#but in the summer there is nobody out there with a thermometer. We took three cars for safety

[newmic]

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[coldsandfluff]

Friday Night Fever (F/M, Original, Illness Care-Taking Fluff)

Wrote this little original F/M care-taking fluff fic inspired by something that happened to me when I was in college (basically, caught a cold, three friends came over unannounced and insisted on me coming with them to the bar until one of them noticed the thermometer on my nightstand and realized I really was too sick to go). I've changed all the characters personality/appearance (including myself) so that we are completely unrecognizable, and added more to the story of course 😚

So if you like group of friends, platonic to maybe romantic care-taking fluff and F/M illness, read on!

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Annabel left the sandwich shop at the end of her evening shift, feeling the cold autumn air seep through her jacket. Darkness had blanketed the town hours ago, and college students were already filling the streets on their way to the bars to celebrate the end of the week. Not that they’d really needed a reason to drink, of course.

As she launched the trash bags in the large dumpster in the back alley, Annabel felt an uncomfortable shiver running down her back. She’d been feeling under the weather for a couple of days, downing vitamin C fizzy drinks to stave it off. What she’d hoped would end up being a little annoying cold was turning out to be more than she’d bargained for. She could feel the icy tendrils of a fever crawling on her skin, and all she wanted to do was slip under the covers of her warm bed and sleep all weekend.

Her phone pinged as she started making her way back to her apartment.

Finn: We’ll be there in 40 minutes. Zack wants to pick up some pregame vodka from the store first.

Annabel sighed. She’d met Zack, Finn and Alex at her second job—a fancy new restaurant in the heart of town where she’d been waitressing part-time for the past two months. They’d hit it off on opening day, when Zack had accidentally broken a whole stack of plates. No one had seen what had happened but the four of them. Zack had gotten his dishwasher’s apron stuck on the door handle, and his hands had slipped at the sudden pull.

The crash had been deafening.

Right before the owner had rushed in to ask what had happened, Zack’s best friend, Finn, had kicked the wheel of the cart where the plates had been sitting a few moments ago, giving Alexander and Annabel a knowing look.

They’d all told the owner that the cart was broken and had tipped over without anyone touching it. Somehow, the owner had bought the lie. That night, Zack insisted on paying them a round of shots at the bar, and a tradition was born: The four of them. Every Friday. With lots of alcohol.

It was the only time Annabel let loose. With her two jobs and college, she was struggling to find free time, but Friday nights had become sacred. There was nothing like downing drinks and letting the buzz take over, following her three new friends wherever they wanted to go. It was always an adventure. Especially with Zack at the helm.

But tonight, there was no way she could make it.

Annabel: Actually, I can’t come tonight. Sorry.

She walked past a group of friends laughing and hollering, wishing she’d felt as good as they did. But the headache growing behind her eyes wasn’t going to let up, and adding alcohol to the mix would only make it worse. Not only that, but her nose had started running in the past two hours. She’d had to go blow it in the restroom every half hour, getting herself banished from the front of the store by the manager. She’d washed her hands so often that her skin was almost raw.

Just like her nose.

Finn: Nah, you’re coming. Nobody cancels Friday night. Come on.

Annabel couldn’t hold a smile. She typed back, sniffling. Her sinuses were prickling like crazy, as if she’d accidentally inhaled a cloud of tiny fireworks. She stifled a sneeze in the crook of her elbow, mid-word. “Ehh—Ehh’KSHHeeww!” Her eyes watered from the force of it. She wiped the tears away and resumed typing.

Annabel: I’ll make it up to you guys next weekend. Drinks on me.

She grabbed a crumpled tissue from her jacket pocket and dabbed at her nose. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, beckoning her. As she crossed the last stretch of sidewalk to the entrance, she kept checking her phone.

No reply.

Shrugging, she unlocked the front door and took the stairs.

***

Back in her apartment, she made a beeline for the bathroom to the right and used toilet paper to blow her nose, finally free to make as much noise as she wanted. She winced from the roughness of it on her chapped nostrils, but it was all she had. She wasn’t exactly the planning type. Her idea of a grocery list was memorizing the first three items and hoping the rest would come to her as she walked through the aisles. Most often than not, she’d have to make a quick run at the convenience store down the street to get what she’d forgotten.

She gathered her thick curly hair into a bun and looked at herself in the mirror. It was enough to confirm that she’d made the right decision. Her eyes were glazed over, her skin was so pale that her freckles popped like they did in the summer. Except for that slight flush high on her cheeks, of course. She popped a thermometer under her tongue and removed her work clothes, leaving them in a pile in front of the bathtub.

Shivering from the sudden change in temperature, she covered her arms with her hands and ran to her dresser. Her warmest, softest sweater was the first thing she grabbed and put on, before throwing on a pair of comfy leggings and wool socks. The thermometer beeped.

100.8 °F. Figured.

She rolled her eyes and shuffled over to the “kitchen” of her studio apartment, which was the size of a matchbox and only contained a mini fridge, a microwave and an old sink. She poured herself some water and walked over to the bed, placing her glass and the thermometer on her nightstand. She would have brought over medicine as well, but she’d run out last semester after catching the flu going around campus, and had forgotten to replenish her stash. No matter. She could sleep this off. It was just a cold.

She suddenly sneezed twice in a row, as if her body wanted to protest her minimizing her illness, then got under the cover. Just as she was getting a little warmer, propping up her laptop to watch a movie, there was a knock at the door.

Annabel sat up, startled.

“Anna, open up!” a voice said behind the door.

Zack.

Annabel chuckled. Of course they wouldn’t give up that easily. She groaned, getting out of the warmth of her bed. She considered rushing to the dresser and putting on cuter clothes—they were her friends, but they were still boys, and she didn’t want to look like shit in front of them—but the thought of it was enough to drain her energy. Screw it. She walked over to the door and opened it.

“Finn told us you don’t want to come,” said Zack as he walked in. It was her friends’ first time coming up to her apartment. They’d usually wait for her downstairs. “So we’re here to change your mind.” He didn’t look at her, too busy checking out her place. He was dressed for the night—a buttoned-up shirt, navy blazer, jeans and dress shoes. His casual chic style always stood out in the local bars filled with broke college students, but he liked it that way.

Finn walked in after him, a crooked grin on his lips. “See, I told you you can’t cancel Friday night.” His shaggy blond hair half-covered his eyes, as always. Finn and Zack had been best friends since high school, and couldn’t have been more different from each other. At least physically. Finn was tall and lanky, Zack was smaller and worked out a lot. But they were both party guys, always ready for a crazy night—even though Finn was a bit more mellow than Zack.

Finally, Alex came in, and Annabel closed the door behind him. He had a sheepish look on his face, as if apologizing for the other two. He was a lot more like Annabel. Quiet, chill, along for the ride—whatever it may be. His deep brown eyes held her gaze for a second too long, and Annabel noticed one of his eyebrow raise ever so slightly. She bit her lip, feeling self-conscious about her appearance. They’d never seen her in such a state before. Thank god she hadn’t had the energy to remove her makeup yet.

“So this is where you live, uh?” Zack said, sitting on her desk chair and spinning it around and around. “I like it. Dorms suck.”

Before she could reply, Finn tsked. “Wow. So no love for your roommate, uh?”

“Dude, I love you,” Zack said, “but between you and an apartment all to myself, the choice is obvious.” He stopped spinning and turned to Annabel, crossing his arms over his chest. “So what’s so important that you can’t come with us? Do you have a date?”

All three boys turned to her. Annabel almost laughed. Could they not see the condition she was in? She cleared her throat. “No, I’m just not feeling well.”

Finn sat on the edge of her bed and examined her from afar. “Like what? Stomach thing? Flu?”

“Probably a cold, I guess.” Annabel could feel Alex’s gaze on her at her side. She glanced at him, then looked down, feeling silly. Now that she was saying it out loud, it sounded like a poor excuse. But she did have a fever, after all. She just didn’t want to start listing her symptoms.

Zack clasped his hands together. “You know what will make you feel better? Alcohol!” He grinned, as if proud of his solution. “Didn’t they used to give brandy to people when they were sick? We’ll make a special mix for your throat. Something with lemon and orange juice. You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know, I already have a headache…” Annabel said.

“Just take a couple of Tylenol. It’s like a hangover in advance,” Finn said with an encouraging smile. “One time, I went out clubbing with an ear infection and everything was fine. Actually felt better the next day, weirdly enough.”

“I don’t know guys, I won’t be much fun if—” Annabel was interrupted by a fierce tickle deep in her nose, spreading like wildfire. She ducked to her side, away from Alex. “Ehh’KSSHeeew! ‘KSSSHeeew!”

“Bless you,” the three boys said almost in unison.

“See?” Annabel said, pointing at her nose and sniffling. “You want me to sneeze all over you guys all night?”

Finn shrugged. “We’ll bring tissues. Whatever.”

Alex walked over to the bathroom and grabbed the toilet paper roll from the counter, then handed it to her. “Here.”

Annabel ripped a piece off and wiped her nose. “Thanks,” she said, sheepish.

Alex’s gaze paused on her for a few seconds before he turned to the other two. “Guys, she’s obviously sick. Let’s just go and let her sleep.”

“It’s just a cold,” Zack said. “She’s young and healthy. It’s nothing.” He got up and put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Give it an hour, and if you’re not feeling better after a few shots, we’ll walk you home.”

Annabel considered it for a second, trying to fight the shivers. Maybe if she wore something warm and took a few shots, she wouldfeel better. Numb the pain a little, at least. While she pondered it, Finn laid down on top of her bed spread and locked eyes with the thermometer on her nightstand. He frowned and sat up, picking it up.

He looked at her, thermometer in hand. His voice softened. “It’s that bad, uh?”

Annabel blushed. Why did admitting that she had a fever feel so vulnerable? She looked down and nodded. “Kinda.”

Zack looked at the thermometer, then back at Annabel. He narrowed his eyes and put a hand on her forehead. “Ooof,” he said, a hint of concern slipping in his tone.

Finn got up. “Let me see,” he said, walking up to her and placing his own hand on her forehead. His eyebrows shot up. “Yikes.”

“Yeah, you need to be in bed,” Zack finally said, guiding her back to bed. “Why didn’t you say you had a fever? Jesus, Anna.”

She shrugged, sitting on her mattress. “I don’t know. I just get fevers with colds. I guess it’s normal for me.”

“Fevers suck,” Finn said. “Last time I had one, I stayed in bed for two days and everything hurt.” He walked over to the front door. “We’ll miss you tonight, though.”

Zack followed. “Hope you feel better. We’ll text you all the crazy shit that’s going to happen so you don’t miss anything.” He followed Finn out of the apartment, leaving the door open for Alex.

Alex watched them walk by, then grabbed the roll of toilet paper on the counter where Annabel had left it. He brought it over to her nightstand and gave her a sad smile. “Do you need anything?”

Annabel shook her head, relieved that she was going to be able to stay in bed. “I’ll be okay.”

He seemed to hesitate for a second, then nodded. “Let us know if you want us to get you food later. I know I can never sleep when I have a fever.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. Her nose scrunched up, overtaken by another annoying prickle. “Ehh… Iihh’KSSSHHeeww!”

“Bless you.”

Zack’s voice sounded from the hallway. “Alex, you coming?”

Alex snickered. “I guess I should go.” He walked to the door, then turned back. “Feel better, okay?”

“I will. Thanks.”

***

Annabel tried to sleep, but her fever and runny nose kept waking her up, leaving her floating halfway between dreams and reality. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get any rest in her state. She needed cold medicine.

It took her a long time to finally convince herself to get out of bed and go to the convenience store, but she managed to push the covers away and get up. She shivered, causing another tickle in her sensitive nose—it had only gotten worse in the hour since the boys had left. She ducked at the waist in an exhausting triple. “Ehh… Hehh’KSSSHeeeew! ‘KSSHHeeew! Hiihh’KSSHeeew!”

Just then, another knock sounded at the door. Annabel frowned and made her way to the door, cracking it open.

It was Alex. Alone.

“Bless you,” he said with a shy grin.

Annabel let him in. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with the guys?”

He shrugged, closing the door behind him. “I thought you might need this.” He showed her a plastic bag filled with tea, tissue boxes, ramen, cough drops and—she gasped—cold medicine.

Alex chuckled. “So I was right. You don’t have any medicine, do you?”

Annabel laughed. “How did you know?”

“Your nightstand. You only had a thermometer on there. When I’m sick, I take Nyquil everywhere I go.” He handed her the bag. “And I wanted to make sure you had tissues instead of toilet paper. Your nose will thank me.”

Annabel touched her chapped nose, smiling. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” He stood there for a second, as if not knowing what to say. “I’ll uh—I’ll let you rest.”

Before he could go, Annabel put her hand on his elbow. “Wait. Do you want to—” She stopped halfway through her sentence, her nose scrunching up yet again, her eyes fluttering. She spun around and sneezed, covering her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “Hehh’KSSHH! Ht’Ksshht!” She turned back around, blinking away the tears and laughing. “Sorry!”

Alex laughed, too. “Bless you.” He held her gaze, then looked down. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh—I was just wondering if—maybe if you’d like to watch a movie with me. I don’t think I can sleep until the medicine kicks in.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted saying them. Of course he didn’t want to watch a movie with her. This was Friday night. What kind of college guy wanted to hang out with a sick, sneezy, nose-drippy girl on a Friday night instead of getting drunk with his friends. “Sorry,” she added quickly, “I forgot that the guys are probably waiting for you. I guess I’m kind of loopy from the fever.”

Alex took a step forward and placed his hand on her forehead. The gesture was so gentle, so soft, that Annabel closed her eyes, appreciating the coldness of his palm on her hot skin.

“You are definitely burning up,” he half-whispered, frowning. “I was wondering if the guys were exaggerating. Guess not.”

Annabel bit her lip. “I’ll be okay after I take the medicine. You don’t have to stay.”

Alex removed his hand. “I do,” he blurted. “I mean, I do want to watch a movie with you. And stay.”

“Are you sure?” Annabel asked through her blossoming smile. ���Aren’t you worried you’ll catch my cold?”

“Actually, I have a confession to make.” Alex led her to the bed and placed the content of his bag on her nightstand. “Last Friday, I kind of had a cold. It wasn’t as bad as yours, pretty minor, but… Zack convinced me to come out anyway and I—I think I might have given it to you. You drank out of my glass and I didn’t have time to stop you.” He looked at her, his eyes wide with guilt. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Annabel laughed. “I can’t believe Zack didn’t rat you out earlier. It would have been the perfect example of someone going clubbing with a cold and ‘being fine’ anyway.”

“He probably knew it was partly his fault that you’re sick and didn’t want to admit it.”

Annabel shook her head. “Well, you owe me a Friday night.” She got into bed and patted the spot next to her. “That means I get to pick the movies.”

Alex grabbed the throw blanket at her feet and draped it over her. “That sounds fair.” He walked over to the other side of the bed and settled next to her. “But when you fall asleep, I can’t guarantee I won’t change it.”

“Deal.”

After taking a dose of Nyquil, Annabel started the movie, snuggling under the blanket. She wondered what kind of crazy adventures Zack and Finn were getting themselves into. She expected to feel FOMO, but instead, she shot a glance at Alex next to her, and realized she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Maybe it was the fever, or maybe it was Alex’s shoulder touching hers, but it felt like this was the start of a different kind of adventure. Maybe not alcohol-fueled, but Nyquil was pretty close.

All because they’d shared a not-so-secret cold.

And Annabel had a feeling it would be worth the fever. And the countless sneezes to come.

THE END

[demaury]

the best of me (chap.1)

“If anything bad happens I flush the rings, I leave my bestman spot to Baz, and I fly back to Paris.“

OR. Eliott and Lucas have never worked up the courage to actually make a move, and thus spent years dancing around each other without ever acknowledging their feelings. However, an engagement party gone a little too wild, an hotel room and a very bad idea might be all it takes to make everything blow up. (read on ao3)

Lucas had never truly believed that marriage would be something that could happen to him.

Or to any of his friends, for that matter.

It was something vaguely intimidating, that they occasionally joked about but never took seriously enough to consider it. It’s not like we’re gonna get married, he would scoff whenever his friends showed any interest in the new protagonist of his dating life — who never stuck around long enough to even think about it anyway. Marriage wasn’t real. They were still in their twenties, they were still meeting up for predrinks and playing video games until ungodly hours.

Lucas often forgot to lock the door before going to sleep. He sometimes considered candies, potato chips or spoonful of Nutella to be actual meals. He had no idea what was a tax stamp, what was his social security number, who the hell was his emergency contact (did he even have one?), and on the last round of the Presidential Elections the weather was just too good to bother waiting in line to vote for people he didn’t even know — nor cared about. He hated wine, even the fancy ones, didn’t like Champagne, and sitting on a chair was a challenge in itself at work because his first instinct was always to twist his legs at weird angles. He had been gifted a Pikachu Onesie a couple of years ago as a joke present for his birthday and he sometimes liked to wear it during winter because it was warm and comfy and nobody had to know about it. He still cart-surfed down the empty aisle at the supermarket, still felt like the cashier judged him whenever he bought condoms, and he had survived a running nose for a full year because he had dragged taking a doctor appointment.

Marriage? No, not happening.

So there was really no logical reason as to why he would find himself buckling up, in a plane, on the way to Barcelona, one fine July morning. Well, at least he didn’t have any a week ago.

It was precisely two days after a wave of heat had fallen upon Paris. In the span of twenty-four hours, the thermometers had reached well over 30°C, and effectively turned Lucas’ flat, along all the other buildings in the city, in some sort of furnace where you had trouble breathing at all. He should have known that it was the sign that something very weird would happen. Last time there had been seven centimeters of snow was the same day he had found out one of his now-exes was sending nudes to someone else, and one particularly rainy evening, while the Seine was already overflowing its banks, his dad had called to tell him that he wanted him to meet his new girlfriend.

So technically, yes, he should have known something weird would happen, the very moment he had exited his air-conditioned office at 5 in the afternoon, only for the dry summer heat to hit him with the strength of a sledgehammer. Yet, it wasn’t until three hours later, when his best friend called him via Skype all the way from Barcelona, that Lucas started thinking something fishy was happening. And definitely, marriage was not on the shortlist of things he’d have thought about.

“You did what?” he had blurted out, nearly dropping the plastic spaghetti jar he had just picked up from the kitchen elements, spinning around to face his best friend through the screen with wide eyes.

“I proposed,” Yann had repeated diligently, very proud of the emotion he had just caused. “And Nola said yes.”

On the moment, Lucas hadn’t been sure of what to say.

A week later, he still had no idea.

Apparently, though, he was the only one, if everyone else’s reaction had been any indication. Ever since the others had received the news, boys and girls had all been literally buzzing. Basile and Arthur had created a groupchat five minutes after Yann had called them, to gather as many embarrassing material as it was possible to dig for whatever thing he had planned for the weeding, while Daphné had taken over the organization of the trip with Nola, since they had all been invited to celebrate with them in Barcelona for a three-day weekend.

Don’t get him wrong, Lucas would have been thrilled to get an opportunity like this one, considering the fact that you could make fried-eggs on the sidewalks and that he hadn’t had a proper night of sleep in days because he felt like he was suffocating whenever he laid down. But apparently the stars had aligned to mess it all up, and that was the exact reason why he was forced to fly on Saturday morning, an entire day after everyone else had already flocked in Barcelona — save for Emma.

“Dude, I had to literally fight to get this weekend off, don’t even get me started,” she had groaned while they were taking possession of their seats. “Emilie was a total bitch, like apparently it’s rude to ask her to switch shifts when her kid is sick. What do I know? How am I supposed to know that her stupid kid’s got fever? I’m not a psychic.”

Lucas snorted, leaning back against the backrest of his seat. “Maybe she dropped clues and you didn’t hear. Not the first time it’d happen.”

Emma pulled a face. “Rude.”

Lucas shook his head a little. The plane was filling itself with other passengers surely taking off for weeks, instead of a short weekend. Until the middle of the week, he had been set to fly on Friday morning, and he had already made plans to meet up with everyone else at the gate in Orly Airport. But on Wednesday, his boss, Julie, had barreled into the small office he was sharing with an intern to inform him that she had an emergency situation and wouldn’t be available on Friday.

“I’ll need you to cancel your plans that day, I need someone to keep the firm open,” she had said, and Lucas had almost started complaining out loud.

“What about Bérénice?”, he had tried, helplessly gesturing at the empty desk of the intern.

Julie had grimaced. “I’m sorry but I don’t trust her enough to give her full authority. Clients will come to retrieve contracts and she’s not familiar with the whole process. I’m sorry.”

Before he could even protest she had disappeared through the door to her own office, and Lucas had been left to stare begrudgingly at his computer screen with the feeling of having been betrayed on a deep, deep level. He had always gotten along rather well with Julie, ever since he had started working in that architect firm, but right now he wanted to murder her with his bare hands. Or maybe just set the firm on fire. In the end, Alexia, who had managed to score her day off last minute had exchanged her plane ticket with him, so at least he didn’t have to pay another 145€ for nothing, which was probably still better a consolation that nothing.

Still.

“Don’t you find it weird that Yann’s getting married?”, he said after a while.

Emma turned a blank look on him as she glanced up from her phone. She pondered the question. “Dunno. I mean, if he feels like it…”

Lucas gave her a face. “C’mon. We both know he’s not exactly… eh, the best at relationships,” he said emphasizing the two words with a pointed look.

Emma shrugged, waving slightly. “It’s one of those things you never know if you’re good at until you tried. Frankly, what’s the worst that could happen? A divorce never killed anybody.” She widened her eyes slightly then winced when she looked up at Lucas’ clearly annoyed face. “I mean, it’s not that big of a deal until kids come around and-”

“Whatever,” he huffed. His parents had divorced years ago. In the meantime he had grown up and mostly gotten his shit together, so it was safe to say he was mostly over it. “He’s your ex. How many times did you guys start it all over? I’ve lost count.”

“Are you trying to make me freak out to hide the fact that you’re freaking out?” she snickered.

“I’m just saying that three years ago no one would have bet a penny on the two of you waving hello.” And certainly not more than that, he added to himself. It was frankly the understatement of the year. Not only Emma and Yann had started talking again, but Lucas had stumbled on them with their pants down during a particularly memorable New Year’s Eve party, where he had to eventually find an alibi for Yann’s girlfriend.

“Look, it’s not the same,” Emma rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t happy with Marion and we just had comfort sex.”

“That stretched out for weeks.”

“Do you know the very concept of fuck buddies?”

“I’m not sure that fuck buddies usually attend their booty-call’s engagement party,” Lucas observed, fishing his phone in his pocket.

“You know we stopped this months ago. It’s really no big deal and Nola’s okay with it.”

Lucas cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed, before nonchalantly unlocking his phone. “Does she know about the fuck buddies part?”

Emma opened her mouth, then seemed to think about her answer before shrugging one more time. “If Yann came clean about it then yeah, I bet she does,” she eventually said.

Lucas’ eyes snapped up and he stared at Emma, eyes bulging. “Oh, man, this is gonna be a mess,” he huffed, shaking his head. “You do know Basile’s already there, right? Basile and his big fat mouth? Basile no-filter Savary?”

“So is Eliott,” Emma bit back.

It was his turn to open and close his mouth, without being able to get a word out. “What the fuck does it have to do with Yann getting married?”, he asked haughtily.

“I don’t know,” she said slowly, “I’m just saying that while we’re talking about weird as shit relationships you need to take full responsibility of your own mess.”

He scoffed, but his eyes were glaring holes. “It’s gonna be easy then because there’s nothing weird about Eliott and me.”

“Right,” Emma drawled. He almost thought that was it. That she would gracefully drop the topic, a topic that was not even a topic in the first place, let alone her business. But instead, she pretended to give it a thought before she turned to him. “You know what? You’re right. After all ten years might not be enough for it to become weirdly comical. Because, y’know, the first five years it was fun to see you both dancing around each other, then the last five years it was just, well, plain depressing. Maybe in, like, five years, it’s gonna be fun again.”

“Just fuck off,” he gritted. “Eliott is my friend, and he was always there for me just like I’ve always been there for him. I don’t see how that can compare with the weird shit you and Yann keep pulling every three years or so,” he retorted dryly. And with that he grabbed his earbuds, put them on, and ostensibly turned his head the other way.

*

Okay, here was the thing.

When Lucas was young, he had started believing in alternate universes. Parallel worlds never really colliding, but with another Lucas in every single one of them, experiencing different lives and various fates. There was something comforting to it, to simply think about all the roads he hadn’t taken, the choices he hadn’t made, that other Lucases got to experience for him.

It had been comforting, really. To a certain point, at least.

He hadn’t exactly seen the biggest downside of it all until he was 16, and until he met Eliott. The guy had barged into his life during his second year of high school, after Christmas Break. Lucas could still remember the way the walls had seemed to collapse when he had entered the common room meeting — the way his eyes had travelled up all the way to him as if he was a magnet, and the way his breath had caught in his throat, lungs crumpling in his chest. Eliott was beautiful, with his crinkly eyes and his disarming smile, but he was also insanely hot. Hotter than anyone Lucas had ever met. Prettier than anyone he had ever seen. And, well. That’s exactly where the problem had been since the beginning, since the first time they had met, since the moment they had hit it off at that vending machine, right after the common room meeting.

Lucas Lallemant wasn’t a match for Eliott Demaury and would never be.

It had been mostly fine until the night Eliott had told him bluntly, on the way back from a short-lived party on the school grounds, that he wasn’t necessarily looking for a girl to date. A straight guy was just a straight guy until he wasn’t anymore. But still, for better or for worse Eliott was still dating his long-time girlfriend, Lucille — it wasn’t like he was on the market.

It had become much more complicated when, a month or two after starting uni, Eliott had eventually dumped Lucille for Julien. An asshole, if you asked Lucas. Ridiculously good-looking for a philosophy major, and overly confident at that. He was tall and slightly lanky, about the same frame as Eliott — in short, the perfect size not to make hands holding or kissing awkward. Lucas had been on the shortlist of people who had gotten to meet him first (a privilege he’d have been fine not having), and when everyone had bombarded him with questions about Julien, all he had found to answer was 'they look good together’. It wasn’t a lie; they really did look good together. And frankly, it was the only thing Lucas had allowed himself to say about it, because he just couldn’t bring himself to lie.

What was the problem with the parallel universes, you’d ask?

Well, it was the very night Eliott had come out to him that Lucas faced the bitter truth. He was lying in his bed, wide awake, eyes fixated on the ceiling when it hit him like a truck: somewhere, in another universe, Lucas n°99942 was hot enough to be considered a match for Eliott Demaury. You’d think it’d be more complicated to go on from there, to keep being friends with Eliott, to keep seeing him dating other people, but it wasn’t really that complicated. There was just nothing Lucas n°1 could do about it and water had flowed under that bridge. He had found cute guys for himself, not as hot as Eliott, and sometimes not nearly as caring as him, but that was just how it was.

For the most part, Lucas had made peace with it. Well, key words being ‘for the most part’. There was just no point in pretending that he wasn’t feeling his heartbeat rise up suddenly whenever Eliott’s face would brighten up at the sight of him during a party, or the way he’d always make sure that Lucas had a spot next to him whenever everyone would gather at a random bar. There was also no point in denying that a pair of stormy grey eyes sometimes popped up in his brain at… well, odd times. Nevertheless he’d blamed it on Eliott, and Eliott’s personality altogether. Everyone had feelings for him to a certain degree, even the straightest of their friends. Even Basile, Arthur and Yann had already put Eliott at the top of their list if they ever were to switch sides. Sure, for the past few years Lucas and Eliott had gotten even closer, but it wasn’t anywhere like Emma made it sound. It wasn’t odd and it wasn’t toxic. Maybe he hadn’t been fond of all of Eliott’s relationships. Maybe he hadn’t been thrilled to see Eliott get himself into a polyamory thing with a guy and a girl, particularly because he was afraid Eliott would end up hurting. Maybe he had told Macha, Eliott’s most recent ex to this day, to fuck off once. He wasn’t proud of himself but he had always made amends afterwards and Eliott had always told him it wasn’t the end of the world.

They were glad to have each other, and it didn’t make it any more awkward between them that it did with Yann, plain and simple. It was nearly 11 when they made it to the hotel and he just couldn’t wait to let the pressure out and see everyone, he thought as he pushed open the door to the hotel’s lobby.

“Hey, don’t we know these two?” Emma asked, smirking as she gestured from her chin.

Yann and Eliott were chatting by the counter of the concierge. Eliott flashed them a smile, interrupting whatever he was saying, and Yann spun around to grin brightly at them. Hugs were in order and Lucas was soon wrapped in the arms of his longtime best friend. “Bro, congrats for Nola and you,” Lucas said, hugging him back. “You’ll make her super happy.”

No matter what he thought about the whole ordeal — he had figured it was the best to say. Right?

“Thanks Lulu,” Yann replied, still grinning broadly, then he went on to hug Emma. “Fuck I’m so glad to have you guys here. It’s gonna be awesome, everyone’s waiting for you!”

Eliott crossed his arms over his chest, and the loose tank-top he was wearing did a lot in favor of his biceps. “Don’t I get a hug or what?”

“Fuck you’re so needy, we’ve seen each other three days ago,” Lucas snorted, but he still went for a hug nonetheless.

Eliott chuckled, pulling him close. “It’s just nice to have you around.” He ruffled his hair a little as Emma and Yann were talking close by.

Lucas smiled and parted from him with the feeling of not having had nearly enough. “You too,” he smiled, looking up. 

Eliott slid an arm behind his neck, just like he casually did so often, making them both turn around toward Yann and Emma.

Lucas voluntarily ignored the pointed look she gave him as the four of them made their way to the elevator.

[godlyvan]

13 | UNTITLED

SUMMARY | y/n has depression and doesn’t know the right way to tell van, thankfully, he’s an understanding person and super cute. 

WARNINGS | mentions of suicide, depression, swearing.

A/N | this was pretty nice to write. took me a little bit to actually get into it, but once i realized i could stem this from what i’ve kind of been through (and what i’m going through), it made it a fuck ton easier. and i’m not really sure what to title this, so we’re going to keep it untitled until i can come up with a good title. if you’re going through a similar thing, please do not hesitate to message me. i know what’s it’s like, believe me. talking about it helps a bit more than you think. enjoy, and please, be nice to yourself.

REQUESTS | How van handles the reader (his gf) the first time she ever gets upset round him and either sad or stressed out maybe over a tragedy or a stressful time thanks love x + Reader’s depressed, and Van coaxes her to actually talk about it for once instead of bottling it all up

Y/N never enjoyed talking about it. Her depression was a touchy subject that she only truly trusted with a few people. She didn’t know how long it was going to take for her to warm up to Van. She loved him, but there were somethings that a ray of sunshine like him just shouldn’t hear. Most of it was how she almost died because someone told her that she should, that nobody wanted her here. She took matters into her own hands and felt a warm glow before being brought back into the reality of a cold, bright hospital room. The first step of getting better was admitting to it.

“I’m not trying to… force you or anything, Y/N, but you’ve gotta tell him at some point in time.” Fran admitted, chucking a bag of chips into the cart, checking it off of her little grocery list.

“I know, Fran, but I don’t know how to bring it up. ‘Hey Van, just wanted to invite you to dinner to tell you I’m depressed, but slowly starting to be happy again!’. Yeah, ‘cause that’s the right way.” Y/N huffed, licking her lips. She grabbed a fresh watermelon and put it inside of their shopping cart. Fran’s always been there for Y/N. Since the beginning of high school, Y/N stuck by Fran’s side. She was new and needed at least one friend, and the rest is history.

“Invite him over tonight. I’ll be there to help you get the words out, okay? You’ll be fine.”

“I’ll invite him over, but we’re in a really good place right now. I’m not going to tell him until things slow down a bit, okay?” Fran nodded, but internally thinking that Y/N should just tell him now. “Plus, there aren’t many guys that are into girls who go to therapy and stay in bed for weeks at a time.”

“It’s like you haven’t even met your own boyfriend.  He’s honestly so into you, he won’t even care. He’ll probably want to help you out in any way he can. Please tell him soon.”

“I will.”

She didn’t. Two months had passed before Van even noticed anything. After coming back home from a wedding Van was invited to, Y/N didn’t leave her bed for three days. He tried everything to get her out, but all she wanted to do is sleep. She wanted to be left alone, but it hurt Van to see her this way, so he laid in bed with her. After the third day, Van dragged her out of bed. “Love, I don’t mean to be rude, but you need a shower. Haven’t had one since the wedding. It’s been four days. What’s a matter?”

“Nothing.” She mumbled, not looking into Van’s eyes. He threw his hands up, his expression lightening.

“She speaks!” He laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But seriously, love, what’s goin’ on? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” she spoke quieter, hoping that Van wouldn’t realize the uneasiness in her voice. It was apparent to him, he could see right through her. He always has, but hasn’t said anything about it to her. Fran told him to be patient with her when they first met. He didn’t understand until Y/N’s texts became a little less frequent once in a while. Usually having to do with something that happened in their life.

“That’s a lie, and we both know it. Please, darlin’, just tell me what’s going on. What’s got you all sad?” She finally looked into his eyes, but he was blurry. Her vision was clouded by tears, and that image tugged at Van’s heartstrings. “Does this have to do with the wedding?”

“I don’t want to.” She admitted, letting a few tears fall. Van caught them with his thumb, licking his lips as he looked back up to her eyes.

“We’re going to take a shower, okay? And then we’re going to talk about it because it’s really tearin’ you up, and I hate seein’ you like this.” She shakily stood up with the help of Van’s steady hands under her forearms. He guided her to the bathroom, his hands never leaving her body besides when he removed of his own clothing. He helped Y/N out of hers, letting her stand on her own while getting the water ready. “We’re gettin’ in now, love. Let’s go.”

His body was tightly held close to hers. His arms wrapped around the middle of her back, his fingers dancing all around her skin. Her hands stayed on his chest, occasionally letting her fingertip play with the patch of hair on his chest. She was thankful for him, really. Even when she felt like all hope was lost, she knew he’d be there to give her every ounce of hope she could ever need.

Y/N grabbed the shampoo and let Van work it through her hair, massaging her scalp. And next came to her body, which she was scared of. He’d find the scars, and he’d run away. She just knew it. But he didn’t run away. Before, and after, cleaning her skin he kissed every single one. She didn’t need to hide from him anymore, and she could sense that, but that didn’t make her feel any less moody. “Darlin’, it’s time to get out, okay? Let’s go get changed, you can wear one of my shirts, like you like to do.”

He wrapped the towel around her body, wrapping a towel around his waist before walking her back into her room. Van had loads of clothes here. Since he ended up staying here when he was home anyways, she told him it’d make more sense if he’d keep some here. Usually when he was away she’d steal a shirt or two, maybe even a sweatshirt. She loved the way they smelled, they smelled like home.

“We’re gonna talk about it now, okay? But you have to say somethin’, can’t be me talkin’ all the time. What’s got you like this?” He asked, his hands rubbing the skin of her arms. She licked her lips, her fingers picking at hangnails that were beginning to form on her hands.

“At the, uh, wedding,” she started, her voice low and deep. “I saw everyone all happy and smiling, and it made me think of you… of us. I-I, uh, I haven’t been completely honest with you. I’m not the confident, happy-go-lucky girl you fell in love with.”

“I know that. I’ve known that for a while, darlin’.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, when I met Francia, she told me to be careful around you. I didn’t really understand what she meant, you know? Just kinda went along with it. And then, you know, Francia told me that you hadn’t left your bed in a week, and that it wasn’t unusual and that’s what, like, sparked somethin’ in me.” Y/N didn’t want to believe it. He understood?

“Y-You understand?” Van nodded, his lips gently kissing each knuckle on her hands. “Thank you… for being patient. It hasn’t been easy.”

She started telling him everything. From the first little self destructional scar, to the last. She confessed every miniscule detail about her stay at a psych ward for at least twenty four hours after the accident. He simply held her, telling her it was all over now and there was no need for any of those thoughts anymore. Van’s heart hurt hearing every word she let out. How could she think of herself this way?

*****

Summer brought greater things. Van and Y/N finally got their own place, telling Francia and Larry they were welcome over at any time, no matter what. Van made sure Y/N felt comfortable, leaving an enormous amount of his clothing with her when he’s on tour. Fran comes over as well, making sure she’s not lonely. “You can fly over, you know. I could get you a plane ticket and you could come on the rest of the tour with us.”

“I know, Van, but this is your thing, I wouldn’t want to intrude on it.”

“Babe, everybody loves you, you wouldn’t be intrudin’ on anything!” She could feel his laughter resonate deep in her chest. But she went along with it, packing a suitcase and catching the flight Van had bought for her. She felt bad, though. She didn’t like other people spending money on her, but Van told her that once in awhile, he’d spoil the absolute fuck out of her. Out of love.

When she arrived at their hotel, it was almost midnight. She wasn’t sure they’d be back yet, usually catching a drink for hours after their performances. But nonetheless, she swiped the card and walked through the door. It seemed like everyone was asleep, the lights almost completely off, the only bit of light illuminating from the tv. “Babe?”

“Hey, Van.” She smiled, setting her bag down and wrapping her arms around his waist. He kissed her cheek, rocking their bodies slowly.

“I’ve really missed you, I’m glad you came.” His voice was deeper than usual. Maybe it was because he got up to pee in the middle of the night, but it was truly on the account of the recent symptoms of a cold that surfaced. She noticed that right away, pulling away from him before pulling him into the bathroom. She looked at his forehead, feeling the hot skin against her hand.

“How long have you been this hot?”

“Dunno, like, two days.”

“Van, that’s not good. You could have the flu or something. You’re lucky you haven’t been performing in the past couple’a days.” She spoke sternly, fishing out a thermometer from her purse.

“You really carry that around with you?”

“In case someone asks me to babysit on the spot. I don’t like kids getting sick on my watch.” She stuck it in his mouth, telling him to hold it under his tongue. They sat together for fifteen minutes, just being with each other. She stared at his face, noticing the dark circles under his eyes. She hated when he didn’t get enough sleep. “You haven’t been sleeping. You know how I feel about that, Van.”

“I know,” he spoke after the removal of the thermometer. “Been thinkin’ about a lot of things, you know? Early in the mornings.”

“What’ve you been thinkin’ about this time?” She smiled, running a washcloth underneath the sink faucet, letting the cold water soak into it. She listened intently to every word that hung from his lips, making him stop so she could blot his forehead with the cold washrag.

“I’m just surprised at how fucking strong you are, babe. So much stronger than any of us will ever be. And I’m sorry that I couldn't ‘ave been there for you, and—” She cut him off, forgetting about his fever, and the possibility that she could catch his sickness, whatever it was. His lips curved upwards into the kiss, his hands pulling her closer by her waist.

“You’re here now, though. That’s all I need.”

[feverhalo]

A Quiet Day (FMA)

FMA Exhaustion!fic/Sick!fic

Sick/Exhausted!Ed, A+ Brother Al, and Parental Roy and Riza caring for the two of them awww

Basically some minimally edited (i read through it twice) indulgent shit because I had a sad and wanted to write something vaguely comforting.

1914 words long, and dreadful tense abuse im sure. No real warnings needed, but there is passing mention of their mom and kind of like that semi-depressed funk of exhaustion (or at least thats what it was supposed to be)

Ed laid with his head pillowed in his arms. He sniffled back the congestion causing his face to throb and felt it gather in the back of his throat. He kicked his good leg out from under the covers with a groan, and Alphonse found it hard to keep quiet.

 “Do you need medicine, brother?” Al’s shoulders slumped with a creak of the cold metal. Ed had been laying in bed like this for hours, not answering past head shakes or something so muffled Al couldn’t understand. “Can I at least take your temperature? We still have a thermometer somewhere…”

 Ed sniffed again and swallowed before shaking his head. He rolled to his side to look at Alphonse before rubbing at his watery, red-rimmed eyes and swiping his wrist under his nose. His head was so stuffed and felt so thick, and he tried to just wrap up in a blanket and sleep it off, but the stubborn lack of a fever made it feel silly. He stretched his arms over his head and felt his back pop and his heavy muscles pull. It almost felt good to sit up and stretch a little, but that energy would fade soon.

 “Are you going to finish getting dressed?” Al looked over to where Ed had dropped his night clothes, and managed to get his pants and one sock on before flopping back into bed. He hadn’t moved much until now, but somehow his loosely-tied hair was even more of a knotted mess.

 “I guess,” Ed’s one eye crinkled as he swallowed after speaking, arm brushing up under his chin before being used to push himself up.

 “Why don’t you just get back in pajamas? Pajamas are more comfortable, even Teacher let us have pajama days.” Just like mom, Ed straightened, more defiant at the unspoken comparison.

 “She’s not here.” He cleared his throat, grabbing the previously abandoned shirt and pulling it on. He eyed his red coat, and threw it over his shoulder before walking out.

 Alphonse sighed and got up to follow. Ed swiped at his nose again, sniffling before coughing into his elbow. The congestion was awful and, though it was only a few coughs the combination was enough to loose a few stray tears. Ed grumbled and wiped them away too before turning and stomping quickly down the stairs. Alphonse locked their door and followed, lighter on his feet and caught the door as it was swinging shut behind his brother.

 The brisk walk through the late-afternoon sun was quiet. Ed clearing his throat now and again, and Alphonse following behind. Anyone else walking on the street gave a wide berth or crossed to the other side. Ed would have likely bowled through them if they hadn’t, focused on moving forward. The steady thud and clang of his mismatched footsteps, the glint off his exposed automail arm, and the set glare on his face; with or without the tell-tale Fullmetal-Red cloak bunched up and slung over his shoulder it was surprisingly intimidating.

 For as listless as he had been all day, once he got to the military HQ, Ed seemed to have more of his energy back. Running on pure spite again, brother?  

 Mustang’s office doors were left slightly ajar to allow better airflow through the summer, and Ed just planted his foot and kicked it open as usual. He cleared his throat once more, and Alphonse noted the brief tensing across his older brother’s shoulders immediately afterwards.

 “Well. You’re here late,” Havoc blinked up at Ed from where he had been working.

 “Well, I’m here.” Ed threw his cloak onto one of the couches. He crossed his arms, forgetting for a second about how warm the automail would be after being outside in the summer sun in just a short-sleeved shirt, but he ignored the bite of the heat at the inside of his arm.

 “Alright,” Havoc held his hands up in surrender. “Hawkeye is out for a minute, but you’ve got some stuff on her desk there. Its all clipped together with your name on it.”

 Ed walked over and picked through some of the piles on her desk, and upon finding his name took that pile and dropped himself into a sitting position on the couch by the door. He tried to clear his throat again but it turned into a single, harsh, cough. Havoc kept to his work, and Alphonse eased himself down beside his brother.

 “Its empty in here today,” Al noted. Havoc chuckled and nodded.

 “It’s a bit of a ghost town, Falman is on vacation, Furey went with Hawkeye, the Boss is squirreled away in his office as usual- and I think Breda is still on the tail end of his vacation from last week actually. Its kind of that time of year where you take it or lose the chance until mid winter.”

 Ed zoned out, reading his paperwork or using his leg as a table to fill in the bits where he was required. As much as he’d prefer being out and researching with Al, and as much as he was teased or suspected of not being able to handle the military work because of his age, Ed could get it done well, and quickly.

 Usually, anyway. The package today seemed endless. He heard Riza and Fury return, and waved when he realized he was being spoken to. A heaviness was settling in across his shoulders and down his arm and into every inch of him again. He hadn’t felt particularly unwell, or dizzy, but this feeling came and went all day. He had nearly hit the floor getting out of bed late this morning because of it.

 Ed scratched at his head, undid and redid his mess of a ponytail, and reread the same page for a third time. He started to read it for a fourth, see if anything would sink in, but just sighed quietly and let himself slump into the high arm of the couch. The heaviness got too much and sapped everything when it hit, so he let it. He shut his eyes and let himself relax for a few moments.

 “How has today been Alphonse? Busy?” Riza looked up from her work now and again during their conversation, and seeing Ed break for a nap, she thought it would be a good time to ask.

 “Um,” Alphonse thought for a moment, “No more so than usual, I guess.”

 “You boys aren’t doing anything special for the summer?”

 “We thought of visiting Teacher, or maybe going to see Winry for a few days, but it just hasn’t felt like the right time I guess.”

 Nobody flinched anymore when Ed fell asleep, he was still young and working demanding hours, and on top of that had automail and other burdens too big for anyone to worry about. It wasn’t uncommon and work life continued around it. He’d usually have a quick ten minutes and wake up and get right back to what he had been doing, or on more trying days or days with heavy rain, he’d excuse himself for a few hours to sleep off the worst of his tension and exhaustion.

 Sleeping for a few hours sitting up, then staring at his leg in the twilight darkness of half-past nine at night was less common. Riza stayed behind with Roy when it was clear Ed was needing more than his usual bit of a rest, and it was just the four of them now in the dim office. One of the desk lamps was left on, and Alphonse was sitting on the other side of the room now with Roy and Riza.

 As Ed became more aware, he realized his coat had been draped over him and his paperwork moved to the desk a few feet away. He shifted a little, still feeling very heavy on top of sore from the slumped position.

 “You awake now, Fullmetal?” Ed cleared his throat and hummed in response to Roy’s question. “You don’t look awake.”

 Ed straightened and lifted his arms in a stretch from underneath his makeshift blanket. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes, before returning his head to the arm of the couch and staring across the room to the other three.

 “Can I finish that tomorrow? I feel really tired,” he pointed to his abandoned papers. Roy laughed through his nose.

 “I’d say so, you’ve been sleeping since four. If you’re that tired you don’t have to come in, Ed. We won’t be unreasonable.” Ed had shut his eyes again and just nodded. Everyone lapsed back into the quiet murmur of getting things put away for the day they had been in before Ed woke up.

 “I don’t feel well,” his cracking voice broke the silence a few minutes later. When he opened his eyes again everyone had moved and were getting ready to leave. “Can I just sleep here for the night, I don’t think I can make it back to our dorm. Sorry, Al.”

 “Don’t worry about it, we’ll drive you back.” Hawkeye sounded much closer now, and Ed felt her hand press to his forehead. There was no heat, but his face was so pale the lack of a temperature offered little comfort. “You just get home and sleep.”

 Ed dragged his eyes open for a second then nodded. He scrunched up his face against a stinging in his eyes before giving a quick cough and pushing himself up to sitting. Alphonse stood nearby, and Ed leaned against him every now and then on the short walk to the car.

 By the time Mustang had pulled up to their building, Ed had fallen asleep again. His breathing was leaving little puffs of mist on the side of Alphonse’s armor. Alphonse eased his way out of the car, going slowly and in short bursts trying to keep down the clattering noise he made.

 Mustang and Riza had exited the car as well, and Ed remained peacefully asleep. Alphonse had leaned down to wake up Ed, but Roy carefully moved his hand through Al’s line of sight to tap his shoulder.

 “I’ll take him up, if you and Hawkeye could hold the doors and show me where to go.” He rolled his shoulders before sitting in the car and leaning across the seat to ease Ed onto his back. “He’s a pain in the ass, but you two are a worthwhile pair of, well, just you, I guess. That was a lot less eloquent than I was trying for.”

 “Thank you, sir,” Alphonse stepped back and tucked into himself. Roy could imagine him as a boy like Ed, blushing in gratitude and slightly indignant at an adult interfering. Riza cleared her throat and pulled open the first door. The hour was getting late, and Ed was still just dozing in his t-shirt in the night air. It would be no good if he got a chill and a fever started.

 “Don’t worry about it. Just make sure you call us if you need anything, and try and keep him from making himself too sick.”

 Roy was quick to put Ed down, and to usher himself and Riza out. No need to over stay a welcome, and no need to work Ed up into a fit, he supposed. Alphonse was thankful for it, because it meant there was nothing he was going to be made to do out of obligation. He wanted to be ready if Ed needed him, and if he didn’t, he had a nice little stack of fiction novels to pass the night with.

 Ed slept.

[loving-jack-kelly]

I Live in Nightvale

Reasons why my town is actually Nightvale:

One time somebody stole a bowl of soup. We know this because my family came home to a dirty bowl in the sink and our crock pot lid off. We don’t know who stole the soup or why, but nobody had been home all day.

A moose fell in an old well and couldn't be saved. A local family took it home and ate it, we think.

I have a cousin who disappears into the woods with nothing but a bear skin sometimes and reemerges after a few days.

The same cousin has such a high pain tolerance that he fell fifteen feet out of a tree onto a bucket and slipped three disks in his back and yet wasn't in enough pain to go see a doctor for three years.

 “Do not go into the woods next to the playground, unless you are on the path. Only enter the path with a teacher. Do not ever leave the path. If you enter the woods and get hurt, it’s your fault.” (A message from the teachers of the only school that was given the first day of school every year)

 “The birds fly into the windows often, it’s okay. Ashton, go put the bird in the woods, but keep yourself out.” (eighth grade english)

 There’s a carnival every year. All the same people run the same booths and same rides in the same spots every year. One year the swings didn't come. Now nobody mentions the swings. One time I mentioned how much my older sister used to love the swings and she looked at me blankly. We literally don't talk about the swings anymore.

 We have a first selectman instead of a mayor. Wade Cole has been our first selectman for literally longer than I’ve been alive. Nobody runs against him. Last year somebody ran against him and lost, and now he’s moved out of town. Wade Cole is still our first selectman.

 We have as many churches than other public spaces combined. Three churches. One restaurant, one post office, one public library. The library barely counts, as it’s open four hours a week.

 Mr. Welcome has always been the social studies teacher. He teaches math once in a while. He used to keep a pig’s brain in the freezer. Or maybe it was a cow’s brain. The story changes every time we ask.

 One school, pre k to eighth. 200 kids, just about. And yet, nobody’s parents are in the PTO. Who is in the PTO? Not my mom, who’s also a teacher. Not my dad, either. Not any of my friends’ parents.

 There used to be a store and a gas station. It burned down. Now nothing is there. There is grass and then a church on one side and a cemetery on the other. Nothing but grass where the store used to be though.

 The bears wake up every spring. Most people take their bird feeders down so the bears don’t get them. Aunt Liz leaves hers up, bears are common on our road.

 Everyone is Norwegian, and everyone is related. We have the norwegian festival every winter to celebrate how Norwegian we are. One time a man got up and sang in Swedish at our Norwegian fest. He’s not allowed to sing at the Norwegian fest anymore.

 Mr. A drives a fifteen passenger van with tinted windows. Mr. A gives rides to schoolchildren in his van. But Mr. A is a beloved member of the community, loved and trusted by literally everyone. The van is a symbol of his large family, also loved by the community. Mr. A is my favorite person.

 Plays I participated in in middle school:

  “Joust” (King Arthur but with boomwhackers instead of swords. Boomwhackers are hollow plastic tubes that play a note when you hit something with them. We harmonized with the boomwhackers. I was a knight called Sir Prize)

  “Attack of the Killer Grasshoppers” (A skin cream turned members of a school science fair into giant grasshoppers. Potatoes painted green turned them back into people. I played a deaf old janitor named Mr. Stardrifter)

  “Magic Tree House” (Actually normal. I was Jack. It was awesome.)

  “The Ever After” (A talk show reuniting and reconciling fairy tale heroes and villains. I was the sleazy talk show host. By far my best middle school role. My name was Monteray Jack Chesterfield Williamson III)

 “One time I saw Hunter C. in the woods. He was eating a tree. Hunter C. is cRaZy!” (one of the many Hunter C. memes. Hunter C. was strange)

 Crazy hair day equals most people use washable hair dye, one person per grade is Pippi Longstocking, somebody does the bottle up do thing. At least one boy does a Mr. Welcome hairdo. One person doesn't do anything and is ignored all day.

 Candy on Fridays except when there wasn't school unless it was a good friday and then you get candy anyway because after all, Candy on Fridays.

 In the summer the swing mats from the school playground always go missing. One end up in the orange math game thingy that nobody uses. Nobody knows who’s doing it, but it happens every year.

 The Lego Man who lives in the brown house. Nobody knows his name but sometimes he leaves packages of Legos on his driveway for the kids. He works for Lego. We aren't sure who he is.

 There’s these little wooden houses? Everyone has at least one, usually of the Coach and Four? But like? Nobody I’ve ever asked has been able to say where they come from? But everyone has one.

 Last winter every town around had at least six inches of snow. I spent Christmas in a sweatshirt. No snow. Usually we get way more snow than the surrounding towns. We were in a weather bubble or something.

Also weather related, driving up from the town I go to high school in, there’s a corner. One specific corner. If you watch your car’s thermometer, when you go around the corner, the temperature drops a least five degrees every time.

 I’m related to literally half the town. Of the around 1000 households in town, 500 of them are related to me. My grandpa counted.

Uncle Arnie man. My Uncle Arnie died when I was like six and then I replaced him. With some random guy who went to my church. I called this man Uncle Arnie for years. Literally until I was like fifteen. I found out Uncle Arnie died last year. I’ve been calling Ray, Uncle Arnie for nine years, and nobody corrected me. I found out because he spoke in church and his name is Ray. Not Arnie. His wife is not my Tante Ruthie. I don't even know who she is, but I’ve been calling her Tante Ruthie. Nobody corrected me. For nine. Years.

[mastcomm]

Jump in Coronavirus Cases on Ship Poses a Critical Test for Japan

Japan already had several confirmed coronavirus cases when a giant cruise ship arrived at the port of Yokohama last week.

Now, with the disclosure that 61 people from that ship have tested positive for the virus, Japan is scrambling to prevent a larger outbreak even as it is also preparing to welcome hundreds of thousands of visitors for the Summer Olympics starting in Tokyo in July.

The Japanese government on Monday quarantined the ship, the Diamond Princess, with more than 3,700 crew and passengers aboard, after learning that a man who had disembarked in Hong Kong on Jan. 25 had tested positive for the virus.

In the days since, it has become a fixture in Yokohama’s harbor, making a slow circuit toward shore for supplies and then back out to sea for quarantine.

Japanese health workers screened 273 people from the ship who showed symptoms or who had come into contact with the infected man. The health ministry said on Friday that 61 people were infected with coronavirus and had been taken to hospitals across several prefectures.

The remaining passengers and crew members have not yet been tested and will remain quarantined for 12 more days. Some passengers shared concern about the virus’s spread and about the days ahead stuck in their cabins.

Masako Ishida, 61, told The New York Times on Friday that all passengers had been given a thermometer and instructed to report any reading over 37.5 degrees Celsius (99.5 Fahrenheit).

“We were screened on the first day by quarantine officers, but there hasn’t been anything ever since,” she said. “We’re told to report immediately when we feel we have a fever.”

Ms. Ishida, who is traveling with her husband and mother, said she was trying to remain calm. But she was also looking forward to leaving her cabin.

“Nobody gets out of their room unless they’re in a selected group who get to go out to the deck to breathe fresh air at designated times,” she said, “So I’m hoping that the infection will stop.”

Gay Courter, 75, an American, said that she was “worried and upset” by the growing number of coronavirus cases onboard the ship.

“There’s been some terrific memories, but now it’s turned into something catastrophic,” she said of the trip, which she made with her husband, Philip Courter.

“I would be happy if they come around and do tests,” she said, referring to the quarantine officers. “They only took our temperature once three days ago, and asked us to fill out a form. They did not swab anybody except for people who had temperatures.”

She emphasized that the crew “are doing fabulous jobs, considering they’re at risk too.”

She also noted the potential consequences of a wider outbreak in Japan.

“If people on the ship start dying, nobody’s going to come to the Olympics,” she said.

Cruise ships regularly make the news as places where infections spread rapidly. But the high rate of coronavirus cases among those tested onboard the Diamond Princess concerned infectious disease specialists.

Updated Feb. 5, 2020

Where has the virus spread? You can track its movement with this map.

How is the United States being affected? There have been at least a dozen cases. American citizens and permanent residents who fly to the United States from China are now subject to a two-week quarantine.

What if I’m traveling? Several countries, including the United States, have discouraged travel to China, and several airlines have canceled flights. Many travelers have been left in limbo while looking to change or cancel bookings.

How do I keep myself and others safe? Washing your hands is the most important thing you can do.

“That’s worrisome,” said Dr. Peter Rabinowitz, who is co-director of the University of Washington MetaCenter for Pandemic Preparedness and Global Health Security. “That’s a lot of positive cases.”

Dr. Rabinowitz said that given the relatively low rate of testing among all passengers, it was possible that other cases had been missed. “I would think that this would be a very serious situation for the public health department to be evaluating and doing all they can to try to limit the spread,” he said.

The Japanese health minister, Katsunobu Kato, said that officials were consulting with infectious disease experts about whether to screen additional passengers on the Diamond Princess. The focus would be on the elderly, those with underlying diseases and those who had come into close contact with the 61 infected passengers.

The main question for Japan was how to keep the virus from spreading more broadly within the country just months before the Olympics.

Masaya Yamato, an infectious disease specialist at Rinku General Medical Center in Osaka, said he was not yet concerned about a widespread outbreak in Japan. He noted that one hospital that had treated three coronavirus patients had said that all of the cases were quite mild.

Public health specialists said that it would be difficult to draw too many conclusions from what appeared to be a high rate of infection on the cruise ship.

“The high ratio might suggest they were very good at first assuming who was most exposed,” said Karen Eggleston, director of the Asia health policy program at the Shorenstein Asia-Pacific Research Center at Stanford University. “On the other hand, if there were others that were equally exposed that were not tested, that would mean it was very troubling.”

The Japanese government has asked another cruise ship, the Westerdam, not to make a scheduled stop in Okinawa. When the Diamond Princess stopped in Naha, Okinawa, last Saturday, about 2,600 passengers left the ship for a few hours and traveled by buses and taxis. Health officials are trying to trace their routes.

Efforts to track people with potential exposure to the virus is one of the main public health measures used to contain the spread of the illness.

Dr. Yamato said that public health officials had so far been able to trace the activities of people who had tested positive for the virus in Japan. “But we might eventually see patients that we cannot trace back,” he said. “Some people might not get tested, or some who don’t have severe symptoms might be diagnosed as having an ordinary cold.”

Japan has also recorded 25 cases of coronavirus infections among Japanese citizens who had returned from Wuhan on charter planes over the past 10 days or who had come into contact with tourists from Wuhan. A fourth charter flight that returned to Tokyo on Friday had 198 passengers aboard, including non-Japanese spouses and family members.

Four passengers were taken to hospitals after landing in “poor physical condition.” The others are undergoing health checks at the Center Hospital of the National Center for Global Health and Medicine.

Prime Minister Shinzo Abe told Parliament that the government would “compile emergency countermeasures as early as next week,” but he did not give details.

Experts said Japan’s health care system should be equipped to handle the number of cases in the country right now.

About 60 facilities across Japan have test kits for the coronavirus, and the hospitals that have accepted patients have specialized isolation units and staff members trained to handle infectious diseases.

So far, among people who have returned from Wuhan, the government is asking those who do not show symptoms or test positive for the coronavirus to isolate themselves voluntarily for 14 days after returning to Japan.

But at least two people who returned on the first charter flight declined to take a test.

Determining whether to mandate quarantines or simply request voluntary isolation can be a difficult decision for officials.

“Someone is going to have to weigh both the public health consequences of requiring hundreds of people to be in quarantine and the political consequences,” said Timothy Brewer, professor at the schools of medicine and public health at University of California Los Angeles. “Most people who end up in quarantine probably have not been exposed and do not have the disease — so you’re restricting the civil liberties of a lot of people.”

But Mr. Brewer said that the mortality rate based on available data — roughly estimated around 2 percent — could warrant a more vigorous approach.

For now, experts said there was no need to close schools, cancel all concerts and sports events, or order workers to stay home. But such measures should be part of an evolving decision, Dr. Eggleston said.

“It’s the responsibility of individuals to consider not only their own well-being but those of others around them,” she added. “Share information, report symptoms, submit to testing and quarantine — and empathize and support those who are doing so on behalf of the community.”

Hisako Ueno and Isabella Kwai contributed reporting

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Blood Rite: A Short Story by Anthony Hains

Blood Rites is a short story by Anthony Hains that fits into the world of his Kindle Press novel. It is sure to be terrifying, so read only if you dare!

Author's Note

This short story introduces Simon from The Disembodied—a boy who plays a central role in ghost stories up and down the east coast, and whose reputation dates back to 1800s.

About Blood Rite

Danny shows signs of being physically abused during his appointment with the pediatrician. Someone will make sure that it’ll never happen again. 

Blood Rite

Parents rarely carried actively bleeding children into the pediatrician’s office, but today there were two cases.

The first was little Meredith Kutchenski. She was worried about her impending physical in preparation for her big transition into first grade. The poor thing didn’t notice the uneven sidewalk as she approached her doctor’s office. Her sneakered foot caught the lip of the panel and down she went, scraping both knees. That wasn’t the worst of it, though. She had been clinging to her mother’s hand and was off balance when she fell. Her face smacked the wrought-iron railing leading to the steps, squarely on her right eyebrow.

Mary Beth was the first to notice the crisis from her reception desk as Mrs. Kutchenski pushed open the door to the pediatric suite. The mom calmly escorted her shrieking child into the waiting area. Meredith was the youngest of six kids, and Mrs. K had been down this road of childhood injuries multiple times in the past so she wasn’t too frazzled. The girl, though, didn’t have that luxury of experience and her frightened wail probably echoed for miles.

“I’m sorry. We fell on the way in for our appointment with Doctor Duncan. Do you want us to reschedule?”

“Oh dear, no,” Mary Beth said while making a mark in the appointment book.

Doctor Duncan’s chief nurse, Minna, was gathering patient folders from one of the many file cabinets behind Mary Beth.

“Nonsense,” Minna agreed. “That’s what we’re here for. Let’s take a look at that.” Minna tossed three file folders onto Mary Beth’s desk and pulled a gauze bandage from a box off a back shelf and then disappeared from the cramped reception area. Her crisp white uniform snapped lightly with her movement. Seconds later she reappeared on the other side of Mary Beth’s sliding glass window which separated the reception area from the waiting room.

Minna leaned toward Meredith to apply the bandage. The girl followed Minna’s unspokenprompt and raised her hand to secure the gauze into place. Minna then escorted the bleeding girl and her mother into a vacant exam room.

Minna saw right away it would take two or three stiches right above the eyebrow. She gently pressed a clean gauze pad to the child’s forehead to stem the blood flow and then began to clean up the mess. By the time Doctor Duncan arrived on the scene moments later, little Meredith had calmed down.

Murmurs in the waiting room greeted Minna’s return. She nodded to the mothers who were clasping the hands of terrified children that everything was fine.

“What happened to that little girl?” a shaky voice asked.

Minna found the source, Scotty O’Brien, a boy nearly the age of Meredith. He perched on the arm of a chair while leaning into his mother.

“Oh, she’s okay. She’ll be better in no time. Don’t you worry.”

“I’m not worried.” The boy shrunk further into his mother’s side.

Minna laughed. “Well, good. You know why? It’s time for you to come on back.”

On cue, mom got up and took her son’s hand to lead him to a vacant exam room. Scotty pursed his lips in worry, despite what he said moments earlier.

 ***

 The second bleeding child involved none of the melodrama. Danny just turned eleven the week before and he had always been a levelheaded kid. Minna wouldn’t have noticed anything out of sorts if he hadn’t tossed a bloody tissue into a wastebasket once they were inside exam room number four. Then, she spied faint specs of blood coating his left nostril as she inserted a thermometer into his mouth. So, a bloody nose. She also detected the barest hint of bruising under his left eye. That was troubling.

“My. What happened to you?”

Danny shrugged. “I fell.”

Working as a pediatric nurse meant you generally saw kids and families just once a year in the summer for their checkups—if things were going well. There were more frequent visits for some kids when nasty viruses were being passed around or when there was the occasional need for stitches. Minna started working for Doctor Duncan right after he returned home from Europe while serving in World War II. After seventeen years, she’d gotten to know just about all the long-termers—those families with multiple kids and those who started with the practice during those early days. Other families came and went.

Danny Richters, however, she saw at least weekly. Not because of the need for an office visit, but because he lived in the same building that housed the pediatric practice. Doctor Duncan and his partners had been leasing office space in the ground floor of a brick building that housed the practice and a real estate office. Four stories of apartments were stacked above them.

Danny probably should’ve been seen more frequently in the office. Not that he was a sickly child. Far from it. He was always tearing around on his bike, baseball mitt on the handle bars in the summer, and trailing or leading other neighborhood boys. They ran and jumped in the courtyard behind the building. She often saw them tossing around a football in the fall. The winter brought elaborate forts made out of fresh snow.

The real reason Danny should’ve been seen more often was his father.

Walter Richters was a hostile man. His eyes, deeply set into his face and containing pupils indistinguishable from the dark brown of his irises, always seemed to be cast in an unsettling shadow. His mouth never assumed the shape of a smile. Any individual caught in his glare always came away feeling inferior. Or weak. Or intimidated. And that was just from a look. Being on the receiving end of his fists was something else entirely.

Minna knew men like him. She escaped from Poland with her parents to avoid the brutal advance of the Nazis. She remembered how those monsters delighted in inflicting harm and havoc. Their very being boasted cruel authority.

Walter Richters was the same way.

He was never around during the day. The man must’ve had a job of some sort. But if Minna worked late, she would run into him after hours. If the weather was agreeable, he’d check on the children outside. If there was something not to his liking, he’d fasten a hand around a child’s thin upper arm and yank the child into the building.

Screams would ensue. Minna imagined the sound of slaps and punches, although she was never certain if they actually occurred.

But the results, well that was something else. A cheek with a handprint. Bruises on arms or legs.

Nobody ever said anything.

“What? Oh, nothing like that Minna. Danny’s such an active boy. He tumbled down the steps, is all.”

Danny’s two younger sisters were now showing similar markings. Not as severe, of course, but troubling nonetheless.

Minna now had her chance. The mother was with the two girls in an adjacent room. And Danny considered himself old enough to insist on going by himself into the exam room.

Good for him.

 ***

 Danny sat silently in the examination room. Minna weighed him and checked his height. Then she started asking him questions.

“Danny, is everything all right?” She had an accent but he had no trouble understanding her. Normally she was spirited and kinda sarcastic—this was a new word he had learned in fifth grade. That made her funny, because most grownups kept things too serious.

Today, though, she was quiet, almost secretive.

“Yeah.” Time for caution.

“Hmm.” She stared at him. Danny averted his eyes as the moment grew longer. He hoped she would start talking about something else.

“You’ve recently had a bloody nose. And you have a bruise around your eye.”

Before he could stop himself, Danny’s hand wiped his nose. He felt like kicking himself. He looked down into his lap and watched as he rubbed his hands on his shorts.

“Did you have a fight?” Minna continued to stare at his face. Even though he was watching his hands, he knew she was looking right at him.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged.

“Well, that’s what it looks like. I could ask if it was one of your friends. But, friends don’t do that.”

Danny flexed his hands. He noticed the tiny hairs on his forearms were bleached to the shiniest blond. That’s what happened to him in the summer. He got so tan from being outside and his hair turned platinum, even on his head.

“So, it wasn’t a friend who did this to you.”

Danny looked up. He couldn’t help it. Minna leaned towards him and she turned blurry. He knew his eyes were welling up.

“I know it was you father. Fathers shouldn’t do this. He’s a bastard.”

Danny didn’t know what to say at first. He heard his old man cuss all the time. But never a lady. Right then he knew he had to tell her the truth.

“My father hurts me. He hits me when he’s mad. He does it to my sisters. And mom.” Saying it made him feel strong.

Minna nodded as if this is what she expected. “We can make it so that he stops.” The nurse leaned even closer than she’d been. Her gaze met his. Danny wiped his eyes and he could see her expression clearly.

“Would you like that, Danny?”

Danny thought of the beatings. How his father liked to kick him. Sometimes he was tied to the bed and burned with cigarettes. Half the time Danny didn’t do anything to deserve it.

“Yeah.” He whispered, cleared his throat, and repeated loudly, “Yeah.”

Minna nodded again and then rubbed his hair. “Doctor Duncan will be in to see you soon.” She rose from her chair to step out of the room. “Strip down to you undershorts and then jump up on the table.”

When Minna left, Danny undressed and sat down on the examination table. White paper covered the length of it and crumpled under his butt as he shifted. He looked at the clock and saw that five minutes had passed before the door opened. He expected to see the balding man with pink skin bounce into the room. Doctor Duncan usually said things like “Hey champ!” at the top of his lungs as if being at the doctor’s was the greatest thing a kid could be doing.

Instead, boy a couple of years older than him stood in the doorway.

“Hey.”

“Who’re you?” Danny was too surprised to feel anything. All he could do was gape as the kid closed the door behind him and sat in a chair. The kid had reddish blond hair that was all over the place. It looked like it hadn’t been combed in weeks.

“Simon. My name’s Simon.” The red-haired kid said.

“What do you want?” Danny was pissed this kid would barge right in.

“There’s only a few minutes before the doc comes in.”

“So?”

“Your father’s been beating the crap out of you.”

Danny noticed it was a statement and not a question. How did Simon know?

Simon. That was his name, right?

“How’d you know?”

“Listen, I know. I’ve been there.”

Been there?

“What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t matter. I just know.”

Danny stared at the red-haired kid. There was something scary about him. But something strong about him, too. Invincible? Yeah, that was it. Invincible.

“I can do something so it doesn’t happen anymore.”

Danny tried to swallow, but all his spit was gone.

“Interested?”

Danny’s shoulders shook but found his head nodding up and down.

Simon stood up and stepped forward. His head leaned closer and he started whispering into Danny’s ear.

After a few seconds, Danny smiled.

 ***

 At the front desk, Mary Beth returned the telephone handset to the base. She made a note in the appointment book for later in the month. In the background, her transistor radio was set to WNEW as she listened to William B. Williams and his show Make-Believe Ballroom. The news was over, thankfully, and the information about President Kennedy and New York traffic barely registered. Time for music.

A red-haired boy in his early teens was walking across the waiting room area and towards the door. Mary Beth prided herself in running a tight ship as receptionist, so she frowned at the boy’s receding back because she hadn’t noticed him come in. She scooted from her reception desk and walked swiftly into the waiting room. She noticed the clinic door closing and ran to catch it. She was determined to follow him into the hallway to figure out who he was. After all, she can’t have kids coming and going. Just think of the problems that could cause.

“Excuse me, young man,” she yelled as she stepped into the hallway. She stopped short, feeling puzzled.

The hallway was empty.

She looked back into the waiting room in case she somehow missed the boy. No, he wasn’t there. She trotted to the end of the hall and stepped outside. Oven-like air blasted her. Cars sped in both directions just beyond the sidewalk.

No red-haired boy.

She returned to the office, feeling uncomfortable.

 ***

Three months later

 Mary Beth smiled as Danny appeared before the sliding glass window over her reception desk.

“My goodness, Danny. That was fast.”

The boy held up his arm to show her a still raw, but definitely healing, three-inch scar on his forearm. “Doctor Duncan took the stitches out.” He beamed with pride.

“So, does this mean no more climbing trees, kiddo?”

Danny’s mouth gaped open for a second. “I never said that.”

Minna walked into the waiting room carrying a folder for the next patient. Before she called the child’s name, she leaned over Danny’s shoulder. “He better be careful in those trees or I’m going to cut them all down.”

Danny scoffed at the nurse. “No, you’re not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because, it’ll take too long.”

Mary Beth watched the exchange. Danny was clearly enjoying himself.  Gone was the haunted look of the past. Now, Danny’s expression reflected a boy with a playful spirit.

A similar improvement was true of his mother. The weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. When she dropped Danny off for his appointment, the woman glowed—practically glowed—with peace.

The death of a monster would do that to a family.

Nearly three months ago, Walter Richters was found tied to a chain link fence down past the railroad station. He died painfully. And slowly. At least that’s what Doctor Duncan reported, and he heard this from … well, doctors have their own grapevine.

Danny said his goodbyes and walked toward the clinic front door. Mary Beth watched him reach for the door handle and then stop.

“Simon.” The name came faintly from Danny’s lips.

Mary Beth turned in the direction the boy was looking.

A red-haired boy sat in the waiting room next to a little girl who was a new patient. The girl looked dazed but was nodding in the direction of the red-haired boy. Mary Beth hadn’t seen the boy enter, but she could tell he’d been whispering into the little girl’s ear.

Now, the boy named Simon looked up in Danny’s direction. He grinned. Danny made a thumb’s up motion with his hand before quietly leaving the waiting room.

Mary Beth and Minna watched the encounter. The silence after Danny left seemed to go on for an eternity. Minna broke it by calling the little girl’s name. She and her mother rose from their chairs and walked towards Minna. Their expressions were strained.

“Let’s have you walk down the hall and go into the first room on your right.”

The woman mumbled something in reply and followed Minna’s instructions.

The only person remaining in the waiting room was the red-haired boy. After a few heartbeats, the boy stood and walked towards the door.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” he said.

To Mary Beth’s surprise, Minna answered as if she was familiar with the boy. “Okay, Simon. We’ll be here.”

Mary Beth shuddered. There was something about the boy that chilled her. She distinctly

remembered the last time she saw him. Three months ago when Danny had a well-child checkup.

That’s why Danny recognized him.

“There’s something about that boy,” Mary Beth said.

“Yes, there is,” Minna replied.

Mary Beth held her tongue for a few moments. “The way he appears in here. Like a ghost. I can’t help thinking he’s a demon or something.”

Minna began walking toward the exam rooms. “Not a demon,” she said over her shoulder. “He’s an angel.”

Blood Rite by Anthony Hains

Check out Blood Rite, which is the Kindle Scout novel by Anthony Hains and the world where this amazing short story takes place! It is delightfully terrifying!

Summer Solstice

One Summer Day short story is also featured in the Kindle Press Anthology Summer Solstice. You can get it from Instafreebie for free!