.

"i think you're prettiest when ruined like this."

with his nose touching yours, he felt too close, bordering on intimate as you felt his hand creep back up your thighs, trailing up with feather-like touches that made goosebumps appear on your skin.

you tried wiggling your legs underneath him but one sharp look from jeno is enough to make you stop.

the hand holding your face moves. coming down from gripping your face to encircling his hand around your neck.

"do you like it when i touch you? freaky bitch."

his hands trail further up, up, up until you felt him slotting a finger underneath your panties.

jeno didn't like how frozen you were underneath him as he pulls at the hem before letting go. the elastic snapping back against your skin.

the action evokes a strong feeling through the young male, promising to have you writhing and screaming and begging because by the end of all this, you'll be so needy and frustrated that you will have no choice but to give in to what your body wanted.

"jeno, didn't i tell you to play nice?"

someone stands by the door, the minimal light from the hallway creating a silhouette with his form but you knew who he was. that deep voice, with the same annoying flippant tone, is a dead giveaway.

you didn't know why you even hoped in the beginning. as if there'll be someone who can save you from these two.

you thought the flash of hurt in your eyes was quick to disappear but jeno noticed it quicker.

in a span of seconds, he pulled you up from your position from the ground and tugged you towards his lap. you haven't even gotten the time to settle on your new position when he already smashed his lips against yours.

it was messy. too much saliva. too much teeth. no tenderness to it at all.

the fabric of his jeans felt rough, not to mention the ice cold belt buckle made you severely uncomfortable as it seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

when you attempt to hover over his lap, jeno grunts as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back down without your lips breaking away from each other. you didn't know why he let out a whine, but you understood the moment you fully sat down on his lap and you felt a tent on his jeans hitting your clothed entrance perfectly.

in a normal circumstance, you would've found everything hot and might've actually gotten off from it but not when it's him who’s doing this to you and you didn’t consent to any of this.

you start squirming again. palms lying flat against jeno's chest as you attempt to push him away and jaemin sees this as the opportune moment to slot himself behind you, caging you in between them.

“i want my turn,” he hisses and without an ounce of hesitation, jeno stops to do what he's told.

jaemin doesn't waste any second to grab your face, awkwardly craning your neck up to meet his lips in the same feverish kiss.

while jeno had been all teeth and aggression, practically forcing you to open your mouth and kiss him back, jaemin on the other hand is more soft, more romantic, you daresay. he seemed to like taking his sweet time by clutching your face, kissing you like he actually meant it.

he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours as he murmurs something incoherent under his breath and then he's kissing you again.

you think you heard something along the lines of, "finally."

you've been too distracted by jaemin to notice jeno's nimble fingers quickly fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. it was only when you feel the sensation of his tongue laving against the swell of your breast did you turn away from jaemin, jerking backward in surprise.

"no—!"

your scream is cut off by a hand cupping your mouth. jaemin pulls your back towards his chest, molding your body against his as jeno licked and suckled all he wanted, thankful to have the other boy there to not worry about restraining you and keeping you quiet while he has his fun.

"ah, ah, ah," jaemin teases, going hard over the pleading and teary look you sent his way. it looked pathetic, he wasn't going to lie, but it doesn't mean he didn't love it. "just keep still and appreciate jeno's efforts to take care of you, alright baby?"

you don't like how he talked as if this was all a mutual thing, how he talked slowly like you were some toddler who didn't understand anything.

it's cruel how jaemin giggled and basked in your vulnerable state as he kept his eyes pinned on you while undoing the zipper of your skirt. your muffled cries of his name only serving to egg him on.

the way he stared was similar to jeno, too intently and intrusive, like he wants to burn your image of despair in the back of his head.

you whined involuntarily when jeno got bored of all the licking and thus decided to start biting and nipping at your chest instead. he was hypnotised by how responsive you were, how every little bite and nibble made you shudder.

it was a shame that jaemin had to cover your mouth. he didn't get to hear your pretty mewls but it wasn't as if he'd let the night end without hearing them loud and clear.

jaemin is fast in undressing you, feeling slightly betrayed by how quick your skirt and blouse fell under his hands.

you know what he wants, what he's going to do, and the tears fall harder when you can't dodge away from him. forced to endure and accept whatever they give you.

"you act like you don't like it but look how fucking wet you are," you bit your lip hard when jaemin starts circling the pads of his fingers against your clit, fascinated by how more juices streamed down your thighs.

"jeno, do you see this? fuck."

you can only blink in defeat, staring off to the side as you force down any noise bubbling up your throat, forcing yourself to think of anything else other than what's happening right now.

you try not to think about how they managed to tear all of your clothes off while they're left completely dressed. tried not to think about the fingers lazily drawing up and down your slit to collect your essence.

if they're doing this as a way to further humiliate you, it's working.

"slut," jeno mocked, a wicked curl on his lips when he wraps his fingers around your throat. the moment he dives down to claim your lips again is the same time jaemin pushes two fingers inside you.

"look at how wet you are because of me," jaemin whispers hot against your ear and you feel a sick churn in your stomach when you feel his smile against your skin.

he purposely drives his fingers in and out quicker, settjng a brutal pace, wanting you to hear the lewd squelching sounds. "hear that? do you hear that, darling? that's because of me—"

"don't go talking big now, jaem," jeno retorts, pulling away from your lips to start nibbling on the back of your ear. "i was here first. did you see how she fucking reacted when i sucked on her tits?"

you're quick to catch how jeno particularly loved degrading you. but how he talks about you as if you're literally not in front of him naked made you hit a new all-time low.

you felt… filthy.

his hands find purchase on your butt—only because jaemin has already claimed the front. for now.

you close your eyes tight when he painfully squeezes the flesh of your ass. you swear, his blunt nails will paint your skin black and blue.

"i'm the favorite!"

"i'm the favorite!"

as someone who's part of a varsity team, you already knew a competitive nature runs through jaemin's veins. but never had you thought jeno would share the same sentiment. once again they prove that they're cut from the same cloth.

all of a sudden it wasn't all about claiming you as theirs anymore rather it was all about who can make you moan the loudest, who can make you cum the most, who can make you feel the dirtiest you can be.

you're absolutely terrified for the hours to come.

thankfully, they have yet to ask for your verbal opinion or validation. they let your body do all the talking—every repressed shudder and sharp gasp is enough.

but it's game over once they pop the million dollar question.

"who do you like best?"

you don't want to find out the consequences if you actually answered their question because you didn't know what could be worse.

jaemin's manipulation or jeno's aggression?

but it was all normal. trial and error is inevitable in order to build and mold you into the ideal lover for the both of them.

because adding someone new to the mix has never been easy—after all, three's a crowd.

[dollslayer]

Charity Case

Bucky Barnes x Reader, College AU, enemies to lovers

Summary: You loathe Bucky Barnes and his cocky attitude but you find yourself doing him a favor. Is he really as insufferable as he seems?

W/C: 3,830

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, uhhh kissing, that's it!

A/N: Here it is! My entry for @sweeterthanthis Quote Me On It 6k challenge!! My quote was "Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?" (in bold). I love the Heathers so I'm excited!! Hopefully I did this prompt justice. As always, if you liked it please reblog/comment! Cheers! I do not consent to my work being reposted/translated on any platform.

Main Masterlist

____

Steve was running late again. You try not to chew your nails off in frustration but he’s definitely testing you. This is the third time in the last two weeks that he’s late to meet you. When he hasn’t been late he’s cancelled all together. Always with a half-ass apology of ‘Bucky needs me’. As if.

You’ve been friends with Steve since your freshman year creative writing class when the only open seat was next to him. Ever since that first day you two had been close. But not as close as him and Bucky. Childhood friends attending university together, thicker than thieves.

You always felt like Bucky was maybe a little jealous of the friendship you and Steve have. Maybe you’re a little jealous too but you’re almost positive Bucky is more jealous of you than you are of him but that’s beside the point. On top of his jealousy Bucky was just annoying. He had a girlfriend but he was always flirting with every girl he met, yourself included. Not to mention he was cocky as all hell.

Steve vouches for his character, swears that it’s all an act and he’s actually very sensitive underneath but you don’t buy it for a second. If you were his girlfriend you’d have dumped him a long time ago.

You don’t have time to dwell on your annoyance too much because Steve is rushing through the doors of the coffee shop. He looks around for you and when he finally finds you the look on his face is relieved. As he gets closer it’s clear that he’d been running to get to you in time. He’s sweaty and a little out of breath and if you weren’t so annoyed with him you’d have found it endearing that he ran here.

“There you are,” he huffs out, “I’m so sorry, I was with Bucky and I lost track of time.”

You purse your lips and hand him a napkin which he takes with a gracious nod before wiping the sweat from his brow. You hand him the iced coffee you’d ordered for him too. The ice is slightly melted from sitting there but he looks so refreshed to be drinking it.

“Figures” is all you say with a huff. If he hadn’t been doing it so often you would’ve been a little kinder about it but you were just irked.

“Seriously, I’m sorry. Nat just dumped him, he's been having a hard time” Steve explained.

“Is it because he flirts with anything that moves?” You scoff.

Steve scoffs in return “He does not! He’s just… outgoing. But no, they had their own problems.” You raise one eyebrow at him. “Okay the flirting had something to do with it but there’s a lot going on there.”

“Whatever, let’s just study for this exam while we can”.

____

You and Steve spent the next two hours cramming for your midterm together. Things were going well and you’d nearly forgotten that you were mad at Steve in the first place. Nearly.

You were so deep into your notecards that you didn’t hear the door open behind you. A voice that could grate on only your nerves. A voice that if it didn’t belong to such a bastard, might even be kinda sexy. The voice breaks your focus completely when it calls out.

“Hey, Steve, are you done already or what? Oh hey, what’s up, beautiful?”

You set your notecards down on the table maybe a little harder than you should. You shoot Steve a glare because you thought it would just be the two of you. Really? You cut in before Steve can answer his friend.

“No, Bucky, he’s not. Can we help you?”

He smirks, giving you his full attention. He knows he has you now, knows you took the bait and he’s goaded you to the point of backtalk. He pulls up a chair to the table and wedges himself tightly between you and Steve. The sound of the chair legs scraping the floor as he scoots closer to you rings in your ears and makes you cringe. You look at Steve again only to find him avoiding your gaze.

“Well, sweetheart, me and Stevie boy here have plans later. Gonna do some gaming and order a pizza, really embracing the bachelor lifestyle.” He raised his eyebrows at this and you just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I heard Nat dumped your ass, actually, is that true?” You asked with a fake sweetness.

“Why, you interested?” He rebuffed.

You bristled at his quick response and muttered your annoyance under your breath. You chose not to respond. Instead you decided to address Steve.

“Steve, I didn’t realize that you had plans”

“Oh… yeah, loose plans…” He answered distractedly while pretending to be reading a text on his phone.

You decide to call it a day. You were getting seriously fed up with Steve’s passive behavior in all of this. Thankfully you didn’t have much to pack up, so once you slung your backpack over your shoulder you looked up at the pair to bid them goodnight.

“Well, Steve, this was… enlightening. Bucky, eat it. Goodnight fellas, have fun with your ‘bachelor lifestyle’” You said with air quotes. Turning on your heel you left before either could respond.

____

You had left the coffee shop that evening pretty upset with Steve. Of course it’s fine for him to have other friends but lately it was like he only cared about Bucky and all of your plans took a backseat to theirs. You decided you weren’t going to be the one to text Steve first, since he was being a bad friend. He could be the one to initiate plans.

He did just that when he caught you in the hallway after your midterm a week later. He jogged up to you once again and tugged on your sleeve to get you to stop.

“Hey, how do you think you did? Bet those notecards paid off, right?” He half-joked. He looked sheepish. Nervous almost. You figured it was because of what happened last time you met.

“Yeah, Jesus Christ! I’ve never been so grateful for little pieces of paper.” You scoffed. You decided to keep it light between you. You were still upset with him but his tone leads you to believe he was gonna apologize.

“Right?” He laughs nervously, “So listen, I know I’ve been kind of a jerk lately… Maybe we could get something to eat at Nick’s?”

Nick’s was the local greasy spoon on campus and they had the best breakfast food you’d ever had. You eyed him suspiciously but accepted.

“Alright, but you’re buying. And there better not be any visitors!” You add as you bound down the hall ahead of him. He knows you mean Bucky and he’s not worried because Bucky won’t be showing up today. He’s more nervous about what he has to ask you.

____

You’re sipping on pop as you play with your straw wrapper. You look up at Steve and notice he’s fidgeting a lot more than usual.

“What’s up? Why are you so twitchy?” You question him.

“Me? I’m not twitchy! I was just thinking that’s all” He quickly defends himself.

“Well that was the last midterm of the semester for both of us, I think it’s safe to say you can relax.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” Steve concedes quietly.

You and Steve eat in near silence, neither of you mind though because it’s comfortable. You worked on your hashbrowns when you looked up and noticed that Steve had barely touched his food. He was still fidgety, he looked nervous.

“Hey, you’ve hardly eaten anything, what’s the matter?”

He looks a little embarrassed, like he’s been caught. Or like he’s about to come clean about something.

“Look, I wanted to say sorry I know I haven’t been the best friend lately with everything going on with Bucky. He really is having a hard time since the breakup y’know… he’s lonely”

“Right” You laughed, “I’m sure he’s soo lonely.” You rolled your eyes and picked up your fork.

“No really, he just needed a friend to be there. I think he does need to get back out there though.”

“With how smooth he thinks he is, I'm sure he’ll have a date by the end of the night. I wouldn’t worry about it, Stevie.” You responded.

“I’m serious! As much of a player as he comes off he needs to be with someone he already knows. He’s actually really sensitive.” You interrupted with another laugh. There were many choice words you’d use to describe Bucky Barnes but ‘sensitive’ is not one of them.

“But anyway, I was...kinda hoping you’d do me a favor…” Steve trails off.

Based on the conversation you just had you’re cautious. You eye him warily but motion for him to continue.

“Well, like I said Buck’s having a hard time and he needs to get back out there but he doesn’t feel comfortable hooking up with a stranger. I was thinking maybe.. You guys should hang out?”

Steve refused to look at you as he finished the question. The look on your face was a look of confusion and shock.

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?” you asked in disbelief. “I mean seriously, I’m nice but not that nice.”

“Look-”

“No!” You cut him off, “You know I can’t stand that prick. Also why would I want to put myself on the long list of women he’s probably tried to fuck? I don’t buy this whole ‘sensitive’ thing for a minute.”

“I’m serious, Nat kinda crushed his heart when she left. He acts cocky but it’s a front. I just think he needs to see someone to get it out of his system. You’ve got more in common than you think. Just hang out with him once. Don’t think of it like a date, just a really really big favor. Please?” Steve begged.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “You. Owe. Me. So. Much”

“Really?” He asked hopefully.

“Really. But I’m not gonna bang him. Hard no on that” you said.

“Yeah, yeah of course! No problem! I’ll give Bucky your number!” He reached across the table and grabbed your hand. His hands were kidna clammy but you let him.

“Seriously, thank you. I know you think he’s some jerk but I promise he’s a good guy.” Steve adds, “A-and don’t think of it as like a date, even, y'know? I think honestly he could just use another friend. Think of how good it could be if we could all hang together some time?”

You shook your head and chuckled at his optimism while you stabbed another bite of your meal.

____

‘What’s up, sweetface?’ Gross.

‘Okay, sorry. Hi, how are you?’ Better.

‘I’m alright, you?’

‘Good. Steve tells me you’re a huge trivia nerd. Wanna go to Sally’s tn?’

‘It’s a date’ Shit. Didn’t mean to say that. Fuck. Quick- say something that will deflect before he responds!

‘And since it’s a date you’re paying’ That’ll have to do.

‘Ugh fine. Here’s hoping you’re a cheap date at least. I’ll meet you there at 9’

____

What do you wear for a date with someone that you despise? It’s just bar trivia so it’s nothing special but somehow the jeans and flannel you’ve been wearing all day don’t feel like they make the cut. You rip your closet apart trying to find something before you settle on black skinny jeans and your favorite sweater with some boots. Casual but not too casual.

You spend the whole walk there dreading the night ahead of you. Knowing that you wouldn’t even have Steve as a buffer between you made the whole evening seem daunting. At least you had trivia to distract you. You decide to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt tonight for Steve’s sake. You try to remember Steve’s insistence that Bucky’s a good guy and you have a lot in common. We’ll see about that.

When you arrive at the bar you find Bucky already waiting for you at a high-top table with two PBRs and a shot of brown liquid. Please don’t let that be whiskey. He sees you coming and smiles that damn-his-good-looks smile at you while patting the open chair next to him. The closer you get you even see that he got the whiteboard already for trivia.

“Please tell me that’s not Jameson or Fireball” you greet him.

He laughs a little and shakes his head. “Better - it’s Jack. Sorry, doll, but I already opened the tab. This is what we’re drinking” He nudges one of the shots closer to you and motions for you to pick it up. “Come on, we gotta start the night off right, bottoms up!”

Before you can gag at the thought of drinking whiskey you grab the glass and face him. You both knock your shots on the table before clinking them together and swallowing them in one go. You grimace at the taste and feel the warmth flow all the way down your throat. You quickly take a sip of your beer to rid yourself of the taste.

“Aww, you’re cute when you’re grossed out.” Bucky coos at you.

You’re embarrassed and annoyed but it goes away quickly.

“Shut up, Barnes”

You give him a light shove and he pretends like he’s about to fall off his stool, making you laugh. For someone that’s only ever annoyed you he’s doing a pretty bang-up job of being likeable when it’s just the two of you.

“You ready for me to carry you through some trivia?” You joked.

“Hey, now! I know...stuff” he concluded.

“Mmhmmm, I’m sure you do. Don’t worry, I’ll answer the questions and you just sit there and look pretty” you reach over to pat his face lightly with a wink.

Bucky grumbles before taking another sip of his beer.

You settle in for a long night when the host announces the first round is starting.

____

You managed to steal the first round without breaking a sweat, second round was a little rocky until it came down to you and one other couple. You knew the third round would be tricky but the way Bucky was cheering you on you were determined. To no one’s surprise Bucky had been completely useless so far but to his credit he was trying. At least he was a supportive teammate.

Things were going well until the third round was announced: Old School Videogames. You didn’t know shit about old school videogames. Or regular videogames. The extent of your video game knowledge started and ended with Mario Kart.

When the third round was announced though Bucky hit the table in excitement and cheered.

“Woo! Fuck yeah!” He pats you on the shoulder, “I got this, don’t worry. I so fuckin’ got this!”

He was a few drinks deep but he was so confident and he was your only hope so you went with it. He looked like a little kid the way he was practically giddy.

“You had better! There’s some serious prize money riding on this round.” You said in warning.

“No, no. You don’t understand that I’ve GOT this. Your turn to look pretty, not that it’s gonna be all that hard for you, sweetface” Bucky grinned at you over his beer as he took another sip.

Your cheeks felt heated and you tried your best to hide it by taking another drink yourself. Bucky’s flirting has never worked until now. Must be the alcohol.

“Shut up, Barnes” you mumble.

“Y’keep saying that but what I really think you mean is ‘I love you, Bucky you’re so strong and handsome~’” He imitated in a high pitched feminine voice.

You shoved him for real and before you could say anything else the third round was starting.

____

Bucky wasn’t kidding when he said he had this. He had won the round in a clean sweep and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t impressed. Who knew this man harbored so much videogame trivia? When the host handed you the prize money he just waggled his eyebrows as if to say See?

“I gotta hand it to you, Barnes, I had no idea you had that much videgame wisdom rolling around up there. The only videogame I ever play is Mariokart so I’d be toast without you.”

“Mariokart? That’s it?? No problem, doll. It was nice to contribute.” He chuckles at that.

You divvied the money up and handed him his half.

“Guess I’m not such a cheap date afterall, huh?”

He chuckled as he took his half from you.

“I’m gonna go pay the tab with our winnings, I’ll be back”

You picked up your phone while you waited for him to find some missed texts from Steve.

‘How’s it going?’ ‘Are you guys doing okay?’ ‘I haven’t heard anything so I’m assuming you haven’t killed each other. Have fun, text if you need a ride home.’

You almost rolled your eyes at Steve’s insistence but found yourself smiling instead. You’d text him back when you got home.

Bucky was walking up to you once more and you smiled at him slightly.

“You said you’re good at Mariokart?”

“I didn’t say I was good at Mariokart, I said that I played it. Why?”

“Well I was thinkin’ maybe we could go back to mine and I could whoop your butt”

You weren’t going to say yes but now he was goading you and you took the bait without hesitation.

“Oh, you’re on, Barnes. You’re so, so on.”

His smile grew wider when he heard your response. With that he placed his hand on your lower back and ushered you out of the bar.

____

You played two tournament cups worth of Mariokart and Bucky had indeed whooped your butt. You don’t know why you were surprised, with how much gaming he and Steve do it’s no surprise he’s a natural. You still had fun though. Just when you were about to propose a third round Bucky got up and headed to the kitchen without a word.

He came back with two glasses of water and handed you one. He sat down on the floor next to you and you set down your controller.

“Here, drink up.”

You were taken aback a bit by the kind gesture but accepted the glass just the same.

“Thank you, I might regret saying this but, you’re not so bad when you’re not being insufferable, Barnes”. You told him

He smiled and shook his head as he drank his water.

“Thanks, I guess”

“How come you can’t be like this all the time? When it’s just the two of us you’re so kind and you’re even… I don’t know, funny maybe. Why do you get all cocky whenever else I see you?”

He looked down into his glass at your comment and you watched his brows crease in thought.

“I don’t know, it just sort of… happens, whenever I’m around other people I don’t know that well. I don’t mean to be a dick or anything but it’s like I can’t help myself. People expect me to be a certain way and I can’t help but fall into it sometimes. Nat hated that about me, it’s part of the reason why she dumped me, actually”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that. And I’m sorry about the breakup, too. I know you guys were together for a while.” Bucky only shrugged at this and downed the rest of his water.

“It is what it is. I’m ready to be over it, I’m getting there slowly but surely. I gotta say, you’re not so bad either when you’re not getting all defensive and in my face. You’re actually pretty funny”

Your turn to become flustered at a personal analysis.

“Thanks, I guess I don’t mean to be so defensive either, it's just my response to most other people. I feel myself slip into it and it can’t be helped.” You explained.

Bucky nods at you, not knowing entirely what to say in response.

“I like spending time with you” He says leaning closer to you.

You swallow thickly, not sure what to make of what you feel knowing his face is so close to yours.

“I… like spending time with you too. You’re not what I thought.”

“Me neither,” he shakes his head, “You’re something else.”

With that he leans his head closer to yours and you feel yourself close your eyes and move your lips to slant perfectly into his. You’re kissing Bucky Barnes. The Bucky Barnes you can’t stand. That Bucky Barnes. You’ve decided that his tongue feels too good in your mouth to care now.

His hands come to frame your face and bring you in closer. His hands are warm and calloused but they feel like comfort. You can’t help but to melt. You moan into his mouth and it seems to spur him on. He pulls you into his lap and you let out a noise of surprise that’s muffled by his mouth on yours.

Your hands come to caress his sides and you take your time feeling every muscle and ridge. Your hands idly make their way under the hem of his shirt and his skin is just as smooth as you’d expect. He sighs into your mouth and it takes all of your strength not to fall apart right there. You feel yourself getting lightheaded and have to pull away for air. When you do you rest your forehead against his and the only sound is both of your breathing.

You finally brave a look at him and he has the softest smile on his lips.

“Sorry, doll, didn’t mean to get so carried away but I’ve been waiting for a long time to do that.”

This catches you off guard.

“You have? Wait, did you like me? But you flirt with everyone!” You explain.

“With you, I flirt with you. You just can’t stand me” he laughs out, “Nat dumped me for a couple reasons but that’s one of them she told me I needed to get my priorities straight and I gotta say, I’m thankin’ her for sayin’ it ‘cause she was right.”

You don’t know what to say or what to make of any of this. All you know is that you want to kiss him again, so you do. You grab him by the collar and pull him into you again. He lets out a startled noise but kisses you back all the same.

You don’t care what you used to think of Bucky Barnes and you don’t care about what’ll happen after today. Right now all you care about is feeling him in sync with you for the first time. You could live in this moment forever but right now will have to do.

[drabbles-mc]

One Of Them Girls (Part 2)

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

A follow-up to This Request from @lakamaa12​

Warnings: language, slight steam towards the end, Angel being?? the sweetest human

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Back by popular demand! It took me a little bit to get into the groove of a part 2 for this one but I really like how it turned out. Angel is the sweetest and he deserves the best. Hope y’all enjoy!

Angel Reyes Taglist: @mayans-sauce​ @encounterthepast​ @helli4nthus​ @lilacyennefer​ @angelreyesgirl​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @starrynite7114​ @rosieposie0624​ @queenbeered​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @mijop​ @sadeyesgf​ @xladymacbethx​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @blessedboo​ @appropriate-writers-name​ @holl2712​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @sillygoose6969​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter​ @sesamepancakes​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @georgiaaintnopeach​  @plentyoffandoms @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @garbinge​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @enjoy-the-destruction

You woke up late the next morning to the sound of your roommate clamoring around in the kitchen. You wanted to be annoyed but when you looked at the clock, your eyes went wide. It was almost noon—and you had to be at work in two hours. You let out a deep sigh as you got out of bed.

You got ready as quickly as you could, opting out of doing much of anything with your makeup and hair. It wasn’t like your manager was going to care anyway. You strode into the kitchen, immediately grabbing a travel mug from the cabinet for your coffee.

“You slept late,” Elena said with a hint of amusement in her tone, “Long night?”

You chuckled and shook your head as you dumped coffee into your mug, “Not like whatever it is that you’re thinking. He just gave me a ride home, that’s it.”

“Mhm,” she leaned back against the counter, unable to wipe the smile off of her face, “You left his hoodie hanging off the bathroom door.”

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling, “It was cold, and he let me borrow it.”

“You can say you like him, you know,” she laughed, “The ground isn’t gonna open underneath you if you say you think some guy is cute.”

You smiled but shook your head, “I gotta go—slept through my alarm,” you gathered up your purse and keys, “You got plans tonight?”

She shook her head, “Nope. You?”

“None at all,” you laughed, “I’m recovering from all the human interaction yesterday.”

“Thanks for coming. I know you didn’t really want to.”

You took a sip of your coffee, “Hate to say it, but it was actually pretty fun. So, thank you,” you chuckled, “But I’m not doing shit once I get home from work tonight. No extra human interaction for me.”

You said goodbye and took off out the door. You hadn’t even made it to work yet and you already couldn’t wait to be back home. There was one more semester between you and finishing college, and you couldn’t wait until you could actually get a full-time job that you enjoyed. You were lucky that you worked in a restaurant where your coworkers and your boss were all good people, but you couldn’t wait to be done with it.

When you came home, you were hit with a wave of heat and the scent of good food as soon as you walked through the door. Your body instantly relaxed as you kicked off your shoes and tossed your purse onto the couch. Elena watched and shook her head at you with a smile.

“Welcome home, honey,” she laughed as she grabbed plates out of the cupboard.

You laughed, “So glad I get to come home to you,” you walked into the kitchen and looked over everything that she was making, “Real talk though, thanks for taking care of dinner.”

“Think of it as my thank you for coming out with me last night.”

“Are you trying to reward me into socializing with people?”

She laughed, “Would it work?”

You looked back at the food, “…maybe.”

“Speaking of which,” she started piling food onto her plate, “Angel texted me today.”

“Everything alright?”

She waited for you to look at her again, “He asked about you.”

You already had a forkful of food in your mouth, “What about me?”

She laughed, “He was just letting me know that he had a really good time with you and wanted to see you again. I guess after the whole ass-beating comment he felt like he had to get my approval. Which…was smart of him,” she smiled.

You laughed, “Oh my god,” you shook your head, “Put the fear of god in the poor guy.”

Despite the fact that you were trying to play it off, you couldn’t deny that the fact that Angel had reached out to her about you felt good. It made you feel like he might’ve been taking the whole thing at least a little seriously. You didn’t know just how serious you were looking for things to be, but you knew you weren’t in the mood to be jerked around by anyone.

Elena must’ve seen each thought cross your face because she nudged you gently as you both walked over to the couch, “You good?”

You snapped out of it, nodding, “Yea, I’m good.”

“If you don’t wanna see him again, you don’t have to,” she took a bite of her food, “I mean I love the guys but I’d be the first to say that they aren’t for everyone.”

“No,” you shook your head, “It’s not that. It’s just, I dunno. I don’t even know what I’m up for, you know?”

She nodded, “I know. I think he might be good for you, honestly. He’s a good guy. A little impulsive sometimes,” she shook her head with a smile, “But he’s got a good heart.”

You knew that she wasn’t lying about that. You could feel that emanating from him when the two of you were sitting and talking the night before. You nodded and didn’t say anything more about it. She put a show on the television and your previous conversation fell by the wayside. It was hard not to think about it, though.

Once you were done with dinner, you hopped in the shower. You were in your room, getting ready to change into your pajamas for the night when your phone started to go off on your bed. Seeing Angel’s name flashing on the screen sent nervousness and excitement through you at the same time. You sat down on the bed still in your towel and took a deep breath before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Everything alright?”

“Yea,” he chuckled, “just wanted to make sure you really gave me the right number.”

You laughed, “For a moment I thought about playing the John Cena theme song just to give you a good scare.”

Along with his laughter you could hear a lot of voices in the background, and you assumed that he was at the clubhouse, “Your sweetness overwhelms me.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh, “Believe it or not, that’s not the first time someone has said that to me,” you paused, biting at your lip as you waited for him to say why he was calling, “Not that I don’t want to hear from you, but was there a reason you called?”

The pause that followed was unsettling, but finally you heard him take a breath, “Yea. I, uh, I just wanted to know if you’d want to go out sometime,” he paused for a moment, “With me.”

You smiled, “With you? I mean, in that case,” you let slip a quiet laugh, “I might be able to budget some time in my schedule.”

“Really?”

“Not even I am mean enough to joke about that,” you chuckled.

He laughed, “Okay. Wow. Um, okay, yea. How…how does Thursday night sound?”

“Sounds good.”

You could hear him let out a sigh of relief, “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“It’s a date,” just saying the words made you feel giddy. You were curious about one thing, though, “What made you decide to call and ask?”

His laughter had a touch of nervousness to it and you found it hard to believe that he was a man that got nervous about much of anything, “I was gonna wait a couple days so you wouldn’t think that I was a creep. Or a clinger,” he laughed for a moment, “But I, um, I couldn’t get you outta my head.”

Your entire body felt warm, “You’re sweet.”

“Sometimes,” he laughed, “Also Coco said that if I didn’t say something he would call you up and say something for me. And neither of us want that.”

You shook your head and laughed, “Right.”

There was a beat of silence, “So I’ll see you Thursday?”

“I’ll see you Thursday.”

The relief was palpable in his voice, “Alright. Have a good night, querida.”

You were thankful that he couldn’t see the cheesy grin on your face, “You too, Angel.”

You hung up the call and tossed your phone to the side as you flopped backwards onto your bed, still wrapped in your towel. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you stared up at the ceiling. You covered your face with your hands, unable to remember the last time a phone call left you feeling so giddy.

As if on cue, Elena came sliding into your room, “Did I just hear you confirm a date with Angel?” her smile stretched from ear to ear, clearly thankful for the thin walls of your apartment.

You wanted to have a witty remark but you were too busy being excited. You laughed and nodded, “You did.”

“Yes!” she ran over and tackled you in a hug on the bed, “Oh this is so exciting!”

You laughed as you felt her practically vibrating with excitement for you, “What’d I just get myself into?”

“An adventure!”

You had lived through a lot of weeks that seemed to drag on, but nothing quite like the week leading up to your date with Angel. Focusing in your classes was doable, but it wasn’t easy when you could feel your phone vibrating inside your backpack with texts from Angel. It caught you by surprise that he was able to text you and keep a conversation going all day—the two of you didn’t seem to run out of things to talk about and it was refreshing.

Your work shift on Wednesday night felt like it lasted for a lot longer than six hours. You just wanted to get the day over with already so it would finally be Thursday. In all of your conversations during the week, Angel had never let slip what the plan was for your date the following night. It was a little maddening but you also couldn’t deny that you liked the slight mystery of it all. He had done you the courtesy of letting you know that you wouldn’t have to dress up for it.

“You sure you’re not just setting me up to be super underdressed?” you asked while you talked on the phone with him Thursday afternoon.

He laughed, “That’d be funny, but I promise I’m not doing that.”

“Hmm,” you held the phone loosely in your hand while you pulled random tops out of your closet, “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“No trust,” his smile was audible.

“Don’t take it so personally,” you chuckled.

“You worry too much, querida,” he laughed, “You’ll look great no matter what. I’ll see you in a few hours, alright?”

“Alright, I’ll see you in a bit.”

The two of you said a quick goodbye and you tossed your phone aside with a sigh. Being told to wear whatever for a date felt like a trap. You had a number of shirts laid out in front of you, taking over your bed. Part of you wanted to do the unthinkable and ask Elena for fashion advice, but you weren’t sure you were ready for everything that might entail, especially if it was supposed to be casual.

You mulled over your choices for a minute too long, though. She was walking by to go to the kitchen when she saw you standing in your leggings and bra, looking over your choices. She poked her head in and cleared her throat louder than necessary.

“Can I weigh in?”

“Would me saying no even matter?”

“Nope!” she laughed as she walked over and looked at the shirts on your bed, “Where you guys going?”

You shrugged helplessly, “No clue—he won’t tell me. He just said that I could wear whatever I want, whatever I’m comfortable in. Said it’s nothing fancy,” you paused, “Should I believe him?”

She nodded, “Yea, I don’t think he’d lie about that,” she tapped her chin, seemingly deep in thought, “The red top is cute, plus it’ll look nice with the leggings.”

“Yea?”

“Yea,” she picked it up and handed it to you, “He’s gonna think you’re hot regardless of what you wear. As he should,” she chuckled.

You had to laugh as you pulled the shirt on over your head, “Thank you.”

She left you to your own devices after her initial piece of advice. You knew that you were getting ready way ahead of schedule, and that realistically all you were going to do was sit and wait and let yourself get more jittery than necessary. But now that you had started getting ready it was hard to distract yourself and kill time until Angel came to get you.

You took longer than necessary with your hair and makeup solely to try and keep yourself busy for as long as possible. Every few minutes you looked over and checked the time on your phone, each time disappointed that more time hadn’t gone by. You drummed your fingernails on the surface of your dresser, trying to think of ways to fill the remaining time before Angel showed up to pick you up.

“You can come out here and help me with laundry if you’re that bored,” you heard Elena call from the living room with a laugh, “I can hear your fingernails from here.”

You laughed but caved and made your way out to her, finding a spot on the couch next to her in the mess of unfolded, clean clothes. She tossed you a shirt and you shook your head as you began to fold and stack with her, glad to have a menial task to fill the time and keep you from going too insane.

The two of you were wrapped up in a conversation, and you had completely lost track of the time, when you heard a knock at the door. Your eyes grew wide and you checked the time on your phone, cursing under your breath as you stood up. You asked Elena to go and answer the door while you went to find a pair of shoes to wear.

You could hear the two of them chatting and laughing as you grabbed a cute pair of sneakers that had gotten shoved underneath your bed at some point. You were pulling it over the heel of your foot, hopping down the hallway towards the living room where Angel stood waiting for you.

You felt your eyes go wide as you looked at him. He looked like a completely different man without his kutte on for some reason. He just had a plain black t-shirt on with his jeans and work boots, but for some reason you felt all of your words get caught in your throat.

“You look great,” he said with a smile, “You ready to go?”

You nodded, “Yea, yea I’m good.”

You walked over and were following him out the door when Elena caught you gently by the arm, “Relax. Have a good time. If you need to bail just text me and I’ll totally call with a fake emergency.”

You laughed, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, but thank you.”

“Text me when you get there,” she gave you a quick hug goodbye.

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she waved and shut the door after you.

You met Angel in the lobby of your apartment building. He looked over at you with a smile, “All good?”

You nodded, “All good. Elena was just making sure I still had my pepper spray.”

“I’ll never know peace with you two around, will I?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “Not at all.”

“You up for another ride on the bike? Or was the first ride too traumatizing for you?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll be fine.”

Handing over his helmet with a smile, Angel climbed onto his bike and waited for you to hop on behind him. You got situated, arms wrapping around him much more comfortably this time around. You rested your chin on top of his shoulder for a moment, a smile creeping across your face.

“So do I get to know what we’re doing, yet?”

“Nope,” he shook his head with a laugh, “Hang on tight, Y/N.”

The way your name rolled off his tongue left butterflies in your stomach, but you didn’t get too much time to think about it as he peeled away from the curb and took off down the street. Besides the roar of his motorcycle, your laughter was the only thing that either of you could hear as he tore down the street. You could feel his body shake slightly with laughter beneath your arms as he drove.

The streetlights blurred as the two of you raced by them. Even if the city was whipping by you at race-like speeds, you had to admit that there was something beautiful about all of it. Despite the fact that there was no pausing to look at anything for too long, flying past dimly-lit storefronts in your sleepy little town felt like an adventure all its own when you found yourself latched to Angel.

Your ride didn’t last nearly long enough. As excited as you were to get to the next part of your date, you could’ve spent the whole evening just doing that. He rolled into the driveway of a house, one that you had to assume was his. You couldn’t hide the fact that you were surprised as he parked the bike and hopped off, holding out his hands to help you do the same.

You hung the helmet off the handlebar as you looked back and forth between Angel and his house. He saw the slight look of confusion on your face and chuckled, “Everything alright?”

You laughed, trying to play it off, “Yea, just figured you’d take me to dinner before you tried to take me home.”

He shook his head as he gently rested his hand on the small of your back and guided you up the driveway, “It’s a one-stop shop, baby,” he couldn’t contain his laughter at the way you rolled your eyes at him, “Nah but I know you said you really don’t like going out and doing shit around people. Figured this might be more your speed?”

Your face got hot for a moment and you nodded, “Thank you.”

“It ain’t much,” Angel said as he unlocked the door, “But the kitchen works which is the most important thing.”

You chuckled and nodded in agreement as you followed him into his house. Once you slipped out of your shoes you looked around, trying to get a feel for what you were walking into. You had the feeling that he put a little extra effort into straightening up the place given the current circumstances. Even so, his house still felt very much like a home. It wasn’t overly cluttered, but there were a good number of photos on the walls, along with more than a couple bookshelves that were filled to the brim in the living room, taking up wall space on either side of his television.

“I prepped most of it,” Angel said as he walked over to the kitchen, “Just gotta put it together. Shouldn’t take too long. You can snoop around while you wait if you want,” there was a knowing smirk on his face.

You laughed, “There’ll be plenty of time for snooping. I’m much more interested to see what you can do in the kitchen.”

“You think I can’t cook?”

“It’s not one of the first skills I would’ve assumed you had, no.”

“No fuckin’ trust,” he laughed.

You found yourself leaning against the counter, watching him as he started pulling everything together for dinner. You had to admit that you were impressed by his culinary skills. For a man who didn’t come off as someone who spent a whole lot of time in the kitchen, he seemed to have a pretty good idea of what he was doing. Or if he didn’t, he was good at faking it.

“You should keep your fingers curled a little more,” you commented as you watched him start to slice the items laid out on the cutting board.

“What?” he looked over at you.

“Yea, like this, lemme show you,” you took the knife from him and showed him the proper way to keep your fingers bent, “That way you won’t accidentally cut the tips of your fingers off. Keeping them intact will probably make it easier to ride, yea?”

He chuckled as he took the knife back from you, “Maybe.”

That was the last time you interjected into his process unless he asked you to grab something out of the fridge or one of the cabinets for him. It was peaceful, comfortable, moving around the kitchen with him.

“You want to pick a movie to watch with dinner?” he asked as he was finishing things up on the stove.

“Sure! You’re not gonna cut off any fingers while I’m gone, are you?”

“I think I’ll be alright. I made it this many years and I still got all ten.”

You laughed as you walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch. You scrolled through what Netflix was recommending for him, trying to get a good gauge on what you should be choosing. This definitely felt like it was a little bit of a test.

“Sorry if there’s weird shit popping up on there,” he chuckled, “Coco uses mine and his interests are…unique.”

You laughed, “So that’s your story?”

“And I’m sticking to it,” he smiled at you as he brought over two plates, setting them down on the coffee table before disappearing back into the kitchen to grab drinks for the two of you.

Dinner was much better than you initially thought it was going to be. He was certainly a man that was full of surprises. You had to admit that you were surprised at how comfortable you felt around him, especially in his own house. He was making a conscious effort to try and be as open and inviting as possible, and it was working.

Once you were both done eating, you found yourself nestled up against his side, his arm draped around your shoulders. His thumb traced lightly back and forth as his eyes stayed focused on the movie. You tried to stay focused, but it was difficult. You reached and draped your arm across his stomach while you laid against him and you felt him chuckle.

“Comfortable?”

You looked up at him with a smile, “Yea. You?”

He gave you a light squeeze, “Yea.”

The two of you fell silent for a few minutes before Angel started his own commentary about what was going on in the movie. You had to laugh, shaking your head as he successfully ruined every serious moment. It was obvious that both of you had seen the film before, because you were both cracking jokes about it.

When the credits started to roll, Angel looked down at you with a smile, “Thanks for doing this with me.”

You sat upright, “Of course. No need to thank me—I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

“Hopefully it lived up to your expectations?”

You nodded, “Surpassed them for sure. Like I said, I didn’t think you could cook,” you laughed.

He chuckled and shook his head as he stood up, collecting your plates, “Y’know sometimes you can just be nice.”

You watched him, trying to ignore the butterflies taking over your stomach, “But where’s the fun in that?”

He walked back over, standing by the couch with a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. You could see that there were a lot of thoughts running around his brain. “We can totally watch part 2, which was basically made to be made fun of, unless you wanna get going—”

“No,” you cut him off, biting your lip lightly at how eager you knew you sounded, “I’m in no rush, really. I’ll totally stay and talk shit for a few more hours.”

He smiled as he sat back down next to you, motioning for you to come and curl back up against his side again, “Sounds good to me.”

Your hand was resting against his chest as you laughed at a stupid joke he’d just made. You felt his hand come to rest over yours, completely enveloping it for a moment. It sent a wave of warmth throughout your entire body. You almost didn’t realize what was happening as he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Your entire face started to get hot as you looked up at him. There was a smirk on his face and you knew that he knew exactly what he was doing to you, even if you didn’t want to give him that kind of satisfaction.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

You smiled, finding yourself biting back a laugh as you nodded, “Yea, I think I’ll allow that.”

He laughed, “I did cook you dinner like you asked, right?”

You rolled your eyes, smile still taking over your features, “Don’t make me change my mind.”

“Right, right,” he gently cupped your face in his hand and pulled your lips to his.

Almost instantly you felt yourself melting into him. Your hand still rested on his chest and you could feel how quickly his heart was beating. You smiled into the kiss as you felt his thumb glide gently across your cheek while his lips moved against yours.

Without giving it much of a second thought, you shifted yourself so that you were in his lap, straddling him. His arms fell naturally around your waist, keeping you pulled tight against his chest. Your hands rested on either side of his neck, fingertips tracing along his jawline as he continued to deepen your kiss, biting lightly at your bottom lip.

You pulled away to catch your breath, your lips mere centimeters away from his. Your entire body felt like it was on fire and you couldn’t remember the last time someone had made you feel that way from just a kiss.

He let out a breathy laugh as his hand ran up and down your back, “You’re somethin’ else, Y/N.”

“You don’t even know the half of it,” you laughed as you leaned back, trailing your fingers lightly through his beard.

He lifted and easily shifted you so that you were draped across his lap, curled up into his chest. One hand rested on your side while the other landed on your knee. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I’m more than willing to find out if you’ll let me.”

You smiled up at him, “I just might.”

[chicknparm]

1. "Stay here tonight." + 31. "Calm down." Chaseprice

Uhhhhhh went a bit overboard with this one...it’s quite long and there’s some big big CWs for sex, alcohol, and mentions of abuse and suicide. Only felt right for the first Chaseprice scene I write to be extremely dark and angsty. Also gotta give credit to @chaseprice as the preeminent scholar in this field for letting me bounce ideas off of her and graciously editing.

“There...now get your hands off me.” Chloe says as she pushes Victoria’s arm away from her. 

“Well that’s a new one,” Victoria scoffs back, catching her breath. “Not in the mood to whine about being held this time?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Chloe says coldly.

Victoria watches her walk over to the mini fridge she keeps under the desk. Chloe reaches inside the freezer compartment and pulls out the bottle of Vodka that permanently occupies it. She unscrews the cap and takes a large swig, furrowing her face as she does so.

“What the fuck is your problem, Price? Do you have any idea how expensive Grey Goose is in this dump? Put that shit back right now.” She scolds. Chloe turns back at her.

“What are you going to do about it.” Chloe says, monotone and disinterested.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You of all people can’t pull this tough guy shit. What do you think I’m going to want to put you in your place and pounce on you or something? That’s not how this works, you’re not worth my energy. You come over, I cum, you cry, you leave. That’s how this works.”

“You think I want you to touch me right now?” Chloe says, raising her eyebrows. 

Clearly Chloe isn’t expecting, or doesn’t care to listen to, an answer, as she takes another large swig of Victoria’s Vodka and sets it down, still uncapped, on her desk. She grabs her tank top that was tossed over a chair and nonchalantly puts it on. Usually during this stage Victoria can’t help herself but to sneak a couple more glances at Chloe’s chest, but it’s becoming clear this isn’t some ploy to keep her turned on.

Chloe is always moody after sex, but not like this. Normally, she just has a breakdown and embarrasses herself with a flood of tears, and the words never cross either of their lips, but it’s understood who and what she’s crying over. Victoria likes it when Chloe is aggressive, a little angry, that’s kind of the whole deal, but this is different. 

“I think you want someone to touch you.” Victoria says with a cruel smirk, having found her angle.

“Who?”

“Wow, you really are a masochist huh?” Victoria smugly looks at Chloe, if Chloe wants to play with fire let her get burned. “ Rachel. Rachel Amber. Your fucking angel dream girl whatever the fuck. You know, the one who left? The one who disappeared without a word?”

“Yeah. I do. You do too though.” Chloe grabs the vodka again and takes another swig.

“You’re going to be so fucking trashed, Price, you already stank of cheap beer when you got here. If you throw up in my dorm I’ll make sure you never step foot on this campus again. But, anyway, what the fuck are you getting at?”

“You wish she was here too. You miss her touching you too.” Chloe says, starting to raise her voice. Several shots worth of vodka seem to be catching up to her now. “Whole fucking school knows you two hooked up. Whole school knows what you are, Vic.”

“You’re such a cunt.” Victoria bites back. She shouldn’t lose her cool though, she can’t give up control like that. “Well if you know that, then I guess you should also know that she fucks better than you do.”

“I know exactly how she fucks. You think I care about your stupid fuckin, fuckin dick measuring contest?” Chloe sloppily screws the cap back on the Vodka and slams it back into the freezer. She starts fumbling with her pockets. “Where’d I put my keys.”

“No,” Victoria says, much more softly than she intended, “go walk home, you’re not driving anywhere like this except headfirst into traffic.” 

“Put some clothes on, you’re embarrassing yourself.” Chloe says, continuing her search.

Victoria hadn’t even thought about the fact that she was still naked. Duly embarrassed, she grabs some shorts and a tank top of her own as nonchalantly as she can so as not to give Chloe any satisfaction. Vic looks over and sees her still searching around the dorm room, illuminated only by the moonlight through her window. 

Victoria doesn’t care about her. She’s just a sex toy, a dirty one at that, but this still doesn’t feel right.

“Knock it off, Price, seriously, go catch a bus with the rest of the drunks.”

“What the fuck do you care?! Stop acting like you give a shit!” Chloe finally snaps.

This is also new. The way Chloe is looking over at her, looking down at her, is different from all the times she’s hate-fucked her. Usually all it takes is some comments about her being poor, being pathetic, being lonely, that get her to hold Victoria down and be rough with her, just as she likes it. But there’s not an ounce of lust in her eyes tonight. Not an ounce of desire, just hate. Can’t be far from breaking her now. 

“I don’t. Go get turned to paste like your dad for all I care.”

That does the trick. Chloe stomps her way over to Victoria’s bed and screams in her face. “Don’t you ever fucking say a word about him!” She grabs Victoria by the chin, with more force than she’s ever touched her before. “Not one fucking word!”

Victoria doesn’t flinch. She barely blinks. She doesn’t know how to react. Chloe lets go of her face and steps away, her own mouth agape in shock.

“I-I…” Chloe starts, but falls to her knees and starts to sob.

“Calm down…” Victoria tries to maintain her detached tone but it’s not working. Chloe has never snapped like this. Never even come close to getting physical (in a way Victoria didn’t explicitly want). But she’s never hit Chloe below the belt the way she did just now either. Victoria obviously wanted a reaction, but she didn’t want this. Or, maybe she did want it, and what does that say about her? After what happened last semester she’d been trying to save that extra level of cruelty only for herself. But Chloe’s always been the exception. And now she’s seeing the result.

“Price, you’ve gotta...come on just…” Victoria stumbles over her words as Chloe continues to sob on the floor, “Chloe. Don’t do this.”

“I’m a fucking monster!” Chloe cries into her hands.

“You’re not, no, you’re not a monster. You’re a lot of things, but you’re not a monster.” Victoria’s voice is softening, almost against her will. Used to be Victoria could make girls cry without a second thought. Or if she did feel a pang of guilt, she could always drown those feelings later, but this situation is on the verge of danger.

“I am! Get drunk, come over here and hit you, I’m like him...I’m like him and, him and your dad.” Chloe says wiping her face on her arm.

“No. You’re not my dad, and you’re not your step-dad either. They’re the monsters. Neither of them feel anything when they hurt people.”

“I gotta fuckin...gotta…” Chloe slurs, trailing off at the end as she looks across the room and gets up from the floor. She walks over to Victoria’s closet and grabs her jacket from the handle. She fumbles with the pockets but Victoria can hear the jangling of a keychain inside.

“Chloe, no, don’t do this.” Victoria panics, grabbing Chloe by the arm. “Please. Don’t do this, I don’t want you to go out there and kill yourself.” She says through tears of her own.

“Well why didn’t you say that to fuckin Kate Marsh! She didn’t do, fucking anything to you! I deserve this, she didn’t.” Chloe says, looking away from Victoria.

Victoria’s grip tightens on Chloe’s arm. She’s right. Kate didn’t do anything to her. And she kept pushing that girl, and pushing her and pushing her, and now she’s dead. 

“No. Chloe, neither of you deserve to fucking die and I can’t let another person do this. Please, stay here tonight.”

Chloe finally looks at her. A mix of fear, anger, and self-loathing shine through her watery eyes in the moonlight. Victoria never saw Kate this close, but she wonders how many times she had that same look in her eyes. Chloe looks at the ground again and pulls to move away from Victoria, but Victoria doesn’t let go. Chloe tries taking a step forward, maybe thinking she could drag Victoria with her, but she loses her balance and falls to the floor. Victoria still holds onto her arm and kneels down next to Chloe, once again sobbing into the floor. Victoria lets out a sigh and finally lets herself feel just how much she’s been shaking. She will have to push Chloe out of the door as soon as she wakes up. 

Just because Victoria doesn’t have any love for Chloe doesn’t mean she wants to see her dead. Every other night from here on out she’ll be her own problem, but at least she’s safe. For now. Victoria reaches over and pulls a pillow and quilt off of her couch, properly setting Chloe up for the night. She’ll have to get up to get her a bucket soon, just in case. It’s a while before she lets go of her arm.

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommate AU 

Chapter 10 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here. 

Wanting is Enough

“You goin’ home for Christmas?” Dean asked.

They were walking back to the dorm after dinner. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, a holiday for which neither Cas nor Dean had bothered to travel home.

“No,” Cas said. “I don’t believe I’m welcome at my father’s house anymore.”

Dean glanced sideways at him as they entered the stairwell. “Why? ‘Cause you’re gay?’ He asked.

Cas shrugged. “If he knows now, from Bartholomew or Hannah, then that certainly doesn’t help my case.” He sighed. “No, when he found out I was attending college and not entering ministry, he told me I shouldn’t come home again.”

Dean held the exit door open as Cas walked onto their floor. “When did that happen?” He asked.

“I kept the entirety of my college application process a secret. Only Anna knew,” Cas said. “She’s the only other sane person in my family. I made the mistake of informing the rest of them about it at dinner sometime in July.” He gave Dean a wry smile as they entered their room. “None of them were particularly thrilled.”

“You told them about the full ride and everything?”

“Yes.”

“And your old man still kicked you out?”

“The same night.”

Dean snorted. “Dumbass.”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips. “You could say that.”

“Where’d you go after that?” Dean asked.

“Well, Anna was already living alone, down in Norman. She was at the University of Oklahoma,” he added by way of explanation. “I just stayed with her until August.”

Dean nodded. “She sounds cool. What’s she doing now?”

Cas broke into a grin. “She lives in North Carolina, now. She’s a therapist.”

Dean smirked at him. “So your ass is constantly getting psychoanalyzed?”

“I suppose.”

Dean slumped into the beanbag with a sigh. Cas remained at the door, leaning his weight against it.

“What about you?” He asked after a beat. “Are you returning home for Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, smiling. “Well, it’s kinda complicated. I am going home, like, my actual home. Lawrence. We spend Christmas with some family friends.” Dean paused, looking thoughtful. “They’re really more family than friends. Bobby and Ellen and Ellen’s kid Jo. Bobby and Ellen were both friends with my dad.”

“Will your father and brother be there?”

Dean’s look darkened, if only slightly. “Dad’s not coming. The whole thing started ‘cause he got tired of trying to pretend to like the holidays after Mom died. Decided to pawn us off on his old friends. But yeah, Sammy’ll be there.”

Cas gave him a nod and pushed off from the door. While he was disappointed that Dean would be gone for winter break, he was relieved, too. That was three weeks sans-Dean, more than enough time for Cas to work through his little crush. The solitude would be good, he told himself. Cas figured he could fast-track the five stages of grief, and by the time Dean returned, Cas would be the best friend he deserved. Cas sighed to himself as he rifled through his closet for a towel and a change of clothes. He was grabbing bottles of shampoo and body wash when Dean cleared his throat.

“You know,” he said slowly, like the words were difficult to force out, “You could… I mean, I’m sure everyone wouldn’t mind if you came to Christmas.”

Cas whirled around to face Dean, who was picking at a loose thread on the beanbag.

“What?” He asked, a little too loudly.

“Since you’re not goin’ home,” Dean said. “You know, it sucks to spend Christmas alone. ‘Specially in this dump,” he added, gesturing generally to the small room.

“Are you inviting me to spend Christmas in Lawrence? With you?”

Dean gave a short laugh. “I guess it is kinda dumb. Yeah, nevermind.”

“No, I’d like that,” Cas rushed out. He blinked at his own words. He was supposed to be avoiding Dean as often as possible, not spending three uninterrupted weeks in his hometown.  “It sounds nice,” Cas added weakly, despite the fact that it definitely did not. 

Dean looked up at him. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Dean broke into the biggest grin Cas had ever seen. “Dude, it’s going to be awesome. I can’t wait for everyone to meet you.” Dean stood up with and pulled Cas in for a hug, clapping him on the back twice. Cas winced, letting out a feeble chuckle as he returned the hug reluctantly. He was trying not to notice the warmth of Dean pressed against him, or the absence of it when they parted. 

  “Are you pissed at me?” 

It was the Wednesday before finals started. They were quietly eating dinner when Dean threw the question at Cas, who coughed into his water. 

“What?” He sputtered. 

Dean rubbed the back of his head. “I dunno, man, I just feel like I never see you anymore.” 

Guilt crashed into Cas like a freight train. He had been absent, more absent even than before Thanksgiving. Part of it was out of necessity — finals were fast approaching, and he was intent upon an all-A’s first semester. But the hours at the library were stacked on top of the hours he spent in class and the hours he spent simply staying away from his room. 

“I apologize,” Cas said, and he couldn’t keep the earnestness from his voice. “I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I have two final papers, three exams, and two final projects coming up before the break.” 

“No, man, I get it,” Dean said with a shrug. “You’re busy. Sorry, that was kinda uncalled for. All in my head, you know.” 

Cas wanted to tell him that it was completely called for, that what Dean was feeling was valid, that he was being selfish and rude and a whole number of terrible things for avoiding Dean. But he couldn’t, because that would mean promptly declaring soul-destroying love for his best friend, right there in the middle of the dining hall. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he mumbled. 

Cas had thought that it was getting easier, being around Dean. He’d basked in the feeling of being not just someone’s best friend, but Dean’s best friend, after Halloween, and that was enough. And while he was still avoiding spending long hours in their room, he felt like he was well on his way to making peace with the unrequited. 

But then, they’d gotten drunk on the night of Thanksgiving. Cas didn’t remember much besides waking up in a tangled heap with Dean on the floor of their room. He’d been successful in extricating himself from the strange embrace before Dean regained consciousness, and thank god for that. But the situation lived rent-free in Cas’s mind. It made things considerably more difficult. 

And then there was the prospect of travelling to Lawrence to spend Christmas with Dean and his family. Cas really hadn’t wanted to spend the holiday alone, and was, on the one hand, thankful for the invitation. On the other, his anxiety was mounting. That trip meant there was absolutely no avoiding Dean for at least three weeks; not to mention the fact that he was meeting the group of people most important to Dean. 

So if Cas was making extra efforts to put space between himself and his roommate, it was not unwarranted. 

They finished eating and made their way back to the dorms. Dean was complaining about his own finals, and while Cas tried his hardest to remain engaged, his heart wasn’t in it. He was angry at himself. Even when he felt like he was succeeding, he was failing. 

“Cas,” Dean said. Cas had just let them into the room, but Dean was standing resolutely in the hallway. 

“Yes?” Cas responded. 

“Are you… I know I already asked, but man, something’s off,” Dean rushed out. “Is — Is this about Christmas? ‘Cause —”

Cas interrupted him. “No, Dean. I’m excited to spend Christmas with you and your family.” 

Dean smiled weakly, but it was brief. “I just — you’re never around, man,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I feel like I fucked something up somehow.” 

Cas knew Dean well enough by now to know there were things he was trying to say without saying them. His heart broke to know that I miss you was likely one of them. 

“I promise, you’ve done nothing wrong,” Cas said. “I’m just concerned about my finals.” Lie. 

Dean looked at him with skepticism. “Okay,” he said finally. 

Another twinge of guilt soared through him, but he didn’t say anything more, just gathered his things for a shower. Dean still hadn’t come into the room when Cas pushed past him and made his way to the bathroom. 

When he returned, Dean was gone, but Cas saw a notification on his phone. 

DW (7:32 pm)

went out back later

Cas narrowed his eyes at the short message, but typed out a reply anyway. 

CN (7:34 p.m.)

Okay. Be safe. Don’t forget, there’s class tomorrow. 

He sat down at his desk and opened his computer. He tried studying for his accounting final, but the words and equations might have been hieroglyphics for all that he was absorbing them. Cas sighed and pulled up the final project description for his creative writing class instead. 

It was his favorite class by far. In high school, Cas focused on writing short stories, mostly adapted from real life. His notebooks were his confidants, the product of never having a close friend. But now, he was challenged to write other things; poetry, scripts, memoirs. Cas lived for the challenge, finally able to stretch new creative muscles. And while his attempt at drama had received mixed reviews from his professor and peers alike, his other works were well-received. He’d never shared his writing with anyone, and to hear others enjoyed it was something Cas cherished.

But this final project, it was difficult. The professor had tasked them with writing a 1000-word story in prose and adapting it into both a drama and a poem. The goal was to tell the same story in each genre. Cas couldn’t even think of a scene he might want to write, let alone how he was going to move fluidly between genres.

He sighed, and began to list out possible ideas. When it became clear that he wasn’t getting anywhere, he closed his notebook and moved onto something less intense. He reviewed his econ notes for an hour, got started on his final paper for literature. 

After hitting a solid halfway point on his first draft, he checked his phone again. It was already midnight. Cas frowned. Dean was known to stay out late on the weekends, but it was Wednesday. Cas knew Dean had a nine-a.m. history class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He also knew that Dean wouldn’t make it to said class if he was out much later. He sent him a text. 

CN (12:03 a.m.)

Are you all right? 

Cas hit the bathrooms to brush his teeth and get ready for bed before checking his phone. His worry only increased when he saw that Dean hadn’t replied. He sent another text, hoping he didn’t seem too overbearing. 

CN (12:11 a.m.)

Just making sure you’re alive.

He decided that if Dean didn’t respond in the next ten minutes, he’d call, regardless of how ridiculous he might sound. 

Cas paced around the room, picking up what little stray trash they had left lying out. He was about to take out his phone again to check the time when it started vibrating on his desk. He picked it up eagerly, but frowned at the unknown number. Cas considered letting it ring out, but he hit the “accept” button at the last second. He didn’t say anything as he held the phone up to his ear, expecting a wrong number.

His eyes went wide when Dean rasped, “Cas?”

“Dean?” Cas replied, trying to keep panic out of his voice. “What — Why are you calling me from this number?”

“Phone’s dead,” he said, sounding exhausted. “I hate to do this to you, man, but… Just — goddammit — can you come get me?”

“What?” 

“I’m just — I’m at the corner of seventeenth and Gentry.”

“Don’t you have a DD?” Cas asked. Dean had never called him to pick him up from a party. He always made sure someone was sober, or he called an Uber. 

“No,” Dean sighed. 

“Seventeenth and Gentry?” He repeated, and he heard Dean murmur something in affirmation. Cas made a turn for his car and said, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hung up.

Cas tried to drive at a normal speed, but it was difficult. Dean had left abruptly, and while Cas hadn’t thought to question it, it now seemed glaringly out-of-character. Dean had never partied in the middle of the week, and he certainly had never gone drinking by himself. Every red light kicked his anxiety up a notch. 

After the interminable drive, Cas finally arrived at the corner Dean had directed him to, a small bar with WSU flags plastered everywhere. Cas drove past the front of the building slowly, but couldn’t find Dean there. Finally, he saw a phone booth just past the bar’s street parking, and he coaxed the car forward. Dean was leaning against its side, a cigarette in his mouth. He hadn’t brought a jacket, and it was barely thirty degrees out. Cas turned up the heat in the car as he unlocked the passenger door.

Dean put out the cigarette and slid in without a word. Cas hit the gas and started the drive back to the dorms.

Neither said a word in the ten minutes it took Cas to reach campus. The only sounds were the roar of hot air from the vents and the low groan of the engine. Cas kept his eyes in front of him, never once daring to glance at Dean.

When they reached the lot, Cas threw the gear shift into park and folded his hands in his lap. He stared at his own interlaced fingers, willing Dean to speak first, not wanting to ask the question.

Dean didn’t speak, though, just opened the car door and stepped out. Cas saw a light flicker through the passenger window, and suppressed a groan as he realized Dean had lit another cigarette. Typical, Cas thought, and he was suddenly annoyed. It occurred to him that if their places were switched, Dean would be hounding him, demanding that Cas tell him everything, because he always did. Anytime Cas seemed the slightest bit off, Dean was there, asking questions, being the good friend that he was. But now? Now, he expected Cas to leave it alone, to let him suffer with whatever was bothering him. Cas took a few steadying breaths, then turned the engine off and got out.

“Dean,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral, “What the hell?” 

Dean didn’t answer, just took a long drag, his gaze aimed resolutely ahead. Cas huffed and crossed his arms. 

“You… You can’t just ask me to come pick you up from a bar and not offer an explanation,” Cas said. 

“Sorry,” Dean muttered.

Cas let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, well, that’s perfectly adequate,” he scoffed.

“What else am I supposed to say?” Dean demanded. 

Cas stared at him, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, his jaw set. “I’m going to bed. 

“What?” Dean asked, finally looking at Cas. 

Cas shrugged. “I’m obviously wasting my time.”

Another drag. An exhale.

“My dad called while you were in the shower.” 

The irritation shifted, almost immediately, to concern. “Your father called you?”

“Yeah.” 

“What did he want?” 

Dean tapped his cigarette against his leg. “Mostly to remind me what a piece of shit I am.” 

Cas remained silent, allowing Dean the space to form whatever his next thought might be. 

“I guess…” Dean rubbed his free hand over his forehead. “I guess Sam let it slip that I was bringing you to Bobby’s for Christmas.” 

Cas cocked his head. “And that’s… Problematic?” 

Dean exhaled another plume of smoke. “Yeah,” he said. He let out a mirthless laugh. “He said he didn’t get it, that if I was bringing anyone home, it should be a girlfriend, not…” Dean trailed off. 

Cas felt the blood leave his face. “He thinks —”

“Yeah.” 

“Dean, I don’t have to come,” Cas said. It would be better for both of us. “I’ll be perfectly fine here. I appreciate the offer, I do, but I don’t want to make life more difficult for you than necessary.” 

Dean looked at him, finally, and he was all shadow and exhaustion. “No, he’s not gonna be there. You’re coming,” he said resolutely, and Cas tried not to let the disappointment show. “Plus, that wasn’t all of it. He’s pissed that I didn’t come home for Thanksgiving. Said something about how I was dishonoring my mom’s memory or something.” 

Cas was silent for a moment. “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“At the bar,” Cas clarified. He couldn’t tell how drunk Dean really was, but based on that recent revelation, he could guess. 

Dean furrowed his brow. “What?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I had like three beers. I was planning on going full blackout, but then you reminded me about class.” 

Cas almost smiled at that, because it was almost funny. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Decide to get blackout drunk just because your father incorrectly assumed you were bringing me — bringing a male partner to a Christmas he wouldn’t even attend?” 

Dean frowned. “I don’t — I don’t know,” he said, and he sounded almost surprised at his own answer. 

Cas was treading on thin ice, he knew that. But he kept up anyway. “I don’t want to overstep,” he said slowly, “But, Dean, your father… It doesn’t seem like he’s taken the time to get to know you. The real you, not the version he wants you to be, or the version he projects onto you.” 

When Dean didn’t stop him, he continued. “And you don’t owe him anything, not anymore. You’re here, aren’t you? All on your own. He has no power over you. And, I’m only assuming, but I believe that might terrify him. Because not only do you no longer need him, but you may choose not to want him.”

Cas let out a small laugh. “Believe me, I know how difficult it is to stop putting stock in what your father thinks. It took me years to accept that I had done nothing wrong, that my father was, and always would be, a bigot. I… I’m still working on it, even now,” he admitted. Cas sighed. “But my life has been better, easier, since I stopped trying to please someone who hardly even knew me.” 

Dean’s expression changed, and he blinked. He was still looking in Cas’s direction, but not at him. Past him, at some unknown subject. Cas took a step toward him.

“Dean?” 

“I don’t need him,” Dean whispered.

“Are you all right?” Cas asked, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean let out a huff, overflowing with something like realization. “I never thought about that before. It’s not like he’s ever tried to talk to me.” Dean threw his cigarette on the asphalt and stomped it out. A breathy chuckle escaped his lips, and he wrapped his hands around his midsection. “You know, I used to try so hard to be like him.” Dean tilted his head toward the sky. “I listened to his music, I dressed like him. Hell, I even started talkin’ like him.

“It was never enough, you know? I always fucked up. Sam didn’t get to school on time, or I forgot milk at the grocery store. I just, I dunno. I know he loves me. But I always wanted him to like me, too, you know?” 

“I do.” 

“Oh man, you should’ve seen him when he found out I’d been hiding money away to go to college,” Dean said, laughing darkly. “I thought I was gonna go to school with a black eye for a week.” 

“He hit you?” Cas asked, horrified. 

“What? No, no,” Dean said quickly. “I just thought he might.”

Cas let out a breath. There was one crime John Winchester hadn’t committed. “What do you mean, hiding money?”

“Dad never really had a steady job, not after our mom died,” Dean explained. “That’s why we moved around a lot. When I was fourteen, I started working. Chickenshit stuff, mostly. Mowing lawns and detailing cars until I was old enough to start flippin’ burgers.” Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “The money was supposed to go to rent and food, but I started putting most of it aside, just in case, you know? I had enough for a year of college by the time I was a senior. I figured I could get loans and stuff for the rest.”

“And when you told him, he got angry?”

Dean only nodded, now staring intently at the ground. Cas didn’t say anything more, knowing Dean had probably just unloaded more trauma than he’d even known he had. Finally, though, Dean’s gaze met his.

“But I don’t need him,” he repeated.

“You don’t.” 

“He’s nothing, unless I want him to be something,” Dean said slowly, and his eyes were growing triumphant. “Cas, you’re a genius.”

“If you say so.” 

“You learn all that stuff from your sister? The one with a degree in ‘dealing with crazy fuckers’?”

Cas smiled. “Maybe,” he said. “And therapy isn’t just for ‘crazy fuckers.’”

Dean smirked at him. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say ‘fuck’.” 

Cas rolled his eyes. “It’s cold out here,” he said. “Let’s go inside.” 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Yeah, okay.” 

As they walked, Cas felt latent anger curl in his stomach. Dean hadn’t told Castiel much about his home life, not until that night. He understood, now, why Dean could so easily take care of others, but needed three beers and a cigarette to show his own vulnerabilities. In his eighteen years, had Dean ever been told that he was enough? The possibility that he hadn’t awakened something in Cas, some righteous fury.

He chided himself internally. How much of his selfish avoidance scheme had contributed to those feelings of inadequacy? He’d rather burn with the pain of unrequited love forever than let Dean think he wasn’t enough.

When they reached the entrance to their dorm, Cas put a hand on Dean’s arm. “Are you okay, Dean?” He asked. 

Dean let out a long breath. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I’m okay. I really am.” He said it like it might have been the first time he’d ever meant it.

 Cas woke up at two in the morning from a particularly vivid dream. His breathing was heavy with the shock of waking up so suddenly. Dean was breathing slow and even across the room, still entirely asleep.

Cas shook his head a little. The dream had felt so real that it had left a residual burning feeling in his hand. He stared at it, but it remained entirely human.

Abruptly, he remembered his creative writing project. A short story, something he could turn into a poem and a stage scene. A lightbulb went off in his brain.

Cas lowered himself from his bed and hurriedly opened his computer. He had to get this down as soon as possible. Cas replayed the dream in his mind as his computer booted up. He supposed it might be a little strange, to turn this story in as his final project, considering it was somewhat of a self-insert. But it had everything he needed.

Finally, he opened a blank document and began to write the first draft. Cas wrote down everything he could remember from the dream, sights and sounds and feelings. With each word, his excitement grew. He’d never felt this way about a writing project, like the story demanded to be told.

Cas hit word count and kept going, because the story was building itself larger and larger. He didn’t even notice how long he’d been working until Dean’s six-a.m. alarm went off.

Dean groaned and rolled over in his bunk. He said something, but Cas didn’t hear, too intent upon getting the words in his head onto the page.

“Hey,” Dean said, raising his voice. “Stephen King, what the hell?”

Cas didn’t turn from the computer screen. “Good morning,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

Dean groaned. “Like the dead,” he said sarcastically. “How long you been up?”

Cas checked the time. “Somewhere around four hours,” he said.

“Four — you’ve been up since two?”

“Yes.”

Dean blanched and swung himself down from his bed. “Dude, that means you got, max, an hour and a half of sleep.” He made his way to Cas’s desk and leaned over his shoulder. Upon seeing the word count on his screen, his eyes widened.

“You wrote all that last night? Or this morning?” He asked.

Cas shrugged, a little sheepishly. “I got inspired.”

Dean blinked at him. “I’m gonna make a pot of coffee,” he said.

Cas wrote a few hundred more words before finding a good stopping point. He scrolled to the top of his document and highlighted the scenes he wanted to use for his project. Dean brought him a cup of coffee, which Cas accepted eagerly, beginning to feel the first twinges of exhaustion through his inspiration-fueled mania.

“What’re you writing over there?” Dean asked after taking a sip from his mug.

“It’s one of my final projects,” Cas replied. He drank from his own mug.

Dean looked at him in horror. “A five-thousand word essay?”

Cas laughed. “No. A thousand-word short story,” he said.

“What, so you’re an over-achiever?”

“No,” Cas said. “I’m only using the first thousand words for my project. But I just couldn’t stop. There was more to tell.” His cheeks flamed. Talking about his creative projects always embarrassed him.

“What’s it about?” Dean asked.

Cas gave him a sideways grin. “You’ll find out when you read it.”

Dean scowled. “At least tell me what you’re calling it.”

Cas looked up thoughtfully. “I don’t know for sure yet,” he said. “That reminds me…” He turned back to his computer to save the document. When faced with the title option, he faltered. He typed in “The Righteous Man.” That would do for now.

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

taglist! @nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers

[korra-the-red-lion]

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 19: A Witch is Needed.

(Lyn + Michael)

Lyn

I was flipping to the next page when I felt Ally shift next to me. I paused and looked down at her. Her face was relaxed, but I could the rawness around her eyes where she had been wiping at them last night. I wondered what had triggered her, but then I thought maybe that this had been slowly building up. She had been absent for most of the week. I saw her every now and then, but it was always brief. She hadn’t really been speaking to me or Michael. I asked her about one night, and she just said she and her roommate weren’t talking to one another. Finally, Michael figured out what happened and let me in on it. On top of all the crap that’s been going on with the ghosts, she was having alive people drama too.

The bruises were fading, but I could still see the finger imprints. It caused a burning feeling inside my chest of anger and shame when I saw them. I saw when Fredrik shoved her under the water, and Michael stabbed the dude with a bloody knife, and I tried whacking him off with my bat. But that’s about it. Next thing I knew, I was outside, and the gang is telling me I was possessed. Add that to the list of ‘Lyn’s traumas of her second year at MSU.’ And they say third year is the toughest year.

I put my book down in my lap, staring up at the ceiling. This whole thing was crazy, absolutely bonkers. I can’t believe that most of my semester has been taken up by all these crazy events. But it’s not like Ally’s presence called all this to the forefront. Was there always something going on, but I couldn’t see it? It was a strange feeling, lemme tell ya. I would say I felt a bit jealous that I couldn’t at least sense them like Michael could. It made me feel useless when it came to the actual ghost hunting. But if I couldn’t see them, then how was Fredrik visible to me? Huh, I never really thought about it before.

And it turns out that the ghost that Ally has been getting a lot of information from was a dead family member. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that, honestly. I didn’t see my dad’s family all that much. I saw old pictures of great grandpa George when he was young after he passed away. Him and his sister looked very similar, I remember thinking at the time. Both had the same slender faces and big ears that my dad had. Both of them even had the same freckles. But whereas my great grandpa looked very serious in his family photos, his sister had this amused smile on her face, as if she was in on a joke that no one else was. It was said that he really lost himself when she died, and he became a bitter person who blamed the justice system for never figuring what happened to her. He was the only one who thought something bad happened, while others thought she just ran away from home because she didn’t want to marry the man they set her up with. Hey, I could totally relate to that, homegirl.

Ally shifted again, knocking me out of my thoughts. She pressed right up against me, causing a smile to flutter onto my face. It just felt nice to have someone you cared about seeking you in their sleep. I lightly brushed my knuckles against her face, pushing the hair out it. A small smile appeared on her sleeping face.

Something warm bloomed in my chest as I stared down at her. Have I ever felt this way before? I tried to think about all my previous partners, but I couldn’t ever remember having a warmth like this. It was a…a weird feeling.

I turned my attention back to my book when I heard Ally groan as she woke up. She stretched her arms before snuggling back down. I could see her hazel eye peeking out from under the covers, watching me. I picked up the bottle of water from the floor and handed it to her. Ally took it gratefully. She cracked it open and took a small sip as she sat up next to me.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, watching her.

Ally took another sip, nodding as she did. She set it down after putting the lid back on it. “I feel better. Sorry about that…”

“Hey, don’t apologize to me,” I said, reaching over to tuck her hair behind her ear. “That’s something you should never apologize for.”

She looked embarrassed but nodded all the same.

“Did you want to talk about it?”

“Um…” she sighed, raking her hands through her hair. “I just…I dunno. Everything sort of hit me at once, I guess. I feel like I’m so close to figuring this all out, but there’s just something I’m missing. Then I also realized how far behind I was in all my schoolwork, so that didn’t help. Oh, and I had this horrible dream where I watched all of them die again.” She brought her knees up to her chest, looking defeated.

“Ally.” I bonked her lightly on the head. She looked over at me in surprise.

“What was that for?”

“You’re not doing this alone,” I said, cupping her cheek and rubbing my thumb against her skin. “Michael and I are helping you every step of the way. We, not you, are going to figure this out. Together. So, stop stressing about it so much, okay?”

She stared at me before sighing again. “I know, I know. It’s just- ugh, it’s just that sometimes my brain goes into overdrive, and I can’t stop it. Like, logically I understand what you’re saying, but my brain disagrees otherwise.”

“I get it,” I said. “I don’t understand it on a personal level, but I get it. Just remember that we’re here for you. I’m here for you. You’re not doing this alone,” I repeated firmly.

“Okay…thanks,” she smiled shyly.

“You’re welcome,” I kissed her on the forehead before resting mine against it. “Now, are you hungry or anything? We could go get breakfast.”

Ally said nothing as she stared into my eyes. Slowly, she nodded, rubbing our foreheads together. I made no effort to move, however. Neither did she. I felt her breath on my face as her breathing slowed down. Ally closed her eyes, her lips lightly brushing against mine. But just before she kissed me, I pulled away, stifling a giggle as I said, “Okay, let’s go then!”

Ally opened her eyes in confusion. “Did you just-? Did you seriously just tease a kiss?!” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the incredulous tone of her voice.

“Me? Teasing? I would never dream of it.” I couldn’t supress the broad grin that was growing on my face.

“You’re a horrible person, you know that right?” she grumbled as she crossed her arms.

“Maybe,” I teased with a smirk, “but I’m your horrible person.”

Ally fell back dramatically into the pillow. “You know what? I don’t want breakfast after all. I’m just going to lie here with Pickles. He’s the only one who cares about me.”

I laughed loudly as I bent over, kissing her on the lips. “Come on, you need to eat, you dingus.”

“I need one more to be fully charged, otherwise I can’t move,” she said seriously. I kissed her again, a bit longer this time before pulling away with a soft smile. She smiled back and nodded. “Okay, I’m good to go now. Thanks for the charge.”

“Anytime, luv.”

XXX

It was later that day that I sat with Michael in the library with newspapers, old articles, and messy notes spewed all around us. Trying to figure out what the fuck happened to Jeremiah Kinkly was driving us both to the brink of insanity. So far, despite hours of looking, we’ve found basically next to nothing.

Michael groaned as he crumbled up another note and dumped it in the bag we designated for that purpose. “I just don’t get it, it’s like this dude doesn’t even exist.”

“Maybe he doesn’t, and the universe is fucking with us,” I said dryly, not looking up from my laptop.

“That sounds like something the universe would do.”

Despite our joking, it was starting to feel hopeless. I told Ally she wasn’t allowed to help us with this today because she needed to catch up on schoolwork. She was sitting nearby and kept sneaking glances our way, but we both had put our foot down. She grumbled and complained but we stayed strong. I could feel her eyes on us now, but I ignored her. I didn’t want her helping at all. The whole thing was overwhelming her right now, and she needed a break from it for a little bit.

Michael sighed as he dragged over a book he took out. It was supposed to help with our Fredrik problem, according to him. Because we weren’t sure that he would disappear if we captured the killer, it was a precautionary measure. Except for one tiny problem: we had no idea how to do a spell. Michael had read through the book several times yet couldn’t find any solution that didn’t involve a witch. I mean, we already had half a dozen ghosts roaming around, so why not add a witch to the mix? Absolute insanity, that’s what this was.

He did mention heading down to the weird bookstore later and talking to the owner. Michael claims that she was basically a witch, so she might be able to help, or at least give us pointers. I’ve never stepped foot in that store, but I trusted his judgement. He was a good guy with a steady head on his shoulders, so he wouldn’t suggest it unless he thought there was a chance it would work.

Another few useless search results and I was starting to get annoyed. How the fuck was there nothing on this stupid man? You would think that someone who died on this cursed campus would show up somewhere. Michael was right, it was like he didn’t exist. But we had the DNA results, which meant that there should be proof somewhere that he was a real person.

We wanted to avoid asking Professor Kinkly about it. We didn’t know who this guy was, and we didn’t want to drag anyone else into this mess. Of course, that was a huge pain in the ass. I bet we wouldn’t be dragging our asses like this if we could ask him. Jesus Christ, I was about to murder someone.

I threw my head back, closing my eyes in annoyance. It felt pointless to keep looking, we’ve been at it for hours at this point. Maybe we should just cut our losses for now and move on to the next problem instead. Hell, that was what Michael was doing. I ran my hands down my face before adjusting myself back into searching position. The open Google tab looked as if it was mocking me. What a bastard.

I crossed my arms as I stared at the blank search box, racking my brains to figure if there was something I was missing. I tried every word combination I thought of. That hadn’t worked. I even tried to look him up in obituaries, but it seemed like he never got one. How could a man whose DNA just not be anywhere at all? It didn’t make sense. God, I wished I was a hacker, then I could go into a hospital or police database.

“You guys look like you need a break,” said Ally as she approached our table.

“Hey, you’re banned!” Michael pointed his finger at Ally. “This is blasphemous!”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “I just noticed how beat you looked. It might be worth it to stop for awhile, maybe even go for a walk.”

“That’s very ironic, coming from you,” I remarked. “You know?”

Ally held her hands up defensively. “It was just a suggestion. Maybe we could go to the store that Michael had mentioned?”

“What’s this ‘we’ stuff?” Michael raised his brows. “I literally just said you were banned. Weren’t you listening?”

“Hey, I need a walk too,” she laughed. “Plus, I’ve made great strides. I finished both my English and Psych work.”

“Damn, we’ve been doing this for a long time then,” I groaned, throwing my head back again.

Michael rapped his knuckles against the table. “Alright, we go to the store, then come back here. Ally’s not wrong, we’re pretty done. Maybe a change in scenery is something that we need. And,” he grinned at Ally, “since you did get a bit of work down, you can come.”

Ally gave an adorable fist pump as she grinned at me victoriously. I rolled my eyes, keeping my own smile off my face. “Just know I didn’t agree to this.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask you,” she snarked playfully.

Together, we quickly packed up our things and headed out.

XXX

Michael.

The bell didn’t tinkle when we walked in. I looked up in confusion and saw that it was taped down. That was strange.

The other strange thing was Talia wasn’t anywhere in sight. Maybe she was just in the back? I walked towards the counter, surprised to see someone else sitting there instead. It was Talia’s daughter, the one with a mane of black hair and spiked bracelets that looked like they belonged in Hot Topic. Actually, they probably were from there.

She was sitting on the stool with her elbows propped on the counter, reading a book of some sorts. She glanced up when I approached the counter, sighing as she closed the book.

“Can I help you?” she asked flatly.

“Uh…I was wondering if Talia was around, actually.” I looked around and saw Ally and Lyn staring at the petrified doll heads with curiosity and apprehension, respectively. “We just needed help with something.”

She looked around before saying bluntly, “Huh, looks like she’s not here. Have a nice day.” She went to open the book again.

“Well…it’s Katherine, right? Can you just tell her we stopped by? Oh, and I’m Michael, by the way.”

Katherine looked at me with a mix of annoyance and exasperation. “Yeah, I will. Goodbye now.” She went back to reading with a shake of her head.

I was about to leave when I noticed that she wasn’t just reading a regular novel. She was reading a spell book! That’s a very odd reading choice, but I ain’t judging. Instead, I put on my best smile and cleared my throat.

There was murder in her eyes as she looked up again. At this point, Ally had made her way while Lyn was looking at the stuffed bear head in confusion. She stood next to me as Katherine glared daggers at me. Her eyes flickered between the two of us before she heaved another great sigh.

“What do you people want? I already told you that mom wasn’t here,” she snapped.

“What are you reading?” I asked, gesturing to the book. Ally stared at it, her eyes bright with interest.

“A book.”

“But that’s not a normal book.”

“Why do you give a shit?”

“I just was wondering if you knew anything about witchcraft?”

She stared at me silently, her eyes narrowed. Oops, maybe that was too forward of me. After a few minutes of very tense silence, she dropped her shoulders slightly.

“Why?” Katherine crossed her arms, still glaring at me. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because,” Ally spoke up, “we’re trying to send a spirit back to wherever it’s suppose to be, and we need someone who understands spells and witchy stuff. We thought that asking the woman who owns this store would be our best bet.”

Doesn’t Ally respect that she’s banned from engaging in this stuff today? Clearly not, sheesh. I nodded in agreement, and added, “She’s been kinda helping us this whole time.”

Katherine pinched the bridge of her nose before sliding off the stool to stand. She leaned against the counter and appraised us both. Ally stared back, not breaking off eye contact while I maintained it the best I could.

“You’re crazy, the two of you,” she shook her head. “Mom is out of town for the day and asked me to watch over the store while she was out. Sorry, but she won’t be back until then, maybe even longer depending.”

I couldn’t hide the disappointment on my face. An extra day wasn’t that big a deal, but it still sucked that we came here for nothing. I was ready to leave when Ally got a strange look on her face. I looked at her with a frown, but she was still looking at Katherine. Lyn walked over, eyes flickering between the two women.

“What’s going on?” she whispered to me. I just shrugged my shoulders, not really sure myself.

Ally suddenly gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. She shook whatever that was off and said, “Well, why don’t you help us then?”

My jaw dropped open as Lyn frowned in confusion, having missed most of the conversation. Katherine looked just as surprised at the suggestion before she burst into laughter.

“That’s insane!” Katherine had a small smirk on her face until she saw Ally’s determined expression. “Wait, are you serious? You actually think I can help you?”

“Well, why not?” Ally said with a shrug. “I doubt your mom would have put you in charge of the store unless you could at least understand half the stuff in here. Plus, you were reading that spell book when we came in, and I’m guessing you’re not doing that for fun.”

Damn, Ally’s observation skills were on point yet again. Lyn looked silently impressed, wearing a smirk as she nodded her approval. Katherine still looked surprise, and maybe even a little unsure. She tugged at the end of her hair, staring at Ally warily.

“You are asking something of me that you can’t even prove,” she said slowly. “Who ever said magic is real?”

“Ghosts are,” said Ally bluntly, “and one of them was brought here somehow. Please, I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t sure.”

Katherine looked skeptical as she worked her fingers through her hair. “Well…that’s definitely a point. What is it you actually need from me?”

Ally beamed as she turned to me, indicating that I could do the explaining. Quickly, I tried my best to explain the whole Fredrik thing without going into too much detail, because at this point, we could write a novel with everything we had going on. Katherine listened, her face pinched with nervous energy. After I finished, she looked away, her expression contemplative.

“Okay…” she glanced back us briefly before diverting her attention again. “I need some time to think about it. That sounds really stupid and really dangerous. I’m not about to put myself in harm’s way just for some strangers. Now get out, I need to be alone right now.”

We left, making sure the door was closed behind us tightly. Katherine immediately locked the door behind us, flipping the sign to ‘close’ before heading back to the counter. We walked a little ways away before I whirled on my heel, staring at Ally in awe.

“How did you do that?” I asked in wonderment.

Ally shrugged as she reached for Lyn’s hand, interlacing their fingers. “I just guessed, honestly. There was something…hmm, strange? I’m not sure how to say it, but there was something strange about her… you know,” she waved her other hand around widely.

“No one knows what that means,” remarked Lyn.

She rolled her eyes in response. “I just felt something around her. I can’t really explain it. I think she’s going to help, though.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said. “I tried looking for other options, but I couldn’t figure out any other ways to send him back. It’s not great that we have to ask other people for help, but I think it should be okay. Just a quick spell and poof! He’s gone, hopefully back to where he belongs.”

Lyn pressed her fingers to her temple, messaging it lightly. “I can’t explain how happy I’ll be once this craziness is all over, you know? This whole thing just keeps unraveling more and more. It will be nice to hang out with you guys when it doesn’t involve murder and hauntings.”

Ally laughed, pressing her lips to Lyn’s knuckles. “Listen, you signed up for this. Ghosts are an everyday part of life for me.”

“I was also thinking of starting up a ‘Spook Searchers’ business after this case is all said and done,” I joked.

“You better change the fucking name, then,” said Lyn. “Because no offense to either of you, it’s terrible!”

We both gasp in mock indignation before the three of us burst into laughter. It felt good to laugh about all this. There have been some really heavy times for us, but so far, we’ve made it through it okay. I have to admit, the day I decided to share my umbrella with Ally was one of the best things I ever did. I really liked these girls, and I was happy about our friendship. I left all my friends and family back home in Victoria, so finding two people I really got along with was awesome.

XXX

We were back in the library, our energy renewed. Lyn ordered us pizza to share, though she put her foot down on Hawaiian pizza (even though it’s the most delicious). Well, I wasn’t going to argue too much, since most pizzas were delicious, and I was starving.

We ended up banishing Ally back to her old table, despite her protests. It wasn’t until the threat of no pizza was issued did she comply. Now she sat alone, grumbling under her breath as she worked on something for her Anthro class. She would be fine.

Us, on the other hand, might not be. Frustration was setting in again as we made barely any headway on the JK case. Lyn’s tapping was getting more aggressive as she searched up a bunch of things, glaring at the screen as if that would help reveal the secrets. Meanwhile, I was stuck on paper duty, and it was super boring. The only thing about a Kinkly that showed up was when Prof Kinkly got his job here at Mount Seamus. That was literally all I could find. Not very helpful at all.

A thought occurred to me, and it was a long shot. Lamar had gotten the results from somewhere. I glanced at the email again, wondering if maybe they had something we could work with. I sent the person who sent the email to Lamar with the results a message, asking if there was any photographic evidence of the DNA results. Maybe it would go nowhere, but it was better than doing nothing.

I bit my thumb, chewing on the nail as I flipped through other useless articles. I found my focus waning as I stared at the same sheet of paper for several minutes unmoving. My mind wandered to the ghosts. Would they just leave after we figured out who killed them? Probably, hey? It would be strange to not have Amelia in my thoughts anymore. I felt bad for her and the others too. It was a horrible thing to even imagine, being stuck in the place that you died in. I shuddered at the thought.

My mind then drifted to Katherine. She didn’t agree to help us, but she also didn’t say no. I mean, why though? It just seemed really weird that she didn’t outright refuse. And what did Ally mean by saying there was something strange about her? I didn’t notice anything out of the norm. Maybe she was picking up on something ghostly that I couldn’t sense? I think that would be a first.

Was it warm in here today? I felt warm, sitting here in the library chair. I looked over at Lyn, who was staring at her laptop screen with a look of pure resentment, as if she couldn’t believe the answers weren’t just popping out in front of her. The intensity of her stare used to unsettle me slightly, but I’ve grown used to it at this point. I don’t really remember much about her sister, the one who picked us up, but I wondered if she harboured the same intensity. It made me nervous to think of her parents.

I sighed, putting my arms behind my head. Maybe it was better to just call this night off now. Neither of us were getting anywhere, and I had zero focus suddenly. I wasn’t even sure Lyn was focusing. Ally was working away on her assignment, or so she claimed. Maybe she was sneakily lookin’ stuff up too. I smiled, thinking that is something she would do. I wish she would take a bit more care of herself, considering all the crap she’s been through as well.

I jumped in my seat when Lyn scrapped her chair back. She stood up and cracked her back and shoulders before looking at me. “I need to walk around a bit and grab something to drink. Do you want anything?”

“Mind just grabbing me a water?”

“Bottled water?” Lyn made a face. “I guess so.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked incredulously.

“Everything. Everything about bottled water is wrong,” huffed Lyn before shaking her head. “No, don’t do this, Lyn. Don’t get into it, it’s not worth it. Ally, do you want anything?”

Ally’s tired face looked up from her laptop at the sound of her name. “Maybe a hot chocolate, if you don’t mind.”

Lyn nodded. “Sure thing. One hot chocolate and one destroyer of the planet, coming up.”

“Hey!” I protested. “I bet those coffee cups are just as bad!”

She stuck her tongue at me as she grabbed her wallet and headed up the stairs. I shook my head in disbelief. Ally caught my eye and chuckled under breath, her shoulders rising in rhythm.

I leaned back in my chair and frowned at Ally. “I think we should stop for the night, honestly. We’re literally getting nowhere.”

“What’s this ‘we’ stuff?” Ally said in a tone that mocked my voice from earlier. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to help, since you banned me and all that jazz.”

“Stop be so dramatic,” I said with a laugh.

“I will never, ever, stop.” She smiled at me before slumping down in her seat. “But in all realness, I agree that you should stop if you feel stuck. It’s probably just so much garbage to sift through. Maybe a good night’s rest will be just what you need.”

“Maybe.” I ran my hands over my face. I hated the bristles that were growing out slowly on my chin right now. Movember was a great cause but man, was my face itchy. Curse my Asian heritage and its inability to grow facial hair in comfortable way. Wait…did anyone grow facial hair in a comfortable way?

Lyn came clomping back down with the drinks in hand. She tossed the bottle of water at me, then set Ally’s drink down softly in front of her. Ally thanked her with a smile while Lyn sat back down, a tea in hand. She took a small sip, giving out a sigh of contentment.

“I needed this,” she groaned.

“We should stop for now,” I suggested. I cracked open the lid and took a swig.

“Probably,” she amended. “I felt like I’ve gone in circles tryna find anything on this idiot.”

I nodded in understanding. We had been at this literally all day, except for a little break. Maybe it was just a matter of not looking in the right spot or something like that. Whatever it was, it was driving us both up the wall. There was no point in continuing if we were just knocking out heads against the table.

But just before we started to pack up, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and noticed it was a response from the people who sent the results. I opened the email and saw that they included an attachment. Suddenly my hands were shaking in anticipation and excitement as I clicked the file. What I saw nearly made me drop my phone.

“Michael?” Ally asked puzzled. “Is everything okay?”

My words were failing me as I nodded slowly. Lyn got up and looked over my shoulder and her jaw dropped in surprise. Finally, Ally had enough and came over to see what all the drama was about. She took the phone from my hand and stared at the picture. Her face paled as her eyes widened in shock.

“No way…” she whispered. She put the phone face up on the table, so the man in the photo was looking up at us with a charming smile on his face. The photo must have been taken in the ’50s or something, but it was hard to say for certain. But it wasn’t the age of the photo, it was the person in it that was shocking us all.

Jeremiah Kinkly looked exactly like Robert Kinkly, our drama professor.

[jjmichie]

The Day I Touched Eddie Vedder’s Ankle

March 25, 1992

It was cold, as March in Minnesota tends to be.  

But this March was colder than usual.  Brian was gone.  And I had a horrible case of mono that I had succumbed to immediately after he dumped me, which led me to drop the majority of classes I was taking that semester.  My financial aid situation was now a mess but I was too sick to go to work and my money supply was dwindling.  I had pushed my friends away.  I didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone or go anywhere or do anything.   

It had been this way for over a month.  I spent long days in bed, with barely the energy to eat or even sit up.  My muscles and my head and my whole body hurt whenever I tried to move or even think.  I couldn’t distinguish whether it was from the sickness or loneliness or aching for Brian but it didn’t matter.  I just knew everything hurt and everything felt dark, cold, empty, dead . . . hopeless.    

But sitting on the nightstand next to my bed were two tickets to an all ages show at First Avenue.  Pearl Jam.  It was coming up soon.  I really didn’t want to go.  I was supposed to be going with Brian.  We were supposed to go together.  We were supposed to BE together.  But the tickets continued to sit there, mocking me, reminding me of what my world had been just a short month ago, but now of what was gone, what was lost, and reminding me of how badly I had fucked it all up.  

But I also hated to let the tickets go to waste.  I had paid for them.  So, as a reluctant Plan B, I convinced my sister to join me.  She was older, but always seemed younger.  The kind of sister you end up scooping up off the floor of a closet at the end of the night when you bring her to a party, or who takes off on a motorcycle with a random guy she doesn’t know. or disappears for so long in a shopping mall that you end up freaking out and contacting mall security . . . but anyway.   

Night of the event.  I made myself pull out my standard rock concert clothes, which consisted of knee high black suede boots and a long black velvet jacket thing, which was tapered at the waist then flared out into a skirt in the most lovely feminine way.   It was adorned with brass buttons down the front, and two in the back. I loved that jacket.  It usually cheered me up every time I put it on.  But this time it didn’t.  This time I was just going through the motions.  

When we got inside the already-packed venue, I could immediately feel Brian.  I swear I could smell him.  I knew he was there.  There was no way he would miss this.   But he was upstairs, in the balcony where 21-year-olds were allowed, not corralled on the main floor, in the kiddie pen, where I was humiliatingly sequestered.  I let my head turn towards the balcony, let my gaze drift up there, as if I might see him.  As if he might see me and actually come down.  

Scrunching ourselves as best we could onto the main floor, my sister and I tried to push our way towards the stage, but didn’t get very far.   In fact, not very close at all.  In my weakened state I just didn’t have the energy.  We ended up in the back of the room, near the sound board, more Mike-side than Stone-side, although at the time I didn’t know the difference between the sides.  I didn’t know their names yet.  

“Oh weird,” I commented to my sister, as I looked around us.  “Every single guy here is wearing a flannel shirt.”  

She rolled her eyes at me. “Of course they are,” she said in her big-sister voice. “That’s what they wear now.”  

I hadn’t realized the extent to which Pacific Northwest attire had already permeated the burgeoning grunge crowd in the midwest.  For some reason I thought me and the Record Store Boys were the only ones who knew about this.  But it was literally Every. Single. Guy.  in the room was wearing plaid flannel.  When had this happened?  I felt kind of stupid, as I realized I was looking WAY out of place in my velvet finery.  

And it was interesting to note the ratio of males to females.  Easily over 80 percent male.  And most of the females appeared to be tag-along girlfriends.  Me and my sister were definitely the minority.  Which is weird when you think about it.  Given how handsome everyone in the band was, why weren’t there more girls?  

But then they started to play.  

We stood still, as did everyone around us on the floor, completely captivated by the unbelievable power that was suddenly filling the room and pelting us like someone had fired off a flurry of rockets.  We watched the surreal energy on the stage, bouncing, whipping their hair, growling out song after song.  All I could think was  . . .  WHUT!!!??!!! 

Mostly my eyes were glued to the lead singer.  It was hard not to stare at him.  He just completely broke the mold of what your typical rock star guy was at the time.  But I also remember the rest of the band, that Jeff was wearing a cool hat and looked so solid and muscular, although I didn’t know at the time that his name was Jeff.  (The advantage of being Mike-side is that you get Jeff too!)  And I remember the guitarist on the other side smiling.  Smiling.  And the way the guitarist on my side was belting out solos!  My god!  

I recognized most of the songs, because Brian had given me a homemade cassette tape (I couldn’t afford a CD player), which had Ten on one side and Nevermind on the other and I played it endlessly.  At first I had gravitated towards Nirvana, and only listened to the other side because it was too much of a pain in the ass to hit rewind and wait wait wait for it to get back to the beginning.  Might as well let the other side play.  But then something happened.  Something changed.  And the more I listened the more I liked it.  The more Brian played it, whenever we were together, alone in his room, the more it became my favorite.  Our favorite. 

But then Pearl Jam began playing the opening chords of Black.  

Shit. 

No.  

Don’t do this to me.  

I was instantly back in his bedroom, the CD player going.  Brian and I had come to agree at some point that Black was the best song on the album.  It was our song.  The song we made love to.  We didn’t realize everyone else felt that way too.  But from the cheer rising from the sea of flannel, it was obvious that this was a favorite of everyone at First Avenue.  Brian.  Brian.  I screamed for him with my mind, begging for him to hear me in his mind, and then I couldn’t see the band or the flannel or anything any more because my eyes were blurred and tears were gushing down my face blinding me and I missed him so much and I knew he was right above me hearing this too, hearing this right now.  All the love gone bad . . . Was he thinking about me too?  Why wasn’t he coming down the stairs?  I couldn’t go up, but he could come down if he wanted to.  He must have known I was there.  Why was he letting me cry alone?  Why did he leave me?  Why did I let him?  Didn’t any of it even matter to him?  . . . in somebody else’s sky . . . 

And my stupid sister didn’t even notice, and neither did all the flannel-clad minions who were trying inappropriately to mosh to this song, unable to contain their passion, unconcerned and not deterred by the slow melodicness that clashed ridiculously with their movements. 

End.  Please let this end.  

It did.  When Black finally ended I stood there, hearing the next song and the next, but still feeling sort of numb, not bothering to wipe away the mascara that now dirtied my cheeks.  

But a short time later my attention abruptly shifted from my own sorrow back to the lead singer, who, to everyone’s surprise, was leaving the stage.  Making his way toward the railing of the stairs, he began climbing.  He was climbing up the railing, up towards the balcony.  And all the flannel-clads turned their backwards-baseball-capped heads upward in unison to follow his progress.  

Meanwhile the First Avenue security guys looked at each other and then began  inching closer, inching their way over to the railing, looking serious, looking concerned.  What was this guy doing?  

He was now up on the balcony, but he was OUTSIDE the railing, on the tiny piece of floor that extended beyond it, barely enough room for his boot.  He must have been, I don’t know, 30 or 40 feet above us all.  His arm was wrapped around the railing to hold himself in place, and he turned around and looked down at us.  

This is my most vivid memory of the show.  The look on Eddie’s face.  The unbelievably intense look of concentration he gave the crowd while he looked down from that perch. He looked only mildly scared.  But you could tell he was assessing us, visualizing what he was about to do, and judging exactly where to jump and seeking out those he could trust, literally making eye contact with some key dudes, the bigger, taller dudes, with their hands raised, communicating silently with only his eyes, making sure it felt right. 

Once assured of that, once assured he could trust them, he turned back around, facing the balcony and the railing  . . . 

 . . . and he let go . . .  

I know logically that Eddie’s body must have followed the laws of physics and fallen at the normal speed that humans fall when they fall, but it didn’t seem that way.  He seemed to float.  The fall seemed to take forever.  He drifted down, arms outstretched, eyes closed (although I couldn’t see his eyes, somehow I knew they were closed), so elegantly, so delicately, like a snowflake.  

. . . and landed softly and securely on the hands of the big dudes he had just vetted.  From there a swarm of hands seemed to rise up out of nowhere and wave like seaweed in an ocean and before I knew it the graceful ragdoll was floating towards us.  My sister and I both stretched as far as humanly possible to reach out and touch touch touch!  I felt my hand on his skin, right above the line where his white sock met his bare flesh. Wet  Hot.  Solid muscle.  Coursing with life.  Wow . . . But I could only touch him for a few seconds before he floated on, was passed on, passed back towards the stage.  

My sister and I both gasped at our hands, staring at them, and holding them out in front of us, giggling with glee, feeling so ridiculously groupie, and realizing we were acting as dumb as the Beatles fans we used to make fun of on TV.  But the guys around us seemed to be having the same reaction too. They were thrilled to have participated.  Many of them were high-fiving each other with the hand that just seconds earlier had been connected to their new hero.  

I didn’t realize it until later, but at some point during the crowd-surfing ceremony, all of my thoughts of the guy upstairs were forgotten.  I no longer felt lonely.  I no longer felt sick.  I no longer worried about my missed classes or my dwindling bank account.  I no longer cared that my outfit was out of place.  There was no where in the world I would rather be than right there. Right then. On the main floor.  Participating.  Hearing this mind blowing shit kicking fucking awesome too good to be real music.  And reliving the feel of the delightfully sweaty ankle that I had just helped to push along.  

The ankle was now safely back where it belonged, up on stage with the smiling guitarist and the cool hat and the power power power that the whole band was thundering out, filling the small venue with ungodly energy and life.  

And as I listened to it . . . I let go too.  

I let go of the memories, of the loss, the despair, the darkness, the hopelessness, and let the flannel forest envelop me.  The group moved as one, and I was part of it, leaning on them, letting them lean on me, swaying with them, riding wave after wave of bliss and feeling every word and note and chord and drum pedal kick.  I let go and trusted them to support me and lift me . . . just like Eddie had done on the balcony. 

When it was over and we finally had to leave, we carried the energy and the high with us.  Totally happy.  Totally alive.  

Things turned around after that.  

The snow melted.  The sky was less dark.  I resumed classes and doubled up during spring semester in order to graduate on time.  I was so inspired by McCready that I ramped up my own electric guitar playing abilities and joined a band.  We actually played at First Avenue ourselves about six months later.  Granted it was just “new band night,” and granted, we were pretty shitty, but still.  I stood exactly where Mike had been standing.  Before long I fell in love with the singer/songwriter in my band and we are still living happily ever after, together after all these years. 

So . . . thank you Pearl Jam.  Really.  Thank you.  That night gave me the jolt I needed to pull myself out of a horrible place and find the strength to take control of my life and build a happy future for myself.  And my life has turned out pretty fucking good.  Thank you.  You made a huge difference.   

[happypledis]

(1/2) so, kyla's video basically said the girls just decided to go their separate ways. and it's honestly given as many questions as answers. I really do appreciate her addressing these things, but also it's all a bit like why? cause if she is really under an NDA cause there was too much behind the scenes stuff, which seems most likely, then it would probs be better to not talk about it, but then if she isn't it means our girls really did just not want to be pristin anymore and that's confusing.

(2/2) also the fact that pristin seemed to mostly leave on bad terms with pledis, neither option quite adds up. maybe they wanted to leave but pledis didn't like that? but I don't think I believe our girls would do that, they never gave any signs of wanting out, even tho most haven't gone on to sign with new agencies, they all still had such long trainee periods they knew what they were getting into and were ready for it. basically I'm just as confused and idk how to feel.

hey!

NDAs don't work that way. She wouldn't be able to talk about training practices, stocks, insider trading info, etc. but she would 100% be allowed to insult pledis if she wanted. I mean, Heechul insults SM while still being under them and etc. (I was gonna write more examples but I’m about to start HW so it’ll take too long for that.) But yeah there’s tons of cases where idols insult their companies. NDAs aren’t gag orders for opinions. And tbh if there was an NDA for opinions I don’t think pledis would care to put it on an artist with largely international fans. I-fans, especially I-highs, can’t really put a lot of damage on pledis if Kyla was to say some negative opinion... so even if pledis couldn't handle a little more negativity, they wouldn’t keep it from coming from Kyla’s mouth. But like she said, she doesn’t have those opinions anyway.

I don’t really know if we can believe they left on bad terms with pledis? I really haven’t seen proof of that.  a few of the girls stayed: that seems like fine terms to me. I especially think Kyulkyung could legit go ANY where she wanted. She probably has the $ to break contract too (acting/modeling makes more than selling music any day). But she hasn’t. Also, Kyla was actually seen going into the artist engagement area at K-con (one of my carat friends told me and I can try to dig up screenshots if needed). To the best of my knowledge pledis actually let her back there. why would they let her see nuventeen if she was in bad graces?

Here’s the deal, anon. I’m just going to info dump everything.

Like I said before. The girls all went on vacations, some multiple. Some out of the country. Unnie line enrolled in school a long time ago. Apparently Roa and Nayoung may have enrolled in full loads, before the disbanding. I heard a K fan claim that. Idk if it’s true. But if it is, those two at least had new dreams at the time/expected not to be promoting for a whole semester. Kyla went to Korea only for vacation, she didn’t stay at pledis. Even though she was healed. idk whose choice that was.

To me, it shows the girls knew they wouldn't be promoting for a while. Most people can’t go on family vacations abroad without quite a bit of notice. Idk if the lack of promoting was their choice or not though (some companies do allow idols, even rookies, to choose a bit. Examples of pledis doing so include svt saying they prefer to be busy and promote and choose to do comebacks when they happen. also pristin had quite a bit of control as well based off them also composing/writing and even some choreo sometimes so????). 

Take all this info as you wish. I never knew what to think. No one really knows the full story except pledis, the girls, and the friends/family they’ve chosen to tell. I’m going to choose to believe Kyla. She already got hate???? yeah, stupid I know!! for not ‘exposing’ pledis a long time ago. so the fact that she said something POSITIVE and tried to STOP hate, when she really had no reason to stick up for pledis anymore, shows me that she does not have harsh feelings towards them. She probably would have gained even more popularity from tea, the way beauty youtubers do, but she chose not to go that route. because it would be a lie, from what the info suggests to me. 

TLDR; I genuinely think that some girls changed their minds, and found new dreams.

[killingxrangers]

Restoration

Chapter One- October 9th, 2018

Clarke Griffin fell asleep in her bed at her apartment on March 3rd, 2023, and woke up five years in the past, where her father was very much alive and her family was still whole. She still hung out with Octavia and Raven and everyone else every day, and still got into trouble on the weekends. With no clue what happened to send her five years into the past, Clarke decides the only explanation must be she’s been given a second chance to save her father. But she made mistakes during the first attempt at being seventeen, and has the opportunity to repair them- consequences be damned. Everything that went wrong in 2018 she’s going to repair- her family, her friends, Lexa. 

Clarke has a second chance, and will do anything to make 2023 better. 

“Good morning, honey.”

The words are such a terrifying combination of familiar and foreign that Clarke Griffin jerked awake in the bed the moment those words left his lips. The words were soft, slow and gentle, like he always spoke to her in the morning. He knew she was dead to the world, knew she despised how her mother would rip the door open too loudly and wake her up. That’s why Tuesday’s and Wednesday’s, when Abby was already long gone for her shift at the hospital so it was on Jake to make sure their daughter woke up on time, was Clarke’s favorite.

But this morning, all mornings like this one, hadn’t happened since she was seventeen. Since her father died in that car accident driving home from work late one night and everything in Clarke’s life changed. That was nearly five years ago, and Clarke was close to twenty-three now and living in a completely different city than the one she had grown up in. So why was she suddenly hearing her father’s voice? Suddenly in a much larger bed than the twin sized one shoved in a corner that she’d grown accustom to ever since moving to Baltimore?

“Dad?” The words are choked as she sat up, her eyes blearily from sleep (or tears?), staring at the man from her memories, dreams and nightmares. He looked... so normal. So perfectly healthy and so like the loving man Clarke had grown up under. Nothing like the corpse, too mutilated for an open casket, that so frequently haunted Clarke’s sleep. “D-Dad?”

Jake frowned, stepping into the room more. The room, Clarke realized suddenly, that she had decorated at fourteen. Before than, her parents had painted the room a soft purple when she was ten, with white furniture and inspiration phrases stenciled on the wall. Clarke remembered arguing at thirteen to change it to a ‘more mature’ style, to which her mother responded the room was fine for now. At fourteen Jake had taken his daughter’s side, and convinced Abby to let Clarke do what she wished. Purple changed to grey, the full sized bed with a canopy and the telltale signs that it used to be a bunk bed changed to a queen with an upholstered headboard in the center of the room. The inspirational quotes were covered up, shelves added to accumodate the many pictures of Clarke’s friends, the mementos from boyfriends and vacations.

The apartment Clarke shared with three other people at twenty-two had nothing on this bedroom, this house. That apartment was small and cluttered, Clarke having grown used to sharing the tiny space with another med-student. They all tended to flock together, used to working and studying at hell-ish hours. But this.. this house in an upper class area of DC...

“Clarke, honey, you’re really pale. Are you feeling okay?” Jake spoke again as he placed the back his hand on Clarke’s forehead. The urge to jerk away from overwhelming and she had to force herself to remain still. He looked... so like the man she remembered. He hadn’t yet shaved for the morning, dark stubble lining his chin and cheeks, rough and hard how Clarke knew her mother couldn’t stand. Jake would have just woken up a few minutes ago himself, still dressed in a pair of worn sleep pants Abby kept urging him to throw out and an old college t-shirt. Coffee would be brewing on the pot downstairs in the kitchen, a gross green smoothie in two cups that Abby insisted they all drank in the morning would be untouched in the fridge. She made them before she left for work, and Clarke and Jake used to dump them down the drain, both of them wearing conspiratorial grins the whole time. Abby never knew. 

“What... what is going on,” Clarke breathed the question, unable to keep the question in as she stared at her eyes. Tears threatened to spill over and she knew her dad could see them in her eyes. “What.. what’s happening?” 

Jake sat on the bed, his hand moving from Clarke’s head to grip her cheek, part of his large hand around the back of her head, his thumb near the arch of her nose. He was worried, Clarke could hear it in his voice. She wasn't acting right by his standards and nothing was right by her’s. “Clarke, baby, Clarke, you’re worrying me.” 

He turned her this way and that, checking her over for... something neither one of them knew. This was mental, not physical. Something was seriously wrong in her brain. Last night Clarke had gone to bed as a twenty-two year old med student, her roommate still up studying at her desk at two in the morning. They’d had leftover pizza for dinner again because none of them had the time to go out shopping or even to pick up a quick meal. Money was always short for all of them with no reprieve anywhere on the horizon. 

Today Clarke had woken up back in her old bedroom in a large house in DC, where she knew, no matter what age she might be right now, money had never been a thought in her mind. Abby was the chief of general surgery at the hospital, her father the head engineer with a government contract. Clarke had never had a single worry in her mind aside from what her and her friends would be getting up to this weekend. She drove a BMW and had unlimited access to her parents AMEX. Things were good. Great. Until her father died. 

“Daddy?” 

Clarke hadn’t called her father daddy in years, ever since she deemed herself too old for such a childish term. He’d been dad ever since, but Clarke was scared right now. Any minute she’d wake back up in her shitty apartment and go about her shitty twenty-two year old life. 

“Did you sleep okay, baby? You don’t seem sick, what’s wrong?” 

How could she say this wasn’t right? This time period and this life and this interaction wasn’t right? He would have been dead for almost five years now. Would have told her goodbye and to enjoy school one morning and never said anything afterwards. Her and Abby’s relationship would deteriorate rapidly and Clarke would lose herself in sex and drugs and alcohol. 

“I...” She couldn’t say any of those words, not without looking crazy. Whether this was a dream or not (though it felt so painfully real), Jake wouldn’t understand any of it. So she smiled, threw her arms around her father and hugged him tighter than she probably ever has before, and said, “I didn’t sleep well. Bad dreams.” 

Octavia Blake was standing directly across from Clarke, smirking and holding her black school bag that Clarke distinctly remembered they’d always use to smuggle beer into Clarke’s basement. Twenty-two year old Clarke hasn’t spoken to Octavia Blake since right before she turned nineteen. The two of them got into a fight, bad enough to end a years-long friendship (though in all honesty, their relationship had been deteriorating all throughout their first year of college and that first semester of sophomore year. But now, standing before her was seventeen year old Octavia Blake, her best friend since childhood. Her hair was still long and straight, simple compared to the styles she would soon begin to favor. 

“Where’d you go last night? I went off with Raven and by the time I came back you were gone.” 

Clarke had no idea what Octavia was talking about. Could barely focus on the sentence, actually. She was so engrossed in staring at her friend, her best friend, that all other thoughts escaped her. Standing here, in the crowded school hallway as Clarke struggled to remember her combination lock, she can’t remember why that fight was strong enough to break up this friendship. She’d never felt closer to someone else than she did to Octavia Blake. There had always been something about Octavia, a bond that, at the time, nothing could seem to even rattle. 

Octavia shoved Clarke’s shoulder, a habit that had developed early on when Octavia thought Clarke was being particularly weird about something. “What is up with you today? You haven't even said one word to me.” 

“Sorry, hi,” Clarke shook her head, forcing herself out of her memories (though, did they count as memories if they’re yet to happen? Soon-to-be memories? Thinking about this was giving Clarke a headache). “I, uh, barely slept last night and I guess I'm still out of it.” 

Octavia waggled her eyebrows, something that Clarke remembered used to drive her older brother Bellamy insane, especially as it tended to follow Octavia deciding to do something stupid. “Is that why you left yesterday? Ditched me for Finn, huh?” 

God, Finn Collins. Even just thinking about him now caused a pain in Clarke’s heart that she wasn’t ready for. She had forgotten all about Finn Collins as soon as she left for college. He cheated on her senior year and lied about it for months. The truth came out the day before graduation, and she hadn’t talked to him since. The thought of seeing him now, seventeen and handsome, full of that teenage confidence that first attracted Clarke to him... 

“Uh, no, uh, sorry.” That sentence was a mess, offering no explanation to why Clarke was out of it or why she had ditched Octavia. She couldn’t recall what last night was, which meant nothing important could have happened for her to remember five years later. Something with the group, or just Octavia? The ringing bell saved Clarke was trying to think of something, and Octavia said bye quickly, moving towards the hallway that housed most of the English classes, leaving Clarke to sort out her combination on her own. 

Like last night, the combo was clearly not worth retaining in her mind for all those extra years, and she soon walked away without any books, wandering aimlessly  as she didn’t know what class she had right now. All she knew was: 

She was seventeen again and a Junior

Her father was still very much alive 

She’s still dating Finn Collins 

Still friends with Octavia Blake and everyone else 

Her and her mother still communicate 

She remembered the big things, the stuff that shaped her into the adult she was becoming at twenty-two. Finn cheating, getting drunk during senior prom, that stay in the mental hospital, her mother dating Marcus Kane, accepting the offer at Georgetown for pre-med, Lexa. Clarke wouldn’t even allow herself to think about Lexa fucking Woods right now. 

“Griffin, any particular reason you’re wandering the halls without a pass?” 

Why is it that, given all the things that Clarke can’t remember, she without a doubt can remember the sneering and mocking tone of fucking Mrs. Pierce. Spinning around, Clarke isn’t surprised to find the same level of hatred she felt at seventeen flaring up now as she looked at the woman, scowling immediately in response. “Going to the bathroom, Mrs. Pierce.” The lie came easily, one she used so many times at a teenager to this very woman and many more. 

“If I were to escort you, I wouldn’t happen to find Octavia Blake and Raven Reyes in the bathroom waiting for you, would I?” 

And this time, for perhaps the first time, Clarke could honestly answer, “Of course not, ma’am.” She couldn’t help the smirk that came to her mouth despite the statement, and Mrs. Pierce frowned in return. “I just need to pee, ma’am.” 

Mrs. Pierce pointed in the opposite direction, towards the math hall, and it clicked a memory into place. Clarke had AP Calculus this period, a class filled predominately with seniors. She didn't hate the class, though she still operated under the assumption that it was impossible to love math. The first time around taking the class, Clarke had rued her mother for forcing the course upon her, because who needed AP calc anyway? But once she reached college and that was one less class to worry about, she couldn't have been more pleased. So, without a response to Mrs. Pierce, she turned and headed towards the maths section, a class she now knew she didn’t share with anyone important enough to her story. 

They’d come later, she thought. Octavia in AP English 11; Jasper in art; all of her friends in lunch; Raven in history; Octavia and Raven in Physics... The list went on and on. It wasn't a surprise she did poorly this particular year. Her mother had been on her the entire Junior year, yelling about poor performance and how did she expect to get into med schools went grades like those? Clarke couldn’t fault her mother, despite not listening to what Clarke truly wanted, and it took a decent amount of pull on her mother’s end for Clarke to be accepted into Georgetown to begin with. 

Was that was this was, then? A second chance to improve her teenage years? Her adult life wasn’t ideal, but it would get better. She needed to get through med school and then things would get better. She couldn’t think of anything to do now, in this time period, that would improve her life at twenty-two. No matter what she did med school would follow, and Clarke’s father would- 

April Nineteenth. 

That’s the day of his death. Was that why she had come back to seventeen of all ages? She’d never been more depressed in her life than at that age. It all started with her father, so-

Clarke would stop it. She would prevent him from going to work that day, or leaving at that time. Something. She would do something, anything, to stop him from dying. It was early October now. She had time. She’d be patient, and smart, and would let no one know that she wasn’t seventeen year old Clarke, but twenty-two year old Clarke who lived in Baltimore and attended Hopkins. And she would stop her father from dying. 

Hi guys, this is just a super short intro to what this story will be about. It is Clexa, and that’s a relationship that will be explored later on, as it happened to Clarke as an adult and as she tries to fix it now. Other relationships are Octavia x Lincoln, Bellamy x Echo, and Raven x Luna. Let me know what you guys think! 

[stupidnephilimlove]

Office Hours P9

It’s new season week, so here’s another chapter. Tagging @ifthingsgetcrazy @irisphryneadler and @kindaresilient as always and @shiningalec as well. Read on ao3. Or start at the beginning.

“I think he’s in love,” Izzy teases as she lounges on the sofa across the room. Jace is balancing on the arm next to her and Alec grits his teeth. He’s told Jace a million times about doing that, but Jace just jokes that he sounds like their mother. So, Alec’s sort of letting it lie because he hates it when they compare him to their parents. It’s probably why they do it.

“Dorky grin?” Jace asks Isabelle.

Alec keeps watching the TV, trying to block them out, but he sees Izzy raise a hand out of the corner of his eye. She points a finger, and as she makes a tick in the air she says, “Check.”

“Gazing off into space?”

“Check.”

“Not listening to a word we’re saying?”

“I’m listening,” Alec butts in, “but you’re both being ridiculous, so I’m choosing to ignore you.”

He’s not in love, okay, nowhere close to being in love. He doesn’t have a dorky grin and if he’s staring into space it’s because they can’t hold an interesting conversation.

He’s behaving the same way he always does, nothing has changed. He almost wants to just get up and go to his room, but he’s enjoying this episode of The Bachelor. Izzy always makes them watch it and though he groans about it, he’s secretly hooked to the show. It’s become something of a guilty pleasure for him.

“Overly defensive when the subject is brought up?” Jace continues.

“Check,” and Isabelle giggles.

“Would you two stop? I thought we were watching this. They’re about to go on a date.”

He waves a hand at the screen. This is the date that Isabelle’s been praying will happen since this season started. Alec’s had to listen to her go on and on about it through every episode, and now she’s apparently just not even bothered.

“Constantly tries to change the conversation?”

Alec glares at the two of them and Izzy’s eyes catch his. Do it, he silently dares her. She tilts her head, smiles and says, “Check.”

He hates them. It’s official.

“I hate you,” and now they know it too.

He has the worst siblings in the world, and he’s kicking them out as soon as possible. Which probably won’t be for three to five years because he’ll never be able to afford the rent by himself, but still, he’ll do it.

They’re just laughing at him, not demure laughter either. No, it’s the kind where they bend themselves over and their whole body shakes from it. Which is only adding to Alec’s irritation with the situation. What’s a stronger feeling than hate? Whatever that is, that’s how he feels about them right now. He scowls at his siblings, which only makes their laughter stronger.

Through gulps of breath Jace says, “Personally attacks you,” he breaks off as they devolve into another fit of laughter and he wipes a tear from his eye. Eventually, he manages to calm himself enough to finish his sentence. “When… you call him on it?”

Isabelle can’t even say anything; she just does another air tick.

A commercial begins to play and Alec throws himself up out of his chair and stalks into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and just stares for a moment. Deep breaths, he tells himself, before grabbing a can. He gives them a few minutes to cool down and only returns once the laughing has subsided.

“So,” Isabelle starts as Alec takes his seat. “Who is he?”

“Who’s who?” Alec says. What is with them today?

“Don’t do that.” She jumps up from the sofa and crashes down onto him, draping herself over his body. They used to do this when they were kids, he’d stroke her hair and she’d listen to his heartbeat. Instead, she pokes him in the ribs. “You’ve been all moony and distracted and… happy for weeks.”

“I’m always happy,” Alec defends himself.

“No, you’re not. We know you too well, so talk to us.”

“Yeah, come on, man,” Jace says. “It’s no big deal.”

He’s had it with them. Where did they get this idea that he’s with someone?

“I’m not seeing anyone, okay. I’m not being coy or whatever. There. Is. No. One.”

Isabelle pushes back from his chest and gazes down at him. Her eyes search his.

“Oh,” she brushes the hair back from his forehead and he closes his eyes at the touch. “There’s really no one?”

“Really.”

Thankfully, the subject is dropped.

-

Of course, the subject isn’t dropped for long.

-

On Monday morning, Alec grabs a coffee on campus with Jace, as they often do before Jace heads off to work. Having paid, the two of them turn back from the counter and almost walk into someone.

“Alexander.”

Alec knows that voice, and he knows that face, and he just kind of blanks out for a moment. It’s sort of surreal to see Magnus Bane in the middle of the coffee shop. It doesn’t matter that it’s only a two-minute walk from Magnus’ office, this just isn’t right. Alec’s been compartmentalising Magnus in order to function in life and now, Magnus just decided to take himself out of one of those compartments and dump himself down into the coffee shop compartment. Now Alec won’t be able to come and get coffee without thinking of Magnus.

Although, to be fair, he already thinks of Magnus when he gets coffee here, because this is where he got the drinks that first caused their hands to brush. Shit, now he’s thinking about those fingers against his. Alec’s eyes dart down to where Magnus’ own hand is wrapped around a cup. He tries to, he really tries to not think about that hand wrapped around himself. He’s not successful.

“Hi. I’m Jace. You know my brother?” Jace offers a hand to Magnus, who shakes it.

“Professor Bane,” he says. “Alec’s in my class this semester.”

Jace looks at Alec, then at Magnus, then back to Alec, and Alec can almost hear the cogs turning.

“Don’t you have to get to work?” Alec prompts and looks at his brother imploringly.

“Sure, work,” Jace says, and the expression on his face tells Alec they’re going to talk about this later. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Magnus says as Jace, thankfully, leaves the shop.

Alec gestures to a table, “Were you staying?”

“Oh, yeah... sure, I’ve got a few minutes.”

They both sit and there’s something between them that isn’t usually there when they’re in Magnus’ office. Alec thinks it might be awkwardness. He looks at Magnus, at the way his hand clutches his cup, the way his finger taps in what Alec thinks is nervousness. But that can’t be right. Magnus always seems so confident, so sure of himself. Does Magnus feel as off-kilter as Alec does?

There doesn’t seem to be the same boundaries between them as there usually is. There’s no desk. There’s no title. Here, in this coffee shop, they’re just Alec and Magnus, and Alec’s suddenly aware that there isn’t much difference in their ages.

He indulges in the fantasy of bumping into Magnus just like this, of a chance meeting in a coffee shop. He thinks about flirting with Magnus, poorly because he would get tongue tied just looking at the man and he’d no doubt make a fool of himself. He thinks about the first conversation he would stutter through, the small talk that he never really enjoys. He thinks about finding the confidence to ask for Magnus’ number before they part ways, and the thrill it would bring him for the rest of the day. The frustrated excitement of waiting for an acceptable amount of time to have passed before calling.

But they didn’t meet like that. Magnus is his professor and Alec knows (no matter how much he fantasises about it), that there are lines neither of them can cross.

Neither of them speaks. Alec thinks Magnus wants to say something because he opens his mouth, words on the tip of his tongue, before he pulls back and takes a sip from his cup instead. Alec wants to talk about that thesis, the questions have been floating through his mind all week. He wants to ask if Magnus is okay. Wants to know how his morning has been and then perhaps politely enquire about where Magnus was last week.

He doesn’t end up asking a question at all.

“You cancelled your office hours,” he blurts out and the words are accusatory. Well done, Alec. Magnus was the one who cancelled them, he clearly knows that and he doesn’t need reprimanding by a student for fuck’s sake.

Magnus doesn’t take offence, though. The look he has is actually apologetic and Alec feels like shit.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t give you any notice.”

Alec hones in on the way Magnus says ‘you’, like he didn’t give Alec notice, like Alec is the person he should have told and granted Alec’s the only one that ever turns up to those office hours, but he lets himself think it’s more than that. He knows it’s a fantasy but he’s not hurting anyone by indulging in it, right? Well, no one but himself.

“It’s- It’s fine. No big deal.” No big deal at all. He wasn’t in the worst mood of his life the whole day after he read that note. That wasn’t him. He’s been totally chill about the whole thing.

“It was just…” Magnus pauses.

Wait, is Magnus trying to justify himself to Alec? Alec’s stunned, Magnus doesn’t have to explain anything. He’s the professor, he can do what he wants. But Alec does move a little closer so that he can fully appreciate Magnus’ words and the way his lips move when he says them.

“I had to go to a funeral.”

Okay, they’re not words he should appreciate, right?

“Oh, I’m sorry,” and Alec really means that. He’s sorry that someone Magnus knows passed away, but also he’s sorry for his thoughts. He’s been annoyed all week about Magnus cancelling those office hours and he’s been so caught up in how frustrated he’s been that he hasn’t even stopped to consider the reason Magnus wasn’t in. Magnus doesn’t cancel lectures, he cares about his students, Alec knows this. So, why didn’t it cross his mind that something could have happened? For all Alec knew Magnus could have been hurt or sick. Wow, how self-centred of him. If Magnus wasn’t sitting across from him right now, he’d probably bang his head on the table in disgust.

“I told you about my friend Catarina, right? The one that’s helping me with the manuscript?”

Alec nods his head. That’s the friend Magnus said Alec could talk to if he had questions about publishing. Did she die? Alec’s been cursing his bad luck and the universe, and Magnus’ friend died!

“Her friend died rather suddenly...”

Phew. Well, not phew, someone died and that’s not great, but Alec can feel slightly better about himself that it wasn’t someone directly linked to Magnus. Does that make him a terrible person? This whole conversation’s making him feel like a terrible person.

“...and her partner had to go out of town, so I offered to go to the funeral with her. Ragnor- Professor Fell, is a friend of both of ours, so he did me a favour by covering my classes. It was sort of last minute, so I’m sorry, again, that I didn’t let you know.”

Alec knows Magnus is a good person, this isn’t news to him, but Magnus is apologising for cancelling his office hours to support a friend at a funeral? Can they get married, adopt three kids, a dog, and move to the suburbs already?

“It’s fine, I didn’t have too many course related question anyway.” Alec pauses for a moment, unsure if he should say anything about Magnus’ email, he decides to anyway. “I read the thesis you sent.”

Alec watches the shock cross Magnus’ face.

“You did?” Magnus seems sceptical.

“Of course.”

How can Magnus think he wouldn’t? Or more, that he’d say he did when he didn’t?

“I’ve got a million questions.”

Magnus chuckles, then looks down at his watch and sighs.

“And I’d love to hear them all, Alec, but I’ve got a lecture in five minutes.”

Oh, is it that time already? Alec tells himself he only imagines the dejected tone of Magnus’ voice. Magnus pushes back from the table to stand and Alec wants to ask him to stay, possibly for forever, but he pushes the feeling away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Magnus asks. “You can ask me then?”

Tomorrow? Oh, office hours. How could Alec ever forget? Possibly because he’s watching the way Magnus is straightening his jacket, brushing lint from the sleeve, and the movements are so fluid that all rational thought just flies out the window.

“Yeah,” and Alec knows he’s sporting a dorky grin. Okay, maybe his siblings have a point after all.

-

When Alec leaves the coffee shop he checks his phone. There’s an invitation to join a new whatsapp group from Jace - myster(ga)y solved. Has Alec expressed how much he hates his brother lately?

[8.35 am Jace]    I know who Alec’s in love with.

[8.36 am  Izzy]    ??????????

[8.38 am  Izzy]    You can’t just say that!

[8.40 am  Izzy]    JACE WAYLAND YOU BEST TELL ME THIS INSTANT.

[8.41 am Jace]    I could give you a clue…

[8.41 am  Izzy]    I’m not cooking for you for a week if you don’t tell me.

[8.41 am Jace]    That’s not exactly a threat, Iz.

[8.42 am  Izzy]    You want a threat?

[8.42 am Jace]    Okay, Okay.

[8.43 am Jace]    We just ran into Professor Bane. Alec’s in his class.

[8.43 am Jace]    and Alec forgot what words are.

[8.43 am Jace]    and I just left them having coffee together.

[8.44 am  Izzy]    Alec?!

[8.45 am  Izzy]    Is this true?

[8.46 am  Izzy]    ……………….

Alec doesn’t reply, just exits out of the app and another notification instantly pops up.

[8.58 am  Izzy]    Alec, I can see you just read these!

How does he go about disowning his siblings?

Read part 10 here

[zoeykaytesmom]

What is Life (Chapter 10)

@esparza-army  @sweetsummertime99 @jramirezblogs @tropes-and-tales @gibbs274 @lyssa1385 @barbafan69 @xemopeachx @thatesparzacrush

January 1996

“So, what’s up with you and Rafael,” Krystal asked one afternoon as she and Izzy sat studying for different classes. Krystal was majoring in business while Izzy was drawn more toward Sociology.

“What do you mean?”

“Erin said he hardly left your house during Christmas vacation.”

“Oh, you’ve been talking to Erin, huh?”

“A little,” Krystal shrugged.

“We just really…hung out when he would come over.”

“I see potential and Erin said she saw you two kissing.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal and I’m going to kill her if I see her at Spring Break. It was more or less just…”

“Your tongue in his mouth?”

“Well…I…I…you and Erin need to mind your business.”

“Whatever you say,” Krystal laughed.

“Look, we’re just sort of starting over in a way.”

“Making out isn’t exactly starting over,” Krystal laughed.

“We’re 3,000 miles apart. Neither of us exactly have the money to go back and forth to see each other. I’ll be lucky to go home for spring break, honestly.”

“How many guys have you dated since we’ve been in college?”

“3 or 4?”

“2.”

“I stay busy with my classes and getting ready for track season.”

“And you can’t date? Are you that picky?”

“Not really. I mean, I’ve just always concentrated on school and sports more than boys. Sure, they can be fun but my education is gonna get me somewhere in life. A guy can get me something I have to take a round of antibiotics to get rid of or something that I have to carry around for 9 months…”

“I bet if it was a certain guy from the Bronx…”

“Hush.”

“Are you saying you don’t want kids?”

Izzy just sort of shrugged. She had never really thought too much about it. Maybe one day, after she was established in whatever career she could decide on. Part of her wanted to get her Master’s in Social Work. She had thought about becoming a psychologist at one point. She had a little year to go and still hadn’t thought about what to do with her degree after she would graduate in 97.

“You’re just going to leave me here all alone and go to Texas for Spring Break?” Izzy teased Krystal as she packed her stuff.

“I need to go see my parents. Probably swing by Six Flags and see some of my old friends that are still around the area. I can’t believe you’re not going home.”

“Erin’s parents and brother are going to Chicago. I’ll be home all summer so I can see my brother and my parents then.”

“What are you going to do all week? Sit here and watch movies?”

“I thought I might actually get caught up on my laundry, clean up my side of the room.”

“It would be nice to come in and it not look like another earthquake hit. How are you such a slob?” Krystal sort of laughed.

“No idea. My brother is a complete neat freak. He would’ve been a great Nazi actually. It’s all about order with him. He has two sock drawers, one for colors and one for whites.”

“It’s so funny how twins can be complete opposites or identical in every facet possible.”

“Science, dude.”

“Dude. That doesn’t even sound right coming from you.”

“Don’t you have a plane to Love Field you need to catch?”

“Something like that. I’m going. Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone.”

“I’ll do my best.”

**************

“I have got to start doing my laundry on a better schedule,” Izzy muttered to herself as she threw her third load in the dryer.

“Why do you always talk to yourself?”

She recognized the voice coming from behind her but thought her mind was playing tricks on her. It couldn’t be. There was no way.

“Well, are you gonna turn around and say something or just leave me standing here like an idiot?”

“Rafael.”

“Finally! Fly almost 3,000 miles and apparently your laundry is more important.”

“I do prefer clean clothes, ya know?”

“I’ve seen you wear the same t-shirt two or three days in a row.”

“On a spring break maybe.”

“So, do I get a hug or not?”

“What are you doing here?” She asked as she rested her head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.

“Nice to see you, too,” he scoffed.

“I didn’t mean it like that. How could…”

“It was your roommates idea. She changed her ticket home so I could come visit you since you weren’t going home for Spring break.”

“Then where is she?”

“I think she was flying into D/FW instead of Love Field. She talks faster than you do sometimes, I couldn’t keep up.”

“You’re one to talk. So, you’re here for the whole week?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

“It is okay if I stay in your room? Krystal said she would change the sheets on her bed this morning before she left.”

“I wondered why she was doing that. Yeah, my RA is cool. How’d you know where I was?”

“Uh, I guess it was your RA, actually. Rex?”

“That’s him. Rex Winters. Like I said he’s cool.”

“Yeah, he asked if I was looking for someone and I told him you. He said he saw you with your laundry bag, opened your room so I could set my suitcase down, and told me where the laundry room was. What’s with the look?”

“I just can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“You act like we were never gonna see each other again.”

“It’s not that. Come on. Help me load this stuff in my car.”

“I’ve been in California for an hour and you’re already giving me orders?”

She took him to a pizza place not far from campus where they ate while they discussed their third to last semester of college. He had taken his LSAT’s and was awaiting the results of them, which was one reason when Krystal called and offered to change the one plane ticket she had, after a lot of arguing because he didn’t like people just giving him things, he decided a week away from Harvard and even New York couldn’t hurt.

“So, what did you think?”

“It’s not New York pizza but it was decent. So, what are we gonna do for the week?” He asked as they drove back to campus in that same 1978 Beetle she had driven for years.

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’re here. You, Rafael Barba, are not on the east coast for once in your life.”

“You know you love it,” he said with that smirk.

“I am…I mean, I’m really happy to see you. I’m just still in shock.”

“Well, I hope it wears off soon because you have a busy week to plan.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep. You’re gonna take me to Disneyland, Hollywood Blvd, the Paramount Tour, all of it.”

“We’ll see about Disneyland,” she laughed as they walked up the stairs to her room.

Once inside, she sat her keys on her desk while he fell on Krystal’s bed.

“You can’t be tired.”

“Are you kidding? The time difference is already killing me.”

“Take a nap, you big baby.”

“You know…you could take a nap with me.”

“You could take one with me,” she counter offered.

He got off Krystal’s bed and laid on Izzy’s instead. She threw her flip-flops off and crawled over next to him.

He looked down at her, their noses grazing each other as he tilted his head she closed her eyes as his lips started gently brushing hers. She ran her hand through his dark brown hair while his hand traveled up the gray USC t-shirt she was wearing.

She grabbed his hand quickly.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she told him as she bit her bottom lip. “I…uh…just…”

He noticed she was slowly pushing his hand down. “Oh, I see,” he smiled. “All you have to do is ask,” he whispered before slipping his hand into her cotton shorts.

After they made love for the second time ever, he just wrapped his arms around her, kissed the top of her head, and they fell asleep that afternoon so he could get on California time.

**************

“I can’t believe I am standing in George Lucas’ footsteps,” Rafael acted like a child on his birthday as he stood in the Star Wars creators footsteps outside of Grauman’s Chinese Theater.

“I think your feet are a little bigger,” Izzy teased.

“Wait! Indiana Jones!”

He seemed to be having more fun than she had ever seen him have as he stepped on Harrison Ford’s footsteps, along with C-3PO, R2-D2, and Steve Spielberg’s as well.

“What are we gonna do now?”

“Well, we’ve spent most of the morning here. You want to drive down to the Santa Monica Pier? Maybe grab some lunch and go for a swim?”

“I didn’t bring my stuff.”

“And you say I’m not organized,” she said as she stuck her tongue out at him. “Why do you think I threw my back pack in the backseat?”

“I had no idea,” he laughed. “Let’s go.”

After a few beers and some burgers, they went and changed, then found a spot on the beach.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked as he rubbed sunscreen on her shoulders.

“Sure, Rafa.”

“I don’t want to go back to Boston Sunday.”

“I wish you didn’t have to,” she admitted as she dropped her hair and turned around to him.

“This has by far been one of the best weeks of my life. I don’t just mean the…sex either. Although with you, it’s so much better than it was with…you know.”

“Yeah, it has been pretty good,” she giggled.

“How many guys have you been with since we…that day before you left for college?”

“Rafael!!”

“I’ll tell you.”

“One.”

“That’s it? In two years?”

“Yeah,” she sort of shrugged.

“Am I that good that no one could compare?”

She took the bottle of sunscreen and squirted it on his chest.

“Oh, you better run!”

“Like you can catch me!!”

He chased her into the water where he grabbed her over his shoulder and dumped her backwards.

Neither of them could stop laughing, even after she came back up. “You are such an ass.”

“I was only kidding,” he mocked as he pulled her to onto his lap.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“You said…”

“Yelina, who was never happy with anything I did. This other girl I dated for about 3 months, Kerri…she always seemed bored. Then there was Donna. She got a little too clingy, if you know what I mean.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I met her at a party, thought it would be a one night kind of thing. She was nice enough, though, so I took her on a few dates, hung out with her for a few weeks, but she wanted more. I mean, she was talking about getting married within two weeks.”

“No way.”

“I’m not kidding, Izz. There’s only one person I’ve felt that I could see that happening with.”

“You’ve thought about getting married?”

“After I graduate law school and get a job. Sure? Who hasn’t? You’ve never thought about it?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged as they just sort of bounced in the water. “I need to decide what I’m going to do for a career first. So, who have you thought about marrying, other than Michelle Pfeiffer?”

“Hey, she was hot in that Catwoman suit, I don’t want to hear it. You seriously want to know?”

“I asked,” she replied with a smile.

He brought her face to his to kiss her before looking up at her with his green eyes, taking a deep breath, and whispering, “You.”

[technoskittles]

I don't know if I should be sorry but prompt 32 for Bumbleby

32. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified”

(this turned into a not drabble)

It wasn’t often they had nights like these: sprawled out on a blanket draped across the terrace under the night sky with a bottle of cherry wine settled between them. There was a light spring chill in the air, the last of winter’s vices relinquishing hesitantly as the semester rushed to a close and trees sprouted flowers, the soft pink blooming so pure and fresh, a relief from the suffering cold.

Their cheeks mimicked the spring flower, flushed and warm with smiles and laughter as they let loose and relieved stress with drunkeness and each other’s company. The bottle half-empty and their glasses full, the night was chilled yet warm. Quiet yet so full of life.

Blake’s nails clinked against her glass. “Yang, what’s your greatest fear?”

Yang gave a thoughtful hum and her eyes rolled to the sky overhead, taking in the stars against the black night. No, dark blue. So majestic and magical. “Haircuts.”

There was a resounding slap and snickering that quickly followed. Blake pouted which only made Yang laugh harder.

“Yang I’m serious.”

“What?” Yang laughed. She rose her hand to wipe away a tear from the corner of her eye. “You know me. I don’t get scared easy.”

“So I’m to assume that you were serenading that spider in the bathroom last week?”

“Actually we were singing a duet until you so rudely came in and killed it.”

Blake scoffed and took a sip of her wine, sloshing around the sweet taste of cherry before swallowing. When she finished she turned back to face Yang who had mimicked her and was taking her own sip, although hers was a bit more gratuitous. “So?”

Yang sighed before placing down her glass. “I mean it, Blake. I don’t really have any fears.” She laid down on her back, arms crossed underneath her head to support it. “I lost both my moms, almost lost my dad to depression, and then…” She pulled her right arm from underneath her head, raising it up high and flexing her fingers for Blake to see the dim light reflect off the metal of the prosthetic. She bit her lip and Yang sighed again before replacing it back underneath her head. “Life’s already bit me on the ass on more than one occasion. It’s safe to say I’ve stopped flinching when it does.”

It was quiet after that. Blake didn’t know how to respond. Yang didn’t push her to. It didn’t matter in the end for each could enjoy each other’s company even in the still silence. Their presence was enough for both of the girls and although the conversation took a turn that derailed the light mood, it hadn’t ruined the night.

No, not yet.

“I’ve been offered a job.”

Yang blinked and sat up, a bright smile directed at her roommate. “That��s great! So early? We’ve barely graduated.”

Blake gave a noncommittal hum and sipped her wine again, refusing to make eye contact.

“So what’s the job?” Yang asked, trying to elicit some sort of response. “Is the pay good? Any chance you could hook me up with a secretary position?” she joked, adding an over-the-top wink for good measure. When Blake still hadn’t responded she reached over to poke her arm. “Earth to Blake? Report to Houston.”

“It’s in France.” Blake looked down at her glass, swirling the remaining dregs around in a circle. “Montpellier, to be exact.”

Silence took over again and somehow, someway, the stars seemed to lose their shine.

Yang retreated back to her side of the blanket, eyes searching Blake, hoping to catch a glimpse of explanation or reassurance and finding….nothing. Her stare was not met and the million questions she had went unanswered and the tightness in her chest made her shake violently. 

“I guess that would complicate our chore system. Way to dump everything on me, you bum.”

Blake blinked and turned to finally look at Yang. Her brows were furrowed and she noticed too late the guarded position Yang was in, the way her eyes were cast downwards and her white knuckles to keep her shaking from being visible. 

“Is everything a joke to you? Don’t you have a serious response for anything?”

Yang’s head jerked up and Blake winced at how glossy they looked, wide and frantic for a split second before hardening as a deep frown set on her lips. “Well what do you want me to say?” 

What did she want her to say? It seemed silly, but she had almost expected Yang to tell her to turn it down and stay. Tell her to get a job in the area so they could continue their lives as they’d planned once they’d graduated, building their savings until they could afford the flat across town, one they’d both been eyeing ever since they’d passed it on one of their weekend excursions.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to live there, Blake? Top floor with a full-view of the city! Imagine the pictures you could take from up there!”

“With your sorry income from working as a waitress and mine as the university’s part-time librarian? We hardly have a chance of affording to live in that place’s dumpster.”

“Then we’ll just have to save up! Once we’re both out with real jobs that pay real cash, we’ll save up until we can afford the room at the very tippy top!”

“As long as you promise not to punch a hole in that apartment wall too -”

“Hey!”

“- I guess we could try.”

Blake grimaced as she pulled the glass from her lips. It was bitter now.

Yang had apparently given up on trying to get a response from Blake, settling back into her place and looking forward again, a scowl on her lips. “Do what you want, Blake. I can’t stop you.” She reached over, her hand bypassing her glass to reach for the bottle of wine. Grabbing it by the neck she brought it to her lips, throwing it back as she gulped it down.

Blake watched her do all of this, her shoulders sagged and a heavy weight in her heart. You’re not even trying.

Yang ripped the bottle from her lips and scoffed and Blake started when she realized she voiced that aloud. She quickly looked away to avoid Yang’s burning gaze, instead finding the remaining drops of wine in her glass to be enthralling. 

“Is that what you want, Blake? To beg you to stay with me?” Her throat grew hot at the venom in Yang’s tone. She regretted ever mentioning it to start with. “To plead and grovel at your feet as they’re walking out the door?” The bottle slammed down on the ground, causing Blake to wince, yet Yang kept her vice grip on the neck, her head hung down to hide the oncoming tears. 

“What do you want from me, Blake?” she whispered. Her shoulders started to shake and Blake finally looked up from her glass in time to watch as her best friend fell apart, to see the seams coming loose and unravel, reducing her to pieces. “I don’t have anything to give you and it’s not fair for you to ask that of me.”

“Yang, I….” she trailed off, her apologies lost to her before she had even formed them. Her tongue felt heavy and she watched helplessly as Yang tried to desperately hold herself together, a needle and thread in her shaking fingers, knotted and tangled.

“Why?”

Blake leaned forward, straining to hear Yang whose voice was hardly above a whisper now.

“Why are you telling me this?” she rasped out, finally looking up. Tears pooled in her eyes, lilac glimmering like shells on the ocean’s bank, covered by the rippling sunlit waves. “Why do you want to leave, Blake?” Her voice was breaking and Blake felt her heart go with it. 

“Why do I have to lose you too?”

And with that the dam broke and the first tears spilled over, falling down her face in waves. A steady stream dripped down her cheeks, pooling along her jaw, falling in droplets when they became too heavy with sorrow. Her shaking was uncontrollable now. Blake felt her own tears forming and took a deep breath to bring them back in. She wanted to stay composed because…well one of them had to. It wouldn’t help if they both devolved into bumbling messes of incoherency.  

“Because….you might be fearless, Yang, but I’m not.” Yang was still crying, but her eyes conveyed that she was listening. Blake looked down, closing her eyes to brace herself before opening them again as she confessed what had been plaguing her for months, no…..years.

“I’m afraid of falling.” Yang gave her a quizzical look and Blake swallowed before elaborating. “It’s that feeling of helplessness, you know? When you’re falling you lose all control and the only thing you can do it just…let it happen. You might try and stop it or at least try to soften your fall, but you can’t reverse the pull once it’s already latched on. So you just…fall and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it except panic the whole way down.”

Yang sniffled and shook her head. “Blake what does this-”

“I don’t want to fall anymore, Yang. And if I leave maybe….I dunno. Maybe I’ll find solid ground again.”

Yang frowned. “I’m not following.”

And here it was. The moment of truth. The moment that could absolutely break them, shattering everything they’d had to pieces. Blake bit her lip and looked into Yang’s eyes, hoping to find some sort of safety net. (Or would she just coming crashing down?)

“I…..” Blake shook her head and took a deep breath before trying again. “I think I’m in love with you,” she whispered. She let out a shaky breath and rolled her eyes to the sky, trying to avoid crying again. “And…God…I’m so terrified.”

Neither of them said anything after that and the silence was killing her. She wished Yang would say something…say anything. No, not anything but…she didn’t even know anymore. What did she want from Yang? Did she want to be told to leave and run off to France? Or did she - god forbid - actually want to be caught?

She couldn’t decide which one was more terrifying.

“I guess…that kind of beats spiders, huh?”

Blake frowned and whipped around. “Yang you can not be serious right -”

She froze immediately when Yang thrust her arms around her neck and pulled her close. Her face first fell into her chest, causing her to flush deeply before she wriggled herself up to higher ground. Yang’s hold on her was unrelenting. Her arms were warm and steadfast. 

“Don’t leave me.”

Blake relaxed in Yang’s grip and burrowed her face into her neck. She smelled of perfume and cherries. She smiled.

“Of course not. How else will you pay for the room at the tippy top?”

Blake felt rather than heard Yang’s laughter and she was quick to join in. Their joined laughter resounded in the quiet of the night, raising to the heavens above.

The stars shone brighter than ever.

[1dffautumnficexchange]

If You Give a Boy a Ballpoint

Written By: @harktheharold

Written For: @anniedeclarie 

Summary:  Delaware McKenzy and Harry Styles always had way too many differences for it to ever work out – not that they’d ever had an ‘it’ to work out in the first place, despite Delaware’s sustained crush on him throughout high school. Back then, all it took was a loaned ink pen to create a fast formed, and even faster broken, friendship. Now at University, Delaware wasn’t sure why fate pushed her and Harry back together again. Maybe because if you give a boy a ballpoint, he’s going to write on your heart, and in Delaware’s opinion blue ink stained like the devil.

Pairing: Harry x OFC

Word Count: ~25,000

February

Delaware McKenzy couldn’t find her black pen.

She had checked every pocket, every nook and cranny of her backpack, even dumped out the contents of that hard to reach zippered pouch, but she still couldn’t find it.

More than a little annoyed, Delaware dropped back into her seat, scanning the mess on her desk before just shoving everything back into her bag with a shake of her head as Mr. Gilbert called the calculus class to order. She wasn’t normally this disorganized, but the upcoming French exam had her nervous, and she had spent the better part of the previous night studying. And between the constant pressure from her parent for a perfect GPA and applying for college, the only constant in Delaware’s life was the large thermos of coffee that never left her side during the day.

Mr. Gilbert instructed the class to pull out their homework from the night before, and Delaware reached for her binder, trying to ignore the empty seat to her right, though not doing a very good job of it. Ever since the beginning of the school year, Harry Styles, track team superstar and headscarf enthusiast, had always been sitting ready and waiting for class to start no matter when she blew in the door. He was usually as punctual as she was organized. Today seemed to be the date of both of their downfalls, however, as his seat was embarrassingly empty.

What probably upset Delaware the most, though, was that she couldn’t deny that she was disappointed when she didn’t get to see him that morning. He was always there at his coveted corner desk at the back of the room, offering a smile and a soft hello – or a smirk if she came in late – and she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t say it wasn’t one of the most looked forward to moments of her day.

Which was why it was probably a good thing he wasn’t there that morning. Delaware McKenzy was supposed to be getting over Harry Styles, her one-sided crush something that four years of high school spent running in different circles had yet to cure her of.

Senior year was supposed to be different. In fact, Delaware had already decided at the beginning of the first semester that she wasn’t going to let her attraction to Harry Styles get in the way of school and what she needed to achieve before college.

Unfortunately, that plan crashed and burned the very first day when she ran in late to second period, only to find the last seat available was tucked in the back next to Harry Styles himself. Since then, it’d been a struggle to keep him from occupying much needed brain space, especially when the scent of his cologne always seemed to linger in their shared corner.

Delaware grabbed for one of her blue pens that she left normally left untouched, preferring black ink over blue; today it just being something she had to deal with as Mr. Gilbert turned the class’s attention to the matrix formulas written on the board. And that’s about when the door banged open and Harry Styles skidded in, barely looking winded, but having the decency to flush a bit when everyone turned to look at him.

Mr. Gilbert didn’t say anything, just nodded in the direction of Harry’s seat, but it wasn’t as if Delaware expected him to say something. Harry Styles had led their track team to State Finals and taken home the trophy, even placing them at the national’s level competition. While he wasn’t your typical jock, none of the teachers were going to say anything to him, especially since he had never made a habit out of being late.

As he slipped past Delaware, he caught her eye and gave her a sheepish smile, murmuring a soft, “Hi,” as he slid into his seat.

Delaware ducked her head, pursing her lips as her cheeks involuntarily went aflame. He looked good today, she noted, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. He was dressed simple in a blue plaid shirt and black skinny jeans, but the headscarf he usually tied so precisely to hold back his curls was knotted sloppily instead, and his chestnut locks escaped wildy every which way.

Burying her face in her textbook before she got caught looking, Delaware was trying to focus on understanding the formula when a hand lightly brushed her arm. She nearly flung the textbook across the room.

“Sorry, sorry,” a voice from her right spoke lowly, though she knew immediately who it belonged to. Harry Styles may have been apologetic, but the chuckle he was biting back said otherwise.

Delaware glared at him over her book and hissed, “What do you want?”

“Do you maybe have a pen I can borrow?”

Delaware reached for her bag and dug around for a spare pen, pulling out a blue ink pen identical to the one that she was already using, and slipped it into his open palm, ignoring his soft thanks as she turned back to face the board before she could analyze how warm his hand was.

She found out anyway when it touched her arm again a moment later. “Do you maybe have a spare piece of paper I can use to take notes on?” Delaware was staring at his hand on her arm – there was probably more warmth in it than in her whole body – and he quickly continued, “Only if it’s not a bother, sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said, scrambling for a spare sheet of paper from her binder and shoving it at his chest. Just anything to get him and his very warm hands away from her.

Her cheeks fully emblazoned, Delaware hunkered over her own desk and tried to focus on what Mr. Gilbert was explaining about the Matrix of Partial Derivatives, but the gradient formula started to blur with the chain rule as the scratching to her right became heavier and faster, the noise grating in her ears.

Snapping her head around to glare at him, she exclaimed, “Well, you don’t have to break the fucking pen!”

Harry Styles’ head shot up, startled, and he raised his eyebrows as he looked at her in surprise, not saying anything.

Mr. Gilbert was giving them the eye from the front of the classroom, and Delaware huffed, slouching down in her seat as the teacher continued with little more than a warning look, saying, “If you will all turn to page 147, you'll see some example problems.”

Delaware flipped through her book, running a hand through her hair before reaching for her pen to copy down the equation.

“Psst.” Harry Styles was trying to get her attention again.

She looked at him from the corner of her eye before focusing back on her calculus, pursing her lips slightly in concentration.

She was ignoring him.

Harry Styles shifted in his chair, taking a glance to the front of the classroom at their teacher, before turning to face her, whispering again, “Psst! Delaware!”

Delaware nearly dropped her pen. She turned slowly to face him and Harry Styles smiled a little. “What did you call me?” she asked incredulously.

He immediately frowned, the hint of dimples disappearing. “Delaware. That is your name isn't it? Delaware McKenzy?”

Delaware nodded dumbly. “Yes, that's my name, but–” she cut herself off.

“But what?” Harry asked.

I didn't think you knew that. Delaware shook her head. “Doesn't matter.” Giving a furtive glance towards Mr. Gilbert, she asked in a hushed tone, “What do you want?”

“Do you think I could share your textbook with you?”

“You want to share…my textbook,” Delaware repeated. Harry nodded. “Where's yours?”

Harry looked sheepish. “Forgot it at home this morning.”

Delaware bit her lip, darting a look back at their teacher again. Maybe it was his slight British accent, made more prominent when he whispered, or maybe it was the boyish dimple and pleading green eyes, but Delaware found herself relenting. “Fine,” she said, trying to ignore Harry’s immediate smile.

Sliding her papers out of the way, she shifted in her chair, lifting the large textbook to slide it towards the edge of her desk. Thankfully, the odd numbers were on the right side of the page, but Harry still leaned over a bit farther than he probably needed to and Delaware found herself holding her breath, trying not to breath in his warm and spicy cologne.

Somewhere in being dazed by his enticing cologne, Delaware missed him tugging at the corner, trying to pull the book to him, and she gave a defensive tug back. She hissed, “What are you doing?”

“I can’t see it,” he whispered, looking up at her with clear green eyes, blinking slowly.

“What?” Delaware asked, staring at him and trying to pull the book to her chest like a shield. He wouldn’t let her, though, and even tightened his grip.

“I can’t see it,” he repeated, giving another pull. “Let me have it.”

Delaware let go suddenly, and Harry lost his grip on the corner of the textbook. It slipped from his grasp and banged to the floor. The whole class went strangely quiet, and both of them raised their eyes slowly to find Mr. Gilbert scowling at them.

“Don’t interrupt my class again,” he growled out.

Delaware’s face turned a shade darker and she ducked her head, staring at the corner of her desk, ignoring Harry Styles, Mr. Gilbert, and the rest of the class, willing her embarrassment to wilt and fade away but it wouldn’t. And neither would beautiful Harry goddamn Styles, who kept trying to catch her eye for some reason unbeknownst to man.

And as soon as the bell rang, Delaware was up and out the door, grabbing her things and darting out, ignoring Harry Styles, who was calling her name behind her.

“Delaware?”

Delaware jumped, looking up to see Harry Styles peering around the corner of the row of books her table was so discreetly hidden behind in the library. He looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him, and he took a couple steps forward, stopping right in front of the seat opposite her.

“Uh, hi,” Delaware said, clearing her throat awkwardly as she glanced back down at her notes from her Government & Politics class. There was a smear from her pen that streaked across the one corner of her notepad and she rubbed at it.

Harry took notice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, motioning to her paper.

“No, you’re fine,” Delaware said, managing what she hoped was a smile.

Truth be told, she still wasn’t over the embarrassing episode from that morning in Calculus class, and wasn’t at all expecting to see Harry Styles again until the next first period on Monday morning because Calculus was the only period they shared. She had been counting on at least 72 hours to regain her composure. Delaware took it as a sign that she needed to stop trying to count on things to turn out the way she wanted them to.

“Did you need something?” she asked, wincing as she realized it might have sounded a bit harsh.

Harry just smiled. “Yeah, actually. You, um, you left your pen with me this morning.” He started patting down his pockets before reaching for the messenger bag that was slung around his shoulder and digging through it. He produced her blue pen with a flourish and a small, “Aha!” that Delaware might have found downright adorable if she hadn’t been concentrating on taking it from his extended hand without actually touching him.

She failed. Delaware felt like she’d just stuck her fingers in a light socket rather than brush them with Harry’s, but he didn’t seem to even notice and just smiled as she gained sudden interest in the cap of the pen.

“I would have given it to you after class but you rushed out of there so quick,” he said. “It’s a good thing none of my track guys were in there, they would be roasting me for getting outrun by a little thing like you.”

Indignation rose up in Delaware and she couldn’t help but blurt out, “I’m five four!” even though she barely scraped five two.

Harry laughed and whatever animosity arose deflated immediately, Delaware even checking to make sure she hadn’t floated right up out of her seat at the angelic sound. “Sure,” he said, eyes squinted up in a smile.

Delaware huffed and leaned back in her chair, trying not to notice how good he looked. He must have just come from practice, his hair was still wet and stringy, pushed back by a different headband then he had worn that morning, and he was wearing basketball shorts with a sweatshirt.

“But honestly,” Harry continued. “It’s too bad it’s already second semester of senior year. If I had known you could run like that, I would have encouraged you to go out for track and field.”

Delaware didn’t do anything but just shake her head and make a face. Anything that involved physical activity was not her thing. Plus, her parents would never approve of it.

“I’m surprised to see you here tonight,” Delaware said, trying to make conversation since Harry didn’t seem to be going anywhere and was instead very comfortable leaning with both hands on the back of the chair.

“I could say the same for you,” he replied easily. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a library all alone a Friday night?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Delaware’s face went hot. “Don’t you have a competition? Or at least something better to do on a Friday night?”

“Nope,” Harry said. “No competition, and my mum’s on night shift so it was either study here or in the break room at the hospital.”

Delaware knew that his mother worked as a nurse, but her face still screwed up in confusion. “Why can’t you do it at home?”

Harry grinned. “Gran has her bridge club on Friday nights. They’re a pretty unruly bunch.”

Delaware frowned. “Oh. Well, can’t you do it in your room or something?”

Harry scoffed, smiling a little bit. “No, that would be ‘rude when we have company!’” he said, raising his voice to a falsetto, mimicking his grandmother.

Delaware shrugged. At least it couldn’t be as bad as trying to be in the same room as her grandparents, much less her parents, for a simple family dinner. Harry seemed fond of his Gran, and she imagined that while the older woman probably got on his nerves, he would drop anything for her if she needed him to.

“You could always take up bridge,” she offered.

He made a face for real this time. “Not on your life. Those women may look like your average cookie baking grandmothers, and Maura Jean does make a mean lemon pound cake, but you set up a folding table and throw ‘em a deck of cards and they turn into savages.”

Delaware couldn’t help it, but she giggled. Giggled. Like she was in middle school. “Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad!”

“She pinched my bum!” Harry all but yelped, his hint of a British accent becoming more prominent with his distressed tone.

“Shh.” Delaware put a finger to her lips, grinning widely up at him from her seat. “I believe you, I believe you.”

Harry smirked. “Good, because not even Gran did, and I was practically assaulted in my own home.”

Delaware was still cherry cheeked, but this time it was from laughing, and she just sat there for a minute, staring up at Harry from her seat fully enraptured before she realized he was waiting for her to say something.

“Oh, um, you can sit down if you want. That is, if you aren’t leaving because you’re already done.” She knew sounded like a bumbling idiot, but Harry just smiled at her, dimples indenting his cheeks a bit.

“No, I actually just got here,” he said.

Delaware took that as a yes and scrambled to move her laptop bag from in front of the chair he had been leaning on. Her elbow sideswiped a notepad and sticky notes went flying as it fell to the floor. “Shit,” she said, dropping to the floor.

Harry knelt too, pushing his bag to the side to pick up a few notes from the floor in front of him, turning them all the same way before handing them back to her.

“Thank you,” Delaware said, taking his offered hand up without thinking about it as she let go to shuffle through them. For once, common sense had won out over her hormones.

“No problem,” was all Harry said, bending down to grab her jacket to lay across the back of her chair. Not realizing where he was, Delaware turned around and nearly ran right into him, looking up from her notes to catch his green-eyed gaze as he smirked. “You’re sure my writing won’t bother you this time?”

If she had thought that her cheeks couldn’t get any hotter, Delaware had been wrong, and it turned out to be a very long night.

They didn’t converse much. Actually, they didn’t talk at all after Harry sat down and buried his nose in his studies, and Delaware was fine with that. In fact, she was certain that if Harry had said another word, or if she had to stutter out another sentence, she would die from overheating. Because it wasn’t just her face that was warm, it was her whole body. She was tingling from head to toe and even had to shrug off her cardigan after a moment or two, causing Harry to look up when she turned around to drape over the back of her chair. He looked back down before she could do or say anything embarrassing, so she had been able to breathe a sigh of relief.

By the time that Delaware checked her phone for the time to get in before her curfew, it was past nine o’clock. She had almost forgotten Harry was there as she reached to start packing up her things, and when he spoke the first words, breaking their mutual silence over the past few hours, she nearly jumped right out of her skin.

“You headed out?” His voice seemed deeper than it had been a few hours before, and he blinked up at her, looking somewhat tired.

Delaware cleared her throat. “Yeah,” she said.

“Oh.” Harry stood up, dropping his pen to the table. “You need a hand with anything?”

“No, I got it. Thanks.” She wasn’t really sure if there was something else she was supposed to say. ‘Thanks for studying with me’ didn’t sound quite right and ‘Thanks, it was fun’ made her sound like a one night stand.

Harry, of course, always knew what to say. “Well, thanks for sharing your table with me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Delaware said, waving it off. “Anytime. I don’t think a lot of people know it’s back here. No one really looks behind the German Philosophy shelf. I don’t even know if it gets used.”

Harry nodded, sitting back down slowly.

Delaware shrugged her backpack on. “How long are you going to stay?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Gran’ll be in bed with the telly on by the time I get in anyway and my mum’s working a twelve hour shift so it’ll be midnight before she’s home.”

“So to sneak in now or to sneak in later, that’s the question?” Delaware asked, a hint of a smile playing on her face.

Harry grinned, point a finger at her as he leaned back in his chair. “Exactly.”

Delaware shouldered her bag, trying to ignore the warmth coiling in her belly at the sight of his dimples. “Well, they close the library at ten, so you might want to find some other place to loiter.”

Harry just laughed. “Will do.”

Delaware gave a little wave. “See you around, I guess.”

“Yeah, see you!”

Delaware couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she left.

‘See you around’ apparently wasn’t limited to just second period Calculus class. Delaware found that out the next Friday night when she was sitting hunkered over her books in the library. Harry seemed to appear out of nowhere, carrying the same beat up messenger bag he had the week before. He took a seat, one she had left clear in a hopeful naivete she would never admit to herself, offering her just a soft smile. She returned it with one of her own and a nod and, well, that was that.

By the third week, when he breezed around the German Philosophy row, letting his bag slide off his shoulder to the floor with a thump, she didn’t hardly think anything of it until he started ripping off his jacket while exclaiming, “Jesus, that was close!”

Delaware looked up from her books, frowning. “Harry?”

He looked up with a smile, offering a cheery, “Ah, Del! Hello!”

That was something new as well. She was pretty sure he only ever called her Delaware twice. How he knew her name in the first place she wasn’t sure, but the nickname itself was something to get used to. She’d tried to tell him her name was just plain Delaware, if not just for the fact that she liked the way the syllables rolled off in his accent, but also because she’d never had a nickname before and wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it.

“Here.” The next thing Delaware knew was a napkin being shoved in her face, and she pulled back, looking from a slice of cake to Harry Styles. He wiggled his eyebrows, leaning further over the table. “You’ll like it, I promise. If there’s one thing Maura Jean knows how to do – god knows it isn’t bridge – it’s how to make a good lemon pound cake.”

“Oh.” Delaware pushed his hand out of her face and looked back down at her Physics assignment. “Thanks, but I’m not really a cake person.”

“Not a– What?!” Harry exclaimed. “Not a cake person? Are you kidding me?”

Delaware shrugged, trying not to think about how cute Harry looked all wide-eyed and rosy cheeked from just coming inside, absolutely beside himself over her not wanting a piece of cake.

She was doing pretty well until he suddenly grabbed her hand and stuffed the piece of cake in it. “Listen, Del, I did not get my bum squeezed and my ears petted just so you could refuse Maura Jean’s legendary lemon pound cake that wins a ribbon at the fair every year – I’d be damned if she didn’t remind us every time. You will eat it and be thankful!”

“I mean, you do have nice ears,” Delaware offered. She mentally slapped herself when she realized what she said.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Harry rolled his eyes before switching to falsetto as if to mimic Maura Jean and adding, “And you might be able to see them for once, Harry, dear, if you’d just trim that unseemly shaggy hair.” Delaware snickered and Harry glared down at her in mock offense. “Aren’t you supposed to be eating something?”

Delaware huffed before taking a teeny, tiny bite off the edge.

Harry scoffed. “You can’t taste it properly that way,” he said.

Before she knew it, he had broken off a corner of it himself and shoved it in her mouth, making her eyes widen as she fell back in her chair, surprised and startled at having Harry Styles’ fingers in her mouth.

“Well?” Harry asked, standing back as she chewed.

Delaware finished chewing. “That’s surprisingly good,” she said, reaching for the rest of it.

Harry smirked, taking his seat. “What did I tell you?” he said. “See, I used to be a baker, I know these things.”

“You don’t know shit.” Delaware sneered, not willing to let him win the battle quite that easily.

Harry murmured in agreement, taking a bite of his own piece of cake as he flipped open his textbook. “That’s the truth.” Suddenly he looked back up. “Say, do you have a pen I could borrow? I escaped with the lemon cake but without my pen.”

Delaware rolled her eyes as she dug through her bag. “Speaking of which.” She extended the blue pen he had borrowed from her before out to him. “How’d you even manage to get it in here, anyway?” she asked. There was a strict no food or open drink policy enforced at all times, and yet he’d seemed to have walked right in.

“I gave Betsy a piece on the way in.”

“Betsy?” Delaware frowned. “You mean Ms. Schroeder?” At Harry’s distracted nod, she shook her head. Of course he seduced the head librarian.

Shaking her head and deciding it must have been the dimples, Delaware looked back down at her Physics assignment. They were both quiet, even the sounds of the library muted from behind the German Philosophy shelf that walled in their fortress. Frowning at her book, Delaware reached for the last corner of the lemon pound cake slice without looking up, and incidentally grabbed Harry Styles’ hand instead.

Looking up, startled, she met his smirk, apparently having caught him trying to sneak the last bite himself. “You can have it,” he said, but didn’t attempt to remove his fingers from her grasp.

Dropping her hold like his hand was on fire, Delaware blushed, cursing herself inside. “Thanks,” she managed to mumble.

Harry nodded and dropped his gaze, his bright green eyes seeming to zone in right away on a certain paragraph or line that they traced, moving methodically from her right to left as he scanned the text.

Popping the last bit of lemon pound cake in her mouth and holding back a moan of ecstasy – it was that good – Delaware watched him. She really hadn’t ever thought she’d tolerate the idea of a study buddy. With all of her parents’ expectations riding on her and the stress to be better than the best, better than the two of them put together, somewhere coming out of middle school, Delaware realized that she’d have to be tough to survive. Ever since then, she’d been no nonsense, strict, and disciplined with herself.

The one study group she had ever been roped in didn’t end particularly well. Most girls were loud and distracting, always snapping their gum or complaining about the work load. The one person that Delaware had ever been able to get along with was the foreign exchange student from Junior year and Lana had the habit of whispering to herself in German. Nevertheless, she’d been the one that introduced Delaware to the forgotten table tucked behind the German Philosophy section, so she’d learned to tolerate it. She’d also picked up on a little German, and that was definitely a plus with her parents, though they still encouraged her to stick with French and later Latin.

But Harry, Harry was a little different. He sat there biting at his pen, a cute and focused little furrow drawing his eyebrows together over his nose, his eyes narrowed and his long eyelashes blinking slowly as he soaked everything up. And Delaware seemed to realize for the first time just how quiet he was. Except for the occasional sniffle, he was always silent. In fact, he was almost like a ghost, making hardly any noise at all. He didn’t click his pen like a maniac, he didn’t shuffle his papers around, and he didn’t fumble when turning pages in his book.

He was even nice to the nose. Sometimes when he had just come in, he smelled like the cold outdoors and his shower gel, a scent that when Delaware was hunched over the table invaded her senses and overpowered the stuffy, dusty air of the library.

Harry was just nice, and Delaware kind of hated him for it.

“You okay?” He was looking up at her, the right corner of his lips smudged with blue ink from where he’d been unconsciously tapping it with his pen, and Delaware flushed, suddenly aware that she had been staring.

“Yeah, fine,” she said, clearing her throat as she drew her eyes away from his very nicely proportioned lips. “I was just wondering, um, you never did tell me why you were late for class that one day and forgot your pen.” Yes, Delaware, I applaud. For once you don’t sound like a total dipstick.

“And my paper?” Harry added, his eyes twinkling.

“And your textbook,” Delaware tossed in, smiling.

Harry shrugged as if it was no big deal and he hadn’t been the most unprepared nebula to ever walk the earth that morning. “I overslept.”

“Seriously?” Delaware asked.

Harry glanced up again. “Why is that so hard to believe? I was up late the night before filling out college applications.”

“Sure,” Delaware said, pursing her lips in a teasing manner. “Mr. Harry Goody-Two-Shoes-Always-On-Time-For-Class-And-Always-Sitting-Ready-And-Prepared Styles overslept. You probably have three alarms set every morning.”

“Hey,” Harry protested, pouting adorably. “It’s two. One on my alarm clock and one on my phone.”

“Case point made, your honor,” Delaware said triumphantly, leaning back in her chair.

Harry grinned and they both fell silent, just looking at one another with goofy smiles on their faces from opposite sides of the table. The moment was broken as the lights in the library flickered overhead, and Delaware jumped.

Harry chuckled. “Ten minutes ‘til they close.”

“Yep,” Delaware said, popping the ‘p’ as she went to stack her books up.

Harry did the same, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder and standing to the side as Delaware zipped up her backpack and pulled it off the back of her chair, walking past him and around the German Philosophy section.

They were quiet as they passed the main desk, Ms. Schroeder glaring at them from where she stood flipping light switches, the fluorescent bulbs going off behind them at a rapid pace, almost faster than they could walk.

Delaware assumed they must have been the last people to leave, and as Harry took a quick extra step to pull the door open for her, the last light went off, Ms. Schroeder only a silhouette from the back office lights as she watched to make sure they made it all the way out.

“You going straight home?” Harry asked, standing by as Delaware pulled out her lanyard and held it up to the parking lot light as she looked for the right key to unlock her car.

“Yeah, I have to be in by ten-thirty.” She stuck the key in the door and turned it before looking back up at Harry. “Are you or do you have more loitering to do?”

Harry chuckled, leaning over her door as she tossed her backpack in. “No, I’m headed home.”

Delaware nodded, climbing into her little Honda and twisting the key into the ignition. “Well, have a good night, then.”

“You too.” Harry waved, stepping back as she pulled her door closed and put the car in gear, pulling out of her parking space and rolling slowly up to the intersection.

Delaware glanced back in her mirror to see Harry walking away from her on the sidewalk next to the street, his hood pulled up to guard against the cold, and she frowned. Hitting her window tab to roll it down, she called out, “Hey! Harry!” He stopped and turned around, but she couldn’t make out anything but his silhouette from under the street light. She waved him closer, and as he jogged up, stooping a bit to lean in the window, she asked, “Where’s your car?”

“Oh, my mum had to work the late shift tonight,” he said. “So she’s using it.”

“But how are you going to get home?” Delaware asked.

“I’ll take the bus.” The street light shone right down on her face, so when she frowned, Harry said, “I’ll be fine, Del.”

“But it’s cold!” Delaware exclaimed. “And are you sure they even run this late at night?”

“They run ‘til midnight, I’ll be fine,” Harry repeated. “If it’s too cold, there’s a shelter I can wait in.”

“Harry, you’re already shivering. All you have on is that stupid hoodie! Do you even have gloves?” Harry sighed but didn’t say anything, and Delaware hit the unlock button. “Get in.”

“Del–” Harry started to protest.

“Harry, just get in!” He didn’t say anything but still hesitated, so Delaware sung out, “I have heated seats!”

Harry huffed, the cloud of air visible for a moment in the streetlight before melting away. “You play a mean game, Delaware McKenzy.”

Delaware smirked victoriously, rolling up her window as he walked around to get in on the passenger’s side.

“You know you didn’t have to do this, right?” Harry asked as he climbed in. “I’ve survived much worse than this.”

“Seatbelt,” was all Delaware responded with. “Which way?”

“Left.”

Delaware glanced both ways before pulling out of the drive, and a comfortable silence took over the car, broken only when Harry gave her directions on where to go. When he reached over to start fiddling with the radio, she cleared her throat.

“I normally just leave that off.”

Harry looked over at her and dropped his hand, sitting back in his chair. “Yeah, that’s fine. Sorry.”

“No!” Delaware could see him raising an eyebrow at her in the glow from the dashboard lights so she quickly continued, “Um, I mean, it’s not you. It’s something my parents had me promise to do. Something about undistracted driving.”

“That’s probably a smart idea,” Harry conceded.

Delaware let out a nervous giggle. “Yeah, they’re pretty smart,” she said, dropping the statement with a small sigh.

Something in her tone must have given something away,  because Harry shifted in his seat to look at her, and Delaware quickly set her eyes on the stop sign ahead and pulling precisely right up next to it. Darting a quick look at Harry after she’d pulled to a complete stop, she found he still hadn’t looked away. “Is this your street?” Delaware asked before he could say anything.

Harry stared at her, his eyes illuminated like a cat’s in the dashboard glow, before he just said, “Yeah. It’s two doors down to the right.”

The neighborhood was less than modest. If Delaware had to guess, she’d say most were rentals. But sandwiched between a house that was leaning on its foundation and a duplex with paint peeling was a small house that glowed a bright yellow under her headlights as she pulled into the drive. Delaware put her Honda in park and glanced at Harry. She immediately had to bite back laughter as she watched him struggle to unfold his legs from where they were wedged between the seat and the dashboard as he got out.

Before he shut the door, he leaned back in, wiggling his eyebrows a little as he said, “Thanks for the ride.”

Quite aware of the innuendo, Delaware blushed but rolled her eyes in good humor. “Goodbye, Harry.”

“Bye, Del.” The door started to shut before it was wrenched back open again. “Hey, text me when you get home, okay?”

Delaware laughed. “I don’t even have your number, Harry.”

“Well, shit, is Delaware McKenzy asking for my number?” Harry asked, pressing a hand to his heart dramatically. “Cheeky,” he added with a wink.

“Shut up,” Delaware said, her cheeks flushed in the interior light.

“Here, I’ll write it down for you.” Harry fumbled around in his bag before looking up, humble enough to look sheepish. “Say, Del, do you happen to have a pen?”

Delaware sighed, and it only made Harry grin wider as she dug through her bag, flinging the blue pen he always managed to need to borrow at his head. He caught it mid air and then grabbed for her arm.

“Hey!” Delaware protested as the cold blue pen tip met the palm of her hand. “What are you doing?”

“Hold still,” Harry said, Delaware complying if only because his hands were warm. “There we go, all done.” He turned her hand around in his own, and Delaware pursed her lips as warmth shot from her head to her toes. “Not bad for my first tattoo design.”

Snatching her hand away she snarled, “Get out of here!”

Harry chuckled, capping the pen and holding it out to her.

“I’m sensing a pattern here,” Delaware huffed. “You might as well keep it.”

“Cheeky,” he repeated to himself as he shoved in his bag. “Bye, Del.”

The door slammed and Delaware watched as he slung his bag over his shoulder, circling around her car to hop up the stairs between a pair of well-groomed bushes. Before Delaware put the car in reverse to pull out, Harry opened the door of his house, and silhouetted against light he raised his hand in a wave.

Delaware waved back, even though she knew he couldn't see her, before pulling out of the drive.

The first thing Delaware noticed when she got out of her car at her house was that her father’s space in the four-car garage was empty. The second thing she noticed was the empty red wine bottle sitting in the recycling container. Those two things meant one thing -- he father was out and her mother was home – albeit one bottle down.

Careful not to let the door slam behind her, Delaware crept through the silent, stainless steel and granite kitchen towards the stairs, when her mother’s voice broke from the sitting room.

“There’s no use sneaking around, Delaware, I know you’re home.”

Delaware sighed inwardly, stepping into the doorway a bit hesitantly. “Hello, Mother.”

Her mother was sitting in her large chaise longue chair, remote in one hand, wine glass in the other as she drew her gaze away from the TV long enough to flick up and down her daughter once before returning to the late night television host.

“You’re late,” was all she said, swishing the wine around in the bottom of her glass before taking a healthy sip.

Delaware’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. “Only by a few minutes.” Not true, it was just a little past eleven.

Her mother made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat before swallowing. “Where were you?”

“At the library.”

“The library closes at ten.”

“I had to take a friend home.”

This caught her mother’s attention and Tiffany Burnside-McKenzy looked up from her glass with raised brows. “Oh? Anyone we know?”

It was a silent warning, the edge to her voice making Delaware choose her words carefully. “Just someone from my study group.” There. Not a complete lie, but hopefully it would pacify her mother.

Tiffany frowned. “I wasn’t aware you were in a study group.”

You aren’t aware of a lot of things about me, Delaware thought bitterly. She cleared her throat. “It’s not really formal, just some people from AP classes.” Again, not a complete lie. Lara from Junior year had been in an AP art history class, and from what she’d seen of his notes, Harry was in AP Chemistry, and Delaware had studied with both of them before, just not all together at once.

“Mm,” was all her mother said, already drawn back into some meaningless skit.

“Where’s Dad?” Delaware couldn’t help but ask.

Tiffany let out a rueful laugh and tipped back another swig from her glass. “I don’t know. He said he was working late and then taking some ‘associates’ out to dinner.”

So he was out with the ‘boys’ as he so fondly called his coworkers at the firm and his periodic drinking buddies. Delaware bit her lip as the room filled with a tense silence that Tiffany didn’t seem to recognize, she probably had forgotten her daughter was even still there – a point was made when Delaware finally braved the silence enough to say goodnight and her mother just hummed, hooded eyes focused on the TV in front of her.

Delaware heard when her father came home that night, heard when the garage door opened and heard when it closed, heard when he opened the door and when he kicked his shoes off in the kitchen. She heard her mother as she tossed the first insult, and then Delaware turned on the water and left it running as she brushed her teeth, and left it running until she could turn her floor fan on, collapsing into bed, pulling out her phone.

Home now

Goodnight Harry

Sleep tight, Del xx

Maybe it wasn’t wise to get that close to Harry before they both graduated and went off to college, but while Delaware was smart, that was maybe one fact she chose to ignore.

In addition to their Friday night study dates, Harry started showing up at the library when he had a free night. Sometimes they met each other coming and going, and one Thursday Delaware arrived to see a yellow sticky note in the middle of the table. Where were you? was scribbled in blue ink, accompanied by a frowny face.

With a smile, and knowing that Harry had track and field that day, Delaware flipped the note over and scribbled back, Latin lessons every other Wednesday. Sorry! Other times they just left a note to let the other know they’d been there, or Harry left a stupid knock knock joke that took ages to learn the answer to.

Today, though, they were both there, seated across from one another in their usual spots. Harry was per usual unknowingly coloring the corner of his mouth blue with the pen she’d given him, and Delaware was elbows deep in an essay.

Suddenly Harry looked up. “What’s nine times three?”

Delaware blanked for a second before answering, “27.”

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled, jotting it down in a spare corner of his notebook. “You know, I think by the time they get you into all this Advanced Trig and AP Calculus, you forget all basic forms of the maths that you’ll actually need to use on a day-to-day basis.”

Delaware nodded distractedly, and it was quiet for a few minutes.

“Shit.” Harry started rubbing at a mark he made, presumably a wrong answer. “Who ever thought Chemistry would be more than memorizing the periodic table.”

He had muttered it to himself, but Delaware perked up. “You’re having trouble with Chemistry?”

Harry snorted. “Well, I wouldn’t call it trouble,” he said. “More like a misunderstanding.”

Delaware popped up from her seat to round the table and look over his shoulder, if not just for a chance to smell his cologne. “What is it? Maybe I can help.”

“Are you sure little Miss Government and How the Infrastructure of Foreign Delegate Offices Shape the–”

Delaware cut him off before he could poke fun at the title of her essay. Again. “I’ll have you know I’m in AP Physics.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, looking up at her. “AP Calculus, AP Physics, Latin lessons, is there anything you can’t do?” he asked.

Delaware blushed. “Shut up and show me the text.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

March

Delaware hated Sunday dinners. Sunday dinners meant her parents making snide remarks over the wine and buttered bread rolls and Delaware forced to sit there until that weeks ‘family time’ was deemed over by either her father getting up without a word or her mother’s wine bottle going empty.

“Delaware.”

She jerked at her mother’s voice, her knife slipping on her steak and clattering to her plate. She cleared her throat as Tiffany stared her down disapprovingly. “Yes, Mother?”

“I asked you a question.”

“Oh.” Delaware collected her cutlery and sat a bit straighter in her chair. “I apologize. Please go on?”

“I asked you how your studies were going. Did you receive a grade on your Government essay yet?”

“Um, no actually, it isn’t due until Monday,” Delaware said.

Her mother’s eyebrows raised from behind her wine glass. “So you have not completed it yet?”

“Pass the salad please,” her father cut in.

Delaware reached for the salad bowl, avoiding her mother’s stare. “I completed it on Friday night.”

Tiffany frowned, swishing the wine in the bottom of her glass. “Isn’t that the day of your study group? I’m not too sure those are very good for you. All of those distractions? Why, I could never focus! And this essay counts for nearly half of your grade–”

“Tiffany,” Dad broke in, giving his wife a pointed look. “I’m sure she’ll do fine.”

“Robert,” his wife replied, giving him a look all her own. “I’m simply concerned for my daughter’s wellbeing.”

“You’re nagging again, dear.”

“Well, maybe,” Tiffany said through gritted teeth. “If you would step it up and do your part, I wouldn’t have to nag so much!”

She tossed her wine back, and Robert McKenzy cleared his throat, looking over at his daughter. “Delaware, why don’t you promise your mother that you’ll go over your essay once more before you turn it in tomorrow. After all, it does count for nearly half your grade.”

Tiffany harrumphed from across the table and Robert rolled her eyes, but Delaware just kept her eyes focused on the plate in front of her. Her hands were starting to sweat and she grabbed for her napkin. That proved to be a wrong move.

“What’s that?” her father asked, pointing to the ink stains on her right hand.

Delaware looked down at her palm where Harry Styles had scrawled his phone number into her skin. Now a few weeks old, all that remained was a smudge and three barely visible numbers.

“Oh, just part of a Calculus formula.” Delaware tried to say it nonchalantly but she had never been a very good liar. Things always seemed to backfire. Like now.

“A Calculus formula?” Her mother grabbed for her hand, pulling it toward her. “For the test that was last week? Delaware, did you write down a formula to cheat?”

“Our daughter would not cheat!” Robert growled out.

Tiffany glared at him. “No, but she would lie.” She turned back to her daughter. “Delaware, you know we agreed no boys!”

“What?” Robert asked, looking between his wife and his shamefaced daughter.

“Right here!” Tiffany said, holding Delaware’s hand up like a trophy. “This is someone’s phone number, not a Calculus formula!”

“What!” Robert roared. “Delaware, why would you lie about such a thing?”

Delaware opened her mouth to say something in her defense, but her hand was suddenly dropped as Tiffany sat back, harrumphing loudly as she glared at her husband.

“What is it now?” Robert asked, exasperated.

“I don’t know, maybe we wouldn’t have this problem if you’d just sent her to the all-girls school I attended like I said we should,” Tiffany said.

“I went to her high school and I turned out fine!” Robert fired back. “Delaware will be no different!”

Delaware winced. Another expectation.

Tiffany sniffed, shrugging as if she could care less as she filled up her wineglass.

“There you go again!” Robert bellowed.

“There I go again with what?” Tiffany yelled back.

Delaware just shrunk down in her seat. By the time her father threw his napkin down on the table and stalked off, her mother was upending what was left of the bottle into her wineglass.

“Delaware,” she said, standing up. “Whatever you do, do not marry a lawyer.”

Sadly, that might have been the only piece of advice Delaware could remember her mother giving her, but it just felt like another restraint as she was left alone at the table in silence.

That night, Delaware’s father knocked on her door.

Shoving the phone she had been using to text Harry underneath her study notebook, Delaware called, “Come in!”

Robert swung the door open a bit, glancing around the room before stepping in. It was then Delaware realized he probably hadn’t been in her bedroom since it was Barbie pink with frilly curtains and matching white furniture.

“Um, Delaware,” he started hesitantly, looking down at her from where he stood at six foot two,and she sat on her bed.

“You can sit down if you want,” Delaware broke in.

Robert nodded, pulling the matching chair from her oak roll top desk out and sitting down, eyes scanning over her bookcase, one shelf for reference and law thesis, and the other for her science commentaries. Delaware saw when his eyes caught on his own book, The Ethics of Cause Lawyering: An Empirical Examination of Criminal Defense Lawyers as Cause Lawyers, once displayed proudly now sitting to collect dust.

He turned to face her and cleared his throat. “I just wanted to, uh, apologize, for all that has been happening lately. I know I haven’t been around much and it hasn’t been very easy on any of us.”

He seemed to be waiting for an answer, so Delaware said, “Sure, yeah. It’s all good.”

Robert looked at her for a few moments. Delaware looked a lot like him. In fact, while she had inherited her mother’s short stature, everything else had come from her father. She didn’t share her mother’s wavy blond hair, instead it was a reddish brunette, and her eyes were a deep hazel instead of blue. They even shared the same personality in some things it seemed, and out of the two of her parents, if Delaware was forced to choose, she would say that she was closest to her father. The man that had asked a judge to change a court date so he could take his daughter to Disney World for her sixth birthday, the man who took it upon himself to come home from the office and go right back to work at the kitchen counter, hand writing personal notes and commentary in the margins of his book that he addressed to her for her twelfth birthday. The man who she had naively said she wanted to be like when she grew up.

“I just–” He seemed to be searching for the right words. Finally, leveling his gaze with hers, Robert said, “Delaware, I just want you to know, no matter what happens, I still love you.”

They were silent for a minute before Delaware finally said quietly, “I know.”

“If you ever need anything,” Robert said. “All you have to do is ask, and I mean that.”

“Okay.”

Robert nodded, and they sat looking at one another for another minute before he clasped his hands together. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work.”

Delaware nodded, watching her dad get up from his chair. He reached out to ruffle her hair like he did when she was little and she couldn’t help but smile a little.

“I’m proud of you, Delaware.”

Delaware managed to keep a smile on her face as her dad left, closing the door behind him. Then she let it slip. Her phone dinged from beneath her notebook, but she didn’t even grab for it to see the answer to Harry’s stupid knock knock joke.

She only wished she felt the same as her father, but then she didn’t have anything to be proud about.

The following Friday, Harry wasn’t in Calculus class and he didn’t show up to the library that evening either.

Their schedules that week had seemed to be hit and miss anyway, but when Delaware checked the note on the table, she found it was her own reply to his question when she was in Latin on Wednesday, which meant he hadn’t shown up at all on Thursday either.

Pulling out her phone, Delaware debated texting him about it for a good five minutes, and even wrote three drafts of what she could possibly say, but ended up erasing each one after much deliberation. Finally, she just shot him a simple text that got straight to the point.

Hey Harry, saw you weren’t in Calc class today. Everything alright?

She didn’t have to wait long for a reply.

Sick today :( Sorry I can’t make it to the library.

That’s fine. Stay in and rest up.

Delaware sighed, exchanging her phone for a black pen as she attempted her homework. But she kept glancing up to the empty seat across from her. Delaware was used to studying on her own. Even though Harry joined her periodically now, there were quite a few days of the week that she spent sitting at this table alone. She didn’t know why it should feel any different, but it did.

She missed him.

The realization made her heart drop to her stomach, and Delaware squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t just a schoolgirl crush anymore. She was falling, and falling hard. And the worst part might be that she just didn’t know what to do about it anymore.

She couldn’t focus after that, and finally, after a good hour of clicking the home button on her phone every few seconds to check the time and see if Harry had texted, Delaware started loading things back into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder. She left the library, not knowing where she was going. But her heart seemed to know.

She stopped off at a whole foods store that her mother used to shop at before she found herself pulling up in front of a little yellow house, parking out front behind an Oldsmobile and two Buicks. Harry’s beat up little rattrap of a car wasn’t in the driveway, so Delaware assumed that his mother was working a late night shift at the hospital again.

Grabbing both her backpack and the little paper bag that she’d picked up from the store, Delaware trudged up to the house, knocking on the door before she could think twice.

There was a small commotion on the other side of the door for a minute, and when it finally opened, Delaware was eye to eye with a small white haired old woman who just blinked at her. Delaware hadn’t felt this kind of anxiety since she’d had to go door to door selling girl scout cookies back in the fourth grade, except this was worse. Much worse.

But before she could get a word in, the old woman lit up. “Oh, come in, come in!” she sang out, ushering Delaware forward as she almost tripped over the threshold, surprised by the strong grip the woman had in her as she took hold of Delaware’s arm. Turning to look over her shoulder, she bellowed out, “Harry! Door’s for you!” and nearly shattering Delaware’s eardrum.

The woman took a step back to look her over, grinning all the while. “I knew you’d turn up sooner or later. Girls!” she called over her shoulder. “Look who came for a visit! It’s Delaware, Harry’s girlfriend!”

Delaware hadn’t even noticed the card table, which was actually hard to miss once she realized how it strategically it had to be placed in the small living room. Three women were sitting there, cooing at Harry’s grandmother’s declaration, and Delaware felt her face heat up.

“Oh, I’m not–”

“What do you need, Gran?” Harry asked, Delaware freezing at the sound of his tired voice as he rounded the corner into the living room.

“You have a visitor!” the older woman sang out, a grin spread from ear to ear.

“Delaware?” Harry asked, his eyebrows raising as he sniffled a little, his nose red. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, brought you something to help with your cold.” Delaware fumbled for her paper bag, but before she could give it to Harry, his grandmother grabbed it, peeking inside.

“Oh!” she squealed. “I’ll go set the kettle.” She brushed past Harry, pushing the bag into his hands before disappearing around the opposite corner he had come from, calling back, “Why don’t you show her your room or something?”

Harry crumpled the bag up in his hands, starting to say something before glancing at the ladies at the table. Grabbing Delaware’s arm, he tugged her through a door at the end of the hall, closing it softly behind them. As he turned back around, Delaware took him in.

If she thought he sounded tired, he looked even worse. The bags under his eyes looked like dark bruises and his hair was greasy, tied up in a half-bun at the top while the rest of his usually curly locks hung limp. It was a bit different from the usual persona he gave off of put together and self assured, and Delaware even blinked, but he was still there. This was Harry. Not Harry Styles the track star or Harry Styles the straight A student or Harry Styles first chair clarinet of Freshman year. This was just Harry. Harry in baggy sweatpants and a Kiss band tee, Harry with a red nose and tired eyes.

And before Delaware could help herself, she’d stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, giving him a hug. His arms came around her after a second, and she heard the paper bag crinkle as it pressed against her back.

He was firm but soft at the same time and smelled of fabric softener and . . . Harry. He smelled like Harry. Delaware pulled away, drawing into herself as her face colored, suddenly aware that she’d invaded his personal space.

“What was that for?” Harry asked, twisting the top of the paper bag in his hands.

Delaware shrugged. “You looked like you needed it,” she said.

“Oh.” Harry looked down, releasing the grip on the bag and smoothing it out a bit.

“Are you okay?” Delaware asked.

Harry looked up. “Yeah. ‘M fine. Just a cold.”

Delaware frowned. “You look like you have a fever.”

“‘M fine,” Harry repeated like a two-year-old.

“Are you sure?” Delaware asked, reaching forward to feel his forehead. “Your face is all red.”

Harry ducked to the side, grabbing her hand and stopping it. “Del,” he said. Then, dropping her hand, he continued quickly, “What’d you bring me, anyway?” He opened the paper sack, pulling out a box. “Tea?” he asked with a raised brow.

“It’s the kind my mother used to make for me when I was little,” she explained, blushing a little bit. “I don’t know, it used to be a comfort thing for me. I thought it might help you. Plus, you’re British, so. . .”

“So I’m supposed to like tea,” Harry finished for her, smiling. “Lucky for you, the stereotype is true in my case.” He dropped the box back in the bag. “You know, you didn’t have too, Del.”

Delaware met his gaze straight on. “I wanted to.”

“Right,” Harry said.

They were quiet for a moment.

“Well, I should probably go,” Delaware said, stepping around Harry to the door.

“Wait,” Harry said, grabbing her arm. He cleared his throat. “As long as you’re here, I was having some trouble with my chemistry. Do you think you could maybe help me? Only if you have time, I mean.”

For some reason, it felt like a weight had been lifted from her heart, and Delaware nodded, maybe a bit too eagerly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m free for the evening.”

Harry smiled. “Great. Oh, um, it’s over here.” He grabbed the textbook off of his desk that was pushed up in the corner of his tiny room, handing it to her.

Delaware glanced at the topic and smiled. “Chemical Equilibrium?”

Harry sniffled and nodded, reaching for a tissue.

“It confused me for a bit, too,” Delaware said. “Here.” Looking around for a place to sit down but realizing that his desk chair was covered in assignments and not wanting to be too forward as to sit on his bed, Delaware just plopped down on the floor, putting her back to his bed frame. “What part are you having trouble with?”

Harry sat down next to her, looking over her shoulder, and Delaware had to remind herself to breathe normally as his familiar scent overcame her and his body heat radiated off him in waves. It was hard to hold her focus, and she ended up fidgeting a lot, something that was probably annoying Harry, but she couldn’t help it. While she had come a long way in being comfortable around him in the past few weeks, Delaware was still the same awkward schoolgirl, and Harry was still the same attractive boy that she’d been crushing on for four years. How he still managed to have this effect on her with a hacking cough and a smattering of acne over his right eyebrow, Delaware wasn’t sure, but it was definitely there and wasn’t going anywhere whether she wanted it too or not.

Delaware had just finished explaining what happens to the movement of molecules when they reach equilibrium, and had Harry writing down notes, when his grandmother breezed in, carrying two mugs. “Break time!” she announced, shoving a warm mug in each of their hands. She had tried to sneak in earlier to get the tea, but her stealth movements were a little rusty – she’d had both hips replaced, it turned out – and it’d caused more of a disturbance as she commented on how cute they were huddled up on the floor together. Delaware’s cheeks could have burst into flames. “I must say, Delaware, you have most excellent taste in tea. Wouldn’t you agree, Harry?”

Harry nodded, reaching for a tissue to blow his nose.

His grandmother tsked. “Boy’s pulled a few too many all nighters,” she told Delaware. “Concerned about his GPA one minute, asking his mother to look over a college application the next. Back to his GPA and all the numbers and percentages and then he’s banging on his mother’s door again.”

“Gran,” Harry said before a coughing fit overcame him.

His grandmother just patted his shoulder and continued. “I don’t know how you young people do it these days,” she said. “What with all the financial aid you have to apply for now? And the scholarships are in name only anymore, just another trophy! They really don’t do anything at all to help you! Why in my day–”

“Gran,” Harry broke in, his voice raspy. “Thanks for the tea.” He glanced over at Delaware, but she skillfully avoided his eyes.

They both knew that there was a stark difference between them. Delaware drove a brand new Honda Fit, one of the most practical but expensive cars on the market, while Harry shared a second bought Nissan with his mother and took the bus when she needed to use it. Delaware lived in a gated community, and Harry lived in a rental neighborhood. Delaware’s father was responsible for one of the scholarships given out through their school, and Harry was applying for financial aid. Delaware was unhappy, and Harry was not.

Delaware just stared at her toes as Harry’s grandmother left the room, even though she could feel Harry still looking at her. “Have you finished writing yet?” she finally asked, tipping back her mug to take a drink. Harry shook her head and Delaware motioned at the blue pen in his hand.

To the sound of his pen scratching against his notebook, Delaware shifted so that she was lying on her stomach, her legs kicked up to lean against Harry’s bed frame while resting her elbows on the floor. His room was so small that she could have reached out and touched the opposite wall had she wanted to. Overall, probably about as big as her parents’ walk in closet. He had a few band posters on his wall, and there were a couple of trophies on his desk, acting as a landing place for his familiar headscarves. It looked like a teenage boy’s room, and it looked like Harry.

Looking down into her mug, Delaware asked, “Harry, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

The question sounded childish, almost naive, but the scratching noise stopped behind her, and there was silence for a few moments before Harry replied, “A doctor. Or a nurse, like my mum. I’d just like to help people.”

Delaware hummed, tracing the rim of her mug with a finger.

She heard Harry shift before he asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Delaware stilled. “I’m gonna be a lawyer.”

“Oh?” He sounded closer to her ear, and when Delaware turned to look over her shoulder, he was right there, leaning over a bit to be right next to her face. “Gonna? Or wanna?” he asked, his voice deeper and gravellier because of his cold and his eyes holding her gaze intently so that she couldn’t look away.

Delaware stared at him, stared at his lips as they formed those syllables, pretty and curved and shaded in pink, just like a prince’s from her old picture fairytale books. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

There were a few moments of silence as Harry searched her face, and Delaware finally looked away, clearing her throat.

“Who’s that?” she asked, pointing to an older picture of Harry with a girl on his lap, his arms wrapped around her waist and both smiling for the camera.

“That’s my sister Gemma,” Harry said, sitting up.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“She’s back in London,” Harry said, a soft half-smile gracing his face at the mention of her.

“I bet you miss her a lot,” Delaware said.

Harry laughed fondly. “That sneaky little shit? She was always getting me in trouble with mum,” he said. “But yeah, I guess I do sometimes. When my parents split up and mum moved back home here, Gemma already had a place in university and we couldn’t make her leave that. Not willingly at least.”

Delaware knew that Harry’s mother was American and had moved back home to help care for her mother four years ago when he showed up Freshman year. She didn’t, however, know that his parents had split, but that wasn’t necessarily surprising. They had always run in different circles and never shared the same friends so she wouldn’t know how she would come by the information.

“So your parents are divorced, then?” Delaware asked.

Harry nodded.

“My parents will probably end up divorced.” Delaware wasn’t sure why she said it, all of her walls seemed to come down around Harry, and he was probably the closest friend she’d had since Georgina Reynolds back when she was seven, and that girl had ripped Delaware’s favorite pink dress at the time during a temper tantrum before quite forcibly removed her Barbie doll’s head from the body. Harry’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Delaware cleared her throat before he could say anything. “Did you finish it yet?”

Harry nodded slowly, and reached for his notebook, handing it to Delaware. She had asked him to write out what chemical equilibrium was and how it occurred in his own words. It was one of her favorite study methods and she knew it would help cement the material in his mind.

Reading over the paragraphs he had down, reading one of the last ones aloud, “When equilibrium would be reached, we would see no further change to the level of water in the container–” A hiccupping sob cut her words off before she could finish, and Delaware suddenly realized that she was crying, tears falling and snot rolling ugly crying as she buried her face in her hands.

She felt Harry shift behind her before he gingerly pulled her to him, leaning back against the side of his bed frame and just holding her. It took a minute or two, but Delaware finally quieted down, leaning back into Harry as he petted her hair a little bit. When he leaned away for a second to grab the tissue box, she should have been ashamed to say that she mewled a bit like a wounded kitten and clung to him a bit tighter, but she probably didn’t even realize it at this point.

“There you go,” Harry murmured as she wiped her eyes. “Feel any better?”

Delaware shrugged, and Harry gave her arms a little squeeze. She didn’t want to move but she was suddenly aware of how close they were, skin to skin, in fact, and Delaware found it in her to sit up a bit.

“There’s mascara on your shirt,” she said, staring at a spot on Harry’s chest that was damp from her tears, smeared black in places.

Harry looked down. “I don’t mind,” he said. “It’ll wash. Besides, you should have seen what havoc Gemma wreaked on my favorite t-shirt back when she was in sixth form and her boyfriend broke up with her.”

He was trying to cheer Delaware up, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, but her eyes were fast filling up with tears again.

“Why do I have to ruin everything?” she wailed suddenly. “God, I am such a fucking mess, why am I such a fucking failure?! All the time! That’s all I ever–”

Harry cut her off by kissing her, kissing her straight on the lips.

He kissed her.

It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but when he pulled away, he was a little breathless and she was a little stunned and they just sat there looking at each other for a minute. Delaware reached up to touch her lips as an afterthought, the effect of all the thoughts whirling around in her brain.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, making Delaware freeze. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Delaware just stared at him. “You – I, what?” She couldn’t form a coherent sentence, too much was fighting to get out as she blinked at him, leaning away.

But she was kind of sitting on his lap, so Harry just grabbed her arms, pulling her back to him. Delaware tried to twist away, but he held her a bit firmer. “That came out wrong,” he said. “I mean, I shouldn’t have done that because I’m contagious. I’ll probably get you sick.”

Delaware stopped struggling and just sat there, looking at him. There were so many things swirling around her head that she didn’t even know what she wanted to say. She stuttered for a moment before getting out, “I don't mind.”

There was a brief second that they just sat looking at one another, and then, like they had each felt a gravitational pull from the other, they moved to meet in the middle, Harry’s lips finding hers for a slower but desperate kiss that made something in Delaware’s lower belly somersault as his hands on her hips pulled her closer. Delaware wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do with her hands, her left one falling to his bicep as she hesitantly reached up to hold his face with the other. His lips were cracked and dry, and were rough against her own, and he tasted like his own blend tea, warm and minty, and a bit salty from her fallen tears. And somewhere, in the middle of that, Delaware realized she was kissing Harry Styles. She was kissing Harry Styles.

Delaware’s eyes flew open and it all came down on her as too much at once. Just as she started to pull away Harry wheezed and leaned back away from her, hitting his head on the bed frame with a resounding thwack! as he broke into a fit of coughing.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Delaware asked, reaching out to touch his face but retracting it again when she realized the position she’d been in when doing that only seconds before.

Harry nodded, coughing again before clearing his throat. “But seriously, though, I could get you sick,” he said.

At least he didn’t apologize that time, but Delaware had to agree.

“Yeah, I know, it isn’t much fun.”

Harry ticked an eyebrow up at her, much closer than she’d care to admit since she was still sitting on his lap. Shit, that was another thing she had to fix.

“I mean, the cold,” Delaware stuttered. “A cold is never very fun. Um, what were we talking about, uh, before–?”

“Before we snogged?” Harry asked, a cheeky smirk on his face. Delaware was sure he was just doing that to make her blush.

Ducking her head and scrambling off of his lap with a little less finesse than she would have liked, Delaware grabbed for the notebook she had abandoned on the floor, sitting down cross legged with her back to Harry. “Right, chemical equilibrium.” She started to scan the first paragraph before she noticed the smear caused by one of her teardrops in the middle of a word. Frowning, she tried to rub it off with her thumb, but it had already dried.

“It’s okay, you know?” Harry’s voice came from behind her, Delaware freezing as he moved to lay a hand on her shoulder. “To be upset about your parents?”

Delaware didn’t move. “I’m fine,” she finally said. “Just really stressed out and maybe sleep deprived.” Tapping her pen on the notebook, she looked back down, but Harry squeezed her shoulder prompting her to turn her head to look at him.

“It’s not you, Delaware,” he stated. “Don’t ever let them make you feel like you’re the cause of this.”

Delaware pressed her lips together. “I mean, I sort of am, they can never agree on anything when it comes to me and with my grades and the pressure of making sure I follow in their footsteps, down to the acceptance letter from Harvard–”

Harry cut her off, but this time with a finger pressed to her lips. She had a fleeting thought that she wished it’d have been with his lips, but this was safer for both her immune system and her heart.

“It is not you,” Harry repeated, slowly and certainly, as if talking to a five-year-old. “They’re only using you as a way to get to the other one. They want to tear the other person down by using your name as a wrecking ball, but they don’t realize that the only one feeling the blows is you. In the end, they’re the only ones that can walk away, and you’re the only one that can get hurt. You need to realize that before they split you in two because that’s the only way that they’ll ever make each other happy.”

There was so much pity and sincerity in Harry’s green eyes that Delaware could have started crying again right then and there, her eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“Let’s just get back to work, yeah?” she whispered against his finger.

Harry bit his lip, giving a curt nod as he pulled away.

Delaware cleared her throat and leaned back over the notebook. “The "shift" occurs so that the two rates gradually come back to be equality,” she read. “An equilibrium can be viewed similar to a balance beam where the reactants are on the right hand side and the products are on the left hand side. When the system is balanced, the forward and reverse rates are equal.” Delaware nodded. “Good example, Harry. But,” she started as she clicked her pen, circling something. “You misspelled ‘gradually.’”

“What?” Harry exclaimed, leaning over her shoulder.

“See?” Delaware said, tipping her head to look at him, one of his curls brushing her cheek he was so close. “It’s supposed to have two L’s, not one.”

“Well, love,” Harry said, smirking down at her and making her heart skip a beat as he deepened his accent dramatically. “I’ll have you know I didn’t misspell anything. That’s considered top notch spelling where I come from.”

“Well, it could get you failed where I come from.” Delaware was probably being a bit exaggerative, but trying to distract from the fact her cheeks were blazing hot from Harry calling her ‘love’. Turning back to the notebook, she said, “Make sure you fix it.”  

Delaware had given him back his notes and was trying to study herself when she was aware of Harry shifting around behind her, winding up with his left leg stretched out to her side and the other folded up underneath of him. She tried not to think too much of it, he was probably just looking over her shoulder because he was bored or something.

But then she felt the pen press into the fleshy part of the back of her shoulder where her sweater had slipped off to reveal just her bra strap and bare neck and shoulder blade.

“Hey!” Delaware complained. “Harry, what are you doing?” She tried to twist around, but Harry reached up to grab her other shoulder, stopping her in place.

“Hold on,” he said, gaze focused solely on the blue ink pen that he was pressing against her skin. “Keep doing what you’re doing, I’ll be done in a second.”

Delaware huffed just to let him know she wasn’t happy, but she could practically feel him smile from behind her and his hands were warm, so she let him be, going back to her textbook. Even if he did draw something obscene, her sweater would cover it up until she got home and she’d just scrub with extra soap in the shower.

Harry nudged the sweater a bit farther down with a fingertip, his pen moving slowly and surely along her skin, and Delaware was unable to help the shiver that ran down her spine.

“Almost done,” Harry murmured. “Sorry.”

Delaware made a noise at the back of her throat that sounded like a dying cat. She wasn’t quite sure what it was supposed to mean, but she felt Harry chuckle behind her as he capped the pen. Still dragging the edge of her sweater down with a finger, he leaned in a bit and blew a soft, warm breath on her shoulder.

“There you go,” he said, going her sleeve up as Delaware reached up to adjust her sweater, their hands brushing and sending a spark of electricity through them both.

It was the only reminder to Delaware that this wasn’t a normal thing. Harry wasn’t her boyfriend and this whole study session felt so domesticated, so normal, that it left her with a sick feeling in her stomach. But she wanted to cherish it while she could.

Harry walked her to the door soon after, both of them tiptoeing past his Gran who was asleep in the living room, the television light making Harry glow a blue silhouette as Delaware got in her car to head home.

She was so tired that night that by the time she got past her parents and up to her room, she dropped her bag and went right away to change for bed. It wasn’t until after she brushed her teeth and was changing into her pajama shirt that she caught the edge of blue writing in the mirror, and turned so she could look at her left shoulder.

There’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out, was written in Harry Styles’ careful hand around a crude but somehow artful rendition of a little bluebird.

Delaware just stared at it for a few minutes before pulling her shirt over her head, somehow not even minding that it was written in blue ink.

April

“Knock knock.”

“Harry, I said not right now.”

“And I said knock knock.”

Delaware looked up with a glare from where she was hunkered over her homework, but the party across from her just flashed his dimples innocently.

“You know, in the time that you’ve spent denying me and glaring, you could have heard two knock knock jokes,” he pointed out.

Delaware sighed. “Fine,” she said, putting down her pen. “One knock knock joke and then you shut shut up.”

Harry rolled his eyes, already having made a comment about her pissy attitude earlier. “Okay, knock knock.”

“Who’s there.”

“Beryl.”

“Beryl who?”

“Beryl and Lium,” Harry said, cracking up.

Delaware just frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“Sure you do,” Harry said, still laughing. “Beryl and Lium –  Beryllium! Get it?”

Delaware sighed. “Sure, Harry, I get it. Can I get back to work now?”

Harry eyed her, finally just nodding.

“Thank you.”

But then her pen stopped working.

Cursing loudly, Delaware started shaking the black ink pen, trying to get it to work, but it had given up the ghost with the last of its ink and she squeezed her eyes shut, pushing back tears.

“Here.”

Delaware opened her eyes to see Harry extending the blue pen he had been using towards her. “I don’t want it,” she said, sounding like a four-year-old refusing peas.

“No, it’s fine, I have another one in my bag somewhere, I think,” Harry said, misunderstanding what she meant and starting to dig around in his satchel.

It was her old blue pen that she’d ended up giving to him, and Delaware sighed, turning it over in her hands. She really hated blue ink, but desperate times called for desperate measures and so she tried to start again.

She only lasted a few words before the blue ink bleeding into the paper got to her and she dropped the pen, burying her face in her hands.

“You’re upset.” Harry made the observation of the year, and if Delaware had been thinking straight, she probably would have laughed. “What’s wrong?”

Delaware looked across the table at Harry. Harry, the boy she’d had a crush on for four years now. Harry, the boy who might’ve – might’ve –  told his grandmother they were dating. Harry, the boy who kissed her (twice!) and then never said another word about it. Harry, who, at the moment, she was getting very mixed signals from.

And she did not have the time nor the patience for it anymore. She didn’t know what he was playing at and she couldn’t read his mind. She’d never been good at anything concerning boys and that was nothing new, but she was tired. Tired of the constant tug of war between her parents, tired of their expectations of her, tired of her heart speeding up every time she laid eyes on Harry fucking Styles or he even so much as turned a page across from her.

But he was the one person she could stand to have around. And he was also the one person that seemed to understand what she was going through.

Delaware’s eyes traced over Harry’s face before dropping to the table.“I didn’t get a very good mark on my Government essay,” she mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut. “It counted for almost half of my grade.”

Harry nodded. “That’s tough,” he sympathized. “But you did so well on your Physics exam, surely that counts for something?”

“Not in the lawyering business,” Delaware said sadly. “I enjoyed Chemistry last year and did well so my parents considered it an extracurricular activity for me. They basically let me take it this year for fun.” At Harry’s screwed up face at the thought of Physics being fun, she let out a rueful laugh. “Yeah, I was supposed to keep my focus on the main things that would prepare me for law school.”

Harry frowned, his thoughts showing in the draw between his brow.

Delaware sighed, flipping the blue pen over in her hand. “Did I ever tell you why I hate blue ink so much?”

Harry shook his head slowly. “No.”

“It’s because when I was little, I wanted to be just like my father. Sometimes I would go do homework in his office while he was working on a case, and sometimes he even took me with him when he went to the office on weekends. And you know what I saw there?” Delaware asked. “All I saw were documents and important papers all written and signed in blue ink. One time, I was going through them while I waited for him to get home, it was maybe when I was in fourth grade, and I found the papers my mother had filed for divorce against my dad. When I went to them and asked them about it, I was pretty upset and it turned into an absolute mess. The house was in uproar for days before my dad finally packed a bag and moved to a hotel for a couple of weeks. But before he left, I made sure to steal all of the blue pens from his briefcase, and I also stole all of the ones from his office because I knew that if he did sign those papers with blue ink it would be permanent. They would be divorced for good and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.” Delaware gave a wry laugh. “I still have a shoebox full of blue pens stuck up on a top shelf in my closet.”

“But they worked it out?” Harry asked.

“No,” Delaware said. “Not completely. My mother let my Dad move back in because the first thing they managed to agree on since I was four was the fact that I was an innocent party in all of this and deserved a two parent home for a sturdy upbringing.” She snorted. “They never did know how to settle anything outside of a courtroom.”

“They’re both lawyers, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they both graduated Harvard, practically tying for top of the class. Dad won by about half a point I think. He used to say that my mother never forgave him, and I think that’s true now more than ever,” Delaware said.

“But they’ve had their success, yeah?” Harry asked.

“Oh sure,” Delaware said. “Dad was valedictorian and my mother was on one the board for a while. He built his own law firm from the ground up and she was District Attorney for nearly a decade.”

Harry was quiet for a minute. “You know how the scholarship offered through Harvard isn’t specified to law school because your father wanted others from his school to be able to be whatever they wanted to be at the best of their ability?” Delaware nodded. “Then maybe they should be content with their own success and stop trying to make you their trophy piece, allow you to follow through with your dreams like they’ve encouraged of others,” Harry said.

“They only want what’s best for me, Harry,” Delaware said, an edge her voice. “You don’t know anything about it, so why don’t you just shove off. Besides, you don’t have any room to talk. You’re letting yourself become a clone of your dear mommy.”

“No,” Harry said slowly. “I’m not. I grew up being told that I should be me, no matter how hard it is. It isn’t about being whatever you want to be or whatever your parents want you to be, it’s about just being you. I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up until I started watching my mum and I realized how much she helped people. She’s one of the strongest people I know and I want to be just like her, even if I know I’ll never quite match up.”

“I have to make them happy,” Delaware said feebly. “I have to do what they want.”

Harry leveled his gaze with hers as he searched her face. Then, grabbing her blue pen, he uncapped it and reached for her arm, pressing the tip it into her skin as she watched without protest, one letter turning into four to form a word and one word turning into nine to form a sentence.

Find what you love and let it kill you.

Delaware pulled her arm from his warm grasp to get a better look at the scrawled words, already drying on her skin as Harry capped the pen and set it back down.

“Just do you, Delaware,” he said.

Delaware shook her head a little, making a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat. Clearing her throat after a moment, she looked back up. “Didn’t you say earlier that you needed help with chemistry again?”

Harry nodded slowly and pulled out his book, deciding to let her get away with the subject change. Delaware was dreading when it came up later, though. She supposed he was only trying to help, but she really thought that Harry had no idea.

By the time the library lights flickered, Delaware had helped Harry revise all of his Chemistry assignments, and as they began to pick their things up, he asked, “Have you ever thought of going into a science degree?”

Delaware stilled. “What would make you ask that?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know, you just get very animated when talking about my chemistry homework or you’re explaining your physics assignments. And you’re definitely better than me, which is a bit concerning since I’m the one going into medicine,” he added with a grin.

Delaware actually had considered it before. In fact, when she was in seventh grade, she had even brought it up to her parents, but her mother squashed the idea immediately, reminding her that she’d wanted to be like them since she was little and they’d already been banking on Harvard Law School for her. Her father was the one that was able to convince Tiffany to let Delaware to take the Chemistry and Physics courses beyond what was required for high school, so long as she promised not to let it distract her from what was considered more important.

“My success in sciences has already cause enough trouble,” Delaware finally said. “I haven’t even shown them my Government results because they’ve assumed it’s even better than my Physics exam.”

“But you got an A in Physics,” Harry said.

“Yeah.”

“Hey.” Harry grabbed her into a hug, smooshing her face against his chest. “Cheer up, I’m sure it can’t be too bad.”

Delaware sighed into the fabric of his shirt, inhaling him and his spicy cologne, closing her eyes for a minute. “I was trying for the scholarship, though, and that’s out the window now since that essay counted for almost half of my final grade.”

Harry pulled away suddenly, looking at her with a frown. “The scholarship?” he asked. “You mean the one that Harvard offers to the school because of your dad? You were trying for that?”

Delaware nodded, confused by his sudden change in mood. “Yeah, I thought that maybe if I could get the scholarship it would prove to my parents that I could make it on my own, let them know that I was capable of doing this and I didn’t need them pulling strings for me.” She searched his face as his frown deepened. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

Snapping out of it, Harry shook his head, stepping away. “Nothing, nothing, I just remembered I promised my Gran something.” He grabbed his bag off the table and pulled out his car keys. “I have to go.”

“Wait, Harry!” Delaware called as he rounded the German Philosophy section, disappearing.

Delaware shoved her things in her bag, things falling in helter skelter as she picked it up and ran, not even noticing as Ms. Schroeder glared at her for running in the library. But by the time Delaware hit the parking lot, Harry was already gone, and she could just barely hear the old, noisy muffler on the beat up tin can he drove somewhere farther down the block.

Delaware hadn’t spoken to Harry in more than a week. Well, there was a text she had finally broken down and sent on Sunday that said simply, are you okay? but he’d texted back with a curt fine and she hadn’t spoken to him in person since.

Harry was suddenly the last to show up to Calculus class and the first to leave. The first day that happened, Delaware smiled at him when he came in, but he only nodded at her before sitting down. She was mildly hurt, but she figured he was just tired and grumpy because he had overslept or something. But the second day it happened, Delaware knew something was up. And then to make matters worse, she was quite rudely reminded of why Harry was the school’s top track athlete when she tried to catch up with him after class.

Friday night came and went with Delaware sitting alone at her table in the library, checking her phone every two seconds, her pride keeping her from texting him, but one side of her desperately hoped Harry would just say something. Anything. She would have even taken a stupid knock knock joke at that point.

But he never showed and he never texted, so Delaware finally just went home. She ended up just locking herself in her room, sitting in her window seat with the sleeve of her sweater rolled up to stare at Harry’s handwriting. She felt like a stupid character from a rom-com.

By Sunday, Delaware almost felt like her life was back to normal. At dinner, her mother bitched at her father, her father shot it right back, and Delaware was the case evidence for each opposing side. She just stared longingly at her mother’s bottle of wine until she could escape back up to her room.

Delaware sat at her desk, head buried in a study, when her phone rang from the locked drawer in her bedside table. Spinning around to stare across the room at the table, Delaware just watched it as if afraid it would explode. She’d put it in there to avoid looking at it every two seconds like she’d been doing ever since Friday. She hadn’t gotten anything done the entire weekend and today she’d promised herself she was going to forget about Harry for a little while.

But that apparently wasn’t going to happen.

As soon as the phone stopped ringing, Delaware turned back to her desk, pressing her palms flat against the top as she tried to reason with herself. There was no reason to think that was Harry anyway. He hadn’t wanted to talk with her all week, what made her think he would call now?

Shaking her head, Delaware picked up her pen just as her phone started ringing again. Throwing the black pen down, she rushed over to the drawer, grabbing the key off the top and digging it into the lock. Pulling her phone out, she looked at the screen.

Harry.

Sliding the green arrow, she put it up to her ear.

“Hello?” Her voice was breathless and she hoped she didn’t sound desperate.

“Delaware!” Harry’s voice sounded oddly chipper after avoiding her for a week.

“Harry?” she asked cautiously, like she wouldn’t recognize his posh British accent anywhere.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Harry said. “Are you all right? You sound funny.”

She might have still been breathing a bit abnormally. Whether it was nerves or the fact that Harry’s voice sounded a tone deeper over the line, she wasn’t sure. Probably a combination of both. “I’m fine, I’m fine. What do you want?” It might have come out a bit blunt, but if it was Harry deserved it.

He cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. “Um, well, I was wondering if you’d want to go to senior prom with me?”

Delaware just stood frozen, staring at her blank beige walls.

“Del? Are you still there?”

Snapping out of it, she said, “Fine, fine. But why ask me now? The prom is only a week away.”

Most girls she knew at school had been asked at least a month ago and their dates had more often than not recieved an elaborate proposal. She didn’t know of any who had been asked over the phone, much less after a week of being ignored.

“Yeah, about that,” Harry said, seeming to choose his words carefully. “I probably won’t be able to make it to the library much this week either. This past week has been a bit...interesting.”

“You can say that again,” Delaware said.

Harry ignored that, and she guessed that she should be used to it by then, but Delaware still felt something dig into her chest.

“Come on, Del, you’d be doing me a favor,” he said. “Unless you already have another date.”

Delaware could tell by the tone of his voice that was something that he’d just thought of, and while she wished she could say yes, it’d be a whopper of a lie. “No, I wasn’t even going to go.”

“What? A pretty girl like you not even going to senior prom?” The charm was back on in an instant, and Delaware didn’t like it.

“No, I wasn’t going to go,” she repeated, this time a bit more firmly.

“You know, in all the years of high school, I don’t think I’ve seen you at a spring fling or Homecoming once,” Harry mused.

“That’s because I’ve never gone to one,” Delaware said.

“Never gone to one? Oh, Del, you can’t miss Senior Prom, then!” Harry said. “It’s a once in a lifetime experience. Tell you what, I’ll pick you up at seven, you wear something cute, and we’ll have a good time.” Delaware opened her mouth to protest, but he said, “Bye!” and hung up.

Delaware pulled her phone away from her ear and looked down at it, resisting the urge to hurl it at the wall as she sank down on her bed. What did this mean? And how was she supposed to break it to her parents? They certainly wouldn’t be happy about it. And what on earth was she going to wear?

Delaware ended up wearing an old pastel pink floral from one of her parents’ charity dinners that was held a couple of years before. She hadn’t grown an inch since sixth grade, so aside from the fact that it took her over ten minutes to do up the zipper, the gown fit.

The doorbell rang as she was touching up her makeup, and Delaware glanced at the clock. 6:50. Of course he was early. But that wasn’t a good thing with both of her parents in the house. And she could already hear her mother’s heels clicking in the foyer.

Flinging open her bathroom door she called down, “Be there in a minute!”

Quickly setting her hair with a bit of hairspray and putting her earrings in, Delaware took one last glance at her delicate and slightly alarmed features in the mirror before grabbing her shoes and racing down the stairs, skidding to a most unladylike stop on the landing when she saw Harry.

Standing just in the entryway, he was dressed in a simple black tux and black boots, his hair hanging in perfectly curled ringlets. It was the first time Delaware had actually seen his hair without it being tied up with a headscarf or tied half up in a bun. He looked like a prince.

Meanwhile Delaware was fairly certain that her lipstick was smudged. If she had even put any on. Had she? Surely she had.

“Delaware, ladies don’t run on the stairs,” her mother scolded like she was a six-year-old. “And put your shoes on, for heaven’s sake!” Delaware bent down to slip on her heels, trying to breathe away the nausea at her mother hanging off of Harry’s arm like a loose college girl when she was almost 45 and married. “Girl just doesn’t think a thing of her manners,” Tiffany purred, patting Harry’s arm. “You would have thought she never attended etiquette lessons!”

Delaware’s face burned as her father piped up jovially, “Harry was just telling us about his plans to go to into the medical field!”

Delaware stalked up to her parents, rescuing a squirming Harry from her mother’s hold with a tug on the arm. “Well that’s great, but we really have to be going.”

Delaware didn’t care that she practically slammed the door in her parents faces, leading Harry down the walk to where she had left her car parked out in front. “Get in.”

“I brought my car,” Harry pointed out.

“No offense, Harry, but if I’m going with you, I’m driving, and I don’t know how to drive a manual,” Delaware said.

Harry shrugged, pulling his door open and sliding in. “I can see that. Just don’t tell my mum,” he added with a wink. “She’d have my head for making my date drive herself.”

Delaware noticed that Harry had parked his car in front of the Jedwards and felt some satisfaction in knowing that even if her mother did look out and see it, she wouldn’t think anything of it. She didn’t like the Jedwards much and hated their children, so it wouldn’t be odd for her to assume that one of their weird college kids were home for the weekend.

“Is everything okay?” Harry asked after she didn’t say anything for a while.

“Rough week,” was all Delaware replied.

“What’s wrong? Did your parents get on you about your essay?”

“You didn’t care about it a week ago, I don’t know why you’d care about it now,” Delaware said, spinning the steering wheel into a turn after looking both ways at the end of the street.

“Del–”

Delaware reached over and hit the radio button, a Metallica song blasting and cutting off whatever Harry was about to say.

By the time Delaware whipped the car into the parking lot and pulled the key out of the ignition, the silence left by the radio was almost more deafening than the music had been. Just as she went to open her door, Harry grabbed her arm. “Hold on a second,” he said. “Here, I was going to give this to you back at your house but you tore out of there so quick.”

Delaware looked down at the small white flower corsage he had handed to her, turning it over in his hands.

“I wasn’t sure what color you were wearing, so mum said to just go with white,” Harry said, smiling a little bit.

Trying to focus on something other than the fact that Harry had talked about her with his mother, Delaware slid it onto her wrist with a shrug. “Yeah, sure, it’s cool. Thanks.” Opening her door to get out, she said, “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

They weren’t late, and it didn’t really matter because Delaware had pretty much attached herself to the back corner and wouldn’t move, despite Harry’s best efforts.

“Do you want to dance?”

“No.”

“Do you want to go sit down then?”

“No.”

“Do you want to–”

“No.”

She knew he was probably trying to figure out just why the hell she even agreed to come, but Delaware couldn’t even figure it out herself. Hoping it would get Harry off her back, she finally agreed to let him go get her some punch.

But after three whole songs of standing by herself in a corner, Delaware was actually starting to miss Harry standing there and annoying her to death. Now she was alone with just herself and her thoughts and she was realizing that not only did she feel out of place, but she was out of place.

Deciding to go find Harry, Delaware made her way along the wall around to the punch table. Harry was talking to Mr. Fogelman,  the guidance counselor, and apparently one of the chaperones for the evening.

Walking up behind them, Delaware heard Mr. Fogelman ask, “Has any financial aide come through?”

Harry was shaking his curly mane, “Not a lot of it.”

“Well don’t give up quite yet, you’ve still got a lot of options,” Mr. Fogelman said. “Have you been working on your McKenzy Scholarship?”

Delaware didn’t hear what Harry said because reality hit her worse than a slap across the face. Dragging in a breath and stepping up between the two, she said, “Oh, Harry’s definitely been working on his McKenzy Scholarship.”

Surprise registered on Harry’s face, then guilt. “Del–” he started.

The girl didn’t give him a chance to finish. Grabbing one of the two punch glasses from his hands, she dumped the contents of it over his head, saturating the perfect curls and drenching the white shirt under his suit coat pink.

“What the fuck was – Del!” Harry called as she stalked away, cutting right through shocked onlookers and pushing past the people on the dance floor. “Del!”

One thing that Delaware was thankful for in her short stature was her sure ability to walk in heels, and she made it out the door in record speed, digging through her clutch for her car keys. Apparently, though, her new record speed was nothing against Harry’s giraffe legs, which were personally responsible for leading the track team to nationals.

“Del, wait up!” he called out, running his fingers through his hair, which was trying to plaster itself to his forehead. “Del!”

“First of all,” Delaware said, spinning around and grabbing him by the tuxedo even though she was still a good three inches shorter than him in heels. “My name is Delaware, not Del. Just Delaware.”

“Delaware, it isn’t what you think–” Harry started.

“Second of all,” Delaware continued, tightening her hold. “I don’t know when it was you took up mind reading but you sure as hell don’t know what I’m thinking right now, so fuck off,” she gave him a little push, letting go of his lapels, but Harry barely stumbled.

“Delaware, you don’t understand–”

“Oh I understand, Harry Styles, I understand perfectly well,” Delaware said, her voice rising. “I understand that you played me this entire time, I understand you were using me to get to my father, and I fucking understand that you thought you could earn your ticket to Harvard by charming my parents just like you charmed me!” Harry started to talk, but she cut him off. “What I don’t understand, something my 4.0 GPA has failed to educate me on, is why you would do it. Why would you do this Harry? Why would you string me along for two months? That’s what I don’t understand. I thought you were better than that, Harry.” She shook her head in disbelief, tears glistening in her eyes.

“You want know why I did this?” Harry asked. “I’ll tell you why I did this. It’s because kids like me never get a fucking chance.”

“Don’t start spouting that bullshit,” Delaware said, her voice cracking as she pulled open her car door. Harry reached out to grab it.

“It’s not bullshit.” Harry’s voice turned mocking. “Look at you. Poor little rich girl. She gets everything handed to her; her car, her clothes, her Harvard acceptance letter. But no, she has to prove something to the world, and it isn’t the fact that she’d go work in a soup kitchen.”

“Harry, shut up,” Delaware warned, her voice shaking.

“No, I won’t shut up!” Harry shouted. “You want sympathy, so I give you sympathy. You want a shoulder to cry on, I give you a shoulder to cry on. But with you it’s never enough. You could bow out of your parents plans at any time, but you’d rather play the victim and milk it for what you can. You’re selfish, Delaware. You’re nothing but a selfish bitch!”

“Shut up, shut up!” Delaware screamed, swinging at him with her clutch. “You have no idea what it’s like to be me!”

“I know it must be fucking miserable!” Harry said. “It has to be miserable to have the world at your feet! Because, after all, people like me are supposed to get a job at McDonalds or be the janitor at your fancy fucking law firms and never amount to anything! We’re supposed to keep living in your shabby rental neighborhoods and drive your traded in cars! And then we’re supposed to marry someone and pop out a few kids before we die to keep the cycle going! If you really wanted to make a difference, Delaware McKenzy, you would stop living in your miserable little self-focused bubble and use your position for good instead of for your own advantage!”

“Oh, says the boy who seduced me to get to my father, looking for some magical train ticket into Harvard!”

“Well it wasn’t like you weren’t eager to be ‘seduced,’” Harry said, making quotations around the word.

Delaware made a noise of outrage. “And just what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you would have jumped me in the library if you’d gotten the chance, we both know that!”

“I would have done no such thing, you – you pig!” Delaware screamed. “At least I have some self dignity!”

“A stick up your arse is more like it!” Harry shot back.

“Well good luck finding your magical train ticket, Harry Styles,” Delaware said, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. “Once I talk to my father, you won’t even have a shot as the janitor at his firm! Go fucking die!”

Getting into her car and slamming the door shut behind her, Delaware cranked her car, pulling out of her parking space and coming dangerously close to Harry as the spun off. By the time she pulled up her driveway, things were permanently blurred, Delaware nearly knocking over her mother’s fountain before stumbling up the stairs and inside.

“Back so soon?” she heard her father call from somewhere, his voice coming toward her.

Kicking off her heels in a rush to get up the stairs, she bent down to pick them up and nearly ran right into her mother, who looked her up and down, horrified at Delaware’s disheveled state. “Well, what happened to you?” she asked, holding her wine glass up as if Delaware might break it or contaminate the contents. Really, though, she was lucky the girl didn’t grab it from her and down the entire glass.

“Delaware?” her father asked, coming from the direction of his office. “Sweetheart, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Of course she’s not okay, Robert!” Tiffany broke in. “Look at her! Why don’t you try to get to the bottom of this instead of asking meaningless questions!”

“I am trying to get to the bottom of this, Tiffany, you need to–”

“Would you both just shut up!” Delaware’s voice screamed an octave above theirs, silencing the both of them as they stared at her in shock. “This is not a criminal justice case you’re arguing over in court! This is my life! I’m not your client, I’m your daughter! Why can’t you both just be on the same team for once and stop fucking with my life? This is all your fault!”

Pushing past her speechless parents with a strangled sob, Delaware ran up the stairs, tripping near the top but not feeling the pain that shot through her knees as she pulled herself up and kept running. Slamming her bedroom door behind her, she collapsed on her bed and let it all out.

She cried herself to sleep that night, with her parents oddly silent for once, too far removed from their own daughter to know what to do. And Delaware didn’t know if it was her fault or theirs anymore.

By the time that Delaware got up the next  morning, mascara streaked down her face and her formal dress permanently wrinkled, Harry's car was gone from in front of the Jedwards’ house. Like the chariot that turned back into a pumpkin at midnight in Cinderella, it seemed to have shriveled up into itself and rolled away. Delaware wished she could have done the same. Instead, she just spent over an hour in the shower, trying to scrub away any trace, visible or invisible, that Harry had ever marked on her skin.

Her parents for once weren't at each other's throats at dinner, though Tiffany did make some pointed glares from time to time and Robert was clearing his throat in various tones every few minutes as if about to acknowledge the elephant in the room before losing his nerve and instead asking for someone to pass a dish.

Delaware, though, was nothing but an empty shell. She threw herself into her studies, trying to distract from what had gone down over the past week and a half. Even Speech and Debate, something that she had pretty much been failing due to her passive nature, was now an outlet to vent her rage of things that she could have and should have said.

She wasn't selfish.

Delaware. Was. Not. Selfish.

But all of her excuses and explanations wouldn't hold water when she tried to reason them out in her head. It figured. She had never been very good at speech and debate, she didn’t know why she’d be able to win an argument with herself.

She had switched seats with one of the girls on the opposite side of the room during second period, the redhead not asking any questions since the entire school was well aware by now of what went down between Harry and Delaware.

Delaware felt a tug at her chest when she sat down for the first time, the new seat too close to the gum smacking cheerleader and too close to the window.

But maybe the real reason was that Harry hadn't even looked up when she'd walked into the room, and the heart that had been so forcefully ripped out of her chest was now ruthlessly shoved down her throat. Somehow even a glare, or a snarl, would have been better than complete dissociation.

Delaware didn't go to the library after school anymore to reduce chances of running into Harry and she'd replaced his name with a simple ‘x’ in her phone since she couldn't find it in her to delete his number, but couldn't stand the constant reminder of his name every time she looked at her phone.

By the end of that week, Delaware was emotionally drained. And the last thing she wanted to do was go see her Great Aunt Prudence who was in the hospital.

“No.”

Tiffany ticked an eyebrow at her daughter from over a book. “I don't believe I gave you the option. We leave in twenty minutes.”

She’d barely had time to change before her mother was honking the horn of her Mercedes impatiently, glaring over top of her Chanel sunglasses as Delaware scurried to get in the car and buckle up.

Robert met them at the hospital, showing up ten minutes late and leaving them to wait in the parking lot, but surprisingly Tiffany had little to say about it, her thin painted red lips pressed tightly shut as she scrolled through work emails on her phone until he arrived.

Delaware trailed behind them as they led the way to her Great Aunt’s room, finding a chair in the corner to slouch down in like a typical moody teenager as her parents each took a side of the bed.

“How are you doing, Aunt Prudy?” Robert asked with a toothy grin.

Delaware's Great Aunt Prudence was actually Tiffany’s aunt, but Robert was the old woman's favorite great nephew-in-law and they got along wonderfully. He was also the only one allowed to call her Prudy.

“Is Delaware here too?” Great Aunt Prudence asked, a look from her mother prompting to get up and gently hug the shriveled up grape that was her Great Aunt.

Thankfully, before her Great Aunt could go into anything about Delaware’s studies and Harvard, the nurse bustled into the room, all smiles and sunshine, allowing Delaware to melt into the background as introductions of the adults went around the hospital bed.

Delaware wasn’t paying attention, but caught her Great Aunt calling the nurse by her first name, Anne. Something about the woman was ringing familiar with Delaware, and she frowned, leaning back in her chair as her mother introduced herself and her father, seeming to have already forgotten Delaware was in the room. Really, though, that was fine by Delaware, and she just watched as the nurse moved to take her Great Aunt’s vitals, watching the woman closely.

It wasn’t until Delaware’s father cracked a half-assed Dad joke and the nurse laughed, the sound like music in the small room, that it hit Delaware like a bolt of lightning. She was Harry’s mother, the woman from the picture next to the one of him with his sister!

Knowing she had to get out of there and get out of there fast, Delaware ducked her head, letting her hair fall in front of her face as she got up from her seat and slipped out the door. Not sure where she was supposed to go in the huge hospital but knowing she couldn’t leave completely, Delaware headed for the elevator, pressing the up arrow. When it didn’t come after a few seconds, she decided to go ahead and take the stairs, trying to outrun her racing mind as her footsteps echoed in the concrete stairwell.

When that didn’t work, she pushed out the fourteenth floor door, having ascended seven floors in just a couple of minutes. Chest heaving as she looked around, Delaware noticed how eerily quiet this floor was. How, despite the same blank walls and linoleum flooring, this wing felt different, as if there were ghosts in the halls that you had to creep around, whisper around, as if they were watching and listening.

Stepping forward a bit, Delaware turned her head to the nurses’ station, hearing two women having a hushed conversation over a clipboard.

“She probably won’t make it into next week,” one of the nurses said.

The other spoke in a lower voice, and Delaware couldn’t catch what she said but the first one nodded.

“Yeah, he knows. He’s with her now.” She sighed. “It’s sad to see it happen, especially since they’re so close now, but he’s probably the reason she’s held on for so long.”

Delaware moved away from them, heading down the opposite way towards the window at the end of the hall. So that’s why this hall was so eerie. This was the floor where people got sent to die. It was odd with no televisions blasting, no access to a chapel or prayer garden, no doctors running in a hurry to get somewhere. Because this was the last floor these patients would ever see, a floor filled with people waiting to die just like them, waiting for the machine to flatline and then simply be disconnected, waiting for their Do Not Resuscitate order to be put to use.

Coming up to the window at the end of the hall, Delaware shuddered, staring out at nothing but a brick wall. At the sound of voices in a quiet conversation to her left, Delaware tipped her head, taking a step toward the door.

“–and get that nasty green goo away from me,” a woman’s voice sounded papery thin through the open door, and Delaware took another step closer, trying to peer into the darkened room.

“Agnes, you have to eat something.”

Delaware inhaled sharply, pressing herself up against the wall. That was Harry’s voice. Harry was in there. But doing what?

“No,” the old woman said flatly as Delaware peered around the corner of the doorframe.

“I won’t leave until you eat something,” Harry sang out.

He was sitting in a chair pulled up beside the bed, shoving a tray of food at an old woman, who looked as though she was wasting away to nothing, just a bag of skin and bones about to drown in the hospital bed. But she sported one of the brightest smiles Delaware had ever seen.

“Well, then I guess you’ll have just be stuck with me all day,” Agnes replied before leaning forward as if to share a secret. “You might even have to change my bedpan.”

Harry snorted. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He was an orderly. Suddenly the few days a week he missed at the library even when he didn’t have practice made a lot more sense, as did the Saturday that they met up to study together and he smelled like disinfectant.

“Come on, at least try the roll,” he prodded.

“And ruin this girlish figure with all of those carbohydrates?”

“Agnes.”

“Fine. Just a bite,” Agnes relented, picking it up, her frail hand trembling. “Did you make these?”

Harry shook his head. “I moved out of the kitchen, remember?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right.” Agnes took a tiny bite from her roll and chewed a minute, making a face “They really should hire you back, though, that old head hag down in the kitchen obviously doesn’t know a thing about baking!”

“I’m moving up in the world, though,” Harry said. “I’m an orderly now, I change bedpans instead of buttering biscuits.”

“Yes you are, and I’m so so proud of you,” Agnes said, her voice sure and determined. “Don’t ever forget where you came from or where you’re going. You’ll make it to being a doctor one day, and I know that you’ll be better than the best because you have the spirit for it, Harry. And eventually, you’ll be telling the orderly that comes to change your bedpan all about your life as a doctor and how you started out at the bottom and worked your way up. So don’t you ever give up, okay? You promise me?”

Harry cleared his throat, and Delaware bit her lip as she watched him nod. “I promise.”

“Good,” Agnes’s voice got instantly lighter. “And incidentally, hon, you can butter my biscuits anytime!”

The pair laughed and Delaware dropped back against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut. Agnes was dying, and Harry was just sitting there holding her hand, making sure she wasn’t alone. He looked terrible, like he hadn’t slept in days, but yet there he was, trying to make sure she ate something even though she could die tomorrow.

Delaware didn’t even realize she was crying as she tore away from the door, running down the hall and to the stairs as she flew down them, skipping over two or three at a time.

Harry had been right. She was nothing but a selfish bitch who bewailed herself and her own situation. She was just another poor, little rich girl who played games with everyone’s heads until she had bewitched even herself. She had everything she could ever want but wanted what she couldn’t have, deciding that if she couldn’t have it, no one else should either. But most importantly, and most heartbreaking, Delaware had the whole world at her feet but would do nothing for it.

Her phone started ringing as she hit the lobby, but Delaware ignored it, pushing past people who didn’t give a crying girl a second thought in a hospital. By some miracle, she spotted her parents through her tears, standing near the door. Her father looked concerned and her mother had a phone to her ear, which she promptly hung up upon spotting her daughter.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Tiffany asked, looking slightly alarmed.

Delaware shook her head, pushing her mother’s hands off of her. “I’m fine, I’m just–” Cutting herself off, she looked at her father. “Can I ride home with you?”

He nodded, and neither of them spoke a word until they reached his car.

Sliding into the passenger side, Delaware asked, “Did you really mean it when you said you’d be there if I ever needed anything?”

Robert McKenzy nodded, regarding his daughter worriedly. “Is this about that boy?”

Delaware didn’t answer, just pressed a napkin against her eyes, the pressure feeling good after days of little sleep and a lot of crying. “I need you to do me a favor.”

18 Months Later – November

Delaware should have been back into the swing of uni by now, it was early November and she was already wrapping herself in scarves and wearing mittens. Instead, she seemed to be in full summer mode, considering herself lucky if she was up and about by eight in the morning and ready to go for classes – she got bonus points if she actually remembered to dress for the weather. Delaware didn’t know why she was still functioning like she was still on her dad’s yacht back in the middle of August, but she knew she wanted it to stop. She also wanted the feeling in her nose back.

Stepping out of the elevator as the doors slid open to reveal her floor, Delaware hoisted her grocery bags and took a left, heading down to the end of the hall. The dorm she had this year was much quieter than the one she had occupied the year before, something that Delaware was thankful for. The elevator also didn’t lurch as much as the one in her last building and that definitely a plus.

Setting her things down to pull out her keys, Delaware heard her neighbor – Kelsey, if she remembered right – open her door and step out into the hall behind her as Delaware unlocked her own door and reached down to pick up her bags. Just as she did so, one of her plastic bags split open and her things went everywhere.

Dropping to her knees with a sigh, Delaware shook her head as she crumpled the useless bag in her hand, trying to decide what to pick up first and how to get it all inside. It was too early for this.

The person in the hall bent down next to her, reaching to pick up a few things.

“Oh, thanks,” Delaware said, a little surprised at the help. “These stupid plastic grocery bags.”

“Yeah, I know they’re pretty much worthless anymore.” The voice caused Delaware to still immediately with her hand frozen on a box of cookies, praying that she had misheard, and that when the male spoke again, she wouldn’t look up to see who she thought it was. Because it was definitely not Kelsey. “That’s why I take my own now. Plus, I like to think it helps the environment.”

Delaware swallowed hard, braving a look up. “Harry?”

He froze, his head turning to meet her gaze head on. “Del? Delaware?” He repeated her name twice, the second time as if correcting himself, and Delaware felt her heart drop in her chest at how familiar her name sounded rolling off his lips, even over a year later. “Is that you?” he asked, eyes scanning her face as if taking her in.

Delaware nodded. “Yeah, it’s me,” she said cautiously. It wasn’t like she’d changed much, her hair was still the same and she still hadn’t quite hit 5’5” yet.

Harry, though, Harry had changed a lot. He looked older and, fuck, he looked even more beautiful, if that was even possible. His hair was longer, tugged back in a full bun now instead of the half bun he had sported back in high school, and the shorter bits were curling around his face and at the back of his neck. She wondered if his green eyes had gotten a little darker as well or if it was just the lighting.

They just sat there for a minute, both of them on their hands and knees in the hallway, a few groceries still scattered on the floor.

Suddenly, Delaware cleared her throat. “Um, well, I’d better get these things in.”

Harry nodded, still staring at her as she ducked her head, letting her hair fall like a barrier between them as she grabbed the last few items and stood up, him doing the same. Pushing open her door, Delaware dropped her bag on the floor by the coffee table before dumping the groceries on the kitchen counter.

“You can, um, just sit those things down here,” she said to Harry, who was still hesitating a few steps in the door. “Or here, I’ll just take them.”

Delaware took a few steps forward and reached for the things in his hands, which turned out to be a bad idea considering Harry was holding everything very strategically in his abnormally large hands. Delaware managed to catch both cans of SpaghettiOs, and Harry saved the dry cereal, but an apple fell with a splat to its death. Delaware grabbed the box from Harry and spun around to put the things on the counter, closing her eyes, wondering, Oh god, why me?

Taking a deep breath as she turned around, Delaware managed a, “Thank you, Harry.”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. His voice sure was deeper than she remembered. “Anytime.”

Delaware sure hoped not.

Clearing her throat a bit awkwardly, Delaware rocked back and forth on her heels. She really wasn’t sure what to do or say. She had meant her thank you almost as a goodbye, but Harry didn’t seem to be going anywhere, instead quite content where he was standing, looking around curiously with his hands shoved in the pockets of his obscenely tight black jeans. He suddenly looked right at her, and Delaware flushed at being caught staring.

“You been doing okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’ve been doing fine,” Delaware said. “You?”

Harry nodded. “I’m good.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Your parents?” Harry asked.

“They divorced last year,” Delaware said. Harry opened his mouth, but Delaware didn’t let him apologize – she knew that’s what he was going to do. “Your family?”

“Doing well.”

“Good.”

“Yup.”

Delaware nodded, her gaze fixed on him as Harry started looking around the room again. He seemed taller than she remembered him, too, and a bit better dressed in black skinny jeans that surprisingly didn’t have holes and a black trench coat, a simple white tee peeking out from beneath. Delaware dragged her eyes away from his obviously toned chest before he could catch her looking.

He was scanning the room, eyes snagging on the bookshelf over in the corner that she hadn’t completely finished setting up yet. Nothing was on it but a couple of pictures, an abandoned coffee mug and a few books, but he obviously took note of the one on display.

Gesturing at The Ethics of Cause Lawyering: An Empirical Examination of Criminal Defense Lawyers as Cause Lawyers, he commented, “Law school?”

Delaware shook her head. “No, actually. I’m, uh, Master of Science degree.”

Harry looked surprised. “Oh.”

“So do you...live in this building?” Delaware asked tentatively, somewhat afraid of the answer.

Harry shook his head. “No, I was just–”

“Harry?” a female voice called. “Harry!”

Kelsey, long, blonde and beautiful, popped her head in the dorm. “Oh, hi!” she said, giving a little wave to Delaware. “It’s Delaware, right? And you two must know each other, then?”

No, we’re complete strangers, that’s why he’s standing inside of my dorm room.

Harry let out a nervous chuckle, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah, we went to highschool together.”

“Oh, awesome!” Kelsey chirped, sounding like she was a million miles away from the topic in her mind already. “Anyway, Harry, I just wanted to double check it’s next Saturday at seven, right?”

“Yeah, I can pick you up if you want,” Harry said.

“Oh, so chivalrous.” Kelsey pressed a hand to her heart dramatically. Dropping it, she said, “It’d be cute if I were that type of girl, but I think I can manage. Thanks anyway, though.”

Harry shrugged.

“Oh, and Harry,” Kelsey said, wiggling a finger to beckon him over.

Harry looked between Kelsey and Delaware, seeming reluctant to take a step in Kelsey’s direction as he searched Delaware’s face. For what she didn’t know, but she tried to keep it as blank as possible. Because of course. Of course Harry had a girlfriend. Delaware should have expected it. Even if his accent had faded a bit, his looks sure hadn’t.

Kelsey reached out to grab him as soon as he was close enough, whispering something in his ear. She had a smirk on her face as she pulled away, winking at him and Delaware had to turn around, pretending to suddenly be very interested in her package of ramen noodles when in reality she was trying not to vomit.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you two to your reminiscing,” Kelsey said. “I was just on my way out. See you later, Harry. And maybe you too, Delaware?”

Delaware felt like her name was only tacked on as an afterthought, but she turned around anyway, trying to offer a smile as Kelsey waved and left. Delaware and Harry were both silent as her footsteps faded off in the hall, Harry looked at Delaware and Delaware avoided his gaze by staring at the cheap carpet.

Just as they heard the elevator ding, Delaware looked up, beating Harry to speaking. “You should go.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “But–”

“I have lots of...stuff to do and I’m sure you do, too,” Delaware said, putting a hand on his arm and trying to guide him to the door.

Harry pulled out of her grasp, twisting around to look at her. “Can we just talk for a minute? I mean, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has,” Delaware said. “But I’m fine, you’re fine. Hey, it all worked out.”

Even Delaware could tell that her smile wasn’t convincing. That it was wobbling just a bit more than it should.

Harry frowned. “Delaware–”

“Goodbye, Harry,” Delaware said.

Shutting the door right in his face was probably one of the hardest things she’d ever done in her life. After over a year of thinking of what she’d say if she’d ever see his face again, if she ever so much as got the chance, the words first vengeful, turned to spite, before finally changing to to regret over time, failed her.

She stood there for a good five minutes, just staring at nothing.

And from what she could tell, on the other side of the door, Harry did too.

Knock knock.

The yellow sticky note was stuck to her door almost a week later. Delaware couldn’t believe it when she saw it at first, thinking that she’d gone half crazy from late nights and fitful sleeps, but when she pulled it off her door, she saw the familiar scrawl in blue ink.

Knock knock.

He didn’t have to sign it like he so tackily did – or used to do, at least. Delaware knew who it was, and it made her stomach twist up in knots in more ways than just over how he didn’t sign his name with that cute little H .xx anymore. Although she did think that, and immediately tried to shake it from her mind.

She didn’t sleep well that night, thinking about the note sitting on her kitchen counter, and finally at three a.m. Delaware got out of bed to go ball it up and throw it in the trash. The single tear that fell could have been due to sleep deprivation, but Delaware knew better. She only wished she could cleanse her heart and mind of Harry Styles just as easily.

Two days later, though, there was another note stuck on her door. With Knock knock, written in blue ink with a bold hand. Delaware ripped it straight down the middle and threw that one away, too.

But the third time it happened, Delaware had to resist the urge to scream in utter frustration.

Fine, she thought, staring at the blue inked ‘Knock knock’ as if her gaze alone should set the whole door ablaze. If he wants an answer an answer, he shall get one.

Ripping the sticky note from her door, Delaware crumpled it up in her hand before dropping it to the floor and grinding it beneath the heel of her shoe. Then she went into her dorm, slamming the door behind her even though no one was around to hear.

Nearly a week passed, and Delaware hoped that she’d sent a clear message to Harry that she didn’t want to have a hand in the game he was playing. Still, between the stress of her schedule and the feelings dredged back up with Harry’s sudden arrival back into her life, she still wasn’t sleeping very well, and by the next Sunday, Delaware was laying in bed with Grey’s Anatomy on her laptop, a thermos of coffee and a bag of little candy bars, and a box of Kleenex, telling herself the only reason she was crying was because it was the episode where Meredith found out about her mother. But she hadn’t been watching a second of it since she’d pressed play, instead staring at something beyond the screen.

It had taken her months to get over Harry Styles. They never spoke again at school after Prom, and Harry never knew that she had seen him at the hospital. Delaware had tried to distance herself from the mere thought of him, but it was hard even sometimes now. She always knew there was a chance she could run into him on campus, their two schools weren’t that far apart, but she always thought she’d be more prepared. But she was never prepared when it came to Harry Styles.

Someone knocked on her door, but Delaware ignored it. It was probably just the RA anyway, and she didn’t feel like talking today.

But the knocks grew more persistent. Delaware sighed, wiping the sleeve of her sweatshirt over her face as she got up from her bed, trying to wake herself up a little bit. She probably looked like hell, but she was sick and a college student and it was her day off, so the RA could just deal with it. He’d probably seen much worse before anyway.

The knocking stopped just as Delaware made it to the door, and she stood on tiptoe to look out the peep hole. But it wasn’t the RA.

“Harry?!” she exclaimed.

That was probably the wrong thing for her to do and Delaware realized that immediately as Harry turned back around, apparently having given up before she said his name.

“Delaware?” Delaware shrank back from the door, but Harry rapped on the door again. “Delaware, I know you’re in there now, you can’t ignore me forever.”

“What do you want, Harry?” she called.

“I want you to answer me something.”

“What’s that?”

“Can’t you just let me in?” Harry sounded tired and Delaware wondered if he was losing as much sleep as she was. Still, she had to stand her ground.

“No.”

“Fine,” Harry said. “But answer me this. Knock knock.”

“Harry, stop,” Delaware said, hating the way her voice broke.

“C’mon,” Harry prodded, saying just what he always said when she used to balk at his ridiculous jokes. “Please? Just for old times sake. Knock knock.”

“Harry–”

“Knock knock.”

Delaware sighed in resignation, her back pressed against the door. “Who’s there?” she finally asked.

“Iowa.”

“Iowa who.”

“Iowa you an apology.”

Delaware closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the door. She could just barely hear Harry breathing on the other side of the door as he waited. And then finally, finally, Delaware turned the lock and opened the door, pulling it open to reveal one Harry Styles, hair long and styled and wearing that same pair of black skinny jeans he always did. Was it just her or were they tighter than they used to be back in highschool?

He stared at her a minute, seeming mildly surprised that she’d opened the door, yet hopeful. As he scanned her face, though, his look dropped into one of concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he stepped forward.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Delaware said, stepping aside to let him walk in. “There’s a bug going around campus.” She sniffled as if to prove her point. It wasn’t like she was telling a lie, at least. A cough and sniffle bug had been going around and Delaware had been feeling poorly that week anyway, why couldn’t she chalk it up to being sick?

Harry, though, didn’t look convinced. He searched her face for a moment, and Delaware dropped her gaze. The next thing she knew he was pushing past her and to her kitchen, announcing, “I’m going to make you some tea.”

Delaware just stared at him. “Why?”

“Because you look like you need it,” Harry said, shrugging as he banged through her cabinets. Pausing to look back over at her he smiled a little. “Shut the door, Delaware.”

Delaware flung the door shut without looking, confusion furrowing her brow as she rounded the kitchen table.  “What are you doing, Harry?”

He looked over his shoulder, frowning slightly at her upset expression. “I told you, making you some–”

“I mean, what are you doing here?” Delaware asked, waving her arms around. “What makes you think that you can just walk right back into my life and try and make me fucking tea, for god’s sake!”

Harry grabbed her arm as it swung too close to her face, holding her by the wrist. Delaware struggled for a minute, but he was still a head taller than her and she noticed after a minute he wasn’t looking at her, but instead at the small design inked on the inside of her wrist. The small, tattooed sketch of a bluebird.

Delaware could have sworn she stopped breathing as Harry looked at it, turning her wrist around in his hand as if the check that it was what he was really seeing. Delaware tugged her arm away and after a little resistance, Harry let her go, looking at her with a slightly confused expression.

Delaware cleared her throat. “There’s sugar in the cabinet by the sink. Don’t make a mess.”

Harry nodded, but Delaware was already turning away, going to sit down on the couch. They were both unnervingly silent, and in fact, they were so silent that when the tea kettle began to whistle, Delaware jumped. She pulled her feet up onto the couch in front of her, hugging them tightly to herself.

“Here,” Harry said, circling around the couch holding two mugs. “Near as I can remember you took your tea like mine, I hope it’s okay.”

At his lopsided smile, Delaware nodded, trying not to touch him as she accepted the mug. His stupidly long fingers still brushed hers, though, and she tried not to shiver.

“Sorry, it’s cold in here,” she mumbled.

“I was actually just thinking it’s quite warm,” Harry said. “Do you have a fever?” He reached out to feel her forehead, but Delaware ducked before his hand got anywhere near her, nearly spilling her tea and missing the slightly wounded look on Harry’s face at her actions as she focused on righting it.

“I’m fine,” Delaware said. “What did you want, Harry? Certainly you didn’t come all the way over here to make me tea and play doctor.”

Harry smirked and Delaware flushed, knowing immediately how he was going to interpret her words. “Are you asking? Because if you’re asking then–”

“Harry, just stop.” Delaware said, this time more firmly as she cut him off. “Besides, I don’t think your girlfriend would be too happy about that,” she murmured.

Harry picked up on it, though, and ticked his head to one side. “My girlfriend?”

Delaware sighed. “Harry, why?” One word, but it held so much depth. Delaware wanted to know why he was here. She wanted to know he was so concerned about her, concerned enough to make her tea. She wanted to know why he remembered how she had liked her tea after a year and a half when they’d only had tea together once and Harry’s gran had made it for her and put in a splash of milk no sugar, while Harry’s had both milk and sugar. The way they took their tea was in no way the same, but yet he still remembered. Why? Why, why, why?

Harry cleared his throat, taking a moment before saying, “Like I said, I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” Delaware asked, not meeting his gaze as she stared straight into her mug.

“For what?” Harry asked, scoffing a bit. “For everything, really. God, where do I start.” He ran a hand over his face and Delaware dared a glance at him, her curiosity peaking. She looked away as he dropped his hand. “For calling you a selfish bitch, for starters,” Harry stated bluntly. “And a poor little rich girl, and for saying you were one of the most ungrateful people I’d ever met. It wasn’t true, and I’m sorry.”

He seemed to remember it in as vivid detail as Delaware did, both of them reliving it in their minds for a moment in silence.

“You were right, though,” she finally admitted. Delaware shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize because it was true. I was all of those things, and – and for that reason, I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m sorry I treated you like any less than what you were and I’m so sorry that I threw where you came from in your face. It was so terribly wrong and what you’ve worked for, how far you’ve come, you should really be proud of that, you know? You should.”

Delaware met Harry’s eyes, only to find him frowning. “But I didn’t come all this way on my own. I used you Delaware, not the whole time, definitely not after I got to know you, but that still doesn’t change what my intentions were, you know? I thought you would just be some petty snob that I could just charm and you’d be okay, you’d move on to bigger and better things after we left high school, but after I got to know you I almost let myself think that maybe we’d have a real shot at something some day. And when you dropped that bombshell about going out for the scholarship,” Harry chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I – I don’t know. I thought I knew you better than that, but I guess I didn’t see that one coming.”

“It was stupid of me,” Delaware said. “I tried to make my parents happy until I couldn’t even see that they weren’t happy and I wasn’t happy so why should I have even tried? You were right, you know? The whole time you were right. Out of anyone, I should have just made myself happy. And you have – you have so much potential, Harry, it almost scares me now what would have happened if you hadn’t made it through all because of me.”

“But I did make it through,” Harry said, putting a hand out to rest on her leg. “Because of you. I would have never won against you, Delaware, are you kidding me? You were up for valedictorian.”

Delaware winced. That was another loss that she’d felt hard in those months, and her parents had been devastated as well.

“But you know why you lost it?” Harry asked. “You lost it, and I won it, because you were so busy helping me with chemistry that you didn’t focus enough on your own work. You helped me with chemistry, and I passed flying colors, but you neglected your own work and your overall grade suffered. You were helping someone else, Delaware, and that’s why I know I was so wrong about you. You know, I never would have gotten into Harvard without the title of class valedictorian and your father’s letter of recommendation.” Delaware tensed, and Harry rolled his eyes. “And I know you got that for me. First impressions don’t do that. He never even found out I wanted to attend Harvard.”

They were both silent for a few minutes, Harry looking at Delaware and Delaware staring at the coffee table because she didn’t know what to say.

“So what now?” she finally asked.

Harry leaned over to put his mug on the coffee table. “We accept that we were both wrong and we move on,” he said, staring at her intently as he rested his elbow on his knee, tugging at his bottom lip.

“Forgive and forget?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t necessarily want to forget everything,” Harry said, an uncomfortable heat beginning to rise in Delaware’s cheeks at the intensity of his words and his unwavering stare. “I’d like us to be...friends.”

“Is Kelsey going to mind?” Delaware asked. “I mean, does she know about us and high school?”

Harry frowned. “Kelsey? No, Kelsey doesn’t know anything beyond what we told her the other day. But what does Kelsey have to do with this?”

“Isn’t she your girlfriend?” Delaware asked, a bit uncertain now.

Harry started laughing, and Delaware’s face went up in flames before he could even say anything. “No, no, not me and Kelsey. We have a couple classes together and I was dropping off some notes since she’d been sick with this ‘bug.’”

“Well then, what were you two conspiring about going to meet on a Saturday night?” Delaware asked.

“Oh,” Harry said, a look of realization coming over him. “That was for a party for one of our mutual friends. We were going to go early to set up. And that ‘conspiring’ as you call it was actually Kelsey trying to get me to invite you.”

“Oh.”

Harry pulled her over to him for a half hug, still chuckling.

“Well, you can’t blame me!” Delaware said, shoving at his chest. That was futile as he didn’t let go. “You’d make a cute couple, you’re both tall and have the long hair thing going!” She gave a not-so-gentle tug on one of his curls and he finally loosened his hold.

“Are you saying that you and I wouldn’t make a cute couple?” Harry asked, looking down at her with a smirk.

Delaware thought for sure her cheeks should have run out of fuel by now, but instead they were still flaming red hot. “I-I don’t know,” she sputtered. “I mean, I’m really short and–”

“So you’ve at least thought of it, then.”

Delaware was fuming. “Harry Styles, I am not–”

And then Harry was kissing her, full on the mouth with his soft but slightly chapped but pretty pink lips. The kiss reminded her of their chemistry lessons in school, when if the right elements were put together, they would explode, and Delaware was too caught up in the blast to do anything but hold on for dear life. His cologne was a bit different from their highschool days, but underneath it was all Harry and she melted into him as if it was second nature, her fingers curling around his bicep and the other reaching up to brush against his chin.

He pulled away slightly, all too soon, to murmur against her lips, “You have got to stop playing the victim in everything.”

Delaware just clung to his shirt for dear life, slightly dazed and delirious. “I don’t know, if it gets me this kind of treatment I might not.”

Harry laughed, low and deep, making Delaware smile into his shirt. “Where did my shy little Del go?”

“She grew up,” Delaware said, pulling away a little bit to see his face.

Harry smiled, but this time it was soft and genuine. “I noticed,” he said, before thoughtfully adding, “You know, I’d really like to take you on a proper first date.”

“I’d like that too,” Delaware said, ducking to hide her smile in his chest, her arms still wrapped around him.

Harry laughed, tracing shapes on her arm down to circle the small tattoo of a bird. Communication had obviously never been their strong suit. They had always seemed to prefer carving letters and signs in each others skin, hoping the other would interpret the code and understand them as a person just a little bit better. Delaware had sometimes even wondered if the ink prints Harry had left on her were still in her bloodstream somewhere, part of what had made her into what she was today, pulsing constantly through her system. On bad days, she had viewed the ink as toxic, a poison running through her veins to constantly remind her of how much she missed him. Other days she didn’t give it a thought, and then on another day, it was all that kept her going.

She still hadn’t told him about overhearing his and Agnes’ conversation that day at the hospital, though it was something Delaware had often played over and over in her mind in the time since. And now, with Harry right there, so close she could feel his breath on her neck, that as she grasped his sweater tighter, Delaware wasn’t certain that she ever would.

Instead, she tipped her head up to look at him, nearly hitting his chin with the top of her head. “You know I’m really not one to kiss before a first date,” she said teasingly.

Harry’s green eyes narrowed as they locked on hers. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

Delaware giggled, her cheeks pink. “I might get you sick, then,” she hummed.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” he said, his breath whispering against her lips.

Delaware raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?” she asked.

“Because you’re not sick.”

“Oh? And just how do you know that?”

“Because you’ve always been black and white to me, Del. Even when you were writing in blue ink.”

[ecotone99]

[HR][TH] The Mistake

Grant opened his eyes and immediately shut them again. The light was so bright. What time is it? What day is it? He opened his eyes a bit slower this time. As his vision went from blurry to mostly focused, he began to remember where he was at and how he got there. There was a big party at the Delta house last night and he wasn’t going to miss it. It was his first college party! Who could say no to that? Certainly, a freshman with no experience or social prospects wouldn’t be in a position to decline such a generous invitation. Even if it wasn’t a personal invitation. Just flyers all around campus that read “PARTY! PARTY! PARTY! AT DELTA! DELTA! DELTA! SATURDAY NIGHT! YOU CAN COME ALONE BUT YOU CAN’T LEAVE ALONE!”

He groaned as he propped himself up on his elbow. His head felt like a cinder block being dropped into a river. A very violent river. The bed felt soft and comforting so he flopped back down and settled on looking at whatever was beside him instead of trying to move his whole body again. He looked to his right and instantly sobered up. Teresa. She was laying in bed, naked, with the beige sheet casually tossed over body revealing her long legs and two arms thrown out at awkward angles. Her red hair was wild and sticking to the sweat on her face and neck. By the looks of it, she wasn’t going to be feeling too well when she woke up either.

He stared for a moment, stunned as the night came flooding back to him. What had he done? He looked down at himself to see that he was also naked. Despite his aggressive headache and current hate of the sun streaming in through the window, he jumped up and began to find his clothes that had been strewn about on the floor during last night’s events. His mind was racing as he struggled to recall everything that had happened.

There was a rustling sound behind him and he froze praying to whatever God would listen that Teresa hadn’t woken up. He didn’t want to talk to her. Or see her for that matter. He wanted to forget she even existed. After a few moments of silence, he glanced back to see that she had taken the opportunity to roll onto her stomach and spread across the entire bed. The sheet no longer covered her and Grant cursed himself when he realized he had been staring a little too long. Teresa was a beautiful girl. Tall and slender, red hair, pale as the snow, with deep emerald eyes and a dazzling smile. Last night, she had been wearing a silky green dress that matched her eyes and everyone noticed.

When Teresa came into the party, all eyes were on her. All the guys wanted to know who she was. All the girls wanted to know the same thing, but for a different reason. Who was this girl their boyfriend was staring at? Unfortunately for the girls, Teresa was also incredibly likable, and no one could dislike her for long. She had an ease about her that attracted people to her. You’d start by asking her name and where she’s from, and before you knew it, three hours had gone by and she knew about the time your Uncle Tony took you “fishing.” When you apologize for dumping your life story on her, she’d touch your shoulder and tell you she didn’t mind, and you’d believe her. She was incredibly genuine and seemed to like everyone as much as they liked her.

Grant noticed her the moment she walked in the door. He watched her as she went from group to group making friends with them all. There was no way he could go talk to her, let alone ask her to dance. Even though he was handsome now, he hadn’t been in high school and his confidence hadn’t built up to match his appearance yet. The summer between junior and senior year of high school was when he really changed. He went from stick thin, 5’9”, with stringy brown hair to muscular, 6’2”, and the kind of wavy, sandy brown hair that people spend hours at the salon trying to get. He spent most of that summer helping his grandpa at the family farm. Those hours spent bailing hay and running from the house to the barn and back really helped him bulk up. The tan he got was an added bonus. His normally pale skin had turned to a light olive color.

He spent a good portion of the party talking to some of the guys he recognized from orientation or hanging out with his roommate, Amir. Amir grew up close to campus and his parents owned a restaurant. He was tall, dark skinned, and had black hair and dark eyes. He was quite popular and why wouldn’t he be? He was handsome, funny, and incredibly smart. Grant hadn’t yet decided what he wanted to major in and could barely decide what classes he wanted to take for his first semester. Amir, on the other hand, had already taken some advanced placement courses and had his path to law school mapped out. When Grant’s mom met Amir, she said that it would be good to have such a focused boy around her son.

Amir did his best to introduce Grant to people at the party and made several attempts at getting him a girl, but he just wasn’t very social. After what felt like an eternity of hearing, “This is my roommate, Grant. You’re gonna love him!”, he slipped into an empty room of the house. He hadn’t stopped drinking all night and his head was swimming. The music and yelling made him feel dizzy. He was sitting on the bed when Teresa came in.

Grant shook himself out the memory and pulled his pants on. As he began to leave the room, he realized his phone wasn’t in his pocket. He threw his head back and sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was dig around this dirty frat house for his phone. He turned around and quickly scanned the room. Luckily, it was sitting on the bedside table. He grabbed it, checked for his wallet (which was thankfully still in his back pocket), and walked again to the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked back at Teresa, still passed out in the bed. Should he just leave her here? Should he wake her? Maybe leave a note? What would he even say? “Teresa – sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to rape you. Love, Grant.” He sighed. Clearly a note wasn’t going to do anybody much good. And neither would being there when she woke up. He turned the doorknob and opened the door. With one last glance at the sleeping girl in the bed, he turned the lock on the back of the doorknob and closed it behind him. At least this way no one else could disturb her. He made his way through the mess left behind from the party and started the walk back to his dorm.

As he walked, he tried to remember everything that had happened the previous night. Teresa came into the room and then…what? He sat down on the edge of a fountain and put his throbbing head in his hands. Focus. Focus. Focus. He closed his eyes and saw her come into the room.

“Oh!” she jumped. “I didn’t realize someone was in here!” She began to retreat as he told her she should stay. She wasn’t interrupting, it was fine. She had glanced back out the door clearly hesitant to be alone in a room with a guy she didn’t know. He told her not to worry, he just needed to get away and wasn’t looking for anything more than some quiet.

He felt his stomach lurch. He told her not to worry. He told her he was harmless. How did this happen? For a moment, he focused on the sound of the fountain behind him. He needed something to keep him grounded or he might get swept away in this memory and never come back. His hands dropped from his head down to the concrete ridge he was sitting on. It was cold and damp on his skin. That’s what he needed. He felt his wave of nausea pass and tried to remember more of what happened.

He remembered her smiling and sitting down next to him. He was sure there was some kind of introduction, but he couldn’t remember. They were both drinking, he was definitely drunk. Was she? He tried to picture her. She had been swaying when she stood at the door. When Grant told that she looked beautiful she responded with, “Aww thas so sweeee.” That sounded pretty drunk to him. Then, she flopped her hand down on his shoulder. Then her other hand. Then her arms were around his neck.

Grant’s head shot up. She kissed him first! SHE kissed HIM. He hadn’t done anything wrong! A smile spread across his face and he jumped up. Getting up so quickly was maybe not the best way to celebrate this revelation as he stumbled and swayed. His arms went out to either side in a kind of circle motion as he struggled to regain his balance. Once he was steady on his feet, he allowed that feeling of relief to wash over him again.

He thought something terrible had happened. What would he have done if she actually had passed out or something and he had taken advantage of her anyway? He shook the thought away. He didn’t want to think about that ever again. It was a close call. Too close. He decided he couldn’t afford to get that drunk again. He didn’t want to take any chances and have to go through this all over again.

Grant practically skipped back to his dorm. He was so pleased that not only had he been needlessly worried, he also had sex with the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. At his first college party no less! Maybe he could take her out on a date sometime. Wouldn’t that be something? He arrived at his door, unlocked it, and quickly went inside and fell onto his bed. All that worry had taken a toll on him this morning. Besides a massive hangover, he thought he had raped a girl! He decided that definitely needed to nap that off. He quickly fell asleep and slept deeply for a few hours.

When Grant woke up this time, he thought about being hungry instead of being hungover and worried. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and sat for a moment letting himself wake up a bit more. The room was dim as the curtains were drawn and he was alone. It’s Sunday which means Amir is with his family. He spends most weekends working at his parents’ restaurants. Even though he loved his family, he couldn’t wait to stop working there. He talked about it all the time.

Thinking about Amir working in the restaurant made his stomach growl. Grant pulled out a fresh change of clothes and threw them on. He knew he smelled like he had been drinking for hours on end but he was too hungry to care. He decided to just grab something from the food court at school and take it back to his dorm. The rest of campus didn’t need to put up with his decision not to shower, he decided.

Luckily, the food court wasn’t too far away. After a short walk, he arrived and got in line at his favorite Chinese place. As he was waiting for his order to be ready, he noticed a girl walking toward him. He recognized her as Courtney, Teresa’s best friend, and boy, did she look upset.

“HEY! Grant! What’s your problem?!” He looked behind him desperately hoping there was another Grant standing there. No such luck, of course. He gulped and weighed his options. He could run, but then he wouldn’t get his food and it smelled so good. He could pretend to be someone else, but that was plain stupid. The only real option was to stand there and wait to find out why she was yelling. “What happened last night?”

“Wha—” he was confused. What happened last night? Teresa came onto him. That’s what happened. Why is Courtney so angry about that?

“Teresa was so upset this morning when she got home! She’s confused. Why did you do that to her?” Courtney crossed her arms and stood there waiting on an answer. Grant began to sweat.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Did something happen after all?

“Oh, how convenient. You don’t know what I’m talking about…Teresa told me everything. What you did was DISGUSTING!” At that moment, Grant’s dinner order was ready and he was thankful to be saved. He excused himself, grabbed his food, and ran back to his dorm. What just happened? What happened last night? What did she mean by all that?

He sat down and open the Styrofoam box containing his sesame chicken. The steam hit his face and his stomach growled again. He felt halfway sick thinking about what had just happened and what that could mean, but still so hungry. He shrugged and grabbed a fork. No use starving. Besides, maybe getting some food would help him remember more about last night.

Once he was about halfway through his meal, the fog lifted from his brain and he felt somewhat normal again. He slowed down somewhat but continued to eat while he thought this through. Courtney was at the party. He remembered seeing her. He didn’t see anyone other than Teresa after he went into that bedroom so he couldn’t be sure of how long Courtney had been there or what she had seen.

The last thing he remembered was Teresa drunkenly wrapping her arms around him. He closed his eyes and tossed his head back. The smell of sesame chicken was suddenly replaced with the memory of her perfume. She kissed him and he had told her that she smelled like cherries. He remembered her laughing at that. Such a sweet laugh. A memory snapped into place. She laughed and had told him the cherry smell is probably because she had been drinking cherry vodka all night. They shared the last of her drink in between their aggressive kissing. He crawled up onto the bed as she began to lie down. Her dress came off and was tossed haphazardly into the unknown. Did he care where that delicate silk dress landed? Who would? His shirt came off and met the same fate. They were kissing and he was on top of her now. He looked down at her as she said, “Wait! No! STOP!”

His eyes snapped open and the syrofoam container holding the rest of his food slid out of his lap and onto the floor. He stared at the wall not daring to move or even breathe. Her words echoed through his head. After that was silence. She wasn’t saying anything and neither was he. The only sound was the gentle tick-tock of a nearby clock.

Tick-tock

Tick-tock

Tick-tock

It was taunting him. All of a sudden he violently bent forward as all of his food came back up.

Tick

Vomit

Tock

Vomit

Tick

I can’t breathe

Tock

He gasped for air and spit onto the floor as he exhaled. He fell forward, unable to keep himself upright anymore. He landed on his hands and knees, squarely in his partially digested food. His body was wracked with sobs. There was no way this was happening. He couldn’t have done that. He couldn’t have raped somebody. At the thought of that word, he wretched again. His poor empty stomach had nothing left to give so it just cramped and relaxed and cramped and relaxed until he could catch his breath again. His face was wet with tears and snot. For the first time he realized he had landed in his own vomit.

He sat back on his feet and looked at the mess he had made. So much for the sesame chicken. He jumped as he heard the doorknob begin to rattle. Who was it? Did someone find out? Did they find out? This was it. He was going to be hauled away forever and the last image of him leaving this campus would be him covered in his vomit, snot, and tears. The door burst open and Amir came barging in. He stopped short and gasped as he took in the scene before him.

“Whoa…Grant…are you okay?” Amir stood there staring incredulously, unsure of what to do. Grant nodded and began to stand up.

“Yeah, I’m just…sick. I don’t know. I’m just sick I guess. I’ll clean up the mess. Sorry.” He raised his hands a bit and opened his mouth like he had something else to say but then dropped them to his sides in defeat. He looked pathetic. Amir, being a good (and patient) friend, helped Grant clean up the mess and got him to the shower.

He leaned his head against the wall and let the hot water run down his neck, back, and onto the sides of his face. Amir had helped him. He had been concerned about his well-being. That made Grant feel sick all over again. He didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy or help. He was a monster. There was nothing he could ever do or say that would make this better. He tiredly reached for the knob that controlled the water temperature and just laid his hand on it for a moment. There it was again.

Tick-tock

Tick-tock

Tick-tock

He couldn’t take it. Teresa’s voice echoed through his head again.

“Wait! No! STOP!”

Tick-tock

Tick-tock

Tick-tock

He bubbled over with anger and suddenly twisted the knob as far as it would go. Scalding hot water poured down on him and he yelped. He felt this was what he deserved. He stood in the stream, gritting his teeth, for as long as he could take it. Then he turned the water off and stood there catching his breath. His back was on fire. He stepped out and went to the mirror. He turned around and carefully looked over his shoulder to survey the damage. His back was bright red, but no blisters. He shrugged not sure whether to be grateful he hadn’t hurt himself or ashamed that he wasn’t able to. He dried off and looked in the mirror once again. This time he looked at his face. His olive colored skin didn’t look so olive now. He looked pale and tired. His mouth was turned down into the most aggressive frown he’d ever seen. His sandy brown hair stood up at odd angles and he gently brushed it flat with his hand. If only his mom could see him now. She wouldn’t think he’s so handsome anymore.

Despite his best efforts, he drifted off to sleep after hours of tossing and turning. It was a dreamless sleep, one that he should have been thankful for. It was the last good sleep he’d ever have.

The next morning, he made himself get out of bed and go to class. Amir was concerned and asked again if he was alright. Grant still looked pale and tired. He said it was probably just a stomach bug and that it was fine. He walked slowly to class and got there five minutes late. Great, now everybody is going to see him come in. He pushed the door open and sure enough, every head turned to look at him. After a moment, the professor resumed talking and everyone turned away.

He sat in the only empty desk which was front and center. Ready with a notebook and pen, he began to listen to the lecture.

“Now I don’t know how many of you really paid attention in your history classes before, but this one is different. You have to pay attention or you’ll fail –”

Tick

“Chapter one is about the Industrial Revolution –”

Tock

“—and that’s why you should be grateful for those laws. –”

Tick

“—does anyone know the answer to that? No one? Well neither do I so let’s move on. –”

Tock.

The lecture let out and he couldn’t leave fast enough. All he had to do was make it through two more classes. Could he do that? Four more hours of sitting and listening to someone drone on and on about something he didn’t care about. He had to appear normal. No one could know what happened. He briefly wondered if Teresa had told anybody. She clearly told Courtney. What if they go to the police? What if they’ve already been? He felt sick. The appearance of normalcy was important. He had to keep going.

He somehow made it through his other classes, but he didn’t hear a word they said. All he could hear was the tick-tock of that clock. It was driving him crazy. Once he made it back to his dorm, Amir asked if he wanted to grab some dinner. He knew he should be hungry as he hadn’t eaten all day. There was no way he’d be able to keep anything down. He needed to be normal, but he could say he was still sick. He politely declined saying that he needed to sleep. Amir shrugged and left. Grant dropped his bookbag onto the floor and just stood there in the middle of the room. What was he supposed to do now?

He was alone and didn’t have to keep pretending he was fine. He sat on the edge of his bed and let out a big sigh. Tomorrow will be better, for sure. Tomorrow is always better. With that thought, he changed into pajamas and laid down. He pulled the covers up over his face and shut out the world.

He slept long enough that he didn’t hear Amir come back from dinner or go to bed. When he opened his eyes, everything was dark and quiet. Amir was sleeping on the other side of the room and there were no sounds coming from outside. What time is it? His clocked helpfully shined 2:13 as if to answer his thoughts. He laid awake and let his thoughts wander. That was a mistake. He saw a flash of green silk, a bit red hair, the smell of cherries was overwhelming.

“Wait!”

Tick

“No!”

Tock

“STOP!”

Tick-tock

He closed his eyes hard hoping this would all go away. When he opened them again, everything was silent. He breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced over at his clock again.

4:57

What happened to the time? Had he been listening to those noises non-stop for that long? He needed to go back to sleep. Determined to get some rest before his classes tomorrow, he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

Tick-tock

Tick-tock

It wouldn’t stop. The sound of that clock ran on a loop in his head the rest of the night. When Amir’s alarm went off at 8:00, it was still ringing throughout his head.

The day went on like this. Half hearing his professors, half hearing his friends, not eating. Just the tick-tock of that clock to keep him company. The night was much the same. The only difference is that he didn’t get any sleep at all on this night. All night he heard the tick-tock and Teresa’s voice yelling over and over again. The next day was more of the same.

By the fourth day, Grant had slept maybe a total of 5 hours and was starting to lose it. That day, he skipped his classes and laid in bed all day.

Tick-tock

Tick-tock

Tick-tock

It became all he heard. All he wanted to hear. It consumed him. That night, Amir lay awake in his bed filled with worry for his friend. He had no idea what was going on or how to help. The only thing Amir heard was Grant chanting, “Tick-tock goes the clock. Tick-tock goes the clock.”

The next morning, Amir decided he’d skip his classes and see if he could figure out what was going on with Grant. He laid awake in his bed listening to Grant still chanting. He hadn’t stopped and hadn’t slept. Amir sat up and tried to get Grant’s attention.

Grant snapped his head over to look at Amir and Amir instantly regretted saying anything at all. Grant’s eyes were bloodshot and big. He had bags under his eyes and his skin had become pale and wet looking. His face was sunken. His normally sandy brown hair was matted with sweat and looked sort of dusty grey. “Tick-tock goes the clock, Amir. Tick-tock.”

“What’s wrong with you? What’s going on? You’re really freaking me out…” Amir shifted in his bed and tried to avoid looking directly into Grant’s horrible face. Grant shot up out of bed and stood in the middle of the room. He looked at Amir and a wicked grin spread across his face.

“What’s wrong? What’s WRONG?! TICK-TOCK TICK-TOCK TICK-TOCK! SHE KNOWS WHAT’S WRONG! SHE KNOWS ABOUT THE CLOCK! TERESA KNOWS! SHE HEARS IT! TICK-TOCK TICK-TOCK TICK-TOCK!” Grant began yelling and waving his arms around like a crazy person. Amir shrank back onto his bed unsure of what was happening. What did Teresa have to do with all of this?

“Grant, I don’t understand. What does Teresa know and what’s this about a clock?” Grant stopped screaming and moved toward Amir. He put his face so close to Amir’s that Amir could feel his hot breath and smell the stench of days old sweat. He thought it smelled like death. Grant’s teeth had turned a sort of yellowish color since he hadn’t brushed in days. A piece of food was stuck between two of teeth. Amir could barely look at him.

“There was a clock. At the party. And we heard it. We listened to it all night. Tick-tock. All night. And then I left her there. I left her there because I didn’t CARE! I DIDN’T CARE ENOUGH TO STOP THE TICK-TOCK TICK-TOCK TICK-TOCK!” He burst into tears. “AND NOW IT’S ALL I CAN HEAR AND ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT AND ALL I CAN SEE. GREEN SILK, RED HAIR, CHERRIES. TICK-TOCK. GREEN SILK, RED HAIR CHERRIES. TICK-FUCKING-TOCK!”

He crumpled onto the floor and pulled his knees up to his chest. Amir was stunned and horrified. His heart was beating wildly and he struggled to breathe. He knew he had to get help. Something was very wrong and he didn’t know what to do. Maybe Teresa had some idea?

“Grant, stay here. I’m going to talk to Teresa, okay? Everything will be okay. Just stay here.” He put his hands up in front of his chest while talking as if to say “Stay away from me, I’m harmless, see?” He inched off his bed and backed up to the door. “Stay right here.” With that, he burst through the door and ran down the stairs. He didn’t care that he was still wearing pajamas. He grabbed his phone and called Teresa. Amir briefly explained everything and asked if she had any idea what was going on.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about! I didn’t think he remembered anything about the party. Courtney said she saw him in the food court and was giving him a hard time and he flipped out. All I know is that we were both super drunk, we were about to do it, and then he threw up on me. It was super gross. I tried to get him off of me and I yelled at him, “Wait! No! STOP!” or something like that but it was too late. Vomit all over me and my green dress. I still haven’t figured out how to explain that one to my mom.” Amir was at a loss. Was this all from embarrassment and lack of sleep? He trudged back up the stairs wondering what he was going to do. When he got back to his floor, he noticed their dorm room door was open and Grant was gone. He checked the bathroom, the common areas, and the stairs but had no luck in finding him.

Grant had run out of the building in his pajamas because he had to get away. The tick-tock in his head was only getting louder. He couldn’t take it anymore. He ran and ran until he couldn’t run anymore.

Tick-tock

Tick-tock

Tick-tock

He smashed his hands over his ears and screamed. He frantically looked around until he found what he was looking for. He would make it stop. He slowly walked onto the overpass and looked below.

Tick-tock

He climbed up onto the ledge and looked around. It was so peaceful up here. The wind felt so good. He knew he had to make it stop. He knew what he had done and he knew what he was. A monster, a criminal, a rapist.

Tick-tock

One step is all it would take.

Tick-tock

He looked up at the clouds and then fixed his gaze straight ahead.

Tick

He extended one leg and –

Tock.

submitted by /u/kittycanyoufly [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/2YYv5a5

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How an Alternative School Helped One Student Find His Way From Suspension to Graduation

“When I come to school I got hella things on my mind. Sometimes I don’t even sleep at night. I go hungry on purpose, cause I lose my appetite. I get to school and make myself angry. I was raised to live a lie. My older brother raised me, but he was doing drugs. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to talk it out. I hit myself. I may hit my best friend. It’s very confusing. Gang violence, drug violence, drug dealing. When my parents would fight, I wouldn’t eat. I started stealing and selling drugs. I felt none of them cared about me. Then I OD’d and was on the verge of death and they finally started caring. Then I started trying to OD more to get them to keep caring.”

That's Ray, an 11th grade student at Marietta Alternative Placement (MAPs), an alternative program for students in Marietta City Schools in Atlanta. The student population at MAPs is mostly comprised of learners who have been placed on long-term suspension and are banned from their home schools, usually (though not always) pending some type of criminal charge. The program is designed to meet students where they are, help them grow academically, emotionally and socially, but most of all, it exists to support them in overcoming often significant out-of-school challenges and build their way out of their complicated circumstances.

MAPs wasn’t always designed this way. The program was previously run through a third-party company unsuccessfully for several years. I have been working in alternative education for my entire career, and in my experience, alternative education programs too often become a dumping ground. Districts seem to be more interested in sequestering students rather than helping them grow. According to the superintendent, Grant Rivera, that’s what had happened to MAPs. It had become a place to “send kids.” It looked like a computer lab with a babysitter.

A Rocky Start

Ray came to the MAPs program from Texas in September 2018. He had no transcript—only his class schedule from his prior school, which included advanced placement (AP) classes. He was assigned to MAPs because he transferred while on long-term suspension, and in line with common practice, my district upheld his suspension. From his records, I knew he had a history of drug abuse and drug-related crimes, but most of the information I had was non-specific. He was very well-spoken and his schedule appeared to include challenging academic classes—something wasn’t adding up. Once we got to talking and he started opening up, I knew he was in trouble.

“Everyone in Texas treated me like a criminal, but I was a straight-A student. I was feeling stupid depressed. I OD’d on some prescription medications during state testing. I was throwing up in the trash can and then I passed out. The teacher just thought I fell asleep. The whole day I couldn’t walk straight. My friend had to help me get to class. No one said a word to me. No teacher asked if I was OK. I was pale, stumbling, sweaty and my lips were hella red because I was throwing up blood.” —Ray

I said we’d get his transcripts from Texas and see if we could help him get the high school credits he had already earned so he wouldn’t be set back any further. Noticing the AP classes on his current schedule, I suggested that if he passed his diagnostic exams, he would have the freedom to accelerate through the curriculum at his own pace on his own schedule.I had just joined MAPs a few months earlier, and I didn’t know what to say to Ray. But I knew I needed to do right by this kid. No one else had.

Ray rolled his eyes; he didn’t believe me. He said I’d try to get his transcripts, get blocked by his old school and then give up. Immediately, I thought of Coach Flowers. If anyone could help Ray, it was him.

Flowers, who had taught AP classes for over a decade and now worked alongside me at MAPs, had a gift. He knew how to find the right balance of challenge and support, and how to help students believe they could rise to a challenge they were faced with. There was no one I trusted more to approach this work with humanity and give these kids the respect they deserved and needed to succeed. I spoke with Flowers about working with our new student, Ray.

Flowers’ first move was to push as hard as he could for those transcripts. In his most earnest voice, laden with a Southern accent, Flowers made some difficult phone calls. A few faxes and emails later, we had the entirety of Ray’s transcripts from Texas, which was a remarkable feat for a mid-semester out-of-state transfer student. His grades were impressive. He had taken quite a few AP classes and had received A’s and B’s.

Confident that Ray could pass the state test, I asked if he was up for taking it in the next few weeks. I explained that we would collaborate to develop some meaningful, project-based assignments so he could complete his coursework in a relatively short amount of time, and that if he finished his coursework and passed the state test, he could finish two semesters of literature in three weeks. With a stunned look on his face, Ray said he was in.

For the next few weeks, we worked together toward this goal, and in November he passed his 11th grade state ELA End of Course test with an 82 percent. For kids who have fallen through the cracks and are marginalized and ignored, busywork doesn’t hold any meaning. However, goals with tangible rewards like this matter a lot. For Ray, moving forward was everything.

The Road to Graduation

Once he experienced a bit of success, he took charge in a bigger way. He asked for access to all of the classes he needed to complete to graduate and began moving through them more independently. I talk to him, encourage him and in some cases, provide choices that he may not have considered. Generally, though, I try to stay away from the cliched “make good choices” speech. Ray has the most success when we work together, not when he is being told what to do.

When he first came to MAPs five months ago, Ray was defeated by life and didn’t trust anyone. Now, he has completed the coursework and tests for his junior and senior years in just a few months. He has finished all of his credits and we’re currently processing his paperwork so he can graduate in March.

The academic support has been critical, but it wasn’t the only thing that helped Ray move forward. With support from our social worker, we got him a bus pass, which immediately improved his attendance. We recognized that we needed to support Ray’s mental health, too. Since he arrived, we have had a few different counselors speak with him, including a drug and alcohol counselor, but none of them really stuck. He either lost interest, or wanted to spend his time getting his work done so he could graduate. We know counseling is critical for Ray, so we’re still working on finding the right match for him.

Though Ray is back on track academically, he still has a lot of problems. His relationship with family and his drug addiction have presented huge obstacles for him. From his perspective, his parents have rejected him. Neither of them wants to take responsibility for his upbringing because of his past drug use. Ray says his mother told him he couldn’t live with her, and when he spends time with his father, he’s constantly told that he is “never going to amount to anything” and that he has “proven himself a failure.” Ray is trying desperately to leave his past as an addict behind him and live his life in the present as an independent young man. But Ray was never taught how to be independent.

We set up a meeting with a college and career coach, and I’m arranging a community volunteer to come in to talk to him about what his post-graduation plans are, but there are limitations to what we can do since we don’t have much time left together. For now, he plans to work in an IT mobile business with his brother.

In my experience, stories like Ray’s, don’t have a guaranteed feel-good ending like that movie, “The Blind Side.” I’d like to think that maybe the love he got here was enough, but I’m not sure if that’s true.

I hope the way our staff rallied together to help Ray earn his high school diploma was enough to light a spark to get him to take care of himself. I hope he works things out with his family so he has a place to live for a few years until he gets established on his own.

One good sign is that Ray is feeling more optimistic about his next steps.

It’s impossible to give Ray all the opportunities he didn’t have growing up, but we try really hard to help him move forward. Programs like MAPs have an important place in the school system. At-risk students deserve more than being farmed out to a tech lab monitored by babysitters. They need someone like Flowers, who will fight and make uncomfortable phone calls and say, “Hey, kid, you are worth something and we are going to take care of you.”

How an Alternative School Helped One Student Find His Way From Suspension to Graduation published first on https://medium.com/@GetNewDLBusiness