#but the Barcelona setting can give so much inspiration

[vispera-sabbath]

"Can that spark be rekindled in Barcelona?"

[writingsfromhome]

Dos and Don’ts IV

A/N: hello my loves this final part to this fic completes the birth of one of my favourite fics I’ve written. Thank you for reading and enjoying it just as much—every like, comment, and dm meant the world <3

Parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

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We have an extra day in Barcelona and the team is buzzing to enjoy their nightlife since we could sleep all day tomorrow. I’d visited here while I was a uni student so I give some suggestions.

Harry’s a little on edge the whole time. Earlier today some headline from a musician Harry worked with was taken out of context and thus took the internet by storm. Now he was being flooded with people wanting to know his thoughts and feelings. It was a hot topic.

With a joint effort of me, Jeff, and Graham, we tried to keep the spotlight on his Barcelona show. Well my role was mostly to screen Harry from seeing any further discourse online.

The show itself was one of the loudest I’d been to—I was glad I had my own ear protection. The tense Harry falls away and he’s electric on stage. Even coming backstage he’s on a high; he hugs the crew and thanks everyone like he usually did at the end of shows and disappears into his dressing room with Jeff. They look like they’re talking intensely.

“So,” Sarah slides in beside me. “We noticed you’re a bit different coming back. What’s happened?”

I try to play dumb but the girls keep pushing.

“Me and my fiancé ended things,” I confess. They gasp, Claire’s eyes actually fill with tears.

“Shh!” I shush them. “Keep it on the down low please I don’t want anyone to know.”

“But y/n why are you even here!? Is it because of tour! I’m sure Harry could have rearranged things-“

“No no,” I appreciated their support but I didn’t want to hash things out. “It’s just…I think it was a long time coming. God, I don’t wanna cry. I’m good. For now. And I want to be on tour I need the distraction.”

“I get it,” they sympathize. “We’re gonna make you forget so hard tonight.”

“Okay but don’t,” I look around us to make sure there was nobody else around. “Please don’t tell Harry. Seriously please. I don’t want him to know especially. I don’t want him to treat me differently or something.”

“Lips are sealed.” Sarah zips her mouth. “But we can all tell you’re off. It’s hard not to practically living together these last couple months. If he asks we’ll say…”

“Just say she’s on a break?” Charlie suggests.

“Yeah,” I shrug. “Things are complicated, I’m on a break, whatever that’s fine.”

The girls lean towards me and envelop me in a hug. It reminds me of my friends I’d said goodbye to.

“Thanks,” I say through tears.

And the girls hold me to their promise.

After we get dressed for the night—I chose a corset-style top and trousers—we head out. The sun dips below the horizon and the old city is cast in a warm orange glow that could inspire anyone who set eyes on it. String lights come on and music plays from various doors; the city is alive.

We tease each other about looking so glam as we wander the narrow cobblestone streets. Aside from the shows we all wore sweats and tees.

Every place we pass sets my senses alight. We grab tapas from a place that smells irresistible and chat over each other about tonight’s wicked show. I continue avoiding Harry by sitting as far away from him as I can get.

As we wander off in search of the club I can’t help but feel a twinge at how incredibly romantic the moonlit streets felt.

The club is loud and alive, the noise levels even feel normal after the roar of the last few of Harry’s shows. My mood starts shooting up steadily as I drink in the energy around me.

We join the crowd and I give away my worries and my annoyances to enjoy the music. I feel it in my chest and for a blissful moment I’m grateful for my whole damn life despite everything.

“Cute guy!” Someone shouts in my ear.

Charlie nudges me to one of the guys dancing nearby. “Get distracted!”

I shake my head no.

“Do it!” She cheers. It barely travels to me. She grabs Claire’s hand and tugs her, letting her in on the plan and they goad me into going for it.

I motion a drink. I’d need another shot for the courage.

We trail back to the bar and do a round of shots, and they grin with thumbs up as I hesitantly enter the crowd again.

The dude they pointed out is tall and beautiful. Like beautiful not even handsome. I get stuck looking up at him in awe, he wasn’t really my type. A tad too pretty boy but when he notices me looking he smiles and I’m won over. I couldn’t deny a good smile.

“Hey!” He turns his body to me. At least I think he say hey.

“Hey!” I shout back.

“Que pasa?”

“What?!” I couldn’t hear a single thing. What did I expect.

He smiles and takes my hand that had been anxiously playing with the edge of my top. The other has a hand splint that I’d received in Madrid. Apparently I sprained my fingers.

The stranger wriggles both my hands to loosen them, raising his brow at the splint. I laugh.

He asks in my ear but I don’t understand. It sounds like a question, something bylar. When I scrunch my brows he laughs, “Dance! We dance!?”

“Dance!” I laugh. He was cute! “Yes! I want to dance with you!”

“Vamos,” he pulls me in. I understood that at least.

I used to do this in uni, I think. I should be able to do it again.

He teases me a little because I’m so tense. His hands knead down my back to my waist to get me to relax. It feels nice, being touched by a man that looks like he was carved from marble but filled with music.

I begin to find my rhythm and sway with him, eventually letting go completely. He compliments me as I start to move with him and pretty soon I’ve channeled my 20-year-old self. It feels pretty spectacular.

When his lips ghost my cheek I don’t protest. Right now, I felt good. Everything was on the back burner’s back burner and I felt grounded in this nighclub with this random stranger who was paying attention to me, just me. And it’s just us. And it’s just temporary. And I feel good.

When I turn around, my back to his chest, he moves my hair to the side and kisses down my neck. It felt good.

I run my hand up into his hair and he moves lower murmuring foreign words on my skin, our bodies still dancing in the same language, his hands still gripping my waist and my hips. I feel blissed out.

It ends in a split second.

“What are you doing?” Harry’s suddenly tugging me towards him. His mouth makes the words I just fill them in with his annoyingly bossy voice.

“Hey man,” the guy I’m dancing with tries to get in between us.

“What are you doing!?” I snatch my hand away from Harry.

Harry puts his hand on my partner’s chest and says something to him, maybe in Spanish. He looks at me with puppy dog eyes and I look at Harry. What had he said.

“What did you say?” I ask. I try to call back my dancing partner but he just salutes me with a smile and fades into the crowd. No wait, I’m being dragged away.

“Y/n what are you doing out there?”

“What am I doing?” I shout. “What are you?! I was having a nice time with that guy what did you say to him?”

He walks away, further back into the edges of the club. There’s a few people milling about with a number of them involved in heavy makeout sessions.

Harry turns to face me finally. “You’re engaged y/n, Claire and Sarah said things are complicated at home is that why you’re doing this?”

“What!” I throw my hands up, tears prick my eyes. What the fuck was his problem! Since when did he care? “Why do you care?! Yes, things are complicated and I was getting my mind off of said things—what is your issue? You want to drag me back here and remind me of how shitty things have been?”

“This isn’t the way,” Harry insists. “You don’t even know that guy!”

“Whatever I’m over this convo.”

I turn to leave but Harry grabs my hand, the one in the splint, and pulls me back.

“Sorry,” he lets go of the splint. Then picks it up again. “Look. I’m worried about you. This isn’t you, you’re not the girl that goes home with another guy when your fiancé is back at home! I just don’t want you making any regrets.”

“Oh is that it,” I step towards him so my hand isn’t so outstretched. He stands still but on my second step he inches back. “Since when did you get a high horse huh? Don’t tell me who I am and who I’m not. You barely know me! If I want to make decisions I regret I can do that. They’re mine to make.”

“No. Y/n, as mad as you are don’t go home with a stranger.”

“As if you don’t!” I scoff. “What’s your real agenda here? What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” He insists.

“Why do you suddenly care so much about my chastity?”

“It’s for your own good!”

He’s lying. I know he’s lying and I don’t know why he pulled me away from my beautiful Spanish dance partner but I was actually relaxing and now he’s put me right back into this crazed and tense headspace I kept finding myself in.

Fine, I decide. I could make him regret it.

“Really? You care about my morality that much?” I ask.

With my hand flat on his chest I’ve pushed him further into the wall behind him. He watches me with a guarded look.

But I want him unguarded, vulnerable. The same way he’s made me feel. I lean in, “Are you really worried about the technicalities of me cheating on my fiancé?”

I hover a half foot from his lips. Finally his eyes flicker down to my lips and I know I’ve got him.

I slide my hand up his chest and when my hand inches up the skin of his throat his eyes grow unguarded and heady with lust. He doesn’t push me away. He doesn’t say no.

Hypocrite.

I drop my hand.

“That’s what I thought Mr. Styles.”

I watch for a wonderful moment as the lust clears from his eyes and he realizes what happened. Shame, embarrassment, resignation, and then anger.

I spin on my heel and head away from him. He could deal with the consequences of his actions all on his own.

I’m half-afraid he’ll come after me but luckily I make it out of the club alone.

“He’s such a dick,” I say more to myself. Just to get it out because I’m pissed. “Who the fuck does he think he is!?”

My night is over. I just want to take this all off and forget about it. Maybe I can lock myself in my room and raid the mini-fridge, get drunk and cry myself to sleep. Those seemed like the best options right now.

I take an uber to the hotel. As I walk up to it I notice a weird crowd outside. For nearly 2am I wasn’t expecting this and my instincts kick in that this wasn’t normal. Especially when I notice all the camera straps.

“Excuse me,” I ask the front desk. “Why are there a bunch of paparazzi outside?”

“Is there?” The man behind the counter asks. “Sorry we will tell them to leave. Are you staying with us?”

“That’s a privacy concern out there, and a concern with your staff because they’re here. How do they know who’s staying here?!”

It seems to dawn on him I wasn’t just asking out of curiosity. He promises me he’ll get management. In the meantime I call Jeff and explain the situation. He starts to panic the way I hated, looking for something to blame. He calls Graham who sounds like he’s driving in nascar. It’s a very noisy and over-stimulating conversation.

“Call Harry!” Jeff orders. “Tell him he cannot go back to the hotel no matter what! Fucking vultures man!”

“Y/N,” Graham says in a calmer voice. “You need to go back to where Harry is with some sort of disguise. A hat or sunglasses. That sort of thing-“

“It’s night.”

“Yes night. No glasses. Book the closest hotel you can find. Tell his band they can come back, but to go through the back. They might get spotted but they’re trained on dodging questions. That will keep the vultures there waiting for Harry and we can pick you two up back to the airport tomorrow morning. Where’s after this?”

“Glasgow,” I bite my nail as I think. I had to call Harry asap. What if he was on his way back. “I gotta go now to call him though. Talk later.”

I hang up and call Harry. He picks up the second time.

I explain the situation and he reacts the same way as Jeff, swearing and cursing the papps. I tell him what I was going to do and tell him to go right back into the club. To pass on the word to the team even though I was going to send them a text.

I head up to my room and grab what fits in my bag. I didn’t have Harry’s room key so I decide he’d have to wear my hat and head back out. The vultures stay waiting, now just a few feet further away from the entrance.

I speak briefly to management—I figured Jeff could talk to them and give his classic earful.

On the drive I find a nearby hotel to the club and collect Harry to get him there. We’re too tense to talk when we meet up. Once inside again, I tell him to sit in the lounge while I go up to the desk.

Act above it all, I channel a rich bitch. We needed privacy and we needed nobody to know Harry was here.

“Hi I need a room.” I say.

“Of course, how many night will you be staying with us.”

I glance back to see where Harry sits. He’s in a wingback chair that’s mostly turned away and with his hair stuffed in the baseball cap you can hardly tell it’s him.

“Just a night. I need your best room please.”

“Absolutely,” the woman smiles and I feel bad for only giving a tight-lipped smile back. I wait as she clicks away, finally looking back to me with a slight frown. “So miss unfortunately we are very booked tonight. There are a couple events going on in the city making things very popular.”

“The best room will do. Preferably large.”

“Well,” she hesitates. “A lot of our larger rooms are taken um. I can offer you a bed with one king, it is a bit smaller because it’s by the elevators. I also have one with a queen that is tucked away in the corner with a better view.”

I wanted to be as far away from Harry as possible but by an elevator was asking for trouble.

“Well, I’d rather stay far away from noise so we’ll take the queen.”

“Is that just you or…” she glances at Harry.

“Yes. Two. We’ve had a rough day of travel he’s just resting.”

I hand over ID and my card, trying not to balk at the total. At least I’ll get reimbursed.

“Do you have any bags?” The concierge swoops in as I get the key card.

“No! No. Like I said, bad travel day. We just need somewhere to sleep and we’ll reunite with the bags once they arrive tomorrow.”

They leave us alone after that. I hoped it was because I’d been standoffish enough and not plain weird.

The elevator ride up to the 8th floor is stony and I spend the spare second to text Jeff and Graham the hotel’s address.

The room itself is pretty sub-par and the adrenaline of getting Harry here safely wears off.

I drop my bag by the door and pull out my toiletry bag.

“I don’t have clothes for you to change into, I didn’t have your room key.”

“Yeah. S’fine. I’ll just sleep shirtless unless that bothers you.”

We stare at each other for a tense moment.

“I’m fine with that, you’re the one with the high horse.”

After doing all this for him I wasn’t going to be easy to deal with if he wasn’t going to be easy to deal with.

He chooses to ignore me.

“How the fuck did they know I was staying there? We were under a-“

His phone rings and he answers. Sounds like Jeff.

I use the time to go to the bathroom and finally take off the makeup. I realize I should have grabbed my pjs from my bag too. I take my hair down and massage my scalp with my fingers, letting myself calm down despite the aggressive voices outside.

“Yeah whatever. Keep me updated.” I hear. Great. That was done with.

I leave the bathroom and Harry’s still pacing the floor.

“You’re gonna wear the carpet down if you keep doing that.”

He stops and looks at me, his eyes trail down my body.

“You didn’t bring yourself a change of clothes either?”

“You wish,” I head for my bag again and grab the tee and shorts. “I just forgot them out here.”

“Do you always have to be so snarky?”

Oh, so he wanted to fight. Good news for him, so did I.

“Depends. With you? When you’re being a dick? Yeah. I do.”

“It’s really quite unbecoming.”

“Is it?” I mock his accent. “It’s not proper for a lady to be snarky?”

“I don’t sound like that. You just never let anything go.” He continues.

“I never let anything go?” I repeat.

“Yeah! Ever!”

“What do you want me to let go?” I ask.

“Everything. You’re bothered by everything just let it all fucking go.”

“No like specifically what should I let go?” I turn on him and with each question I stalk towards him. “Being treated like trash by you? Being told I’m replaceable and unnecessary? Getting bossed around about who I can and can’t dance with because you suddenly decide to be the morality police!?”

“Jesus take it down a notch y/n.” We’re fuming as we square off. “I’m not your bloody fiancé.”

“And thank fuck you’re not!” I throw the clothes in my hand on the bed. “You’re my employer Mr. Styles and I’ve been nothing but a good fucking employee for the last year! I try to keep my patience and do everything I can to do my best! You’re the one always trying to blur lines! You’re the one always getting in my damn business when I don’t pay you to!”

With every accusation I poke my finger into his chest and it’s like literally pushing buttons. His face gets stonier and stonier until I’m sure he’s going to crack.

“You wanna know what your fucking issue is?” He swipes my hand away.

“Oh sure tell me, wise Harry Styles who definitely has no issues at all. Tell me.”

“This. This is your fucking issue,” he spits. “You’ve always got such a temper on you! I’m not blurring any bloody lines I check up on you and you get all offended over nothing!”

“Over nothing?” I ask. I laugh sarcastically and walk away from him. I was seeing red. “Over nothing?”

“Yes! I don’t do shite and suddenly you’re trying to bite my dick off.”

“You fucking wish,” I turn on him. “It’s crazy you don’t realize what an absolute jackass you are! We should be refunding all those fans who’ve come out to see you because the man they’re paying for is a fake! You’ve treated me like nothing and embarrassed me countless time-“

“Embarrassed you,” he scoffs.

“Yes!” I go on. “What do you call what you said on our way to Paris huh? You can be so cruel! So if I have a temper it’s justified because you’re one of the worst people I’ve met!”

“What did I say?”

“Are you kidding? You’re going to make me repeat it?” He was crazy. He was depraved and absolutely insane. Or he just hated me.

“I’m not playing a game just tell me!”

“You said I could have skipped the whole tour and nobody would notice.” I say the words that had looped through my head. And of course, he has the audacity to look surprised. “Thanks. A lot! It makes it even worse that you were so casual with your cruelt-“

“You need to stop being so sensitive,” he has the nerve to say. “Then maybe you can manage your temper.”

“I can manage my temper any time but you’re moody like a pre-pubescent teen and that looks to be a lifetime fucking problem!”

“What’s your fucking problem Y/n! What is your problem with me!? Why do you still work for me if you are this angry all the time!”

“I’m not this angry all the time, you just makes me this angry! And I hate you for it!”

“Then quit!”

“Maybe I will!” I had to. After tonight and this blowout I had to. How could I work for Harry like this.

“Great! Then you can take your problems with you.”

“Don’t gaslight me,” how dare he. “You’re not innocent in this! You create my problems and blame me for being this way.”

“Whatever y/n.”

“No.” I wasn’t letting him off the hook. I get in his face again. “Why did you stop me tonight? Why did you keep me from doing what I wanted tonight?”

“What? I told you I was looking out-“

“Bullshit!” I cut him off. “That’s a bullshit excuse, I want to know why!?”

I feel like I’m made of flames and in desperate need of a lobotomy. How could one guy make me this crazy. How could it all revolve around him.

“I was doing it for your own good! But clearly I understand why it’s so fucking complicated with your partner-“

“Don’t you dare talk about him,” I seethe. I was mad. Fuming. I want to get physical, I wish I could throttle him or at the very least access one of the pillows from across the room and smash it to the floor. I want him to see how angry I am because my words are twisted with every angle Harry could find. I wanted him to admit to something he’s been skirting for a long time. “Tell me.”

Harry stares at me with hate in his eyes and I know I have the same look. I wasn’t going to let him get away.

“You don’t even have the balls to admit it,” I poke. “Is this why you’re so hard-headed to anything I say? Because you can’t even admit something like this to yourself?”

“Just shut the fuck up y/n and stop being so mental.”

“I refuse to shut up. I want you to talk.”

His breathing gets faster and I watch him flex his hand. He was as angry as I was. Good.

“You’re a fraud. And I hate you.” I step into his space. Our bodies are a hair’s breadth away from each other’s. I want to show him how mad he makes me. I want to do something. I want him to admit this thing he’s been dancing around. It makes me so mad!

When he starts to shake his head at me I lose it. Instinct takes over where I want to physically show him how angry he was making me. I grab his face in my hands and push my mouth against his. I meet teeth.

But it doesn’t take long for him to respond. To correct the unadulterated anger with purpose.

He pushes back, kissing me harder whilst pushing me against the wall. I feel sandwiched, my chest crushed against his and I bite down on his lip trying to get back some control.

My hands are all over him, grabbing his shirt, running through his hair, pushing under his shirt to touch skin. Harry does the same, pulling at my hair and lifting me onto him.

Our tongues clash together, his hand grabs my ass, squeezing and moving up. His hands feel hot on my skin, his metal rings an icy contrast. Neither of us want to give up control. We keep fighting, just now with our bodies.

“Why can’t you ever just let it go,” he traces his teeth over my collarbone. It all feels too much.

In response I push him back, he stares at me for a heated second before we crash into each other again. We don't care where we are. All that mattered was here and showing the other who was in control. Who hated who the most.

Harry pulls away, his mouth a deep pink from our fight. His eyes are half lidded, his pupils dilated. I can tell he wants this but a part of him hesitates.

"We're doing this," I commit, not taking my eyes off his lips.

"I’m doing this," he growls and lifts me up, any hesitancy washed away. I wrap my legs around him, not thinking about anything but what I was going to do.

He whirls me around and deposits me onto the bed, and his body covers mine while his mouth attack my neck.

He wasn't gentle or slow, but then again, I didn't want him to be. I pull off his shirt, not wanting anything between us, not caring that my nails would leave marks down his back. Leaving something permanent on him sounded exactly what I needed.

I tug on his hair as his teeth come down on my chest. I feel heated as he swears, “Teasing me with this top all night was a fucking sin y/n.”

“Fuck off,” I gasp as he figures out the row of clasps at the front and the icy rings of his fingers presses against my sternum. I grit my teeth, “I didn’t wear this for you.”

His abs contract as he pushes himself back up, his eyes dark as his hands find the clasp on my trousers, undoing them with ease and tugging them off. His other hand comes back up to tilt my chin up.

“D’you really hate me?” He asks.

“Yes,” I respond with zero hesitation.

He moves his body, covering mine with his own again. My breath catches in my throat as he presses his lips to my neck, slowly moving down. He drives me crazy with anticipation and I wriggle up to keep up the pace but he holds me in place. I let out a moan as he kisses my inner thighs, his fingers gripping the tops of them. I'm squirming under his hold, the heat pooling inside of me.

“Do you hate me?” He asks again.

“Yes,” I cry, not wanting to relent to him.

“Good,” he says and that’s the last thing I remember.

The rest is a tangle of limbs, an out-of-body sensation, and seismic wave after wave coursing through my body. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before; the fury we felt with each other fuzes to the passion of the moment and it blitzes every damn thought out of my head.

Hours later, or maybe the whole night later—I don’t know but all I do know was that my body was spent and I was barely hanging on.

“I can’t,” I plant my hands on his shoulders and nearly pitch forward just from pausing. His hand splays on my back, keeping me in place as he turns us around.

“Okay?” He asks low.

I nod, grateful that he was taking over.

And after riding out what I know would be my last wave he rolls off of me, and we lay there just trying to catch our breaths.

After a few minutes, I sense him tilting towards me, his eyes on my face. When he stares for so long it becomes obvious, I look back at him.

His eyes are not the same ones that started this mess, they’re breezy meadows of green compared to the icy sea glass from before. But it’s not surprising. With each round and each minute we spent with other tonight, things had grown softer. Not gentle, but softer.

And as we look at each other with the awareness that the anger had bled into the threads of these tangled sheets a long time ago, we’re left with something neither of us want to distinguish. At least I don’t.

His gaze holds something too real for a place like this and I quickly look away and back at the ceiling. I feel his eyes on me a moment longer before he himself turns away to stare at the same ceiling.

“Y/N,” someone suddenly calls my name, tapping my cheeks with a gentle pat. I have to pull myself from the depths of wherever the fuck I just went to open my eyes and look up, at Harry. He looks concerned and asks me a question that I don’t register—I was truly out of it. I must have dozed off.

I push his hand away and grab the closest piece of clothing to wrap around myself in which ends up being a sheet. I take myself to the bathroom to clean up.

I hardly recognize the girl in the mirror. My eyes are blown out and my neck looks like it was rammed by a bull. I can hardly look at the rest of me. I would need to buy something high necked before we got picked up tomorrow morning and use all the concealer I had. I know I marked every inch of him I could find too.

I had never felt that level of passion with anyone. It was unnerving.

My knees collapse under me as I sit on the toilet and try to count the tiles on the opposite wall, just to come back to earth. To my body.

I sense a shadow under the door after I’m in there for a while, I watch it move from one side to the other and then move away. I wait longer, nearly falling asleep there before going back out.

The bed looks a right mess and most of the duvet is twisted to the side. I don’t bother with it, I use the sheet I’m wrapped in and crawl right into bed. Harry seems to have fallen asleep too but as I near sleep I feel the bed dip and the heavy weight of the duvet drapes over me.

I don’t have enough clarity or energy tonight to think about what any of this meant but I know I was right about leaving.

***

We return to London on a Wednesday morning and nearly kiss the ground. Harry was still playing two shows here but getting to go back home instead of a hotel room was enough to make us weep.

I didn’t really have a home to go back to. I’d been thinking about that a lot as the tour took us closer and closer to London. I had texted Gray yesterday and we agreed I could crash there until this weekend to get my stuff together.

London had a metaphorical grey fog over it in my mind. Nothing felt appealing about it and the only thing on my mind these days was home—my childhood home.

I already knew I was going to give in my resignation letter to Harry after tour but I had a 3 week period under contract. I don’t think I could afford a hotel for three weeks and staying with any of my friends is out of the question.

These thoughts kept me preoccupied.

It helped me not to think about that night though. I avoided Harry unless it was for work, returning to the solitude of my first few months working for him. He does the same: curt and avoidant. I know others notice but nobody dares to ask.

It was the most intense thing I’d done in my whole life and that was saying something. There was a way that Harry got under my skin that nobody else could. And it was hard to find a balance after the scales had shifted so far in that direction.

I felt like I had to block it out until I could have space to process it. And yet memories still seeped through when I was quiet for a moment too long or when he’d walk past me with the same cologne as that night and I’d catch a whiff. I was doubly sure this chapter had to close.

When I get back to the flat on Wednesday Gray has vanished as he promised. He told me he’d drop by that evening to talk. Surprisingly, I felt calm about it. I don’t know if it was getting all of that ferocious energy out that had been churning for months, but I feel level-headed and I appreciate the space to myself.

Gray texts me before he arrives. Like this wasn’t the flat he was now paying for alone.

I know what he wanted to talk about—we were all supposed to go to Harry’s last show at the o2 since I had tickets for everyone. Josie was stoked and based on the way she’s been texting me leading up to the day I don’t think she knew. Gray confirms it.

“So,” he rubs the back of his neck. He looked nice in a beanie and corduroy jacket. I wonder if any of the effort was for me, then vanish the thought.

“So,” I echo.

We stand awkwardly across from each other—him propping himself up behind the couch and me leaning against the dining table. Like we needed to get as much furniture between us. Like we hadn’t shared a bed a few weeks ago.

“We should sit?”

“Yeah,” he attempts a laugh and sits on the sofa. I choose the closest chair and turn it to face him. “Yeah. Um, I don’t know how you feel about Saturday. But I haven’t told Josie yet. I haven’t really told anyone.”

I nod, “Me too. Not really. People at work think we’re on a break.”

“Right. Good.” He says. “I’m not tryna lie to people but I don’t really want to get into it…”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “So Josie?”

“I’ll let her know once…once you move out?”

Move out. Of this flat. It’s been home for nearly 3 years.

Gray had surprised me with it when he found it—I had been broke and only been able to pitch in for utilities and groceries but he’d been gracious. He’d been supportive once. But I guess his support had boundaries too. I didn’t entirely blame him for that.

“Sounds good. Or later, maybe when she’s done her exams.”

He leans back on the couch, arms spread over the back and sighs as he studies me. “Yeah of course. I should’ve thought of that. You’re always good at that stuff. She’s gonna be gutted.”

I nod. Not sure what to say to that.

“So you’ll be out on Saturday yeah?” He asks after a while. It seemed both of us had a lot on our minds. But his question stings a little.

“Yep. I’m off for most of the week so I’ll just pack things up. Uhm, with Josie and whatnot I guess we’re still acting like a couple? Will that be weird?”

“Yeah. It will be but we’ve got no other option.”

“Right.” I respond. His voice grows an edge I’m not a fan of. “Well. Thanks for letting me stay here. If you need anything else I guess you can grab it now.”

I want to ask how he’s doing, who he’s staying with, and just hold his face one last time to really remember. But his cold apathy grows like frostbite over the room and creeps into my heart. I always thought where there was love there would always be love but I’m not as sure tonight.

I stay busy and when I can’t sleep at night; I map out a dream, an exit plan home. I write up my resignation letter, I look at flights and rentals and talk things out with my family, I cancel wedding and couple shit, and grieve a fair bit.

On Friday afternoon, my only formal shift this week, I head to Harry’s with an anxious weight in my chest and a buzz in my head from the hope. Hope that this chapter of my life could end soon, and I can head home and recuperate and plan out what my life was going to look like.

Harry’s on a call when I get in. He spares me a glance but I head to the office with my stack of mail. Today was mostly for some housekeeping/admin but I hope to avoid Harry for the most part like I’ve done since that night. My letter sits like a bar of gold in my bag.

I hear him move about the flat. I restock some pantry items, and we speak as little as possible. Going with him to his meeting was my final task for today so I decide it’s a good time to hand in my letter.

I find him sitting in the studio, tapping a pen against the table.

“Mr. Styles?”

“Hm?” He drags his eyes away from his screen to look at me.

“So we’re heading to your meeting in 10. Before then I just wanted to hand this in.”

The envelope stays outstretched in my hand and he eyes it, not taking it.

“What is that?”

“Can you just take it?” I shake it a little, like a bag of treats for a puppy.

His muscles move one inch every ten seconds, that’s how slow he is to sit up in his seat and finally take the letter from my hands. I almost let out a big sigh of relief. The process was finally in place.

“What is it?” He asks again, tearing the corner and down the side like he usually did.

I wait for him to unfold the thirds before answering, “my resignation letter.”

His eyes scan the sheet left to right right to left and when he looks up at me it’s hard to say what he’s thinking.

“Is this a joke?”

“No? Obviously not? I’m handing in my 3 weeks. I’ll also email a copy to Jeff and you.”

“Why are you doing this?” He stands, his tall frame rigid.

“Why? Because I’m…I’m quitting? I think I’ve learned everything I could here a-and it’s time to move on.”

By here I don’t mean working for Harry Styles and co but just here as in London. I’ve learned a fuck ton of life lessons here, and it was time to process them elsewhere.

“Is this to get back at me somehow? I don’t understand,” the papers crinkle in his fist as he grips it tighter. “Do you want a raise? Can we talk about this?”

“No.” I say and even though there’s so much more I could say I think that sums up my answer.

He looks puzzled, then annoyed. Just then my phone buzzes. The car was downstairs.

I grab my laptop and we head down. I was coming along to take minutes and then head home. In the car I reassure Harry,

“I plan on wrapping things up in the next three weeks and making sure everything is set up for an easy transition. I’ll leave continuity notes and reach out to people I regularly communicate with to break the news. The next couple months are pretty easy anyway coming out of tour and going on holiday so there should be plenty of time for the new PA, whoever your hire, to catch up.”

He doesn’t say a word. It reminds me of our first drive to the studio together. How naïve I was. How things changed.

He continues staring out the window, resting his face on his fist. I remember my teeth dragging over that jaw. I blink the image away; this was why I had to go.

When we get to Graham’s office Harry tells Jeff, “we don’t need minutes.”

Jeff looks over at me for answers and I shrug. I guess I came here for no reason but at least I had my laptop to work.

“Uh y/n please come i-“

“She’s fine working out there,” Harry cuts Graham off. Graham looks offended, his gaze drawing between Harry and I. Again, I shrug. I wasn’t leaving today I don’t know why he was acting like it.

For the next hour or so I sit at a spare cubicle and do just as I said in the car. I type out lists for upcoming interviews and studio days. I send emails for information to note for whoever the poor person was to replace me.

I had been keeping the Dos and Don’ts updated over the last year and it feels like a baby the way it came together with so much thought. I was almost sad to part with it.

Nobody tells me the meeting is over. The door simply opens and Harry breezes past.

“I’ll be in the car.” He mutters. Any faster and I would have to hold down the papers around me.

When he’s gone beyond sight, I turn back to the open door.

“What’s the matter with him?” I hear Graham asking inside.

“You keep pushing him,” Jeff responds with irritation. “That’s not his brand Graham.”

“Well that’s a different tune. Prior to this you were singing my praises with these new ideas.”

“I don’t know. Something’s been up with him for…a while-“

“Since that article isn’t it?” Graham references the Harry Styles slander when we were in Spain. Little did they know other things had also happened.

“We dealt with that article.”

Shit, I think. Has he been any different? I think I was keeping too much distance from him to notice.

“Y/n,” my name snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Mhm?” I’m beckoned to the meeting room. “Yes?”

“Find out what’s wrong with him. Or better yet just convince him to be a bit more alive at his last show tomorrow with his usual charm? He hasn’t been his full capacity the last few shows has he?”

Shit. “Um. Burnout?”

The two men look at each other. They make a face like that couldn’t possibly be why. I tell the men what they want to hear, that I’d try to find out and get him back to his charming self (yuck) before joining Harry in the car.

“Jeff and Graham aren’t all that happy with you,” I say when we start driving. Harry was giving me a lift home. “They’re insisting you do it right at your final tomorrow. Be your charming self.”

He grunts in response, head facing the window again. Was he allergic to look forward in the car or something?

“Are you coming?” He asks after a good ten minutes of silence.

“Tomorrow?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. I gave my extra tickets to…my fiance,” my brain fumbles my words as it remembers what he was and now is. And the lie I had to keep up. “And his sister and her friend.”

He just nods in acknowledgement, somehow stonier.

When the car pulls up to my familiar building I thank his driver and begin my shimmy out but Harry puts a hand to my knee to stop me. His touch sears right through my stockings and he must feel it too because he slides his hand back.

“Answer this,” he looks at me for the first time tonight. Wow, this really did feel like my first week on the job.

“Sure,” I reply.

“Is it because of that night?”

It’s the first time it’s been mentioned, and his gaze burns brighter than a forest fire. It’s mesmerizing and I can’t look away.

Wait, he wanted an answer.

“It’s because of a lot of things,” I answer truthfully.

He clenches his jaw. Leans back in his seat. The seatbelt reverses to hold him in place again and he’s no longer looking at me. I take that as my cue to go.

***

Josie bursts into the flat dressed to the nines in a groovy floral jumpsuit and boas in her hand. “Don’t worry. I have one for each of us.”

Her friend trails behind her in an equally 70s inspired look.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Josie judges her brother’s hoodie and jeans. “You’re lowering the vibe Gray do better. Y/n? Why didn’t you brief him?”

“I did!” I eye Gray. “Don’t blame me.”

This was way more awkward than I thought. Or I really was not as good of an actress as I wished.

“What am I supposed to wear?” Gray asks. “I’m not wearing a jumpsuit.”

Josie rolls her eyes. “Y/n please drag him back and find a decent tee or something?”

“Yes ma’am,” I take Gray by the arm and take him back.

“This is kinda weird hey?” I whisper when we close the door.

“I don’t really like it either,” Gray scratches his head. “But it’s for the best.”

I nod and then louder announce, “Well it’s Jo’s night so find something a tad more retro?”

We end up with a red tee and find a belt to tie the look. Josie hugs her brother with thanks when she sees it.

I had on a pair of black bellbottoms paired with a blank tank. My hair was in spacebuns and Josie plucks a few boa feathers to accessorize my hair. It’s cute.

We head off and I have to make a conscious effort to remember my mannerisms with Gray before all this. I feel woozy while I slide my hand into his on the ride there, as Josie snaps our pics on her disposable, as she tells us to get one of us where Gray’s kissing my cheek and she’ll save it to show our kids. It makes me sick.

He keeps an arm on my waist as we walk. I want this night to be over so bad but every time I look Josie’s way I perk back up a little. I wanted her to enjoy this.

And she does. I’m sure she’s lost her voice by the end of the concert. At one point we drift away a little and breathe easier to drop the act but when she’s back Gray wraps his arms around me from behind and we act like a happy couple. Again, I felt sick.

Being in Gray’s arms held none of the spark it used to. I just feel awkward and sad.

At one point Harry looks my way, I don’t know how he spotted me in such a big crowd. It’s between songs and he looks at the group I’m with. I give a pathetic wave and he nods ever so slightly, his gaze sliding off soon after. Gray’s arm tightens around my shoulder and my heart gives a squeeze in response. I’m reminded: this era was ending.

The band told me to meet them backstage at the end, to join in on the final-show celebration. Josie and Gray would wait at a local pub and with the way Josie’s Instagram stories were glowing I could imagine her sitting there uploading it all.

“I couldn’t have done it without any of you,” I catch Harry saying as I slip behind stage with my pass. “I know I’ve not been the easiest to be with but you all sit in my heart. This is our Euro tour, concluded.”

Somebody pops bubbly and I congratulate the whole team as they drink. They insist on going out for proper drinks and I’m denied not going. They tell me to invite my guests to party with them and I know, based on where we were going, Josie was going to flip.

Juniper, a club that gets us all in on Harry’s face card, is opulent and lively on the inside. Josie is buzzing about with her friend—Gray had opted to go home, claiming he had early morning sessions. Josie didn’t think twice about him, but we pretended to go back and forth with a final warning from Gray to Josie to behave.

“He’s a broody one,” Charlie comments on Gray as we chatter while we get drinks. “Sister?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t know yet though so,” I put my finger to my lip.

“So no Barcelona dancing tonight?” Sarah teases. I laugh and tell them to keep me tamed. “We gotta do some shots with the team though where is everyone?”

We gaze around the room and manage to get everyone together. After one round of shots and another that Harry forced on all of us I feel the tension I’ve been carrying with me most days slide away.

We end up sticking together as a group and dance together, laughing and cheering each other on. Even Harry’s in a cheery mood—I suspect the alcohol. I catch him watching me at one point and when I raise my brow he takes my hand and spins me in a friendly twirl. I trip on my wide-legged pants and he catches me from behind. With my back to his chest I have the urge to turn around and kiss him and feel the peculiar comfort I had received from him before. That thought drives me away from him again. Despite the tight knit group there’s too much between us to even attempt being close.

I call it quits when Josie finds me and announces she was going home. I hug the newfound family I had made over the last few months one final goodbye, knowing I might never see them together like this again.

***

Jeff’s reaction to my news surprises me the most. He’s visibly upset and tries to sell me anything to stay. I tell him there was nothing to keep me at my job but I would rely on him for a good reference. I think it’s the first time he’s ever reassured me.

Between Harry and I it remains curt. Sometimes even edgy. I post my own job replacement and Jeff keeps me updated on potential candidates. By the time my last week rolls around I’m host to a roil of emotions.

The first week homeless, Charlie had let me crash on her couch and promised not to say a word to anyone. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome and so I had checked into a hotel and called it home for now.

I’m on my way back home to the hotel after being at Gray’s. We’d invited Josie over for dinner now that her exams were over and she’d been suspicious from the start.

We had told her the truth and she refused to believe it, hurt and betrayal in her eyes as she looked at me and realized she had been kept in the dark for the last week. I felt worse then, than I did when Gray and I called it quits.

I promised her a lunch together this week to talk more. Just because I was out of Gray’s life didn’t mean I had to be out of hers. I thought I could also tell her then that I was leaving to go back home.

On my second last day at work, Harry sends me on an errand near the end of the day. When I get back there’s a small group of friendly and familiar faces waiting to surprise me. I’m touched by the gesture, and I try to corner Harry to say thank you but it feels he avoids me at every chance, always in a larger crowd.

I finally catch him while I’m heading out of the bathroom and he’s heading down the hall.

“Oh hey,” I step in his way. He looks cornered. “I just wanted to say thanks for throwing this.”

“Yeah,” he gestures it was nothing. “It was Jeff’s idea.”

Ouch. I hide the sting. “Well. Thanks regardless.”

He nods, staying mute, but his eyes speak a thousand words—just none that I can read. They stay trained on me, communicating whatever.

Slowly the furrow between his brows eases and the sharp edges of his face give way to a softened expression. I’m scared to move in case I break the trance and don’t get to hear whatever his racing thoughts spit out. Just when it looks like he’s about to say something, a guest turns the corner up the hall.

“Anyone in the toilet?” It was Mitch. Damnit.

“Nope,” I step out of the way, inadvertently brushing Harry. A shiver runs up my spine and I try to act casual but he stiffens beside me. Was it that awful being around me, jeez.

I give up. If he wanted to continue staying moody, so be it. I leave to go back to the party and don’t look back.

My final days in London are hard. The same way I arrived, I go: alone and unsure of what’s ahead.

I always thought here was where I would stay forever. And maybe one day I would return but there was a little too much friction between me and the Capital.

I finish work on an unremarkable note after going through processes with the new hire, and dotting all of my i’s. Harry is nowhere to be seen and I’m gone before he gets back. I’m frustrated that he’s behaving this way but there’s also too much between us for the simple goodbye I yearn for.

I visit all of my old favourites, have one last drink at my old local pub somewhere in between Gray’s flat and Harry’s. I shed a lot of tears on my pilgrimage through the city’s veins. I promise the paved and cobblestone roads I would be back one day.

The walls of my lungs ease open on the flight home. Still, tears cascade down my face silently as the plane sleeps. Eventually I do too. When I wake the sky is filled with bright blinding sunrise, and American soil peeks out below me: I was finally home.

••••••••••••••••••••

Present (2 years on):

My heart flutters seeing Harry here, I chalk it up to anxiety. But it annoys me that despite all the distance and the growth, he still had an effect on me.

Harry’s head turns and before I can be smart about it our eyes lock. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly before his face falls into a nonchalant facade again. I don’t even want to know what my face looked like.

Then he gets the nerve to smirk, hang his head, and then grab his drink and walk towards me.

“If I had a cross I would be holding it up right now.” I have to shout a little so he hears me before he gets to me. He was an emotional vampire feeding on all of mine.

“Now why’s that?” He continues towards me. My emotions swirl through me. “I thought time heals all wounds. Why the unfriendly welcome Mrs. Duran?”

I grit my teeth at the name, he was still filled with poison. “Right, the timeless wisdom of clichés.”

“I like to think I’m pretty timeless.” He smiles.

“I’ve found that time may heal wounds, but scars make sure you never forget.”

“Well, scars aside, you look good,” he moves on and I feel like an idiot the way I was used to feeling around him.

“Of course I do.”

“What are you doing in London? Last I checked I was getting a reference check from America.”

I debate not answering him but I was trying to straddle the line between indifference and confidence. It was like walking a tightrope.

“I’m in London for a little while,” I give vaguely.

“Ah,” he smiles and damnit I forgot how handsome he could be. How handsome could then turn into seductive so quickly. I had to remember: Still a devil. “Are you looking for a new employer? Because I could be hiri-“

“No.” I cut him off. “I finally have a job I love so I’m good.”

Something flickers in his eyes but surprisingly he stays quiet.

“What are you doing here? At The Violinist?” I ask. I sort of wish I still had a drink in my hand, they feel awkward and clunky and I want to avoid playing with my hair. Gah. “Global star drinks alone at his local bar?”

He laughs but I can tell I hit a minor nerve. “Here I’m just a local. Always have been—it’s nice to be anonymous for a little bit.”

I roll my eyes. I didn’t believe that for a second. He loved his fame and everything that came with it.

Plus I used to come here all the time, I would’ve known if my employer was a local too. He was lying for some reason.

“Mr. Styles if there’s one thing I remember about you, you’d choose death over anonymity.”

“Firstly,” he leans in and I get a whiff of his usual cologne with a hint of malt. “A person can change a lot. So maybe you don’t know me as much as you think you do-“

“Oh I don’t think anyone can change that drastically in only a year-“

“You seemed to have.”

His words take mine out of my mouth. I hadn’t changed, not really. I’d always been this y/n but the further I got away from him the more reassured I had gotten being that y/n.

“And secondly,” he continues before I could think of a response. “You no longer work for me. Harry is fine.”

The smile he throws me is almost sweet if I didn’t know the cruelty that could hide underneath. I don’t return the smile, I only raise my brow and look back down at my phone. My cell service hasn’t gotten any better and I’d missed the wifi password.

I could connect to Harry’s wifi, ask him so that I could order an uber.

I’d rather van gogh my ear.

I weigh all my options and consider the last one again. I look up to see what Harry was doing in the silence and find him looking at me. A shiver runs up my spine as our eyes clash. So much history and words unspoken fall in between. A very specific night flashes through my mind. I wonder if it does him because he looks down first. Damn.

“So I’ve gotta get going,” I say.

“Let me buy you a drink.” He says at the same time.

He laughs awkwardly and repeats, “One drink?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“We’re not drinking buddies.” I pull my purse to my chest, wanting to hop off this stool and run home if I need to. Put as much distance between myself and this man that was put on this earth to confuse me.

“Then what are we y/n?” He asks, his voice silky smooth as he leans in. The voice that whispered sweet nothings into my ear in my worst nightmares, nightmares of cotton sheets and heated limbs, of passion and shame.

“Ex-employer,” I point to him. I point to myself, “Ex-employee.”

“Exes have drinks together,” he grins full well knowing the double meaning.

“Never ends well,” I eye the door.

“Just as stubborn as I remember.”

“And you were saying people change?” I raise my brow.

He drops the smile and sighs, “I’m not gonna be able to convince ya am I?”

I shake my head. He should know that by now.

“Can I walk you out at least?”

I shrug, couldn’t hurt.

“What is this?” I ask as he opens the door for me.

“What?”

“This? Why are you trying to be so friendly?”

“I thought we could be friendly exes.”

And when did he get so cheeky.

“Something weird is going on,” I watch him stay in step with me as I walk up. With no service I was going to take the tube. “And I don’t like it.”

“Nothing weird is going on don’t get all paranoid on me.”

“Don’t call me paranoid! You never call a woman paranoid.”

“I thought that was conspiracy theorists?”

“Nooo. You’re being weird.”

"Alright, no need to get all Freudian on me. Just trying to be a decent human here."

I shake my head, somehow in our exchange my face had decided it was okay to smile. To forget what he put me through and remember instead that when things were good between us we actually got along.

Damnit. The devil knew how to play tricks. I wipe the smile off my face while he continues walking with me.

“So…what have you been up to?” He asks.

“Working, you know me.” I say after trying to figure out what his angle was but unable to find one.

“Oretta Smith I hear, how did you manage that?”

“I’m just that good Harry,” I say. His name is weird in my mouth. Sure I called him that in my head but I usually used Mr. Styles. I can tell he feels the same with his quick glance my way.

“How do you like that?”

“Yeah, she’s a great employer like I said. Very professional. Lots of flexibility.” Each praise is a knock to his ego. But it was all true, plus with Winnie joining the team I had a friend my age that felt great.

But there was also a darker side called burnout that I barely admitted to myself. Ever since we landed in London and I had time to orient my new self in a city that molded my old self, I felt the familiar singe of purposeless. But I keep it to myself of course.

“Great.” Harry responds curtly. “What about yourself? How’s your life, are you finally married?”

My instinct is to raise my defences and chew him out, he must know Gray and I were done what with me living in the States.

And yet, when I peer past the defences and take a long hard look at him I realize he is asking earnestly and without another angle.

We’re nearing the tube now. I hesitate in lying or telling the truth.

“We broke up,” I choose to confess. I peek at him and he looks surprised, even sorry.

“I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“I’d hope not,” I reply. “Otherwise you’d be an asshole calling me Mrs. Duran.”

He huffs an awkward laugh.

“Anyway this is me—

“I can give you a ride home—wherever that is right now?” He asks.

We’re stood in front of the glass doors. There’s not a lot of people this time of night. And as tempting as his offer was, the way he looks at me right now sends poisonous butterflies to my stomach and I think it’s best I get home for the big day tomorrow and not make any regrets.

“I’m not too far,” I lie. I point a thumb to the doors behind me. “I’m just gonna…”

“Yeah. Yeah right.” He’s awkward, which is a first. He clears his throat and stuffs his hand into his pocket. I watch him with a removed sort of curiosity. Eventually he coughs out his question. “How long are you in London for?”

“A few weeks,” I reply.

He finally meets my eyes again—and there goes my stomach. He was supposed to have zero effect on me, I was supposed to stay mad at him. Why was my body betraying me? Why did it continue to loop memories from that night and remind me of the things he whispered in the dark?

“A few weeks,” he murmurs back.

His gaze travels over my face openly, no longer holding back the barely-hidden expressions from before. Because I told him Gray and I weren’t a thing? Because I was entertaining whatever bullshit this was?

“Yep,” I nod. Awkward. Nervous. Cautious.

“My number’s the same,” his eyes snap back to mine. “If you want to go for that drink later.”

“Harry,” I try to break it to him another way. I wish I could just say I never want that drink. “I don’t think-“

“Don’t think,” he cuts me off. He laughs when I furrow my brows. “I mean, I’m right here for most of the next few weeks. When you feel like you want to have that drink just give me a call. Or text.”

Why, I want to ask him. Why, after all this time, after everything that happened? And it’s like he reads my mind in the silence.

“I know you left on a pretty poor note.” He shuffles his feet. “I know a lot of that was my fault. I apologize for that. Um, but I did enjoy having you around. You were excellent at your job and…you are missed. Even Jeff remembers you fondly. Which is saying something.”

This was some sort of prank. Or Harry had gotten so famous he now had a doppelgänger roaming the streets as him. It couldn’t be that Harry, my Harry, would say something so sentimental and so…genuine.

“So uh yeah, I would love to see you again while you’re in town.” He says when I don’t respond.

“Right.” I choke out.

He shrugs when I can’t bring myself to say anything more. “We do change, whether you believe it or not y/n.”

I swallow, hoping to lubricate my vocal cords and find my voice. “I-I really do have to go.”

Crestfallen, he nods. His hand comes up to touch my elbow. “Yeah ‘course. Just…think about it?”

I look down at his hand and he lets go, we stay in another bubble of silence. His eyes flicker down to my lips and I feel a wave of warmth as I try not to do the same.

“Goodnight,” I blurt and get to the other side of the glass doors. He watches me go.

On the escalator down I risk a glance back and he’s still there, watching until I’m out of sight. That ended incredibly awkward.

Leave it up to Harry to confuse me in coming back into my life. Damn him, he could never be consistent.

***

Waking up super early to catch the train out to Cambridge is so worth it because I get to watch Josie walk the stage and graduate with distinction wearing her famous smile that beams over the vast room.

Despite what happened with Gray and I, Josie and I have kept in touch steadily over the last year. It started as weekly facetimes which reduced down to monthly calls and have now become a steady stream of texts and memes swapped back and forth.

When she found out I’d be in London around her graduation dates she gave me no choice but to show up, sending me a ticket without asking.

I knew I’d see Gray, and a part of me was nervous and curious how that was going to go. But mostly I was grateful to still be in Josie’s life and spend time with her in person. She was the part of this life I missed most.

I’m sat somewhere in the middle of the room and Josie was smart enough not to seat me with the rest of her guests. But I know I would see everyone during photos and the dinner we were having later on. I try keep my focus on the ceremony however.

“Y/N!” Josie rushes towards me when she sees me after the ceremony. The group she departs from I recognize is a mix of her girl friends, her family, and a few others.

“Josie!” I return the same energy and she leaps into my arms. I squeeze her tight to me. “I’m soo proud of you my girl.”

We sway side to side, until we get enough hug.

“Look at you!” She exclaims when she leans back. “Your hair looks amazing and you are glowing. Please tell me you have a boy in your life.”

“No,” I laugh.

“A girl?” She asks hesitantly.

“No! I’m just…happy where I am right now! How about you look at you! You look phenomenal as per.”

“Oh thanks,” she takes the compliment and giggles. “I asked my dad to grad gift me a salon and spa visit so I am rejuvenated and blown out.”

“Aren’t you ever,” I touch a lock of her hair. “Congratulations.”

“Eek!” She squeals. “Finally finished this hellscape! I can’t wait to never write an exam again—ooh wait I want you to meet my boy…”

“So that’s why we’re actually glowing,” I tease as she tugs me towards the group. That definitely has Gray. My stomach drops the closer we get, he doesn’t seem to notice. He looks busy talking to one of Josie’s friends.

“Anyway,” she deposits me in front of a 6 foot something guy made of angles. “This is Jax. My boyfriend. We met during a Friendsgiving Myles threw last year.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jax smiles. “Y/N right?”

“Yes!”

“I was supposed to get around to that,” Josie huffs.

“Sorry she talked about you a lot when she found out you were coming. She was really excited.”

“Ugh,” she turns to me like she was embarrassed but her face is glowing. Josie was in looove.

“You two are so cute,” I tease which just makes Josie blush a little harder. “So are we getting any pictures?”

“Oh yeah,” Jax swivels his head. “Liliya has the good camera if you want to get-“

“Oh we can use our phones,” Josie cuts him off.

“No get the high res one—Liliya, camera?” Jax motions a shuttering action to the friend Gray was talking to. He’s so tall above the crowd that both look up at him and comply.

“Y/N,” Josie drags my arms back and takes me on the outskirt of the crowd. “I’m so sorry I never mentioned because I thought you wouldn’t come if I did tell you but you-“

“Y/N?”

Josie’s rushed whispers are cut short when Gray notices me and calls my name. He looks stupefied. I spare a glance to Josie and she’s paled.

She didn’t tell him.

“Hey,” I force a friendly tone. I was going to kill that girl.

“Did you all want a photo?” Josie’s friend Liliya shoulders her way back into the circle with the camera on a strap. She turns to Gray, “Babe?”

It’s an odd sensation, like all oxygen has left my lungs and they’re being squeezed as if tightened in a vice. Gray’s eyes drag away from me to his…girlfriend? Definitely not Josie’s friend.

It shakes me in the moment how much I realize I still cared, still carried a shred of hope for…something. And not consciously knowing this makes this moment feel a little like a slap in the face.

What did I think? I was going to leave this country for a year and people were going to pause where I last left them? Of course Gray’s moved on. Aside from the end he was a great partner and anybody would want that.

These thoughts race through my head in the few seconds Gray responds to his girlfriend and I look at Josie. She looks guilty as charged.

“I tried to tell you just now?” She whispers.

Deep breaths, I remind myself. You’re not the hot-headed y/n these people knew last. This day is not about you. It’s about Josie.

“It’s cool. Let’s get some photos,” I smile. “Don’t want to miss having them with you.”

She sighs but keeps her eyes on my face as we walk farther out.

“I am really sorry,” she whispers.

“Hey it’s alright,” I lie. This was the worst of it—Gray had moved on, had a great girlfriend, and I was living the life I wanted. No harm and no foul. “Honestly Jo I get it, you wanted me here reallllly bad.”

“I did!” She says. “But I’m also gonna kill Jax.”

I laugh and we straighten up when we realize the camera was already pointed at us. Josie flashes her degree and a few of her friends join the pictures too. We hustle back to Gray to see them and flipping back on the first few makes my breath catch in my throat. There’s one in particular where Josie is turned to me talking and my mouth is in a big grin because I’m laughing.

I catch eyes with Gray in an uncomfortably intimate second.

“Send me that one for sure wow Gray that’s a really good shot.”

“Oh wow,” his girlfriend peers over. “That’s a great candid.”

“Yeah,” I agree. I’d love a copy too. And of course that’s when Gray’s girlfriend notices me and introduces herself.

“I don’t think we’ve met—is that an American accent I detect?”

“It is,” I smile. “I’m Y/N.”

“Oh!” Two spots of pink appear on her face. It seems she’s heard of me. “Well it’s nice to meet you—nice that Josie invited you! I’m Liliya but Lily works too.”

“C’mon!” Josie interrupts the awkward by grabbing her brother’s arm and pushes him in the direction of where her friends are posing for photos. He takes some shots but Josie hates the look of them and gives the camera to Lily instead.

With just Gray and I left behind it grows very awkward.

“I thought Josie told everyone I would be-“ I say just as he says, “I didn’t realize you would be-“

We stop and chuckle awkwardly.

“Sorry,” I shake my head.

“No,” he shrugs. “It’s cool. It’s cool you’re here actually.”

“Okay,” is all I can say. Until the awkward silence stretches. “So…Liliya?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Liliya. You?”

I want to lie, but I shake my head. “No. Sorta needed the year to breathe a little.”

“Fair. How’s America?”

“Oh y’know, still super-sized and politically a guessing game.”

“Have you turned on our news while you’ve been down at all?” He raises a brow. I laugh because he was right. It was all a shitshow everywhere.

He asks me about my family as Josie jogs up to us.

“Okay, tell me the truth is my hair going flat?”

“No,” I look behind her where her friends are hovering over Lily and the camera going over their photos.

“Good. Where’s mum and dad?” Josie asks Gray. “Dad was just here 10 minutes ago he said he’d come by for—oh there’s mum! Look!”

We turn to where she points. Michelle—what I’ve always called Gray’s mom, spots her daughter at the same time and waves. She starts to walk towards us.

It’s nice to see her but I also feel a bit nervous; going cold turkey on relationships you only had because of an ex are always weird to come back to. Especially ones you were fond of.

“Mum! You’re missing all the pictures!” Josie says. “Where’ve you been!?”

“I just saw somebody I knew back from my first job as a librarian can you believe that?” Michelle says as she joins the group.

“Crazy. Well mum look who got to show up today! Isn’t that crazy too?”

Michelle looks at me and the bright smile that was intended for her daughter dies like a flower in overnight frost. The look wipes the anticipation off my face.

“Who?”

That one word shades the sun from the sky and brings forth a gust of western winds through the group.

“Mum,” Josie look between me, her mum, and Gray. She’s confused. “Y/N?”

“Hey Michelle,” I croak. Maybe my hair was too different for her to recognize me, or maybe she had early onset alzheimers. Surely this woman who I’ve had a better relationship with than her own son has wouldn’t be treating me like your worst frenemy at your high school reunion.

But Michelle looks right through me. I can’t explain how it feels, not in the moment. I’m gutted, and feel an unexplainable wave of sadness.

“Mum…” Josie sounds hurt and Gray finally decides to swoop in.

“Mum let’s check out the photos we took already. We gotta get some of the three of us.”

They walk away and I feel seven inches tall but I turn to Josie with a brave face and face her teary one.

“That was kind of awkward,” I downplay.

“Y/N I’m honestly so sorry I-,” Josie blinks rapidly.

“No it’s ok!”

“I don’t know why she acted like that-“

“Hey It’s natural for her to feel that way I’m alright don’t get upset-“

“It’s not alright though! That was such a…she never acts like that.”

It was true. Michelle was a free-spirit as she called herself. That’s why Gray had such a hard relationship with her; in his words, she was too emotional and ungrounded for him.

Yet apparently, she was able to find enough ground to stand on when it came to treating me like a nobody. I wonder if it’s because she heard Gray’s biased side of the story or she was hurt herself—still, the way she’s always talked about herself never struck me as someone who would believe a one-sided story. Or be a bitch to someone they previously called their daughter. It hurt like a mofo.

I didn’t want Josie to find out this way, here of all places, that her mom was just human after all. She idolized that woman.

So even though it hurt, I comfort her instead.

“She probably just feels betrayed by me leaving and stuff since we were close too. Imagine if Jax broke up with you and she gave him the cold shoulder—wouldn’t you feel justified?”

Josie scrunches her brows to think about the simplified story I’ve just fed her to feel better. I can tell it still doesn’t sit well with her but she nods in acceptance, “I guess.”

“Yeah, just forget it Josie. Plus you’ve got pictures to take so dry those eyes.”

“Shit I know,” she blinks some more. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to invite you here and twist the knife at every bloody turn.”

“Jo I’m honoured to get to be here and see all your hard work pay off. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“It’s unfair,” she says before she drifts to her group of friends. “I feel like nobody understands how…how understanding you are. But I’m really glad we’re still in touch. And you came for me.”

Her words bring tears to my eyes and I nod, afraid that talking would bring them forward. I watch her crash her group and start instructing photo coordination. I help hold things for people while they take photos and feel like a stranger outside the crowd. If it weren’t for Josie, I think I would have regretted coming here. I feel homesick and unwanted. A tough combo.

I was supposed to crash on someone’s couch tonight and do brunch with Josie tomorrow before going back to London but from the last half hour alone I know I’m going back to the city no matter how late it gets tonight. I think of the hotel room that was home right now, of how lonely that was going to feel to go back to too.

Home right now was in America, in the same time zone as my family, and comfortable in my shared apartment with one of my high school best friends who I reconnected with after going back home. I miss it so bad. And I feel like I’ve bitten into an unripe fruit coming back to the UK before I was ready apparently. My experience feels soured.

I shake off the doom and gloom when the party breaks. We were all going to meet at the restaurant at 6–my plan was to explore the university city and find a place to kill some time in. Maybe go outside to a park with lunch. Josie tries to convince me to join her and her friends for their mid-day celebration but I lie and tell her I had some work to do.

I call Winnie on my stroll through the city. I insist she update me on last night first, and she has more to tell—the guy had a yacht and he was inviting her to a party tonight. She tells me to join if I came back early and we cross our fingers that Oretta wouldn’t need her before then.

I originally called her to rant about Michelle and Gray but I don’t, I didn’t want to kill her vibe. So I scroll through my other contacts but don’t want to worry my mom and it was too early back home to reach anyone else.

My eyes catch on Harry’s name, he was at the top of my texts currently because he sent me a link this afternoon asking me for thoughts on it. I hadn’t opened it yet, I wasn’t sure what to think about this new persona he was wearing or that he thought yesterday’s run-in went okay enough to casually message me for my thoughts.

I remember the weird electricity of yesterday and shove my phone back into my pocket.

He genuinely wanted to have a drink? And talk??

I did enjoy having you around. You were excellent at your job and you are missed.

Was he trying to make up for his cruel words? But he also seemed a lot more mellow than before. Maybe that was just because I didn’t work for him. What did he want? And was I twisted for believing the new schtick?

Most curious of all was him at the pub in the first place. He was not a local there—that was a big lie.

I try to conjure up my previous hatred, calling him the Devil in my head. But it’s harder to do. Seeing him yesterday, he was just a man standing in front of a woman with a head full of cautionary tales and bad experiences.

Without warning images from that night come back and I feel my heart flutter. I shut them down just as quick. Not all bad, my body tries to remind me. I tell it to shut up.

I’ve barely stepped foot in this country again and already my mind was running circles around my heart. How exhausting.

***

I’m early to the restaurant, before anyone else apparently. As the hostess finds my name on her floor plan Josie comes in behind me with Jax.

“Oh! Y/n you’re early!” She seems flustered.

“Yeah I didn’t think I would be,” it was only a few minutes to 6.

We make small talk while we’re led to the table, Josie’s eyes keep darting to where our table might be.

“Sorry I was hoping to do this before you came,” she says when we get there. There are name cards along the 7 seats and she picks the one in front of me. “I’m just gonna move mum to my other side so it doesn’t get weird. Which means she’ll be closer to dad but…I think he’s bailing since his girlfriend doesn’t want to do this.”

Josie shrugs, I know how she feels about her dad’s girlfriend. She begins explaining the plans she has to do dinner with her dad later this week and the more she talks the more I can tell that she feels awkward. And I hate that it’s because of me. At one point Jax and I catch eyes and pass an awkward smile.

“Josefina Duran,” I walk up to her fiddling with the name tags. She stops talking immediately. I grip her shoulders. “Thanks.”

“Sorry,” she whispers. I wrap my arms around her and she melts into me.

“Stop apologizing.”

“Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s a disease.”

We let go with a laugh and she seems more stable. “This is going to be fine.”

Famous last words.

It’s definitely not fine and very awkward. Jax ends up sitting in front of me, and even though Liliya’s name tag was beside mine it’s suddenly swapped as they slide in and Gray sits beside me. I guess it might be too awkward for her but not awkward enough to fit someone we both dated between us.

I can sense Michelle’s pinched face as she notices us sitting beside each other and I feel badly for Josie the most as she tries to play the gracious host. At one point I sense Jax laying a hand on her arm and taking over, asking Michelle questions about her yoga and getting her talking.

“Did you need more?” Gray turns to me with the wine bottle, it’s the second thing he’s said to me tonight. Otherwise he mostly just watches me talk and leans back enough when others are talking so I can be involved.

“I’m okay,” I whisper. I didn’t want to draw any attention while Michelle was talking. She hadn’t said a peep to me, even when Josie tried to involve us both in a shared memory. She continued acting like I was Casper the ghost.

I can feel Lily’s eyes on us as Gray offers wine, of course they would be. No wonder Gray barely spoke to me all night. Fuck me, what was I doing here.

Jax is a sweetheart, asking me about my job and encouraging conversation between the both of us. I’m so happy for Josie that she found a partner like him.

By the time dinner is over I mostly want to cry. I feel spent. But I also feel like I crashed an intimate dinner and everyone’s polite enough not to mention it. Despite Josie, I do actually regret coming.

As we pay the bill and shuffle out, Josie grabs my arm.

“So I have two friends where you can crash at their place or Jax can sleep over at mine and you can sleep at his or-“

“I think I’m gonna head back to the city.”

Her face falls. But it’s like she knew I was going to say that.

“Sorry Jo. I think you should come to the city next week—maybe visit your brother? And while you’re down we’ll do brunch then. I’m mostly free while I’m here. I’m just pretty tired and have to help Winnie with something tomorrow.”

“Really?” She says in the smallest voice I’ve heard out of her. Salt to my wounds.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know we were looking forward to getting time together.”

She juts out her lip and I’m reminded of the girl I met when I first started dating Gray. How she’d taken to me so quickly. How the whole family had. How things could end up like this.

And suddenly I see the future laid out in front of me. After tonight it would be hard to keep this relationship going—Josie and I. She’s just seen her mom be an unreasonable bitch for the first time, I can tell she’s been trying to compensate all night but the cracks won’t go away. It’ll always be a sitting duck between us.

We might try to stay in touch, maybe I’d reach out if I was ever in London or if she ever visited the west coast. But this would fizzle out.

She was still young and naive enough that her mom hung the moon and stars; mom’s beliefs were gospel, her opinions were rulings, and she’d just delivered my ultimate sentence: I was a black sheep to the family. How could sweet Josie walk through a mess like that?

“I’m so proud of you,” I tell her as I fight tears. “Congratulations again and thank you for inviting me.”

“Thanks. And you don’t have to be so nice. I know it was kind of a shitty invite.”

“No,” I insist. “I loved being here. I don’t regret showing up for you. I can’t wait to hear what you get up to.”

“I’m going to make sure to make it to the city next week,” she squeezes my arm. “We’ll see each other soon.”

“Exactly,” I look over at the rest of the group, where her boyfriend waits for her. Her family. “And I really like Jax, so good on you for that.”

“He…” she twists her lips, swallowing what she was going to say before vomiting it out. “I always aspired to have a relationship like yours and Gray’s. I never wanted to settle for anything less so that’s…that’s why Jax.”

“Hm I think you made us the bar and you leapt over it babe,” I wrap my arms around her again. I ache with the loss of what we used to be.

“See you soon,” she says before she drags herself back to the group.

I stand off to the side, awkwardly ordering an Uber. The group begins to walk the opposite way waving bye to me. I breathe easier without the weight of them around.

As I tap my foot in anticipation of the ride to the station arriving, I feel a hand tap my shoulder.

“Y/n,” it’s Gray. “Hey I…I just wanted to say something before you left.”

“Oh. Hey yeah. Shoot.”

What was it with everyone wanting to say something to me.

“Uh…ok give me a minute,” he laughs in the way I know to mean he was feeling nervous. “I just sort of jogged back impulsively.”

“Yeah well you have,” I glance at my phone. “4 or so minutes.”

“Damn,” he ruffles his hair. “Alright. I think I just wanna say sorry.”

“Oh.” That was it. Everyone had something to say to me and the something was apparently sorry.

“Yeah I’m sorry. I…when we broke up I was so upset and caught up in my own head. I blamed you for everything. I think it only hit me when you just up and moved out of the country how things actually went down.”

I hadn’t told anyone but Josie that I was leaving.

“Yeah you were just like gone.” He continues. “I guess a part of me thought we’d get some space, maybe circle back later…”

“You really betrayed me,” I remind him.

But even I know what he means. He hurt me bad and it might be crazy stupid but on some level we were both aware we were in an ugly place and maybe with some space we might come back to the place that was good for us again. Maybe bump into each other one day, strike up a conversation, find there might still be a small amount of love left. Enough to water and grow again.

“I know,” he sighs. “I know. I hate that I hurt you like that. I regret…I actually don’t really hang out with that group of friends as much anymore. I sorta have myself to blame but I didn’t like who I was with them.”

I listen, letting him speak. It hurt too, knowing this was the Grayson I had fallen in love with. Kind and supportive, and now apparently he’s learned to communicate. Maybe that was a Lily thing.

“I guess,” he blows the air out of his cheeks. “I want to say I’m really truly sorry. I missed you a lot after you left. Nothing was the same and life was fucking hard. I wish things didn’t end the way they did and I stayed mature but I was just jealous and angry.”

I nod to acknowledge what he’s saying and watch him take a breath to continue.

“And I always appreciated how you never let us shake your relationship with my sister because she bloody loves you—I don’t think how mum treated you was right today but I never really understood her in the first place. I’m sorry about that.”

“Yeah,” is all I can manage without making it obvious how emotional this was all making me. How one year could make me feel like a completely different person. How this man I loved, and still love in some way, could stand in front of me talking about us as something in the past. Because we were. Long past.

My phone dings with a notification that my ride would be here. We glance down and out into the street.

“Anyway,” he swallows. “I just wanna apologize. And say I genuinely hope you find love y/n. Love that’s as fierce and loyal as you are. I hope you can forgive me one day. And I hope you’re successful as hell in whatever you pour yourself into.”

“Thank you Gray,” I want to say I was sorry too. For what it was worth. But my car pulls to the curb.

I wave at the driver to let them know I’d ordered it and we walk the few feet to the back door.

I face Gray and open my mouth to say it. Say something more: how I appreciated his words, how I was sorry for how things ended too, how I hope he is happy. But nothing comes out of my mouth. I just stare at him, my eyes welling with tears instead.

Gray holds out his hand and I look down at it. I knew those hands well and it’s like walking into a place you used to frequent in the past and have memories rush towards you as you remember: those hands held me and wrapped around my own and comforted me, they made me food and stroked my hair, and carried my bags when they got too heavy. They once wore an engagement band I gifted, they once held a small box with a life-changing question I had said yes to.

Now it was just a hand.

I clasp it and he squeezes.

“I know,” he says, his eyes trained on my watery ones. He squeezes again and lets go.

I rush into the car, those two words nearly cracking me in half. I wave goodbye through the tinted window and feel a wave of despair that pulls me down into the depths of darkness.

Too much was happening at once.

My emotions spiral out of me and I feel alone in this foreign country; I needed comfort where none could be found.

I don’t mean to. Or maybe I do. But on the train back to London I text Harry: is it too early to cash in on the drink?

His response is immediate: no, I was waiting for this text last night

I smile, despite myself.

Can I come over? I text with shaking hands.

H: For drinks?

Y: For drinks

H: Ofc.

***

The taxi drops me in front of the familiar building. I feel an echo of anxiety pierce through me as I go through the familiar doors. I nod at the concierge, the night replacement was new and I’m grateful nobody can recognize me making this potentially stupid decision.

For a brief second I wonder if Harry had other plans tonight but decide not to overthink it. He’d invited me openly. And maybe I was making a decision based on sadness and loneliness and grief and needing to be wanted but I make it. And I would make it like a grown woman—ready to accept the consequences.

I didn’t want to go back to my lonely hotel room. I didn’t want to call anyone and talk about what just happened. I didn’t have words. My body was taking the beating, feeling everything under the sun and now bruised and battered for it. I just wanted my body to forget that. And there was only one person in this godforsaken city that could help.

I’m let up to the penthouse and I forgot it had a distinct smell, wood-like and something indescribable. Weird that it felt comforting.

“You made it,” Harry comes into view in a simple pair of shorts and a long-sleeved white tee pushed up to his elbows. It’s the sleeves that really do it.

“I did.”

I leave my bags beside the elevator next to the umbrella stand, keeping my eyes on him. He doesn’t take his off mine either. I’m glad he doesn’t. Now I know he knows we both said drinks but meant something more.

He reaches out for me before I even get to him, and I know I would think about that later. A lot. But right then in the middle of his entryway I wrap my arms around his neck and lean up on my toes to reach him too.

His lips are soft against mine and he tucks me into him, his hand splayed out on my lower back. It feels like a return to a lover, someone who knows you, like I would’ve thought seeing Gray again would feel. But it’s just Harry, and the thought of baseless familiarity freaks me out a little.

The next time I feel his lips they’re on my jaw and neck and down to the base of my throat. He murmurs my name as he makes his way down and my body reacts immediately. He takes me by the waist and backs me up against the nearest wall, and I have a feeling I might fall.

I had made the conscious decision to walk into the devil’s lair because it was the only place I could get what I needed.

My fingers dig into his shoulders. My body wants this. Every part of me wants to pull him close and hold him and never let go. I wanted all of it tonight.

But I am so tired.

I put a hand on his chest and press gently. I can feel the warmth of his skin, the firmness of his muscles and the beat of his heart as he pauses.

“Sorry, I should have started with a hello. That was too fast was it?” He whispers, looking me straight in the eyes.

I have a million answers, but nothing comes. He puts his hand over mine and I feel it as a shiver runs up my spine.

"Is this too fast?" he asks again, and I hear the worry in his voice.

I shake my head.

He gives a breathy laugh, "Then tell me."

"I think I-“

“Don’t,” he covers my mouth with a laugh. “Please please. Don’t think.”

I smile under his palm and he drops his hand, I can tell he’s proud of lightening the moment by the sheen in his eyes. The moment is tender in a way that takes me back.

He brushes back my hair and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes, breathing in his cologne.

“That’s not where I want to be kissed,” I tell him.

“Then where?” He plays along.

“Anywhere but there.”

He kisses my nose. “There?”

“Not there,” I open my eyes to look up at him. “I’ll have you know that was very snotty just an hour ago.”

He groans, “you really have a way of taking the desire out of a situation.”

But his brows furrow and he watches me even closer.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I respond to his unasked question.

With that statement he takes a painful step back and I nearly slide down the wall without his support.

“What?” I ask.

“We should take that drink first.”

I feel the loss of his body pressed against mine, I realize miserably.

“What do you mean? I thought the drinks were just an excuse?” I ask.

He laughs a little, “Maybe tonight, but I really did want to have a drink with you. And talk.”

“Harry,” I groan. “I’m all out of talking tonight. Truly.”

“As much as I want to say forget talking and take you to bed I need to do this…just follow me,” he leads me and my flushed body through to the main living area which I was well familiar with but it’d gotten a facelift. I make commentary on the changes and he tells me more about it as he pulls a wine he wants out for us.

“I changed things around a little after you left,” he says as he hands me the wine glass. “I needed it. The change.”

“Oh.” Is all I can muster. I follow him to the sofa, tonight he doesn’t leave as much space between us but it still feels like a weird parallel to the night I landed in the hospital; a confrontation with Gray leading me to wine with Harry. “Look Harry I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Why not?”

“I…I’m at minimal capacity right now I just-“

“Just let me talk then.”

“Why does everyone want to talk!”

“I need to tell you what I should have said a long time ago and I want to apologize-“

“You already did-“

“Properly.”

I cross my arms and sigh.

“Y/n bloody hell I forgot how quickly you can get under my skin.”

“So this isn’t a great thing then.”

“Y/N,” he says my name like a warning and I want to comply. I roll my eyes and knock back my glass of wine, the buzz from the glass at dinner has long since worn away.

“Part of me wants to top you up but another part remembers what happened last time.” Harry eyes me.

“No I’m okay with just one glass. Drinking when I’m upset doesn’t end well.”

“Yeah…I don’t want you concussed on my watch again.”

“No we don’t want that,” we smile at each other, a soft and sentimental smile that gets the anxious stuttering of my heart to calm down a little. He just wanted to talk, so what?

But the anxious voice runs through the scenarios he might want to—his recent text, or something I did as his PA he wants to take up now. Gah.

“I really have missed having you around,” he says softly.

“Didn’t feel like you would with how you treated me.” I raise my brow.

“I know.” He pauses then mumbles something before talking to me directly. “You must have heard about the PA before you? Maybe from Riley?”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Hmmm this feels like a trick question.” I say but he tells me he just wants to know what I knew. So I rip the bandaid off. “You had a fling with her.”

He hangs his head back over the seat of the sofa and sighs. “I knew that piece of…Riley makes me really mad when I think about him sometimes.”

“Does he?” I raise my brow. “I can think of someone else who makes me madder.”

“I know that’s supposed to be me. And I don’t know what to do about that except come clean right now.”

“And why is that?” I ask. “Coming clean? I came here just to get distracted in bed with you. I never thought I’d live to see the day where a guy like you wants to talk instead.”

“Y/N,” he says with such an intense look my way my stomach flips. “Trust me. I want to have you in my bed more than you do. But I told myself if that day ever somehow happened it would be after this.”

I shrug, let him continue. In reality his words make me weak and I can’t speak. Which kind of annoys me—why did he have such a strong pull over me? How did he so easily admit he’s thought about me, about having me in his bed!?

My heart flutters amongst other things.

I remember a brief conversation I had with my mom last year when she asked me why I wasn’t putting myself out there and dating again and I told her I just didn’t have the heart for it. She had said it seems I left my heart in London—my passion and my heart. Sitting here with Harry stirs something inside of me, scares me, and I want to distract that with more wine. But I manage to control myself.

“I was fairly new to the industry when I hired Riley and it was his second proper job or something so we were both a bit young and we ended up being friendlier than we should have.” Harry starts. “But he was great at his job and never gave me any issues. I stayed naïve that people in this industry would look out for my best interest-“

“That’s really naïve,” I can’t help but comment but he throws me a look and I zip my lips. “Sorry.”

“I was lucky that the first few relationships I built as I got my foot in the door were genuine but I realized too late that it wasn’t a norm. Everyone wanted a piece of me and they all wanted me to be someone else. Some angle. Shit hit the fan pretty quickly. So when I needed more help I decided to create a new role for Riley and hire a PA. She was seasoned and came highly recommended.”

I nod along to his story.

“Long story short, she started out good but she kept trying to get me alone and get me talking. And back then after being friends with my old PA I didn’t have the wisdom of setting boundaries—don’t give me that look.”

“What!” I raise my hands. “I’m just listening.”

“You’re judging me.”

“Just continue,” I encourage. I was judging a little.

“Anyway, where I thought we were just friendly she thought I—I dunno I was falling for her or something. And one night she was working late so she had dinner here. She kept refilling my drink I didn’t realize she wasn’t drinking as much. It’s not much of an excuse but by the time she came onto me I was pissed and it didn’t take much.”

He continues the story like it was nothing but his voice catches a little and he doesn’t look me in the eye. My insides grow colder. I want to reach inside of him and hold the old Harry, the naive one who didn’t know better.

“Please don’t feel bad for me,” he cuts my sympathy short. “I didn’t turn into a great person after that. Especially with how I treated you.”

“That’s right.” I pretend to be unaffected by his story like he wanted me to be. But it’s near impossible.

“So that’s how I decided it was best for me to play the asshole. I couldn’t fire her after that—it would look awful and she could report me and screw me over. But I could make working for me a nightmare and so I did. A few months later she quit.”

He sighs and takes a swig of his wine, “Then you came along and I thought ‘I should play the asshole from the get go.’ I had gotten good by then at compartmentalizing my personality in the industry.”

“Hmph,” I raise a brow. He has the decency to look embarrassed but he continues.

“But the more time we spent together the worse I felt. You were nothing like the previous PA. You were genuine and down-to-earth. Pretty fiery but I wouldn’t find that out until later,” he grins. I roll my eyes. “I tried to ease up a little but things kept happening to push me back into the asshole box.”

“But you were so snappy, and a dick.”

“I know. I didn’t know how to tell you you worked too hard without dropping the asshole act and making you feel even shittier.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had to be the villain in your story-“

“What?” What was he talking about?

“Yeah like, you were working all the time even though there were some times I told you to wrap it up for the day.”

I remembered that, thinking he was kicking me out.

“But you took the job so seriously. I appreciated everything you did but you were dogged at making sure you did the best at any cost.”

“What do you mean? At any cost?” I ask, a cold sensation running down my back.

“For example take that one time a few months in when I asked you to call me because you forgot to order wine. You bloody came all the way back to hand deliver it-“

“Yeah because you said to call you and you were gonna be pissed if I-“

“No, y/n,” he lays a hand between us. “I just wanted you to call to know where you usually ordered from so I could order that for myself. You weren’t in any trouble! But I could only blame myself for playing the hard asshole too well.”

I think about that night, Josie’s birthday party. How I left early and upset Gray. How I didn’t need to but I had been following the Dos and Dont’s list.

Shit, the lists. They were added onto by the last PA who, now I know, was having her life made into hell just so she would quit. Some of those lists were on an extreme I didn’t even have to follow. Fuck. That was on me.

My face must be a painting of regret because Harry apologizes again.

“I’m sorry but I didn’t want you to…I just felt like I had to play the villain so you could do what you had to do. So you could continue hating me and we could establish the clear boundary.”

“Right.” I have a bitter taste in my mouth.

“But I genuinely liked you, I thought you were funny and sensitive-“

“You don’t like my sensitivity.”

“I do. I just hated how angry you were-“

“Because of you.”

“I know. I created a monster, I’m Frankenstein.”

“Damn straight.” I agree and we pause a beat before laughing.

“Anyway,” he continues. “You were funny and sensitive and resilient, passionate and smart, and you cared so deeply. It was rare meeting people like you in this field. I wanted to wrap you in bubble wrap but I think I shattered you instead. I’m sorry for the way I just let my past colour your time here. I feel like you left because of me-“

“It was really a lot of reasons.”

“I know but I was part of that and I felt no good. After you left I was a miserable son of a bitch for a while. I couldn’t even enjoy my holiday because I kept thinking of you. I was miserable so I barely even said goodbye—I didn’t realize you were going to run away so far. But I also didn’t want to say goodbye because I was scared I would convince you to stay by spilling my truth.”

His words sit on my chest and they slowly sink down to my stomach. I don’t know what it meant, what he wanted me to do with this confession. It’s too much.

“Mostly,” he continues, shifting closer to me on the sofa. He lowers his voice, “Mostly I’m sorry about Barcelona.”

I flush at the mention of it. At the heat and passion from that night. His eyes roam my face.

“I’m not that guy. I should have treated you nicer, should have been the one to keep my patience.”

“I didn’t make it easy,” I admit.

“No,” he chuckles. “You really fucking did not.”

We smile.

“But you’re so much more than anger y/n. I could barely sleep that night, I kept regretting giving into the anger and not being slow and soft with you the way you deserve. I regret it all the time.”

His confession pulls the veil off my eyes and I see a sharper image of my past. Of everything. It all comes at once and I can’t sort through it in the moment but I know what I want to do.

I shuffle over until I’m up against Harry, I hold his face in mine and he cups my face in his hand.

“You drove me crazy,” I tell him. “Made my life hell.”

“I know. But you drove me crazy too. Nobody got under my skin like you did.”

“Same.”

His hand snakes down to my thigh and he nudges it over his lap so that I’m straddling his body. I feel vulnerable and scared—not the first time these emotions have coursed through me in this very room. But today I don’t feel powerless.

His lips are soft against my cheek, my jaw, down my neck. Unlike the first time he’s slow and deliberate like someone who’s waited so long to unwrap a cherished gift and can’t stand ripping even the gift wrap. He pushes my hair out of the way and trails his fingertips down the back of my neck.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers in my ear. The more he talked the more nervous he was making me. I turn my head to capture his lips, run my fingers through his hair which is too short to really grasp. I missed his old hair.

We break apart for a breath and I can feel the tension. The desire to have him near clashing with the need to go slow. To savour this. Somehow we both feel it.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight,” Harry promises me, his finger trailing down my arm. “Just having you here is enough.”

Oh god. How did he know just the things to say. This man was way too suave. He really was the devil.

But I needed him. It’s scary to admit but I did. I wanted to be here, I really did. I needed to be in this moment with him. Fulfill some shut-out desire that had grown dusty in the corner of my heart.

“I want to do this.”

With a gentle kiss he gets us up and takes my hand. I feel myself being pulled through the living room and towards the bedroom. The sheets are cool, but not cold and when he crawls in beside me I forget that I had ever been anywhere else.

He’s attentive and deliberate and I’m buzzing with anticipation. I decide to pick up the pace, propping myself up to take off my blouse. I watch his throat bob up and down like he’s never seen me like this before even though he has. It’s endearing.

The way his hands fit in the curve of my waist makes it harder to breathe. He moves his hands up my torso and to the straps of my bra. He pauses, as if asking permission, and when I nod, he kisses me. He unhooks it and slowly slides it off my shoulders, eyes fixed on mine.

The intensity of his gaze is overwhelming.

I pull him close to kiss him again, and he pulls me under him so I can feel the full weight of him against me. This is what I needed. To be physically present and not stuck in the after tremors of the earthquakes of my past. Not that he wasn’t part of my past but this is different. A non-verbal agreement to just be present. I knew his ways with women, it could be a one-night thing and that’s what I needed.

But that’s why the moments of tenderness and adoration nearly take my breath away. I don’t know where to put these things.

He kisses down my shoulder while his hand trails down to my trousers. He hooks his finger into the belt loop and tugs gently, looking up at me for consent.

I nod.

He slowly takes them off, and when his fingers brush against my bare legs, my breath hitches.

It happens again when he presses his lips against my hip bone.

He stops for a moment, and I can almost see the cogs in his brain whirring.

He moves up to press his forehead against mine.

"I don't know how to do this right," he says quietly, and his eyes search mine.

“What do you mean?”

“This is always how I should have treated you,” he whispers. “I want you to know-“

“Harry,” I smooth out the lines on his forehead.

"No," he grabs my hand and kisses it. "I don't want you to feel like I don't care because I do. I don’t want to hurt you. I'm not good at saying these things. But I want you to know how much I value you. That I like you as a person. I respect you. I want you to be okay.”

“I-“ who was this Harry, seriously!? “I get it. I’m okay. I am.”

He smiles at me tentatively and my heart does a somersault.

I grab the back of his neck and pull him down, pressing my lips against his. I could taste the sweetness of the words he had said.

I tug at his shirt and it flies into the darkness of his bedroom. His skin is heated against mine.

It feels like an eternity before he finally reaches the band of my panties, and my heart thumps wildly.

"May I?" he looks up.

"Please," I whisper.

For the first time since I’ve met him he doesn’t make it about himself or what he needs. It’s almost intimidating how intense he is as he looks after me and it’s hard to reconcile this man with the man in my head. We’re of one mind and it’s like he knows everything I’ve been through in the last 24 hours; he just attends to my every need reminding me that I was here, right here, in his arms and in this body.

And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you staying the night?” He asks later with a final kiss to my shoulder.

“If that’s alright?” I ask. I didn’t want to be alone in a cold hotel room.

“I’d love nothing more.” He says earnestly.

Love. I brush the word away.

He warns me that he was a slug if I stayed and he’s not exaggerating, with his arm draped over me and tucked up against him he’s like a child with a plush. He falls asleep just as quickly.

I should too but can’t. I feel so intensely about this body laying beside me, I want to crawl inside of him, understand him, understand us and how this worked.

Or maybe I wanted to just understand me, and why I felt a piece of myself sliding back into place tonight. I had to be the most fucked up person in this city.

Instead of sleeping I lay awake thinking about everything and I can’t help it. I go over this morning—god it felt like weeks ago. Josie’s graduation. Josie. Gray. Even Michelle.

I feel slightly paralyzed by everything that transpired today—it truly felt like peering through a glass window into a life I used to have. I try to break open the glass, sort it all out.

On one side is me and everything I’ve done this whole year to move on from the crumbs of my life here in London. I don’t know why but I really did think that coming back I would be 100% untouchable by my past. I was an idiot for thinking that because I was bothered that Gray seemed to have a steady girlfriend. Why did I think anything would rekindle between us?

I dig deeper, did I even want that to happen? Or did I just want to prove to myself that I was the one Gray let get away because I was too scared to face the possibility that I was the one who let Gray get away.

But clearly something didn’t work with us, I think bitterly. A few months with his new girl and he found the balls to open up with me and communicate his grievances and his apologies.

Love that’s as fierce and loyal as you are, he had said. Was I too much for Gray? Is that why we were made to burn out? It hurt too that he had damaged all my relationships I made in my life here in London only to cut those same people out of his life immediately after I left. The more I think about it the angrier I feel.

And his mom, I still feel bruised by her acting like she didn’t even know me. It stokes the anger higher. Her own son has called her crazy on multiple occasions, I was always nothing but kind to her. Gray was the one who put the final nail in our coffin yet the woman who called me her daughter and claimed to love me had been cruel. Even in the face of getting along for Josie’s sake she had put her petty feelings in the forefront.

These people made me so angry.

How did I ever think I could rekindle anything with Gray? As much as I was to blame, I realize, Gray couldn’t even be kind in the end. Just because the year apart was good to him didn’t mean he would still be good for me.

I think about the man laying beside me, in a hypothetical situation if things got ugly I instinctively want to say he would be cruel too. But I have to push past the persona he claimed to have put up and think about the glimpses of the man I saw underneath. Something tells me he would be just as fiery in letting me know how he was feeling. But with his recent apologies I’m not as convinced he would go out of his way to hurt me again.

Even in the bar last night, I just assumed he called me Mrs. Duran to be cruel but he hadn’t known. Or when I had assumed at Josie’s birthday party I would be fired for forgetting wine because he was an asshole when really he just acted like one so I wouldn’t feel worse.

How many times had I judged people because of how skewed my own lens was? It’s a sobering reminder.

Josie’s face flashes through my mind and I tear up at knowing we were going to cut each other out. No matter how much we loved each other staying in touch at this rate was no longer sustainable. For her best interest.

I think of my younger brother back home, my older sister, our family of 5. When I went back home there was so much to catch up on and eventually, apologize for. I had missed out on so much of my family’s life because I believed I needed to leave to grow. Well, life sure handed me a lot of lessons but I needed to go back home to plant them and let me grow.

Harry stirs beside me, nuzzling my neck in his sleep. I feel myself go teary eyed for no reason.

I wondered if this was just a one-night thing. If we would see each other again while I was in London. Did I want to see him? My heart sings yes immediately.

Damn.

What was it about him that pushed my emotions to the highest highs and lowest lows. How did he know every button to push and every bruise to kiss. This had to be toxic, we couldn’t just take our great big baggage of a past and see each other casually while I was in London. It couldn’t be that easy.

What if it was, hope whispers. I squirm. Could I forgive Harry for everything he’d done?

“Y’sleeping?” Harry mumbles to my left. Shit.

“Yeah,” I say which invokes a throaty chuckle from him. I check the time, it was nearly 4. Double shit.

“Liar,” he tugs on my hips and I turn to face him. “Talk to me.”

I couldn’t. Half of my thought were about him. And how could I tell him I was thinking about my ex after spending the night with him. So I just shake my head.

“Please?” He brushes my cheek with his thumb. “You need to sleep.”

“I-“ I try to say I can’t but the words get stuck in my throat. The emotions of everything I’d been thinking in the last couple hours threaten to dislodge the words from my throat so I close my mouth. But it doesn’t work.

A sob bursts out of me and before I can reel it all in the floodgates swing open and it carries all the pent-up sorrow and confusion, grief and anguish I had bottled up.

Harry freezes for a moment, probably very confused to wake up and have me reacting this way. But he recovers and pulls me into his warm chest.

“What is going on in that head of yours love,” Harry murmurs. Love. I sob even harder.

He murmurs reassuring words whilst stroking my back and I cry an embarrassing amount in the same bed where just hours ago I was blissed beyond comprehension. Life moves fast.

Finally when I gain enough composure I lean away, covering my face because crying into him was one thing but seeing my ugly cry face was another.

“Here,” I feel his body move and then tissues pressed into my hand. I’m grateful for them but I wasn’t going to blow my nose here. I sit up and try to dry my nose. His hand reaches out and the tips of his fingers rest on my spine like he was tethering my lost body to him. Somehow even that is reassuring.

“Don’t go trying to kiss my nose this early on again,” I try to joke through a stuffy voice.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he tugs my arm a little and I fall back beside him. He holds me in both his arms and I watch in horror and affection as he kisses the tip of my nose.

“Stop being so nice,” I laugh and cry a little too.

“You’re actually complaining about me being nice?”

“No I just—I’m not used to it,” I press the tissue to my eyes again.

“Well get used to it,” he peels the hair off of my face and pushes it back. “I don’t want to be the one hurting you. I swear to never ever be the reason you cry like this to anyone.”

“Don’t say those sorts of things if you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” he caresses my face. “You’re breaking my heart y/n, I don’t know who hurt you but I never want to see you like this. Especially not because of me alright? I’m sorry if I ever-“

“Stop,” I put my hand to his mouth. Which is kind of gross since I just blew my nose but I’m pretty sure him kissing my snotty nose means he didn’t care.

“But-“ he says behind my hand.

“I’m embarrassed right now,” I admit.

“You have seen me in every compromising situation,” Harry says. “And we have been through too much together to be embarrassed right now.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “It is tiring.”

“Maybe you can finally sleep now that it’s…almost 5?”

“Sorry,” I sigh. “I hope you don’t have something early?”

“Nope,” he kisses the top of my head. “And even if I did it wouldn’t matter.”

So we both try to go back to bed and I manage to fall asleep, all of those tiring racing thoughts washed away by a good cry. I feel warm and cared for and vulnerable and protected. A stark change from how Harry has made me feel before. Maybe this was temporary or maybe this was the start of something new. I’m just taking it minute by minute while all I can think is Do I or Don’t I?

***

It’s my final week in London and if you’d asked me a couple weeks ago if I was looking forward to going back home I would have said without hesitation yes.

But that night at Harry’s and putting my past to rest brushes away an old and tired film I had been viewing the city with since I landed.

We had seen each other a couple times a week since—I’ve been cautious despite my body saying otherwise. There were many days I had been free but I had made up some excuse not to see him, I was scared of getting too attached and having to leave.

But I can’t deny how nice it was to be with Harry without any labels. Most of the time I went over to his, it was tricky going out somewhere too public and risking getting papped. Together we just talk about life and work, my life back in America and my relationship with my family, his life growing up and his relationship with stardom. We watch movies and listen to music and make jokes and I open up a little about what had been weighing on my mind that night.

Winnie teases me that I was lighter than she’s ever seen me, that London looked good on me. I tell her she’s crazy. But even Oretta admits it when Winnie brings it up to her.

Harry makes the effort to make up for how he acted until it’s not just words. I believe what he was saying. And I admit to my faults too.

We still get under each other’s skin.

The thing we argue about the most is an opportunity Harry tries to get me to sign off on. The link he texted me when I was in Cambridge was an upcoming single one of his friends was releasing and he wanted to get me to bid on executing a music video for it. I tell him he was nuts and that I had no experience, plus I had a job. But he persists. He thinks I should explore putting my creative skills to use and not just my organizational skills. The arguing continues.

I have a date with him tonight, at the same bar we bumped into each other that first night. I have a question I’d been meaning to ask him.

“You aren’t actually a regular here are you?” I ask when we’ve settled.

“Of course I am,” he says but I know he’s lying. I raise my brow and he looks everywhere but at me. “Fine. I’m not.”

“So how the hell did you end up here that night?”

“Coincidence.”

“Liar.”

“I’m an honest man.”

“Truth please?”

“You’re embarrassing me here let’s move on.”

“Nuh-uh,” I’m enjoying his bright cheeks and darting eyes. “Did you stalk me or something?”

“I…I knew this was a local spot for you. Or was.”

“Really? How?”

“You mentioned it a few times? And I dropped you off here once after work.”

He might’ve. I’d met many friends and especially Gray here. I motion for him to continue.

“I might’ve known you were in town, might’ve found out you were here and…”

“So you did stalk me,” I gasp. “Oh my god ladies and gents he is obsessed.”

“That’s a strong word.” He argues.

“You. Stalked. Me.”

“Oh fine, I’ll confess: I’m used to the stalkers and I thought it was high time I did some stalking and see what the fun was all about,” he joins in on making fun of himself.

“Someone get me a restraining order,” I say just as someone approaches our table with drinks. As soon as they leave we burst out laughing.

“So have you given the music video any more thought?” Harry asks as the evening continues.

“Can we not talk about this right now?” I ask.

“I just think you should give it serious thought. I know you want to go into PR, be somebody’s Graham, but you have a really good eye for this thing. Before you pursue what you think you want, try this out.”

“You’re one dude,” I say again. “Who believes I can do this. You want me to throw away the career I’ve worked on for years to dabble in this and potentially waste time instead of getting to where I want?”

“Firstly, if you love doing something it’s not time wasted. And secondly you only ever need just one person to believe in you, angel.”

His fingers brush mine on the table, the familiar electricity courses through me just through the small touch. And of course, his use of pet names always turned me to putty. I hated how malleable he made me.

“Consider it. Just write a proposal y/n, it’s not betraying Oretta or anything. I can talk to her if you want if they choose your idea.”

It was scary putting myself out there for something I didn’t believe in myself for. But my echoes of burnout grow towards the idea of doing something less demanding than being an assistant just like a sunflower to the sun. It basks in letting my creativity flow.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Not for too long,” he taps my fingers again. We were cautious about being too touchy in public, even in a place like this where people genuinely didn’t care who he was. “Proposal’s due at the end of next week.”

When I would be back home in America. Away from here. Him.

We hadn’t talked about it, if we would try to keep in touch. I can’t really imagine a long-distance thing with Harry. Not at this stage. Mostly we enjoyed being in each other’s company and I was scared forcing labels just because we would be apart would ruin this fragile thing.

“Fine.” He’d worn me down and I submit. “Fine I’ll get something in for you.”

He pulls back with a shocked expression. “Did I just convince the stubborn y/n y/l/n to do something she didn’t want to do?”

I scowl. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t,” he laughs, waving his hands around him like he was fanning in an aroma. “I’m soaking this in though.”

“Whatever,” I say with a smile.

“You make me work hard,” he smiles back. “For everything y/n. That’s one of the things I l-I-that I really like about you.”

We ignore the near slip of something far too serious for what we had going. We move past it but it sets my heart racing.

“So this friend of yours,” I change the subject. “With the music video. Didn’t you guys have like, beef when you were on tour? All that article stuff?”

“You of all people should know not to believe what you see online. It was all manipulated and put out of context.”

“I know but you were all moody for all your shows afterwards. I remember Jeff and Graham complaining. I assumed the articles had worn you down a bit.”

He raises a brow like he’s waiting on me to figure something out.

“What?”

“Really? You think it was the artcles?”

“Well what else happened that-“

Oh god. Was I that stupid?

Of course it wasn’t the articles, it was me! Us.

A smile stretches over the contours of his face as realization dawns on mine, “Twice in a row I’ve got you today, I should buy a lottery ticket.”

“I’m off my game today is all, don’t get used to it.”

I can’t believe it. Not that I didn’t believe Harry after the last few weeks but I—that night—really meant that much to him that his feelings over it had affected the rest of his tour? I had affected his tour?

“Why didn’t you say anything if it was weighing on you so much? If I recall I tried to talk to you a couple times.” I ask.

“What could I say,” he snorts. “You were engaged and my loss of control was why you cheated. Then you were quitting and I knew if I said anything you might have stayed. I didn’t want to keep you where you didn’t want to be.”

His words tug at my heart. He really had thought up a storm.

“Harry,” I lean back. “Gray and I broke up before I joined you guys on tour again. We weren’t cheating.”

His forehead creases, “What?! But you were together at my London show. I thought you two broke up after you moved back home?”

“No,” I guess in the last few weeks I’d just mentioned we broke up a long time ago. He didn’t know any specifics. “We were fake-together because he hadn’t broken the news to his sister then. But that’s why I was all…y’know in Barcelona-“

“Fuck me,” he groans. “No wonder you thought I was an ass for pulling you away-“

“Well you were-“

“Yeah alright-“

“Why did you really pull me away though?”

“I…I was feeling a bit possessive.”

“What?”

I wasn’t expecting that to come out of his mouth. He smiles sheepishly, “I thought we already came to terms with that.”

My stomach does a few somersaults. Until tonight I don’t think I’ve really focused on the magnitude of how Harry felt back then. Parts of my mind were still remembering him as a prick just because it was easier to remember my side of things. But this spins things in a brighter light.

“I was just your assistant though.”

“Y/N,” he tilts his head to the side. “Did I not already tell you what I thought about you that night in my flat?”

“Yeah but-“

“I’d never met anyone like you, I really liked you. I couldn’t have you though and I had to push you away constantly. And that drove me a bit crazy sometimes.”

I let out a noisy breath, wondering if how he felt about me was just as intense now as it was then. A part of me knows it must be. Feelings like that didn’t fade. But here I was, barely knowing what it was I felt for him. All I knew was that it was nice when we were together.

Why me, I want to ask. But I hold back. It wasn’t a question I could ask my ex-employer current-lover part-time-asshole.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Was that a bit strong?”

“No,” I sigh again and he laughs. “Fine. A little. But it’s fine, I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he believes me. “So you broke off your engagement and didn’t tell anyone?”

“Kinda, we weren’t in a place we could come back from. We decided that mutually after things blew up. He didn’t even know I was leaving the country actually.”

Harry whistles. “You ran out on all of us.”

I scratch the side of my head, “Maybe?”

“Well I’ve enjoyed having you again, here.” He says with sincerity. “I’m really relieved to be able to get to say everything I wanted to your face.”

I agree. Neither of us mention I was leaving later in the week.

Even by the night before I’m leaving London we still hadn’t discussed a thing. But there’s a heaviness to us as we have dinner at his, as we pretend to watch a movie only to cuddle on the couch. We lay there facing each other and I trace his eyes, his nose, his wonderful mouth. It’s so odd to me that this was the same Harry Styles performing in sold out venues and on the walls of teenage bedrooms. That I got to have him in these quiet moments and be present.

I feel so grateful for this. That I didn’t have to carry around these draining stories within me anymore, that it felt like it happened to someone else. In a way even if nothing came from all this, I got closure. I was able to move on now.

I imagine my heart and it feels like when you take a stroll mid-March and realize nature was healing from winter’s blues. Warm and blooming the earth was growing again—my heart was growing stronger. Now the idea of a date or a partner didn’t seem so daunting and exhausting. I would never have guessed that it would take the man who almost broke me to come into my life again for me to see how to fit those pieces back in place again.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do not having you in town anymore,” his lashes flutter as I run my hand through his hair. It was still shorter than I was used to but it had grown in the last three weeks.

“Oh you’ll be fine,” I say. “I’ve worked on your schedule before: meetings and studio sessions and photoshoots and interviews.”

“A busy life isn’t always a full one,” he whispers. And it’s the closest thing to a confession we were going to get to. I cover his mouth with mine and we indulge in each other one final time.

There is a symphony of unexpected but undeniable intimacy woven between the beats of our entwined hearts. I know I would probably never feel this way with anyone and I don’t think I’d want to. Being with Harry was passion. It was losing myself and finding myself at the same time. It was being vulnerable and guarded and cherished and known.

My flight out tomorrow is around noon but I can’t stay the night as I’d have to help Oretta in the morning to make sure everything gets to the airport in time. Harry walks me down to his lobby and we stand there for a few, just holding each other tight. He doesn’t ask me to stay and I don’t ask him to come.

“This isn’t goodbye y/n,” Harry says when we part. His hand rests on his heart. I know the feeling, mine aches so hard I want to press my hand to it just to tell it everything would be fine.

“No,” I shake my head. My eyes had been teary ever since he squeezed me to him. “We’ll talk soon.”

“You’ll be directing music videos soon.”

I roll my eyes, “I’m still working on the proposal.”

“I have a good feeling about it.”

“That makes one of us. But…thanks for believing in me.”

“Thanks for believing in me,” he whispers. “Even when you didn’t have to.”

I’m glad I did. The only time in my life not paying attention to the warning bells had paid off.

“I’ve been working with this new producer and he wants me to come out to a studio in Cotati?” Harry mentions. “How far is that from where you are? Are you still in m Burbank?”

“Burbank’s where my parents are,” I shake my head. I look up what he’s talking about and feel a thrill when it’s less than a couple hours. Still, I try to maintain neutrality. “A little over an hour?”

“Well,” he brushes my hair over my shoulder and keeps his eyes looking just over it. “Depending on what you’re doing—maybe if you’re free…we can see each other again?”

I would love that. My heart is bursting just thinking of getting to have him in the place I called home. Of this meaning something. Of him wanting to see me again.

“Of course if you have a boyfriend by then and he doesn’t want you to see me that’s…I mean, live your life and if it works out we-“

“Yes,” I cut him off. “Yeah. Let’s see but that sounds good.”

He meets my gaze and I laugh a little, he was nervous and that was rare.

“Good,” he smiles with. “Until next time.”

“Until next time,” I step into his arms and it’s a quick affair before he steps away. I turn to head out the door, shielding my eyes from him. Not wanting him to see that this was stupidly hard to say goodbye.

He waves me off and I head back to my hotel with a heavy heart. But I think about him asking to see me again. Who knows when that would be. And I know this wasn’t the end of our story.

***

I’m happy to land in SFO the following evening, happy to busy myself with Oretta’s business, happy to have Winnie chattering away. I spent parts of the flight I wasn’t sleeping working on my MV proposal and it awakens a familiar passion inside of me I’d been afraid I’d lost.

I send out a silent thanks to Harry for knowing what was good for me.

I think of Harry often, Gray even less until I don’t think of him at all. I dream of London weekly; I missed it this time around. And as life resumes again I anticipate the change I sense on the horizon.

So when life gives me lemons I stop asking Do I or Don’t I. If one thing the last year has taught me was I had to listen to my gut and look at the signs. I had to start asking what I wanted and go after it. Even though Harry and I barely talk, I remember the lessons he’s taught me.

I stop looking to others to make decisions. There’s no guidebook or lists to help me make my decisions either. I take deep breaths and I believe in myself.

I build a new life on the remains of my old. I don’t let it dictate what I did anymore, I simply leave it as the foundation to elevate me even higher. I reach for the sky with my feet planted firmly on the ground. And I grow with reckless abandon.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld @love-letters-to-uranus @mayamonroem @sassamanda77 @harryspirate

🤍

Epilogue

[baldeslut]

hii !! hope you’re okay, can you write something about alejandro and y/n dating and one day both barcelona men’s and women’s team train together and alejandro can’t keep his eyes off her and he keeps encouraging her or anything else so the team tease them?

just to say your first story was really great ! finally someone who write about balde

Thank u for the compliment i very much appreciate it🫶🏼 and yes im am ok thank you for asking<33 so here you go!!

Glued

Alejandro Balde

Got some inspiration from the Glue song i think its rlly cute

warnings: none. just fluff. Enjoy<33

Today was going to be different. Training with the men’s first club! I was excited to train with my boyfriend as he couldn’t take his eyes off me in the car

“Ale! Keeps your eyes on the road bebé”

I chuckled as he ran his fingers through my hair. We both got out of the car as he kissed my forehead before leaving our separate ways to the locker room.

As i walked out i could feel the butterflies growing in my stomach as he locked eyes with me.

“Hey Y/n Alejandro is looking at you!” Alexia blurts out

I see Alejandro turn his head almost instantly as his friends start to tease him too. I burst out laughing as my friends laugh with me too. We all get our boots on as the technical talk starts, a circle forms and they just talk off. I flashed a smile at Alejandro as he wipes his face, flustered.

“Pssst, Balde look” Gavi says as he silently laughs with Pedri

They set us into 2 different groups as one starts with a running drill and the other with a free kick drill. But i wasnt with Alejandro this time. He pouted as he jogged off to the other side of the pitch to start his running drill. I started with my free kicks as i scored all of them in, i turned around to see Alejandro slowing down in his tracks as he had a proud smile on his face as he made a small heart with his hands.

“He loves you eh?” Fermín says as he points over to Alejandro, as he gives him a look.

“Mhm yeah, he loves me a lotttt” I say as dragging the ‘lot’

A good 45 minutes have past as we walk over for a water break. Alejandro starts to jump up an down like a little child as he heard the water break announcement.

He ran up to me to give me a long, tight hug as he kissed my sweaty cheek (ew sorry omg😭). I saw down on the bench as he took his water bottle, spraying some on his head so he can cool off.

“Amor, your doing so well do you know that” He says

I lean my head on his shoulder as he continues to pepper me with kisses on my forehead.

“Alejandro! Shh” i giggle

“¿Qué? Hm fineee i guess you don’t want them to know your only mine”

“No im joking obviously. I love you Ale!”

I leant my head on his shoulder as he continued to pepper my forehead with kisses. I was tangled in his love. Im so inlove with him. He hugged me tight as the teasing began. He hushed me as he pulled closed for a tight long hug.

“They’re so cuteee” Salma said as she pointed out.

“I bet Alejandro was the first one to say i love you!” Pedri laughed

Alejandro scrunched his nose at Pedri as they continued to tease. It was like Alejandro wasn’t hearing any of this. So i did the same. You adored every single thing about him. To the way he plays to his personality.

“I love you bebé i just want you to know that alright?” He whispers in my ear

“Ugh my gosh here they go again” Lamine scoffs

“You don’t know what love is haha” Frenkie chuckles

“Yes mi amor, i love you soo much too”

A/N writing fluff is just so 👌 to me (i dont write it very often like… i usually only write smut so dont shame me😭) I hope u enjoyed! Its kind of shorter this time because tumblr kept lm closing without saving it so i just got tired of writing sorry🥲

[ink-bunny-blue]

Winter Reading/Arting/Writing Tag

Tagged by @blind-the-winds . Thank you so much! I do love tag games where you get to just ramble about things

Describe one creative WIP project you plan on working on over winter

Well... I'm in the middle of a demotivated slump at the moment (just generally) so creative writing isn't my top priority right now. However, winter break starts next week, so I hope I get regain some energy and get back to the words. Because I miss them!

There's a short story I've started drafting for an anthology submission which closes at the end of the month. I don't know if I will get it done and fully polished by that time, but I really want it to work out. I've been meaning to publish short stories for a while now, because I feel my writing style fits well with them, plus it will give me an advantage if I traditionally publish a novel one day.

And like always, I'm trudging along slowly editing APOM whenever I have the stamina.

Recommend a book

The Shadow Of The Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon is always my go-to recommendation when people ask for one. It's a gorgeous historical mystery set in 1940s Barcelona, about a young boy who tries to solve the disappearance of a mysterious author. The prose and characterisation are top-tier, and has one of the best uses of The Power of Storytelling trope I've ever encountered. (I actually have a review of another book by the same author sitting in my drafts. I'll edit and post it eventually)

The Master And Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov has the exact kind of macabre whimsy that I seek out in stories. It follows the devil (disguised as a magician) and a band of demons as they wreck havoc around Soviet-era Moscow. The plot is difficult to explain, but its very clever and vivid, and one of the only books to ever make my cry with laughter. I like to describe it as "Alice In Wonderland but with guns and vodka"

Winterset Hollow by Jonathan Edward Durham is a hugely underrated book, and one of the most imaginative I've read in a long time. All I can say about it is: Imagine if Wind In The Willows was a horror novel. It had such a vivid setting, and ended up being such beautiful tragedy. If your into folk horror or anthropomorphic fiction, you should definitely look into it!

Recommend a fic

Disappointingly, I don't read fanfiction. It's never something that has appealed to me, even though I respect it as a craft. To make up for it, I recommended three books above instead of one.

Recommend Music

Indigo Night by Tamino- To me, this song feels like a lullaby from a fallen civilisation. It has a very ageless feel to it, and the lyrics tell a beautiful fairy-tale. In fact, every song on this album touches my soul.

Bernadette by IAMX- Gothic, whimsical, and theatrical. This one has inspired me on a creative level many many times, and it still sounds just as amazing as it did when I first discovered it years ago.

Youngest Daughter by Superheaven- I heard this one the other day, and I wish I could send it to my 13 year old self. It has the exact sound and mood I was seeking out in music back then. There's a post on this website that went around a while ago that was like "nostalgia can make you miss the worst points of your life" or something. This is what this song is doing to me at the moment.

...

Gently tagging: @k-v-briarwood @chauceryfairytales @writeouswriter

[itsthebethblogever]

A Bird on Her Journey to Self

If you want to know what I have been up to since graduating high school, here is your answer: I've been trying to figure out what I want to do in life, and having lots ups and downs in the process. Like everyone else. This was written with the intention to share my experiences in the hopes that others can relate/learn/laugh/benefit somehow. Ten years of life in one post. Thanks so much for reading, sending you love, enjoy! ♡

Chapter 1: The Bird Leaves the Nest

The laid back, coastal town of Ventura, California offers many wonderful benefits as a home town: perfect weather, spacious beaches, a county fair, farmers markets, and it's close enough to Los Angeles for a day trip but far away enough to not have big city problems like traffic or pollution. However, its small town vibes can sometimes feel like a suburban bubble of safety, so my curious spirit did not begin to fully emerge until I moved to San Francisco for college at the age of 18. From day one, I hit the ground running. As soon as my dad finished helping me unpack, I ran off with some new friends to the Haight Ashbury district with one goal in mind: get my nose pierced (something I was not allowed to do while living at home). That simple yet important milestone was a physical marker of my breaking away from the herd. Beginning to chart my own path. After a fiery freshman year full of firsts, I left SF to study abroad in Växjö, Sweden, full of confidence and a thirst for even more adventure.

I was 20. I had just begun to see the world. Inspired by living with international students who could all speak at least 2 languages, I set a goal to learn Spanish. The question was: How? I began researching ways to live in a Spanish speaking country and landed on the Peace Corps website. To qualify for a Spanish speaking country, I would need a minimum of 2 semesters of college level Spanish. Well, that would work out just fine! I still had another three more semesters at SF State before I could graduate, so when registration came around, I signed myself up for Spanish. Lovely! My post-college plan became: move to a Spanish speaking country and learn the language.

In my second semester of living in a Scandinavian story tale is when a sweet character by the name of David made his debut. We met during a student trip to Finnish Lapland, when one of our three buses broke down. Instead of having the seat next to me for myself for the long journey north, I had to give it up to make room for the other bus mates. Now, sitting next to me, was a tall, talkative Spaniard. So much for my desire to sleep. We introduced ourselves and he saw I was listening to Bon Iver - of course, this was my sleep playlist - and asked me if I had seen them in concert. Well, turns out we both had, and despite not being a chatty mood, my interest was sparked. We continued connecting and I quickly realized that the more time I spent with him, the more time I wanted to just keep spending more time with him. He charmed me with his music taste, social spirit, but most of all: his loving heart. The only problem was that he was from Terrassa, a city near Barcelona, Spain, which is quite far away from California.

But... it was a Spanish speaking country.

Meaning... that if I moved to Barcelona to be close to David instead of joining the Peace Corps, I would still be accomplishing my post-grad goals. It wasn’t just to pursue a relationship.

So, we went for it.

After a tortuous goodbye in Sweden (and then again in Denmark, as he missed his flight home due to a train strike and ended up staying the night with me and my family who had come to visit, lol), we did not know when we would see each other next. However, we made the decision to stay together. David and I maintained a long-distance relationship - San Francisco to Barcelona - during the year and a half it took me to finish my degree. We saw each other only twice during that span of time. Yeah, ouch. It was extremely hard to be apart for so long, but we were determined to find a way to be together.

As soon as I graduated, I wasted no time. January 2016, two weeks after receiving my degree, I hopped on a flight across the pond and moved into my new au pair family’s apartment in the Vila Olímpica neighborhood of Barcelona. My freshly earned degree in Child and Adolescent Development meant I was passionate about working with kids, so the role was right up my alley. At 22 years old, my new life as a part time mom and part time Spanish language student began. I would get my three trilingual children ready for school with some help from their parents, drop them off, and cycle over to the Escola Oficial d’Idiomes. Classes were four times a week with daily homework, my au pair parents spoke to me exclusively in Spanish, and on the weekends half of my friends spoke to me in Spanish as well.

After three trimesters at EOI over the course of a year and a healthy level of immersion, I passed an official exam and gained the Intermediate Spanish certification. I had done it - I had learned Spanish!

Well, mainly. It took me about another year to really start to feel like I could express my personality in Spanish.

Once I completed my au pair year, I moved in with David and two of his childhood friends (by then, also my close friends) in the Gràcia neighborhood of the city when I was 23. For about six months, I supported myself with a variety of English teaching gigs I had accumulated through connections made at my au pair kids’ schools as well as through other English teaching friends in the city.

Life was a thrill. I still could not believe I was finally living in the same country with David, much less the same room, I was proud that I was able to make enough money just through teaching private classes, I had the social and night life beyond my wildest dreams, and I was doing it all in a city overflowing with art and culture. I was thriving.

However, I could no longer extend my student visa, so I needed to find something else that would allow me to continue living legally in Spain.

So, I found something.

Via the recommendation of friends, I applied, interviewed, and was accepted as a language assistant through the Meddeas program. In the summer of 2017, I went home to California, visited family and friends, and got my new student visa processings done.

August 2017 initiated a new school year and a new chapter in my journey: teaching English to Spanish primary and secondary students while studying an online TEFL course at the Universitat Internacional de Catalunya.

In hindsight, this is where my journey began to stray from my center.

Teaching English had never been a professional dream of mine. It was something I could do, and I absolutely found joy in it; however, the fact that I was thrown into a job with just one real day of training and all of a sudden expected to lesson plan for 11 different classes caused me immense stress in the beginning. Over time it got easier, but there was always a part of me that knew if I could choose, I would be doing something different.

But, I did it.

Why?

Because it allowed me to continue living in Barcelona, a place that now felt like home. It allowed me to continue learning Spanish, which sparked so much fire and fascination in me. It allowed me to continue the flourishing relationships with my sweet partner and the community of friends and family I cherished so deeply.

So, I kept doing it.

After two years of working and studying through Meddeas, I had maxed out the amount of time I could be in the program. The question returned: How could I continue to legally live in Spain?

The answer: Domestic Partnership.

We lawyered up.

David and I were able to apply under the condition that we had been registered as living in the same household for over a year. Some hundreds and thousands of Euros later, I was granted 5 years of residency in Spain that included the right to work. Hallelujah. The end of long days trekking across the province to different official buildings, waiting decades for my little number to appear on a screen, indicating it was finally my turn even though my appointment time had long passed, and praying that the person who attended me would give me their stamp and signature that meant I could advance to the next round of the Red Tape Tango.

Even Jesus could not be saved from the messy misery that is the bureaucratic processes in Spain.

So, it would seem like having my residency settled would open the doors for me to explore more satisfying occupations, buuut it was not that easy.

I was in a foreign country. The primary language of instruction in public schools was Catalan. Even though I worked so hard to learn Spanish, I would still need to learn another language if I wanted to apply to any public school position.

Then, there was the issue of educational qualifications. Europe in general is quite strict with demanding you have the right papers for the right job, and even more so in Catalonia. In the Catalan province, you must have a masters degree to work with high schoolers, the age group that I really did love teaching English. However, getting a masters for a job that still did not ignite every inch of my soul was not something I was ready to sign up for. Plus, it was possible my US bachelor’s degree may not even qualify, and there was no way I was going to do another bachelor’s degree just for that.

At that moment, my two post grad goals had been accomplished: to live in a Spanish speaking country and learn Spanish, which felt great, but I did not have a plan for after that. I began to feel lost.

At the same time as I was going through a professional life crisis, my personal life situation was also undergoing a difficult transition. It was the summer of 2019. David and I were looking to move out of our shared apartment into our own place for the first time.

From the outside, everything seemed glittery and exciting. We had found a beautiful apartment in Gràcia mere footsteps away from our friends, I got my residency, and my unemployed status was not a huge financial stress thanks to David working in tech.

However, my live-in support system, aka my roommates, had been taken away. Moving in with my partner meant it was just us two. When there was any conflict, it no longer dissipated when one of our roomies came home. Our fights were affecting me more, being unemployed sucked, and felt like I had nobody to reach out to since everyone was working or vacationing. Many days, the summer sun was shining bright outside, but inside I felt darkness. For the first time in my life, I fell into a depression. These deep, ugly emotions inside me were new and I did not know how to deal with them. Instead of opening up about how I felt, I tried to keep my emotions hidden in the hopes that I could bounce back on my own without causing others to see this unhappy side of the usually bubbly, carefree Beth.

In the month of July, I found a gig as a camp counselor at an English language summer camp. The hours were long, it was physically and emotionally demanding, and the compensation was minimal. Working at a summer camp did have some fun perks, but overall it felt like I was resorting to a job that was great when I was 15, but not so much when I was 25. It did not feel like progress, so it did not help my mental health.

Once that finished, I began teaching English online to kids in China in the mornings through a US based company called VIP Kid. In the evenings, I got a part-time job teaching English to kids and adults at a language academy in the city.

More English teaching.

Still, not really my passion.

But, I did it.

Why?

I could not find any better options. I knew I did not want to teach English for the rest of my life, but the other jobs I was interested in, like in the special education/psychology field, I could not pursue due to language or bureaucratic barriers. I decided to accept my current job situation, knowing that it was temporary, and continue to look for other positions in the meantime.

But it was not easy. On top of this, my work schedule was now opposite to David’s. His 9-5 job meant that when he came home, I was at my second job. Limited time together further heightened my feelings of aloneness and caused stress for us both. We hardly saw each other during the week, and when we did, we were not at our best selves. This continued for some time, until finally, I couldn’t do it anymore. I told David I wanted to break up in March 2020, shortly after my 26th birthday. Yet, it did not end then. It surprised David to know I was that unhappy, as I had been hiding most of my dark emotions in order to convince myself and others that I was okay. We decided we would start having more honest communication and work on our relationship, as we both hoped it could be saved.

Then, the timing of what happened next still makes me chuckle. The Universe heard us asking for more time together, and gave us…

Covid 19.

Yep, Barcelona’s lockdown happened literally days after we almost broke up.

Actually, it couldn’t have come at a better time.

We finally had time to be able to talk, connect, and make the best out of being confined 24/7 together. 

Since the language academy closed, it was easy to convert my online teaching gig to be my primary job, as my Chinese students were all at home too. I taught classes for about four hours a day and spent the rest… however I could. While David continued working, I would usually go up to our building’s rooftop. There, I began to rediscover some of my creative passions I had forgotten about. I bought a drawing pad, wrote poetry, and did lots of journaling.

After a long year locked down with plenty of time to reflect, I came to the difficult conclusion that it was time to end our 6 year relationship. Almost exactly a year later, I turned 27 in February 2021, and made the move.

Something I want to pause and touch on here are my thoughts on ending relationships. Later, when sharing the news to my friends and family, it became apparent that some people feel the need to see ugliness before a breakup. I got a lot of reactions like "What, really? But you seemed so happy!" Yes, we were. But that is not a good enough reason to stay with someone. Personally, I feel like it shows how much I cared about David to never let us get to a point where we were outwardly unhappy. I recognized that my feelings had changed, and rather than repress them to the point where I might start to take it out on him, I made the responsible choice to end things amicably. Movies and pop culture dramatize breakups and show things like throwing their partner's belongings out the window, saying nasty things while screaming at each other, cheating out of spite, and the list goes on. It is sad that we don't have examples of two people who sit down together, have a meaningful conversation, and wish each other the best. Communication is an art that gets easier with practice. We should have as many role models and teachers as possible to help guide us towards the most loving way of relating.

Conscious communication practices are on the uprise, so if learning these essential life skills sounds interesting to you, feel free to contact me and I can help connect you to resources like Instagram accounts to follow, courses to take, etc.

And, unpause.

It was Lunar New Year and from the moment I woke up, I felt like electricity was surging through my body, my heart beat accelerated. It was my body telling me: now or never. I met with my best friend Pat who I made privy to my resolution, and together we developed a plan.

A day later, I sat down with David and had the Talk. I did my best to explain my decision in the most caring way, so for that, I came prepared with a notebook in case the words escaped me in the moment. I knew these were going to be the scenes that would replay in our minds and I wanted to foster the best possible conversations. It absolutely broke my heart but as I spoke my truth, my body felt lighter. We agreed that there would be no contact, to allow both of us to heal. As I did the "hurting", I would not be the one to initiate contact. If the day comes that David would like to speak to me, he could reach out. We did get together a second time a few days later to have another conversation where questions were asked and answered. At the end, we said a more official goodbye that ended in one of the world's saddest hugs. I let him know that I hope we can one day be friends, and I am still hopeful for that. It has been almost two years and we have not exchanged a word. I celebrate how well we have honored the boundaries we set and wish him the absolute best.

Six beautiful years of support, adventure, silliness, passion, growth, and love came to an end. Well, the love will always remain, just in a different container.

Before diving into all the logistics that come after a breakup, Pat invited me to stay the weekend with her family in her hometown. We went on a hike to the top of the Burriac Castle, where I really cried for the first time after the break up. Feeling safe and nurtured in her family's hands, I was able to journal my heart out, have an attentive ear to help me try to figure out what to do next, order pizza, and cry some more. I am forever grateful for all the help and love Pat gave me during my time of need. She is a true loyal Leo protector queen and I love and miss her dearly.

Then, it was back to reality.

I moved all my stuff out of our shared apartment and was temporarily crashing at a friend’s place while she was out of town. I hadn’t really thought about what came next, but it was obvious I needed a new place to live.

I went to see a room that seemed to check all the boxes: good lighting and internet for my online classes, in the same neighborhood so I’d still have all my friends and shops I was loyal to around me, but it was then when I realized - how can I start a new chapter of my life in the same city with the same job and the same limitations?

I cannot.

So, I didn’t.

I decided it was time to move back home.

In the span of two weeks, I packed up my five years of life into three boxes, two backpacks, one suitcase, and one duffel bag. The process of donating, gifting, and purging my material belongings was therapeutic. The process of saying goodbye to my community of friends that had become my family was heartbreaking.

Is heartbreaking.

But I had to do it.

Like a phoenix, I had to set fire to everything familiar so I could be reborn from the ashes. Just like that, I said adéu, t'estimo to the five year Barcelona chapter of my life.

Chapter 2: The Bird Returns to the Nest

On the flight to California, I realized I was not moving back home. Barcelona was my home. It had been four years since I had stepped foot on the West Coast, and I had no idea what I was going to do (as per usual).

March 1st, 2021. My first full day in Ventura, California in years. It was more clear than ever that I was basically a foreign person in my hometown, and I did not feel like I fit in. Immediately, I threw myself into researching any and all opportunities to leave the US. I applied to teach English in Korea and was rejected - maybe because of my tattoos? Oh well, it wasn’t meant to be. Next, I applied for an English Teaching position in Costa Rica through the Peace Corps, thinking I could fulfill that post-graduation idea I had so many years ago. I got an interview and then after was politely explained that all of the programs are on pause due to Miss Rona and they would let me know once they reopened. Tampoco ain’t gonna do it. After that, I began throwing my resume at any and all English teaching positions at international schools in the Middle East, Southeast Asia, you name it… but nothing stuck.

Soon, I came to terms with that my intention to touch down in Ventura just to jet off again was not realistic. Covid meant that many borders were closed and programs on pause. So, when a recruiter contacted me on Linkedin for a job as a Support Counselor with Aspiranet, my eyes opened wide with interest at the job description. Behavioral coaching for youth clients in Ventura County? Required a bachelor’s degree in social work/psychology/child development? Increased pay for bilingual candidates? Experience working with high risk youth or special education preferred? The description seemed to be tailored for me. I felt the flame of inspiration ignite, so I applied and was offered the job. I absolutely loved it. Finally, I was back to doing something I was passionate about, and the experience I gained was just as rewarding as the difference I was making in my client’s lives.

Still, my goal to move abroad was clear, and I continued to search for ways to do so. I applied to volunteer as an English Director through a program in Brazil that also practiced eco-friendly living, organic farming, and environment conservation. Even though it was teaching English, I saw this as a beautiful way to also have the opportunity to learn about the other projects going on at the center that fascinated me. After an interview, I was offered the position!

…and got a DUI.

Just when I thought I finally found a plan that felt right, life smacked me in the face and said “think again”. My dreams were shattered.

Here is where I should maybe add a little context and do that adult thing called “take responsibility”. After so many years in a relationship, I was granting myself permission to be wild and free on the weekends. However, as a Scorpio Moon, Jupiter, and Pluto, I crave intensity and become obsessive in my search for taboo adventures. That manifested in a way where I was pushing boundaries of what was safe to their limit, too often. The Universe gave me plenty of opportunities to learn my lesson the easy way, granting me safe passage during many other instances where I drove under the influence. But, I did not listen, and continued on with my reckless behavior until finally I was forced to learn the hard way.

And it sucked.

Not only did I have to spend all the money I had saved on legal fees and fines, but I now had three months of programs I had to attend. My job as a Support Counselor was half spent driving around Ventura County visiting my clients, so I quickly decided that would not be worth the extra insurance and IDD device I’d need to install just to keep the job.

So now what?

Back to the drawing board.

Sigh.

After shedding many tears, therapy sessions, conversations with family and friends, and deep suffering, it hit me: A remote job. It would be the perfect compromise. Instead of quitting my job and using my savings to volunteer and travel, I would get a remote job so I could still travel and have the means to do so. Frantically, I began applying for anything and everything remote. Thanks to a family friend, I was referred and accepted as a Client Coordinator with Cerebral, an online mental health startup company. Well, weeks before beginning training, Cerebral said they no longer needed Client Coordinators (small heart attack) but if I was interested in being a Phone Coordinator, there was still a job for me. Uh, okay, as long as it was remote, I was willing to do pretty much anything. I accepted without much hesitation, though the idea of answering phones instead of emails did not thrill me.

 It would be my first customer service job, and as it was still related to my field of interest, I figured there would be value to seeing the business/insurance/billing side. As soon as I finished training, I packed up my life, again, and purchased a one-way ticket to Mexico City. Since I had visited the city before and already had friends there, it felt like somewhere I could start rebuilding the sense of community that I so yearned while also fulfilling my international desire.

So, I did it.

I will never forget the surge of emotions that overcame me the moment the plane lifted off the runway at LAX. The tears came pouring out before I even realized I was crying. Freedom. Independence. Finally, after a year of living at home, I felt like I was back in life’s driver’s seat.

Chapter 3: The Bird Gets Her Wings Back

At 4:39 am on April 3rd, 2022, two days after moving into an apartment in Juárez, Mexico City, I wrote this:

“I’m having so much fun being alive-

—and living and being here that I don’t want to go to sleep. I don’t even want to close my eyes.

I’m too happy.

There’s too much I want to absorb.

Everything feels electric. I feel literally charged and hypervolted with energy. 

This. Is. My. Fucking PLACE!!!

Note to self: never again accept less than this. Or if you do, know it is temporary and I will always find a way back.”

Now 28 years old, the feeling of power I felt when I left Barcelona had finally returned. I could learn Mexican Spanish. I could walk to the market to buy my groceries. I could even do my court ordered programs, as they were through Zoom. But, most importantly, I could surround myself with people and experiences that would help guide me on my path.

Almost immediately, I became immersed in Mexico City’s spiritual community. After meeting lots of beautiful souls at an event hosted by the Open/Sex-Positive Community, I began running into the same people at other events, in the streets, at friend’s houses, etc. Also, there is a Whatsapp group for pretty much any interest you may have. For my US readers who may be unfamiliar with Whatsapp, the first thing you should know is that we are pretty much the only country who doesn't use it. Adding that to the list of things we do differently. All it is is a messaging app, but the big advantages of using that over iMessage or texting is that it just uses Internet. That being said, there is no polarizing "blue or green" texts to mess up a group chat, making it much more conducive to creating large group chats for as many as 1,000 users.

Just like that, Mexico City felt like home. My job became pretty easy once I got the hang of it, and because I worked smarter and not harder, I was able to enjoy life pretty much exactly how I wanted to. I was living my best life.

One night, while hanging out with my dear friend Bailey at her apartment, she remarked "Didn't you want to do a peyote ceremony? They're posting about one on the Hermanas Hermosas group". Hermanas Hermosas is a global feminine movement that has a Whatsapp group for pretty much every major city around the world and many others for smaller towns but with a spiritual community present. Some get so big that they have to separate into smaller topics as to not spam everyone in Mexico City with apartment ads if they aren't looking for an apartment. In this case, there was a post in the Hermanas Wellness group sharing that sure enough, a peyote ceremony was being led by two women up north in the very desert to which the plant is native.

I sprang into action, as it was Wednesday, and the trip left that very Friday morning. Thanks to the help of my friends, I was able to collect the necessary supplies for a night out in the desert under the stars, called in sick to work that Friday, and I was off to experience the healing powers of hikuri.

It would be wonderful to tell you that I had a powerful, life transformational experience sitting with this medicine; however, that Thursday before the ceremony, I got some awful stomach bug. That day, I could not keep down even water, and I toyed heavily with the idea of cancelling the trip. However, there was no way I was going to miss what I felt was an opportunity that did not come many times, so I came armed with anti-stomach-explodey pills and somehow got myself to the meeting point that Friday morning.

With the group, we went out into the desert with flashlights to find and harvest our cacti medicine. Then, we set up around a fire, prepared the plants, made a delicious tea full of medicinal herbs and more cacti, and prepared the ceremony. My intention was to ask for guidance on what is my purpose. After consuming the recommended dose, about half an hour, I had an euphoric beginning to the trip. Then, I felt called to lay down in my sleeping bag, so I listened to my body and got comfortable. I fell asleep for the majority of the night. Upon waking up, I was initially quite mad - I came all the way out to the desert and I didn't get to talk to the blue stag spirit of peyote? However, I do believe the message was that I needed to give myself time to rest. Living in a city as active and exciting as CDMX meant that most of my free time was spent out of the house, and that was probably not the way I would find clarity. Also, I learned the importance of not having any expectations.

Three months into Mexico City living, Australia announced they were finally re-opening their borders. To my family and I, that meant we could finally get the chance to visit my brother Jesse and sister-in-love Kiki (because “sister-in-law” just doesn’t fit) who had been living on the strictly locked down island since Covid began. This meant I could either keep paying rent while I was away in order to keep my apartment, or… an idea sprouted.

Instead of coming back to Mexico City, I could move out of my apartment, and start to travel Mexico when I got back. The city was feeling comfortable, which was lovely, but also a sign that it’s time to move on. I had developed a support network that gave me the confidence I needed to spread my wings.

It was decided. When I returned to Mexico from Australia in August, I flew back to CDMX for a short visit, then began my solo exploration of the country.

Chapter 4: The Bird Migrates Farther South

Now that I had nourished the soil and grown new roots, I was craving expansion towards the sun. The previous months’ themes were reestablishing confidence in myself, completing DUI obligations, and building up my savings again. Here is the part of my journey where I feel like my real growth starts. 

After months of hearing stories and recommendations, I decided I would start my nomadic chapter in the state of Oaxaca. First stop was Puerto Escondido, known as one of the best surf spots in the world and for its hippy party vibes. As I do not surf nor was in a partying mode, I did not fall head over heels for the town. The main areas were mostly filled with other international folk, which was a con for me, as I wanted to leave the bubble of Mexico City to get to know a more authentic side of Mexico.

As soon as I arrived in Puerto, I felt stressed to find friends. Company. Community. I knew a handful of people from CDMX who happened to be there at the same time, connected with some friends of friends, and met people on my own. Despite this, my social life was the area where I felt the most resistance. I was expecting the luck and speed I found people in Mexico City to be the same there. Well, that was not the case. And this frustrated me. Which forced me to take a step back and reflect - why did this cause me frustration? Was I putting too much value on spending time with others instead of just enjoying life?

…Ope.

Yep.

Out of discomfort came a lesson: I should be acting as my #1 source of company and entertainment. And, quality over quantity. This is a lesson I had begun to learn already when I moved back to Ventura, my mainly friend-less hometown; however, this time, it resonated on an even smaller scale: if I have to choose between doing something with an acquaintance vs. doing it alone, I would much rather be alone.

One night under an almost full moon, I decided I would lead my own healing ceremony instead of going out. I brought my crystals, candles, journal, and rapé upstairs to the rooftop of the house I was staying in, feeling quite proud of my fully equipped witchy starter pack. For those who don’t know, rapé (pronounced RAH-pay) is a type of plant medicine made mainly of tobacco. Usually, a pea sized amount of the powdered plant is blown into your nose through a pipe, either by yourself or another person. The first time I did a rapé ceremony was with my brother in Australia, who administered it to me. This would be just my second time using this plant medicine, and the first time from the nasal spray bottle Jesse and Kiki gifted to me.

Prepared with Kleenex and a trash can in case of possible purging, I shot a spray of medicinal tobacco into each of my nostrils and relaxed back into a hammock. The sensation started by feeling like the lights inside my brain suddenly surged on, and then a tingly wave washed down from the top of my body all the way down to my toes. It was very similar to the feeling of adrenaline, except more powerful and also quite dizzying. The mango I ate earlier was all of a sudden no longer welcome in my stomach.

About five to ten minutes passed where I felt nausea and ecstasy at the same time. The urge to yell and clear my throat arose, and I realized I should be using my Voice more, as what I have to say has value. Then, in this state of clarity and heightened awareness, an idea zapped into my mind - weekend retreats for girls. All around me there are retreats offered for adults focused on various spiritual offerings, but why not kids, too?

Whoa.

That was something to think about.

I took out my journal and began agreeing with all those Instagram posts that talk about how the greatest growth is done in solitude

I resolved to do this more often.

So, I gave gratitude to Puerto Escondido for its technicolor sunsets, dreamy beaches, and the ability to party barefoot or in Crocs and flew back to CDMX. There I met one of my best friends from Barcelona who was in Mexico traveling with his partner.

After keeping it relatively chill in terms of partying in Puerto, I was excited to let go in the city. Unfortunately, on our first night out, my phone and wallet were stolen out of my fanny pack.

Aaaarrggg!

WhHyyy, again, when I felt like I was in such a sweet groove, did I have to be punished?

I guess I had mOrE lEsSoNs iN rEsPoNsIbiLItY tO lEaRn, said with my hands on my hips, my mouth pursed, and my eyes glaring.

As any mature adult would.

Fortunately, my community jumped in right away to support me, with a temporary phone to borrow and money to lend. My mom and I worked relentlessly in attempts to get a new phone sent to me from the US before my flight back to Oaxaca, but Mexican customs said “jaja, na”.

So, off I went, back to the coast of Oaxaca, with my iPhone sequestered in CDMX customs, and a Kodak brand phone as my new travel buddy. My next destination: Mazunte, a town a little over an hour south of Puerto Escondido that boasts the title of being one of Mexico’s 132 “Pueblos Mágicos”. It became obvious very quickly that the town was indeed a magical one.

Chapter 5: The Bird Questions Her Reality

Even though I was in Mazunte for just two weeks, it felt like two decades. Some of the beaches there have black sand, due to underwater volcanic eruptions reaching the shore. This meant the sand was literally magnetic, an effect I felt made time pass slower and in a more relaxed way there than anywhere I’d ever traveled to. The town was the perfect size for me: there was one main road, unpaved, that led to the beach with some side streets, little shops, and cafes with palapa style roofs made of palm leaves. A mix of national and international humans exchanged real eye contact and smiles when passing each other on the street. There was a lot to smile about when living in a hippie paradise surrounded by lush, tropical foliage like coconut and banana trees.

In the midst of all this abundance is where the concept of “The Matrix” really entered my consciousness, thanks to conversations with many of the town's eclectic souls. Bear with me as I take a break from the narration of events to share the journey of how Mazunte really brought the red pill / blue pill metaphor to light.

Take my job as an example: Monday - Friday from 11am to 8pm, with the exception of an hour lunch break, I am expected to be in front of a laptop, aka plugged into The Matrix. The rest of the world basically ceases to exist as I listen to the concerns of people on the other line, pressing buttons that cause prescribers to order prescriptions, pharmacists to dispense medication, therapists to attend patients, banks to deposit refunds, etc etc. In this way, if you look at my job with a wide angle lens, I am altering the reality of people thousands of miles away with the sound of my voice and the touch of my fingers against the keyboard. Why? Multiple reasons. Mainly, because it’s my job, so I have been told that if I do so, I will get paid.

To counter, there is more motivation than just money for me in my role. I believe that we deliver services that really are helping people, and I also know that I spread as much love and light into every interaction possible. So, I hold onto the knowledge that I am planting seeds of positivity in the vulnerable hearts of humans seeking mental health services as another reason, apart from money, that I do my job.

Alright, then, now the big question - would I still do this job if I wasn’t paid?

Honestly, no. Or at least for a lot less hours a day.

Aha.

So, what would I like to do? What skills do I possess that I could offer the world if the Matrix ceased to exist?

Feel free to take a break here and join me in one of my daily existential crises.

In that magical town where nobody seems to know what day or time it is, I toyed heavily with the idea of indefinitely powering off my work laptop and surrendering fully to the fate of the Universe. I could teach English at the school there, or online, or something.

But that’s the problem.

I still didn’t have a goal or idea to motivate me enough to take a risk that big.

So, I didn’t take the red pill.

I did not feel ready.

My Kodak Moment, as I referred to my phone, greatly limited my ability to communicate and stay connected to loved ones. My iPhone was still collecting dust in Mexico City’s customs and I wanted my high tech cyborg brain back. Also, I had more travel plans ahead of me that required money, so a steady paycheck and an ever-increasing savings account would help me reach those dreams with ease. So, I continued with my blue pill work routine, choosing comfort over freedom from the Man.

But, with knowledge comes power. Mazunte changed me. I set a goal: Develop skills that would allow me more freedom in how I make a living. Rather than invest time in a company so it could make money, I wanted to invest time in me so I could support myself on my own. For one, I would need a new laptop, as we all know technology is a useful tool for learning and making connections. With that in mind, I decided it would be the easiest and cheapest to work on attaining technological autonomy back home in California. With Thanksgiving on the horizon, I decided that would be a perfect time to go home and be surrounded by sweet, familial love as well as take advantage of the benefits of capitalism.

With some tangible goals set in place, the storm in my mind began to settle down. A compass and a map helps greatly in navigating the ever changing winds of life. However, the journey ahead still lacked clarity. I knew what tools I would search for while at my next port; however, there was still the unanswered question my whole crew was waiting on: Where are we going next?

Chapter 6: The Bird Continues Her Search

My course veered north towards the mountains, with a big chunk of my heart left behind in Mazunte. For the next two weeks, I explored the high elevation towns of San Jose del Pacifico and San Mateo del Rio Hondo. To me, San Jose’s nickname should be “Mushroom Disneyland'' due to the fact that the majority of travelers who go there are seeking to experience psychedelic mushrooms. The knowledge of this practice was originally brought to the town by María Sabina, the famous chamanic healer. With a view of endless mountain ridges, I sat in my room with the sacred medicine and asked for clarity as to what is my life’s purpose, but unfortunately did not get the answers I had hoped for. I did, however, eat some of the best mushroom soup and quesadillas ever, and marveled at the way the clouds gracefully changed form over the endless mountain peaks.

I wished I could change as gracefully as those clouds.

In San Mateo del Rio Hondo, I got to experience a non-touristy mountain town, just 30 minutes away from Mushroom Disneyland. The scenery was also stunning, and I could enjoy them from a cozy cabin that was half the price of what I paid in San Jose and double the amount of space. Also, for the first time in weeks, I could cook in my living space, as where I stayed in Mazunte and San Jose had no kitchens. I enjoyed playing house in my little cabin, buying freshly cooked beans and tortillas from a woman that sold them from her kitchen down the street, and worked outside on my balcony with a view.

Next up on the tour of Oaxaca state was Oaxaca de Juárez, aka Oaxaca city. My first question was: have you ever seen the word “Oaxaca” used 3 times in one sentence? Hehehe ok only joking. My first impression was that it was jarring coming to a city after being held so gently in small towns surrounded by nature. But, reliable Wifi and finally getting my iPhone back were welcome pros.

My intentions going into that leg of the trip were to consume so much mole that it would become my blood type as well as experience all the Día de los Muertos magic possible. It was time to have a break from my intense self reflection and relax a bit.

There was one other city resource I was eager to take advantage of - health clinics. I had decided I wanted to get my IUD removed, for a number of reasons. Since the age of 17, I had been on some form of hormonal birth control. Now, at 28, I was getting the feeling that maybe I wasn't able to find clarity due to being less connected to my body's natural rhythms. I had been learning about how a women's wisdom comes from our womb and I wanted to get in touch with mine. Initially, the lack of having a period excited me when I got my IUD inserted in March 2021 (when I moved back to the US); however, I actually missed my monthly reminder of my feminine power. Being around so many spiritual women who cherished and ritualized their moon cycle also animated my interest to do the same.

Another reason was that when talking to women my age and older, they shared with wild glints in their eyes about feeling their sex drives begin to increase. This is usually the case as we get into our 30's, but I was just not feeling it. I wanted that wild glint, too. And finally, in the simplest of ways, I was excited to return to a body that was 100% natural, for the sake of my own physical health.

In the first week of my stay in Oaxaca, I was connected with a goddess named Marluy I met through the Hermanas Hermosas Oaxaca Whatsapp group when asking for a hairdresser recommendation. During my haircut, I shared my thoughts with her about my IUD, she supported my idea to get it removed, and discussed her own journey. It was the final motivation I needed to schedule an appointment. The very next day, she accompanied me to a clinic where I bid farewell to my Mirena. She held my hand and brought me lentils and a mix of feminine herbs to make tea in case of cramps. What a blessing it was to be supported by a sister in my time of need.

To allow myself time to reconnect with my body, I decided to combine the removal of my IUD with the start of intentional celibacy. This would be quite the new journey for me, as I love casual physical connections, but I was interested in experimenting in something different. Again influenced by other women around me and a podcast episode, the idea of saving my intimacy for myself and only the highest level connection was empowering.

Later on in the month, I was grateful to reunite with my good friend Bailey, who had also decided to leave Mexico City to check out Oaxaca's famous Muertos celebrations. We agreed that Oaxaca’s food reputation lived up to the hype as we explored the wide array of restaurants together. Additionally, the nearby towns are full of natural and cultural allure, and I had a blast exploring it all.

Yet, despite trying to give myself a break, the feelings of frustration and being stuck remained. I was filled with the feeling that I wanted to move forward, like a constant push, but I was unsure of where to direct that energy.

On one of those days when I was feeling extra discouraged, I decided I had to do something to give myself a feeling of hope.

I opened up an application for a working holiday visa in Australia.

That’s how everyone solves their problems, right? Find a new country and make plans to go there? No? Hmm, can’t relate (hehehe).

Anyway, I was granted the visa two days after I sent in the application. This brought me immediate, immense relief, like I had finally found a trail marker after wandering aimlessly for weeks - “This Way: Australia”. A clear option I could use to get myself out of the rut I was in.

Getting the visa was not as entirely spontaneous as it may sound. Ever since learning about the working holiday visa in high school, I knew it was something I wanted to take advantage of before I turned 30, which was approaching. The plan became: explore the remaining regions of Mexico left on my list while continuing to work for Cerebral, then jet off across the globe to a country where the work conditions and pay seemed to be a much healthier balance than my current situation.

In the Land Down Unda, you can actually make a decent salary from just a part time job, a concept completely alien to your average United Statesarian. With more free time, I could take courses, have hobbies, and overall have more than just the weekend to explore my interests. That sounded like a great environment to continue my self discovery mission.

Hilariously enough, that very week, I received an email from the Peace Corps inviting me to serve in the Dominican Republic as a Spanish Secondary School Teacher. Remember back when I moved home from Barcelona, I had applied and interviewed? They stayed in touch by email, asking me once every couple of moons to see that if I wasn’t invited to serve in X country, would I be open to serve in Y, Z, etc country? Always wanting to keep my options open, I would reply “yes, I’ll go anywhere Spanish speaking”. After months of playing this game, it made me want to pull my hair out that I had finally achieved a goal that I worked towards, but at such the wrong time. They gave me just a weekend to make my decision, so even though I felt honored to have been offered this opportunity, it did not spark joy. I checked the “decline invitation” box, sent a thank you email, and moved on. Aaarggg.

On October 28, 2023, the kickoff event of the Día de los Muertos celebration was a free concert in the Plaza de la Danza. During a parade, I linked up with a big group of travelers from a Whatsapp group, and we excitedly walked alongside masked and painted people so gorgeously done up and making all of my Coco movie dreams come to life. Upon arrival at the plaza, we walked through the crowd to find a spot to watch the concert. I reached into my bag to take out my phone, and to my absolute rage, found it had been stolen.

Again.

Not even a month after I got it back from Mexican customs. Someone had cut a slit into the side of my fabric tote bag and taken it out without me feeling a thing.

Now a pro in getting my phone stolen, a kind friend I had made in the city and I went to the police station two days in a row, as I was determined to do everything possible to try to retrieve my expensive rectangular block. They took us to the location as shown on the Find My iPhone app, talked to the neighbors, but were unable to retrieve it. Not much of a surprise, but I had to try. At least this time I knew I would be home soon where I could use insurance to get a replacement. However, it drove me up the wall that the same thing had happened again so soon. Plus I found out I still had to pay a deductible for the insurance, causing me to have to dip into my Australia savings fund.

When are phones going to just be installed into our eyeballs? That should be thief-proof… right?

Anyway, I gave my best wishes that whoever took it was able to provide for themselves and/or family because of it, and that they may one day find a path that brings them self-sustaining financial wealth. The money I lost would come back to me ten fold.

Time to move on.

As I boarded the bus from Oaxaca city to Mexico City, the end of my Tour of Oaxaca State Life Chapter materialized before my eyes. Present turned into the past tense. My eyes welled with emotion and my heart felt so many feelings: amazement, sadness, pride… and gratitude. So much gratitude. August in Puerto Escondido and Mexico City, September in Mazunte and the Sierra Sur mountains, and October in Oaxaca de Juárez. What I was craving more than anything at that moment was family and community. Empowering as it is to depend fully on myself, life is all about balance, and I was ready to go home and let someone else take care of me.

Chapter 7: The Bird is Ready for Some Serious Nest Time

Before flying back to California, I spent a week in Mexico City reconnecting with my community. The process of reflecting upon my months of adventures and growth began as I caught up with beloved friends. Then, it was off to LAX to make it home in time for Thanksgiving. The Beth who was home in July vs the Beth who came home in November felt more centered, more confident, and closer to finding clarity… but still, not quite there.

Patience. I was doing my best to be patient with myself.

Meanwhile, I accepted all of the love and help of my incredible family.

It is a glorious gift to be able to have a safe and nurturing nest to be able to lay down my tired wings.

At home, I called on more than just my family to help guide me to clarity - I also reached out to a professional. Back in Mazunte, my cabin buddy had introduced me to the podcast As Above, So Below, hosted by Cato, a professional astrologer and business coach. I had been wanting to get a reading done for so long but hadn’t found the right person or moment. Once I finished listening to every podcast episode, I knew she was it. I booked the session for the day before Thanksgiving.

To nobody’s surprise, my biggest hope for the reading was to gain insight as to what I should do with my life. As Cato specializes in Evolutionary Astrology, that is one of the main offerings of this way of interpreting charts: to discover what is my soul’s blueprint and life purpose.

If I had to describe the session in three words, they would be Unlock, Recharge, and Inspire.

Hearing her describe my planets, houses, and transits affirmed ideas I had been toying around with as well as lit up new neural pathways. It was like the dark sky was suddenly filled with bright stars, all within touchable distance. Like the cosmos, they were there all along, I was just given the guidance to look up and identify them. After she articulated so many of my innate talents and interests, I felt like I had all the ingredients laid out in front of me. The only question remaining was: what recipe would I choose? (Yes I used two metaphors in one paragraph and yes I’m keeping them both. I’m an Aquarius sun and will rebel against all rules, and a stubborn Taurus rising who will find any excuse to talk about food. Hehehe)

Days after the reading, Cato reached out to me to let me know she was having a Black Friday sale on her upcoming Astrology Course offering. With hardly a second thought, I signed up. It felt perfectly in line with my goal to invest in myself and my passions, one of them having always been astrology. Since it was presented to me so easily in my path, my gut said go for it. TIme to start breaking patterns and doing something new! Excitement fluttered in my heart and fresh doors of opportunity began constructing themselves in my brain.

Other housekeeping items I got done at home was pressing the Reset button on my material belongings to reprogram for a new chapter. I had been lugging around a 50 pound suitcase, duffel bag, and backpack throughout Oaxaca and I was so ready to downsize. It was all too clear that I had been holding on to too much, making it difficult to move - physically, and metaphorically. This time, I mindfully stocked my backpacking backpack with clothes for both hot and cold weather, made the painful decision to leave behind my nail polish collection, and added my newly acquired travel yoga mat and iPad to the set up. Instead of carrying around my markers, colored pencils, crayons, drawing pad, and books, I decided that an iPad would fulfill my artistic desires when they arrived, act as a reader for any book I may want, and be a replacement for my work laptop when the time came to quit my job. The cherries on top were a Swiss army knife keychain and a headlamp, gifted to me by my dad. Never underestimate the value of either of those tools.

After two weeks at home, it was back to LAX . There is a special type of confidence inspired by the feeling of being prepared for anything with just the gear carried on your back. I decided to begin this leg of Mexico travels in a new way: previously, I had booked in advance all the places I stayed in. However, this time, I decided to try something different - stay in a hostel for the weekend and look for a place once I got there.

Why? (a question especially asked by my plan-loving parents)

I wanted to try trusting the Universe.

To do something different to then trigger new outcomes. I was trying to get unstuck, and that would not happen by doing things the same way.

Plus, seeing places in person is way different than online. An added bonus.

After taking the first day to get a lay of the land, do a free walking tour, and get added to a Whatsapp group for housing, my second day in San Cristóbal de las Casas had a clear goal: find a place to rent by the end of the day. That Sunday turned into a real life International House Hunters episode and I had a blast. I visited three apartments, made a little visual of their pros and cons, but in the end, I relied most on my intuition to guide me to make a decision.

Of the three, there was one that stood out. It was a suite style apartment in a compound with a garden and sixteen total units, the majority occupied by young, international humans. As an added bonus, across the street was a community center that hosted donation based dinners every Friday, organized in part by some of the neighbors in my apartment building. 

Community.

It came with a built-in community.

Now, wouldn’t that be a wonderful thing to be able to filter for in an apartment searching app?

Happy as a clam, I unpacked my things and began the nesting process. San Cristóbal de las Casas, or San Cris for short, is a Pueblo Mágico in the state of Chiapas, nestled 2,200 m (7,200 ft) up in the mountains. Just like my previous travels, trusted sources had recommended this town for reasons such as its abundant nature, indigenous cultural presence, and spiritual community presence.

In San Cris, I decided that my intention was to stay put. I had realized that as much as I love exploring, it is time consuming to make reservations, figure out buses, be in transit, get settled in a new place, etc etc. Instead, I wanted to use my free time to focus on my own projects.

Do less to do more.

Crisp, sunny days and chilly nights aligned beautifully with my intentions. Cold climates naturally bring out my more hermetic qualities, perfect for the introspection and focus for which I was yearning. Yet, the same frustration bubbled up.

What is my purpose? What am I doing? Where am I going?

Again, and again, and again, these heavy hitting questions flooded my brain, and I was still drowning. Yes, I had my ideas, but I felt like I needed to start making progress and I didn't know where to begin.

I needed fresh air. A new strategy.

A lightbulb clinked on in my brain: I should write about my journey.

Like a hike in the woods, if you realize you are lost, it is not recommended to keep moving forward. Instead, you should either stay where you are, or try to backtrack. Did I feel lost in the woods? Yes. So, maybe if I took the time to map out my past, I could get an idea of where I am now.

Now, isn’t it funny how the expression “we teach best what we most need to learn” is so spot on? I am passionate about mental health and work in the field, yet, I struggle to remember to use the very coping strategies I recommend.

Welp, better late than never.

So, I got to the mission. Every morning before work, I would get out my laptop and start writing. Instead of just journaling about this for my own sake, I decided that sharing my story could help others who might be feeling the same way. As children, we read books that help us learn to share, resolve conflicts, and be a better person. Where are the stories for young adults?

Always loving a good visual aid, the idea of a bird’s journey resonated as a way to structure the long tale I set out to tell.

And here we are now.

Chapter 8: What Happened Once the Bird Finally Stayed Still

Isolating myself during the week to focus on writing and work was easier knowing that on Friday night, I had a reliable plan: walk across the street to the Casa Lab community space for the weekly dinner. This completely erased the usual New Place routine of “how will I make friends? Where should I go? What if I don’t meet anyone and then I waste my time and money?” At Casa Lab, I already knew two of my neighbors would be there. I shared the invitation in the group chat with the rest of my apartment complex as well. And, since it was so close to my home, there was no need to worry about what time I finished work, how to get there, if I would be arriving late, etc, etc. All family style, all close to home, all inclusive. No resistance in sight.

There, I began making connections with people who all chose to eat family style over any other Friday night plan. This meant that we all valued community. With that already in common, I felt more confident that the people I met there were the type of people I wanted to be spending time around.

Just like that, San Cris felt like home. My new friends invited me to movies, dinners, day trips, and even a big family style Christmas (/Hanukkah, hehe) dinner. Even though I was feeling so happy with my community there and my experiment in staying static, months ago I had taken off the first week of January to allow myself to explore Guatemala. I had doubts about going, thinking maybe I should just stay in San Cris to do more writing, connecting, etc, but my gut said no - give yourself this vacation. Chase your dreams. Go be free.

There was also another reason why I wanted to get to know Guatemala: my maternal great grandfather is Guatemalan. Carlos Eduardo Lascoutx Campo was a pilot in the Guatemalan Air Force who planted his seed during a trip to California. My great grandmother, Claudia Rateaver, was not ready for the responsibility of being a mother and put their boy up for adoption. Claud Rateaver became James Dale Macomber upon adoption. My grandfather. After he found out he was adopted, he got in contact with his biological mother Claudia, and developed a passion to trace his biological family. With my grandmother and their four kids, they spent years traveling the world to research and document our family tree. Thanks to that, we have two published books that contain cataloged data of our family roots. No need to sign up for Ancestry.com for my mom’s side of the family!

Pretty incredible, huh? I am in awe of their work and so grateful for the time they took to connect with such long reaching branches of our family tree.

Getting back to the story, before the trip, I did some research as to where I wanted to go in Guatemala and what I wanted to do. I had heard about the overnight trip to the Acatenango Volcano, where you could see the active volcano Fuego erupting at night.

Lava. Real life lava.

My inner child overflowed with delight at the prospect, as little Beth was obsessed with dinosaurs and all types of natural disasters.

Then, someone I met at an Airbnb back in CDMX had told me that Lake Atitlán, the deepest lake in Central America, was a place people flocked to for New Years. Deciding it would be nice to ring in the New Years surrounded by nature, I booked a shuttle to Panajachel, one of the twelve towns that surround the lake.

And that was the end of my plans.

I booked nothing but the transportation there and decided to leave everything absolutely open for the eleven days I had off. To continue my exploration of surrendering to the Universe, I would rely on my intuition to guide me and flow with whatever felt right.

I believe that that was the key that unlocked a trip that gave me more than I could have ever imagined.

Chapter 9: The Bird Discovers a Magic Lake

On the journey to the lake, the people I made friends with in the bus were all going to the same place: the Cosmic Convergence Festival. I had heard of the festival and knew someone from San Cris was going, but it was pretty expensive, and I did not want to commit to anything in advance. However, one of my guiding principles is to be around people I want to be like, so judging from the fact that the people I seemed to vibe with the most on the bus were going to the festival, I decided it was a sign that that is where I should go, too.

Something fascinating I learned from a person I met on the bus, Cozcacuahutli (or Cozcatl for short) from Mexico, is that at the bottom of Lake Atitlán is a submerged Mayan village. Basically a Guatemalan Atlantis. Then, let’s not forget that the lake is bordered by not one, not two, but three volcanoes. That’s a lot of fiery, spiritual energy for one lake.

Upon arrival in Panajachel, Cozcatl and I put our belongings down in a room rented to us by a friend of his. Exhausted from the 13 hour journey across Mexico and Guatemala, we ate dinner, browsed the unbelievably creative and colorful textiles for sale, then called it an early night.

The next morning, we crossed paths with three other people headed to the festival, Joey, Daniella, and Michael. They invited us to join forces and charter a ride directly to Santiago, the town where the festival was held. As we sped across the choppy waters, I got my first daytime view of Lake Atitlán.

I was taken aback.

The three volcanoes seemed to have a humble, graceful presence, kind of like big dog energy: they were aware of their grand beauty and power, but did think themselves better than anyone because of it. As my mouth gaped open, Joey shared that he had manifested some of his greatest dreams at this lake. Zaps of electricity sparked inside me and I felt the magic energy of the lake light me up. Big things were coming, I could feel it.

Exhilarated by the brisk winds of the boat ride, we arrived in Santiago hungry for the next adventure. We parted ways with the three musketeers and bumped our way in a tuk tuk across cobblestones and dirt roads to the festival entrance. Cozcatl met up with some friends of his and after setting up the tent and painting our faces, I was eager to check out this new environment on my own. While walking around, a woman announced the beginning of a self defense workshop, so I took that as my opportunity to separate myself from the group. Immersing myself in all that the festival had to offer began.

At the workshop, I connected with a woman who had been given a big tent in the artist’s camping section to stay in, as she was going to step in and play drums for a band in need. She offered to share her tent with me, which I gratefully accepted, as Cozcatl’s tent would have been a little snug for two. Once my sleeping situation was settled, I was in need of some alone time, so I found a path to the water and took out my journal.

I closed my eyes and breathed, in and out deeply.

I felt the brisk air fill my lungs and after a few moments, reopened my eyes.

Somehow, I was at a music festival on a lake with a sunken ancient town at the bottom and volcanoes all around. I felt deep gratitude for the ability to be alive in such a special place and thanked myself for all the work I did to bring me there. It was December 30th, 2022 and time to set intentions for the New Year.

When pen hit the paper, the difference between writing my intentions for 2022 and for 2023 was clear: this time, I wrote detailed, specific goals. Instead of just “work hard on passion projects”, I specified that I wanted to write in my blog at least once every three months, host one storytelling event, etc. Manifesting my dreams using the magic of the lake inspired me, and I felt the beauty surrounding me seep into my every cell.

I soaked it up like a sponge.

I became as present as possible, consciously anchoring myself in that moment so I could later come back to that feeling whenever I may desire.

Inspired by the idea of using the lake’s mystical energy to manifest my own dreams, I decided to open up about some of the concepts I had been developing and see what it felt like to share them. With surprising speed, the Universe ushered people who mirrored my state of consciousness into my path: astrologers, female program leaders, community builders. When I shared my ideas with them, I was met with encouragement, praise, and offers to stay in touch. Co-creating with people who want to do the same things as me or are already doing them was an ingredient I had overlooked, and definitely now added to the recipe.

I also found that the more vocal I became about my intentions, the more energy of support I felt. People really listened to my ideas and gave me valuable feedback. Each new perspective was like shining a new light on an idea, so that little by little, the beginning embryonic stage of my dreams began to form recognizable shapes, colors, textures, movement, smells, and sounds. Clarity. It was all coming together.

In these moments, I began to understand why people use the phrase “to birth an idea”. My long period of preparation was necessary and natural, and now I was starting to feel the first thrilling kicks of life.

After the festival, I spent three nights in San Marcos la Laguna, another town on the lake. This was the most spiritual of them all and became sort of the after-party of the festival - in the drum circle, medicine songs type of way. Just minutes after disembarking the speed boat, I was walking up "Hippie Highway" - aka the main pedestrian path of the town - and was approached by a muscular, handsome Italian man, asking "Do you need a hostel?" It was love at first sight - with San Marcos, I mean. Immediately I was welcomed into a sweet hostel with a garden, outdoor kitchen, and a two story house equipped with plenty of comfy beds.

Exhausted after my nights of camping in the cold at the festival, I dropped anchor on one of the beds and connected to Wifi for the first time in days. Some long minutes of scrolling later, I heard the door open, and my Italian host Eduardo had caught another homeless fish from the stream. The fish's name was Dario, from Costa Rica, and somehow full of energy despite the fact that he had also attended the festival. He promptly asked me if I had eaten yet, which I hadn't, and informed me we could go together once he had a shower. Ah yes, those two basic needs I needed to accomplish. Saved by this cheerful angel, I lugged myself off the bed to feel hot water on my body for the first time since arriving in Guatemala and go off in search of sustenance with my new friend.

In our hostel with no name, Dario and I soon added Klas and Amanda, a couple from Sweden who had also been at Cosmic, to our happy family. It makes me laugh that I lived in Sweden for nine months but had to go all the way to Guatemala to actually make Swedish friends. Being around these kindhearted souls was like tying the bow on the festival experience. We cooked together, explored together, shared dreams together, and laughed together - lots and lots of laughing.

I bid them a temporary goodbye, because I still had one last thing I had to do: climb the Acatenango Volcano. Through a tour company in San Marcos, I was able to arrange transportation from the lake to Antigua, where I would link up with the group I'd do the hike with. My group turned out to just be myself and a Costa Rican couple, who were pleasant but not too talkative, and we were taken by a driver to our local guide's house. There, we met Jorge and his family, who provided us with a packed lunch, water, and walking sticks (I already had a headlamp, remember? Just had to point that out. Ok, back to the story). We were then whisked off to the base of the volcano to began the steep, uphill climb. Five hours of huffing, puffing, peeling layers on and off, a stop for lunch, and countless breaks later, we arrived to base camp on the side of the volcano. It was time for a nap. When night arrived, the temperature plummeted and the wind soared, but that is when the active volcano Fuego begins to erupt. About every half an hour to hour or so, if you are watching at the right moment, the volcano explodes and you can see lava trickle down in little vein-like rivers. Bucket list item completed: see lava in real life.

Throughout the night, it was exhilarating being awakened by the boom of wind from the eruption. The air would slam into the plastic walls of our camp and we could feel the ground shake. After the boom, the clashing sound of rocks sliding down its gravely body always followed. In a way, I was reminded of sleeping next to the ocean, except instead of waves, it was lava, rocks, and smoke causing the sounds. Definitely the most extreme camping experience I've ever had. That night, the winds were too strong to be able to safely attempt the optional nocturnal hike to Fuego. It was something I would have wanted to do; however, the freezing temperatures and the state of fatigue I was in also welcomed the opportunity to sleep instead.

In the morning, we awoke to a gorgeous sunrise. It is curious how Fuego's lava becomes shy during the day, emitting only clouds of black smoke. Once we finished breakfast, we all agreed we wanted to do the final optional hike to the top of Acatenango. Reaching the top of the 13,041 ft (3,976 m) summit was one of the most difficult physical experiences I have ever paid and willingly chosen to be put through (humans are so insane), but worth it. I mean, I can't say I climbed almost all the way to the top.

If 2023 started with me sleeping next to an active volcano and climbing to the top of an even higher dormant one, what will I be able to accomplish with the rest of the year? Achieving that will be my reminder that with a clear goal, proper preparation, endurance, and determination, I will be able to make more dreams come true. The only limit is my imagination.

Chapter 10: The Bird Prepares to Hatch Some Eggs

I had been pushing myself so hard to find answers, I had gotten stuck in my mind. When I dropped down into my heart and intuition, it was like everything shifted into place.

Once I paused to consider what I already knew how to do, I realized how many talents and how much experience I have. I had been allowing society’s conditioning messages that I needed to pursue a Master’s, or find a high paying position with ample benefits, or work extra hard to climb the corporate ladder as the only outlets to further my professional life. That was what was making me feel stuck. Perhaps in a previous generation, those were the options. A set in stone formula that rigidly demanded all people should evolve in the same way.

Well, all people are not the same.

When I allowed myself to imagine and dream big, that was where I finally found a path that lit up my insides.

Astrology.

Community building.

Working with teenage girls, their moms, and their grandmas in education and recreation.

Creating something.

Since what society presented to me did not resonate, I realized that I have to create my own path.

Duuuh, I’m an Aquarius Sun, Mars, and Venus. I can’t do anything like anyone else. I am here to innovate, rebel, and change the world - not follow anyone else’s rules.

So, now what?

Time to take action.

Day by day, I am going to take steps that will bring me closer to my goals.

January 18th, 2023 was the start of the Astrology Course that I signed up for back on Black Friday. By the end of this course, I will possess the astrological knowledge and business strategies to be able to become a professional astrologer.

That is my short term professional goal.

My long term professional goal came to me when I sat with rapé on the rooftop in Puerto Escondido. The initial seed that sprouted was a general idea: I wanted to create some kind of outside of school, wellness retreat-style program for girls. Since that initial bloom, the vines have been slowly and steadily creeping throughout my body, forming more and more connections until I now have a living, breathing goal rooted deep within me.

I want to create a program for teenage girls to come together, form sisterhood, learn about essential life topics not taught in school, combine generations, and have fun while doing it. There is such a need for more spaces for girls and women to connect, everywhere in the world, so we can share knowledge, support each other through our highs and our lows, and create community - for all, without sports, politics, religion, culture, etc being at the center.

Creating this program would use every single one of my talents and experiences to form something that I see that our world lacks. At the end of this post, I’ll share more about this, for anyone interested.

Excitement buzzes through my body just to talk about it.

And there you have it.

My life journey over the past 10 years.

What it’s taken for me to finally find clarity. For the first time ever, I feel like I know who I am and my purpose in life. (At this moment, at least)

And it’s only just beginning.

In astrology, there is an important transit called a Saturn return, which usually takes place between the ages of 27 and 30, caused by Saturn returning to the same position it was when you were born. During this time, you will be forced to face the areas of your life that you may have previously ignored, as Saturn represents topics like maturity, hard work, accountability, and adulthood. The opportunity is to get serious about what your legacy is and take responsibility, or resist and continue playing it small. If you choose the latter option, when your Saturn return comes around a second time 30 years later, you will have the same problems to face.

Well, I am fully immersed in my Saturn return and am choosing to embrace it. I have suffered from being constantly wrought with thoughts of “Am I doing what I’m really supposed to be doing?” and answering no, time and time again. However, growth is uncomfortable, so out of this discomfort I am now finally feeling like I see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I am ready to make the changes in my life to close the first chapter and welcome in a beautiful transformation into adulthood. I am thrilled with the possibilities that await me and am committed to working hard to achieve them. A message I received at the magical lake in Guatemala was that there is no time to play small. We must dream big, as the universe is counting on each and every one of us to do what we can to restore love and light into the world. I am taking that energy into 2023 and sharing my intentions so that I will be held accountable.

My hope is that by sharing my journey, others may resonate and gain comfort in knowing they are not alone in feeling lost, or ready for a big change. We must rise together to create the New World of our dreams. It is possible, but only through a collective shift. And that is happening.

So, that is what I’ve been doing :-)

♡ The End ♡ 

More About my Program Idea and Inspiration

Ever since my first job as a Camp Counselor at my temple’s summer camp, I've been searching for ways to make that position last throughout the year. Hence the reason I chose to study the Youth Work and Out of School Time concentration in my Child and Adolescent Development degree, as I knew I wanted to do something with kids, just not in school.

After years of working different jobs with children, I was feeling unbalanced, as I also had many other passions that tugged at my heart. I would love to study art, or nutrition, or plants, or yoga, or tour guiding, or therapy. The idea of picking just one stressed me out.

So… why not combine them all?

The solution: a program focused on girls and women to come together, form community, and empower the feminine uprising currently occurring on our planet. And make it fun, of course.

I want to take the best parts of the activities I grew up with that helped shape me, as well as what I have learned as an adult that I wish I knew as a kid.

One inspiration comes from the YMCA program I did growing up called Adventure Guides (previously Indian Guides, before PC culture emerged), similar to Girl/Boy Scouts. I was in a father daughter “tribe” that would meet once a month at a different member’s house to do arts and crafts, eat snacks, and always ended with a ritual that for each life event passed, we would receive a specific colored bead to add onto our necklace. Additionally, twice a year, all of the Adventure Guides tribes would gather for a weekend camping trip. Everyone would bring supplies not only for themselves, but also to contribute to communal meals, and of course prepare a skit to be presented around the fire on the last night of the weekend. All of this, in hindsight, was teaching me how to camp, survival skills, and intergenerational, communal living.

Another huge inspiration comes from my Jewish upbringing. I have so much gratitude for being raised in the Jewish community it’s hard to know where to begin. Despite what may come to mind when imagining an organized religion, Temple Beth Torah’s influence taught me to be open minded, humanitarian, spiritual, culturally aware, and outspoken. In the Torah, we are commanded to do “mitzvot”, or good deeds - not to get into Heaven or avoid Hell (Jews don’t have either of these beliefs); rather, just because it is the right thing to do. If you combine that with our long (and continued) history of persecution, this produces a person who really honors the value of helping others, no matter their background. Highlights from my Jewish education include social action projects, guided meditations during youth led services, organizing overnight raves in our temple for other Southern California Jewish high school youth groups to attend (yes, you read that right), and sweaty song sessions where we would belt our hearts out to “Wonderwall” accompanied by a throng of acoustic guitar wielding teenagers (looking back, some of the songs we sang were medicine songs that I continue to hear around healing ceremony fires). And, coincidentally, the Jewish high school youth group organization I was a part of, NFTY, also gave beads to add to your necklace for each event attended. Very tribal to use a decorative, visual system to determine someone’s status in life.

So, the dream is to form an intergenerational community and invite teachers of different disciplines to share their knowledge about subjects not commonly covered in the educational system. This is what I mean by the things that I wish I had learned when I was younger. My hope would be that early exposure to a wide variety of topics could lead to something sparking the interest of the participants, later turning into a roaring flame of passion and leadership.

PS - if you know someone doing something like this, have an idea, or want to somehow contribute, please message me! Co-creation is the best kind of creation ♡

Afterword

It has been a grounding and humbling experience converting my journey to words. This began as an exercise for myself to figure out what I’m doing. Thanks to my therapist pointing out that I am a visual learner, she suggested I draw or write out my life path, then add branches of ideas of where I could see it going. This is my interpretation of that suggestion, and wow am I proud of the hard work I put into it. I had been feeling like nobody really knows what I’ve been up to, seeing as I’m constantly moving around and interacting with new people that just know bits of my story. Then, I also realized, I don’t even fully know what I’ve been doing, as I haven’t given myself much time to stop, reflect, and think about how I want to move forward.

By pulling out the internal threads and weaving them into an external piece, I finally can put the finished work on the table and say “Look! This is me”. Now that I’ve made sense of my past and validated my experiences, I feel confident in charting the next course. I know where I’ve been and now I know where I want to go.

As a final anecdote, I was fortunate enough to experience the powerful Bufo medicine in a healing ceremony recently. When I returned to my body, I walked away from the group to give myself space, and immediately my eyes were drawn to a nest in a tree. Immediately, I thought about this story and felt grateful that the universe gave me such a clear sign. Synchronicity is so beautiful.

To conclude, I would love for anyone to reach out about anything this post might have stirred up inside you. Maybe you resonate with something, have questions, or share a common goal - whatever it may be, send me a message.

Thank you so much for reading and witnessing me on my journey. I love and appreciate you.

♡♡♡

[baroquebucky]

if

in which bucky loves you, so much

word count: 948

masterlist

a/n: hi hi!! I’m back inspired by yet another love song <33 lyrics in bold , send some requests!

Bucky smiled at the way you tapped the end of the paintbrush on your nose, eyes squinted in thought.

“do you think i should put a tree here?” You turned to look at him, blushing when you realized he was already looking at you.

“buck you’re supposed to be painting!” you laughed, looking at his blank canvas.

“dunno what to paint doll” he shrugged, and you rolled your eyes.

“a picture that says a thousand words” you replied, turning back to your canvas and painting a tree.

“then why can’t i paint you?” Bucky smirked as you groaned, face beating up from his comment.

“just one day without you turning everything into a pickup line” you exclaimed, a smile on your face as you joked.

“never that doll face” he smirked, kissing your cheek before turning to paint the sunset on his canvas.

Bucky splashed reds and pinks together, blending them in as the two of you enjoyed each other’s company.

“should we get deep?” you spoke suddenly, the urge to have a heart to heart taking over you.

“what?” Bucky looked at you, brows furrowed at your statement.

“I’ll look up some deep questions” you smiled, pulling up some links on your phone and reading through the questions.

“this one says ‘what do you consider home?’ me or you first?” bucky stayed silent, motioning for you to go first.

“i think home is where you’re happy and safe y’know? somewhere cozy” you smiled, looking around at your shared apartment.

“you’re my home, you’re all that’s left for me” he spoke softly, your heart melting at his words.

you smiled at him, not saying anything and simply, setting your brush down and scooting to sit closer to him.

“what keeps you going in life?”

“hmm for me it’s helping people, taking care of people i love, being with you” you spoke, staring at your phone, not daring making eye contact with your boyfriend.

“me too, the people i care about, especially you. you always pour yourself on me, giving me motivation and helping me through everything” bucky smiled, loving the way your heart raced against your rib cage.

“if you could go travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?” you furrowed your brows.

“these questions aren’t deep at all” you commented, frowning at the surface level question. “anyway I’d go to Europe, I’d love to see Paris in person, or Barcelona” you smiled, turning to bucky.

“if i could be two places at once, I’d be with you, tomorrow and today” he replied, turning to face you, watching your smile grow wider and heart rate pick up once again.

“Bucky!” you scolded him, biting your lip to try and hide your smile.

“fine, fine, can’t even flirt with my own girl anymore” he scoffed, thinking for a little before replying once again. “Switzerland seems nice.”

“okay the last one is ‘what would you do if the world was ending’ i think i would spend it with my loved ones, I’d spend the end with you” you smirked, knowing that’s what he would say. Bucky rolled his eyes, blushing deeply at your words.

“if the world was ending and the stars went out I’d fly away with you” Bucky replied, chest puffed out as your heart skipped a beat.

“you’re so fucking romantic” you replied, looking at him with hearts in your eyes, leaning in to kiss him.

“only because I’m so in love” he spoke between kisses, a smile breaking out onto both of your faces, giggling as he kissed your nose, forehead and cheeks.

“I love you bucky” you spoke softly, kissing him one more time before turning back to your painting.

“i love you more y/n” bucky replied, voice smooth and assured. His eyes lingered on you for a bit longer before he turned to his canvas, finishing up his sunset.

“okay reveal on three” you smiled, hiding your canvas from him, he nodded, eager to see what you had done.

You had painted a small cottage, flowers surrounding it with a deer near a forest, pretty blues coloring the sky.

“our future home! we can have this cottage and lost of flowers and we can just live alone and be happy and be friends with all the deer” you beamed at your boyfriend, who had an equally bright smile.

“i love it doll” he replied, letting you set it back down before turning his around.

“the sunset in the park where we first met” he smiled shyly, looking at you hesitantly.

You swore your heart grew in your chest, before thinking you grabbed the canvas and set it down, tackling Bucky with a hug immediately after.

You held him tightly, never wanting to let go. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you in place as he picked you up easily, walking to the couch and laying down with you.

“i love you with all i am” you whispered, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

“If i could i would spend every waking and breathing moment showing you how much i love you” you continued, looking at him and kiss his cheek.

“who’s the sappy flirt now doll” he teased, kissing away your pout and smiling at you.

He sat up, you quickly followed suit, laying your head on his chest.

“i love you more than you can imagine sweets, can’t wait to show you that for as long as i can” he grinned, kissing the top of your head and moving so you were comfortable.

“guess the questions did work huh” you giggled and bucky smiled, letting himself relish in the feeling of being at home. Being with you.

[marvelship-oneshots]

ITALY (STONY)

AU where Steve and Tony fall in love one summer in Italy, inspired by this beautiful fan art made by @vindemiatrix-moonpies

Tony had been left at the altar. The wedding was organised down to the very last detail, everything already paid for by Tony. Everything was perfect, everyone was there. Everyone except the bride. Mary didn't show up. Nor called, or texted. She just disappeared. Tony found out later that night that she had ran away and eloped with her lover. She could have had a perfect life with no one less than the Tony Stark, but in the end she had chosen love. 'Plenty of fish in the sea' Tony had told himself, because it was true, every single lady, and some single lads, was willing to marry Tony. Who wasn't? Mary apparently. The problem was that Tony loved Mary. He really wanted to marry her, she was not just another strategic economic move. He really thought she was the love of his life. But he wasn't hers. This was not going to stop Tony from enjoying his 3-month-long honeymoon in the sweet Italy. Tony laid on his bed the tuxedo, hoping that it wouldn't be there once he came back, he probably had to leave a note to Pepper or Happy. He definitely didn't want to see that suit ever again. He jumped into the first sweatsuit he found in his closet and, without even bothering to take his suitcase, drove to the airport.

Steve was 18 when he decided that America was not his home. As soon as he was out of High School, he took the first plane for Barcelona and went backpacking through Europe. He had always known that, eventually, he had to come back, but then he found the perfect little fishermen's town in the south of Italy, a place that he could finally call home. It was true, what the stereotypes were all about. Italian were indeed nice and friendly and welcoming and when Steve was offered to work for the son of the nice old lady who was kind enough to give him a roof over his head when he got lost in a storm, he felt like he had found his place in the world. Steve hated bad weather, after all he didn't know any fisherman that didn't hate bad weather. But that storm, that storm was a miracle, it might have put him on the wrong road, but it sure showed him the right path. Little did Steve know that he would have to thank bad weather once again.

It took Tony three days to realize that staying in his luxurious hotel room,drinking scotch and snuggling with self loathing wasn't going to take him anywhere. Eventually, he had to get back on his feet. "Stark men are made of iron" his father would say. One morning, he set the alarm way earlier than his usual. It was a nice day outside, although he could feel in his bones that a storm was arriving. The Tony of just one day before would have taken that as a sign to stay in bed, but not the new Tony. He only had 3 months to spend in what in his opinion was the most beautiful country in the world. He had his fancy breakfast, got into a nice linen shirt and drove out of the parking lot of the hotel with the beautiful red Ferrari he had rented for Maria. He drove to a nice little private beach, bought a straw hat because why not, and started walking on the shore, in search of a boat to rent. Tony eventually found one that he could rent and take out without any particular licence. Tony had never sailed a boat before, but he did drive some expensive cars, so he figured it wouldn't be that different, nor much more difficult. Also, he was a fast learner. Indeed, after listening to the renter explain how the boat worked, it wasn't that big of a deal for Tony. At least not until the big storm arrived. It started with the sky turning darker and the wind blowing harder. At that point, the waves were way too high and violent for Tony to come back. If he had had any experience sailing, he probably wouldn't have had any problem going back to the shore. But he didn't know how to face an angry sea and he panicked, which is something that every fisherman would tell you not to do.

The storm was finally over and Steve was walking on the shore, looking for possible damage caused by the storm. It was nothing out of the ordinary, storms happened in summer and that one wasn't any different. No boats were damaged, but he liked walking on the beach after the rain, the sand was humid and fresh and there was a nice breeze. He was collecting nice little seashells for his collection, he already had a handful, but he let them go as soon as he saw something laying on the sand, something that should not have been there. That something was Tony's unconscious body, dragged here by the waves. Steve needled by Tony's side trying to wake him up. He checked his vitals and looked for injuries that luckily were not present. He picked him up in bridal style and took him to his house. From there, he would decide whether he needed to go to the hospital or not.

Tony woke up in Steve's bed. He was feeling exhausted. There was a little ray of sunlight coming in from the window that was hitting him right on his face. Tony rolled over, trying to hide from the light, but fell on the floor with a loud thud. As he loudly growled, more from the frustration than for the pain, Steve ran in the room, as if he was standing right out of the door, which he was, kind of. "Hey, hey, do you hear me?" Steve asked in Italian. Tony was not sure if he understood him, but he could hear a thick American accent in his voice. Truth was, that, no matter how long Steve had been living in Italy, he could not produce an authentic Italian accent, although he knew the language like his own. "Water" Tony mumbled, closing his eyes. Steve ran away and came back with a glass of water. "Here" Tony took the glass with both hands, eagerly drinking it. "Do you know where you are?" Tony shook his head. "Do you know who you are?" Tony nodded "Anthony...Tony" Steve held out his hand. "Very nice to meet you Tony. I'm Steve" Tony shook his hand. "How are you feeling?" Tony nodded. "Do you need to go to the hospital?" "N-no I'm fine" Tony replied nodding. "Ok, let's get you something to eat, ok?" Steve got up, holding his hand out for Tony, waiting for him to take it. Tony looked around while walking to the kitchen. Steve's house was extremely small, it was all on one floor and it consisted of the bedroom, a small kitchen and what Tony could only assume was the bathroom. Tony sat at the rather small table while Steve fixed him a plate of pasta salad and sat next to him. Once he finished eating, Tony got up and reached for the door. "I-I have to go" But before Steve could reply, Tony collapsed on the floor. "It's late and dark, I think it's best if you spend the night here"

Despite wanting to leave the very first second he was conscious again, he soon realised that the quiet little fishermen's town and Steve's company were all he needed. Steve would go to work in the morning, before sunrise and would be back just in time to have breakfast with Tony and they would spend the rest of the day together. It was nice for Tony not to think about Mary for a while. But the dream had to come to an end, eventually. Tony had obligations and a multi billion dollar company to run waiting for him in New York. It was the beginning of September, the days were shorter and the nights were chiller. But it also meant that the town was quieter. Almost every last remaining tourist was leaving. In town there were only the fishermen and their families. Even they were starting to go back to their winter houses because the kids were going to start school in a few days. Soon Steve would be among the last remaining people in the town, with some old ladies. To them, Steve was a saviour, taking care of their groceries and their errands. That could only mean that it was the end of summer and, despite being the saddest time of the year for the residents, it also meant that the happiest days of the summer vacation were coming up. Every single free moment there was, was used to organise a more memorable feast than the year before. And Tony helped. Well, he mostly founded the feast, anonymously. He hadn't told Steve, nor anybody else, who he really was, he figured that, if no one recognised him, he would be nice to live like any other normal person for once. What he didn't take into consideration was the possibility that he could become attached to a certain muscular blond man.

The last night of the feast was also Tony's last night in Italy. He had already begged Pepper for more time, but she couldn't give him any more. There was live music and fresh seafood for everyone. Everyone was smiling, singing and dancing, celebrating the great summer they had. Tony was sitting at a table, a kid had just come to say goodbye. He was running out of time, and that little time he had, he wanted to spend it with Steve. "Steve" "Heeey Tony" He sounded slightly drunk. "I need to talk to you" Steve nodded and took his hand, walking him to the brickwork in front of the sea. "So, tell me" Steve was sitting facing the sea while Tony was facing the other way. "I'm leaving tomorrow" "I know" "I'm...not sure you know who I am" Steve looked at Tony. "You're Tony" "I am Tony Stark" "As in..." "Yes, as in Stark Industries" Steve sighed and looked back at the sea. "Ok" "Just ok?" Steve shook his shoulders. "Yeah, I don't care. It just explains how you could pay for everything" Tony giggled. "I don't want you to go, Tony" "Yeah, I don't want to go neither" Tony put his hand on Steve's. "Steve?" Steve hummed and slightly turned his head towards Tony. "Ithinkimfallingforyou" Steve giggled. "What?" Tony inhaled deeply. "I think I'm falling for you. Deep, like really deep" Steve smiled and caressed his hand. "I fell for you a long time ago, Tony" Steve turned to Tony, sitting astride the brick wall. He put a hand on Tony's cheek. "Can I kiss you?" Tony nodded, biting his lip. Steve put their lips together, pushing Tony back, making him lay on the wall and standing over him, while Tony threw his hands around Steve's neck. Tony mumbled. "What are we going to do?" Steve rolled his eyes "I don't know. We'll think about that tomorrow, now shut up and kiss me" Tony smiled, biting his lip again. Steve smiled and kissed Tony, trying to gain access to his mouth, that Tony kept denying. Steve bit Tony's lip and Tony gasped and Steve, catching the opportunity, slid his tongue into Tony's mouth, feeling Tony's body relax under his touch. Everything was going to be fine, the end of the summer meant the beginning of a life together.

[pedros-mustache-main]

the arrangement

summary: it is all clear and simple—until it isn’t.

word count: 6.6k+ 

warnings: sugar daddy relationship, age gap (john is ~35, reader is ~23), angst, language, innuendo, suggestive themes & moments (not 18+ but be mindful—probably more so than with anything i’ve written!)

a/n: for the sake of this fic, veronica et al. don’t exist. i refuse to write infidelity. okay i hope you enjoy because i am very upset about the cottagecore!brian fic that i wrote which was eaten unceremoniously by the monster living in this website. xoxo!

1986.

he doesn’t kiss you; you won’t let him. 

it’s all a part of the minutiae of your arrangement. he has his rules: a shower before and after—sometimes together, but mostly alone; meetings out of the public eye, normally his london flat; no contact with his colleagues. you have your rules: no outside arrangements with other women (or men, for all you care); no spur-of-the-moment visits; and above all, no kissing.

he can—and does—have a field day with the curves and contours of your body whenever he gets the chance. his mouth knows your skin well, and you’d like to think you know his in a similar fashion. you know what it feels like to be touched and held and loved by him, but his lips have never so much as brushed yours, and you intend to keep it that way. it’s just a quirk, a bothersome little thing you carry with you to all of your arrangements. kissing is too intimate and, though you’ve been more than intimate with john, there’s a line in the concrete you are unwilling to cross. he respects that, so the arrangement works.

you like him. he’s charming and intelligent, thoughtful when it matters. he never forgets a date despite his busy schedule, and he seems to anticipate your moods, knowing just when to spoil you a little extra to ease the pain of a ruined portrait or sour customer. he supports your art endeavors, though you are firm about him staying away from your studio apartment. like kissing, it’s too intimate, too personal. he pays the rent, though, and is admittedly happy when you confess he has inspired a piece or two.

still, he’s confounding. there’s a pervading sadness about his person, even when he’s laughing. it runs deep—that sadness—and you can’t pinpoint the origin. you suspect he must be lonely even though he’s one of the world’s foremost musicians. why else would he dote on you endlessly? why else would he throw his hard-earned money at the feet of a girl too young to be his proper lover and too guarded to ever give him the chance at something real?

not that he’s tried to move the arrangement to something deeper. he hasn’t. for that alone, you’re more than content to stay with him. you’ve had strings of other arrangements before, but never one that’s lasted this long. it always falls apart eventually—unmet expectations, dangerous feelings, the unfortunate death. a year and a half with john is a long time, and you’re surprised he’s not bored with you yet. you’re surprised you aren’t bored with him.

but truly, he is kind and well-off—physically and monetarily—and so long as he’s keen to have you around, you’ll stick around. you aren’t complaining. 

of all your arrangements, you like john richard deacon the most.

he’s been gone for some time, consumed by the magic tour and promoting the latest queen album. he’s tired, ready for a break, and when he calls you a week before his return, you can hear the shoulder-crushing weariness in his tone.

“i’m getting too old for this, [y/n],” he says. 

his sigh is heavy, and it gives you pause. you hold still, the paintbrush between your fingers suspended in midair. you twist on your stool in discomfort. though you know your role—and you play it splendidly—there’s always a flare of uncertainty in the back of your mind when john muses personal. 

you shift, cradling the telephone between your shoulder and your ear. “you’re only thirty-five, john,” you say after a moment. “hardly an old fart.”

“well, i feel one.” something crinkles over the line. “i think we’ll be on break for a good while after this. freddie is—” he sighs again. “when can i see you?”

you can’t help but smile. you dip your head to the side as you study the foot of the angel in your painting. there’s something not quite right, so you lift the corner of your smock and wipe away the top of her big toe. 

you like it when your men are eager; it means they still intend on supplementing your income and leaving you fine gifts. as soon as the eagerness begins to fade, as soon as the meetings are less and less frequent, you know it’s time to look elsewhere. nearly two years later and john is more eager for an evening with you now than he was at the start. you have nothing to worry about.

“when do you get back?”

“thursday.”

“then you can see me thursday.”

he exhales in something that sounds a lot like relief. you bite your lip to keep from smiling wider. he’s wrapped so tight around your pinky; neither of you seem to care. 

“good, good. i’ll bring you something from barcelona. what do you want?”

"hmm. surprise me.”

“you don’t like surprises.”

“you’re right. how about some of those fun little tiles? the colorful ones, y’know?” he hums in agreement. “i can put those in my kitchen.”

“tiles? my baby wants tiles?” he laughs, and you’re thankful for the thousands of miles between you. the affectionate term, spoken normally in jest, sends your thoughts straight to the gutter every time, loathe as you are to admit such a thing. “fine. tiles it is. see you thursday.”

“it’s a date, mr. deacon.” you pause then add, “get some rest, john. you sound knackered.”

“i am.”

“i’ll see you thursday, handsome.”

he says goodnight, wishes you sweet dreams, and hangs up. you drop the phone to its base and sit back, stretching your arms over your head.

the canvas before you is taller than it is wide—twenty-four by thirty-six. the customer, a repeater, requested something angelic and bright, a new addition to their marble villa in the south of greece. you’re happy to oblige, but you’re stuck on the bottom portion. should the angel be in flight? poised on a cliffside? in a garden? you know it doesn’t matter, that the buyer will be happy regardless, but it matters to you. each painting needs to tell a coherent story, and you like for that story to fit well with the piece’s ultimate home.

your mother says you are blessed with a gift by god. john says you have natural talent. you think you’re just good at copying. it’s not forgery; all of your paintings are as unique as they are original. still, you’re excellent at replicating dead-and-gone styles: renaissance, rococo, romantic, hell even the odd modern piece. whatever the customer wants, you can reproduce it for a fraction of the cost. your work pays handsomely, but averaging only one painting a year doesn’t pay all the bills that pile up on your kitchen island over the months. that’s where john comes in. it evens out in the end, with more than enough on the side to play with.

rising from your stool for a much needed break, you cross the concrete floor, the stone cool beneath your bare feet. the evening has gone drafty, so you shut one of the tall windows looking onto the side garden. you pick up your mail from beneath the flap on the front door and rifle through. nothing urgent, though there’s a letter from your mother. you tuck it to the side.

john would detest your studio if he ever saw it. it’s unfeeling, bare bones and vaulted ceilings and exposed beams. most of the open floor plan is used for your painting endeavors. there’s discarded portraits along the wall, a few untarnished canvases tucked in a corner. there’s a worktable that doubles as a kitchen table, and a cramped kitchen shoved beneath the loft which houses your bed and wardrobe. you don’t mind the gray walls and gray floors and metal and lack of personal touches. if anything, the simplicity allows your creativity to explode.

after a piece of jam and toast for supper, you return to your painting. the angel should be on a cliffside overlooking the sea, you decide; after all, her home will soon be greece. dipping your brush to the mixture of tan and dark brown you’ve been using for her skintone, you curl a leg beneath you and set to work. only this time, you struggle to keep the excited smile from your face.

john’s coming home. you missed the bastard—him and his money.

thursday evening you find yourself on john’s front stoop, fist poised to knock on the door. the dress beneath your coat is silky, like water against your skin. you feel underdressed for the turn of the season but you’re likely to be without clothing entirely within the hour so you grit your teeth against the chill on your legs. you clear your throat, adjust the curled ends of your hair, and knock on the door. the bottle of champagne in your hand grows heavy as you wait, and you finger the small string of diamonds around your neck. 

john inhales through his nose sharply when he opens the door. “[y/n],” he breathes before sweeping you into a tight embrace.

you laugh, crushed against his chest, your arms snug around his shoulder. he smells clean, like soap and fresh tea. you lift your legs, giggling further as he spins you about the rowhouse foyer.

“okay, okay!” you squeal. “put me down!”

he drops you to the floor, your heels clicking against the hardwood. “let me take your coat,” he says, sliding behind you to remove your outer layer. you shimmy out of the garment and bite you lip on a smirk when he sucks in a breath through his teeth. 

“like it?” you ask, twirling on the ball of your foot in a slow circle. your dress—pale pink, short and open in the back—leaves little to the imagination.

“you’re a sight for sore eyes, angel.” 

he steps away from the coatrack to circle his arms around your waist. he settles his hands in the curve of your spine and drinks you in, his pupils expanding with appreciation. you preen under his gaze and rest your palms on his brightly patterned shirt. you never tire of this—no matter who your benefactor is. the glazed look in their eye when they see you wearing a necklace newly bought or sporting a handbag of your choice or simply pushed against their strength is intoxicating. you feel powerful and desirable and unstoppable all at once.

“missed you.” john lifts a hand to brush a lock of hair away from your face, and the gesture is decidedly intimate. it sends a chill down your spine, your mouth tightening. you know if this were any other relationship he would bend forward and capture your lips, marking you as his and erasing the weeks apart with a single touch. you know he’s fighting the urge to do so now; you can see it in the way his eyes flick to your mouth and hold there.

to ease his yearning, you wind your arms around his neck and squeeze him tight, curling your fingers in the base of his recently trimmed perm. you like the fluff; it’s quirky—like him. “missed you, john.” you kiss the corner of his jaw and pull away, trailing to the kitchen.

he’s hot on your heels.

lifting your rump onto the kitchen island, you cross your ankles and grin as he enters the room. “did you bring me my tiles?” 

john blinks, as if he’s not sure what you’re talking about, but then recognition lights his eyes, and he snaps in remembrance. “ah yes, the tiles! hold on.” he slips into an adjoining room before returning with a brown box tied with a white ribbon. “here.”

you take the box, smile at him where he leans against the counter opposite you, and tear off the string. within the box there’s a small index card covered in john’s neat script. you lift it and meet his eyes again; there’s a faint blush on his cheeks as you read aloud.

“[y/n], i thought you deserved something better than a few titles. love, john.” lowering the card to your side, you push back the tissue paper to see a framed pencil sketch of a woman mid-gown fitting. the seamstress is crouched against the floor, her back to the viewer. the woman being fitted is twisted, glancing over her shoulder as the seamstress works, her reflection visible in an invisible mirror. you squint and push your nose to the corner then nearly drop the frame to the floor.

your head snaps up so fast it cracks. “john, you didn’t.”

he just beams, nodding.

tucked in the right hand corner of the sketch is the artist’s signature, a signature you know well. mary cassatt. 

“got it in paris,” he explains. “thought you could use an original from your favorite.”

you brush your fingertip along the signature and feel the sting of tears beneath your eyelids. of all the gifts you been handed—holidays in rome, designer bags and jewelry, luxury rides to and from the city—this, this, is the best. part of you hates the sudden rush of emotion that spreads through your chest, but you allow the feeling to take hold, opening your arms to him. he steps between your legs, and you curl yourself around his body.

“thank you, john,” you whisper. your voice is muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but the way he presses his hand against your shoulder blade tells you he heard you loud and clear. 

he hums against the crook of your neck. the vibrations tickle your throat, and you flush. you draw back, far enough to meet his gaze, but close enough to feel his breath against your face. 

god, you could kiss him.

the thought strikes you like a bolt of lightning, and you resist the urge to gasp. you’ve never thought it before; the rule of no kissing is ingrained in you so deep the mere idea of breaking it sends you for a loop. but there he is—generous and gorgeous and yours. he knows you well, spoils you well, and all he asks is you entertain him in return. 

how did you get to be so lucky?

clearing your throat, you brush past him to hop off the counter. you tug the hem of your dress down a smidgen and touch his shoulder. “want me to go shower?” you ask, cocking your head toward the bathroom.

he turns to face you and shakes his head. “no.” his arms are around you again, as if it pains him to keep his distance for a moment too long. you can feel it in the thrum of his heart against your ribcage. you swallow hard.

your brow pinches in a frown. “but you—”

his mouth is already tracing the lines of your neck, warm and wet and dizzying. he grips your hip, his fingertips pressing through the satin of your dress. “forget it, [y/n]. i’ve missed you,” he whispers, a tattoo on your skin. “come to bed.”

“but the sho—”

he pulls back and lifts a hand to grasp your chin. the touch is not angry, not possessive; it’s just firm. the words in your mouth dry up, and you meet his gaze with wide eyes. “i said forget it.”

you nod, mute.

his eyes lower to your mouth. his tongue darts out to swipe his lower lip.

he steps away, his fingers trailing down your arm until they circle your wrist. he leads you through the house, silent, until you reach the foot of his bed. moonlight washes through the open terrace doors. a misty rain drifts into the room, bringing with it a chill and a whisper of autumn.

you toe off your heels, run your finger down his grecian nose, over his straight jaw. there’s this feeling in your stomach, one you can’t quite place. it’s a mixture of contentment and nerves, joy and apprehension, all at once. it’s a foreign feeling, and there’s no time to dissect it as john leans close. 

his nose nudges yours. “i missed you.”

you sigh, wistful, and pull him onto the bed.

come morning you are sated and sore. you groan through a stretch, curling your back like a cat as you adjust to the morning light. you slept well, better than you have in several weeks. you can’t be sure if the dreamless slumber was due to exertion from your evening activities or pure tranquility. you missed sleeping beside john; he has a comforting way about him, even in the throes of pleasure or sleep.

you turn your face to see john already wake, propped up against a pile of pillows. you grin and reach for him.

“morning,” you mumble on a yawn.

he blinks contentedly at you, a half-smile on his mouth, a lit cigarette between his fingers. “morning.”

“sleep well?”

he nods. “that was the most sleep i’ve gotten in weeks.”

with a chuckle, you pinch his bicep. “funny—i thought the same for myself.”

he pats the space beside him, and you shuffle to lie perpendicular to his body, your head on his bare chest. he drapes an arm across your torso, and you lift his hand to fiddle with his long fingers.

the terrace door is still open, allowing mid-morning warmth and the gentle hum of the street below to fill the room. you sigh and smile when john takes a drag of his cigarette and tilts his head to exhale in the opposite direction. he knows you hate the smoke, thoughtful boy. 

when he turns back, he catches your eye, furrowing his brow as he studies the look on your face. “what?”

you shake your head. “nothing.”

he grunts, shifts a little lower along the pillows. “tell me about the paintings you’ve got going in that pretty head of yours.”

“just one for the moment—an angel near the sea. it’s for the olsons and their villa in greece.”

“olson? wasn’t he the one who bought that nudie fashioned after his wife?”

“precisely the one!”

john smirks. “how’d you feel if i had you paint something like that for me?”

you guffaw, flipping over onto your stomach to slap his breastbone. “john!”

he holds up his hands in surrender, though there’s a mischievous twinkle in his gray eyes. “oy! it’s just a thought!”

you huff. “continue like that and i won’t finish the painting i’ve started for you.”

he leans back against the pillows in surprise. his neck is contorted in the effort it takes to properly meet your eyes as he sits, and you poke the double-chin that’s popped up beneath his jaw. he swats your hand away, though his fingers wrap tight around your wrist. he presses his pointer finger against your pulse point.

“you’ve started a painting for me?”

“course i have. don’t sound so surprised.”

“what’s it of?”

you narrow your gaze. “don’t know if i should tell you. it’s supposed to be a birthday gift.”

“my birthday’s not for a while, [y/n].”

“my paintings take a while, john.”

he sighs, squeezes your wrist, lifts it to kiss the bone on the side of your hand. “tell me,” he mumbles, his mouth against your skin, eyes locked on yours.

on an inhale, you give in. “it’s victoria park. well, victoria park seventy-five years ago.”

his eyebrows rise, and his fingers tighten around your hand. “victoria park? my victoria park? from leicester?”

“where else, silly?”

he goes quiet. 

the air in your lungs stills, and that funny feeling you had the night before flares in your stomach. you feel your jaw slacken as he rakes his gaze over you in such unabashed adoration it makes your gut twist. there’s an overwhelming desire to be near him, to feel him as you’ve never felt him before, rising like the tide, and you are pulled to it like a baby sea turtle searching for the safety of the ocean. it’s a natural pull, but you are determined to ignore it. 

you sit up, brush a lock of hair behind your ear, and turn your back to him. 

he runs his finger along the curve of your shoulderblades. you shiver. 

sensing your discomfort, john sits straight in bed, the covers around his lap rustling with the movement. “you know,” he says, pulling on his cigarette again. “freddie would like one of your paintings.” 

“what?” you look over your shoulder with a frown. “you told him about me?” 

he shakes his head. “no, i just mean what you do is his style. he’d be thrilled to have something so… romantic.” he pauses and lifts a brow in question. “i could mention it to him, ask if he’d be interested?” 

your frown deepens. this is not the john you know. john rarely speaks about his bandmates, preferring to keep his exploits with queen separate from your arrangement. when he does talk about his job, it’s normally a complaint here, a silly little story there. though you’ve been with him more than a year, you know more about his life before queen than his life during. he’s private, like you, and you respect that. it’s why your arrangement works: mutual respect for the other’s boundaries. 

but there’s something different about him. you noted it the night before. first no shower. now suggesting he introduce you to freddie. it doesn’t make sense. 

or maybe it does. maybe this is his way of shifting the relationship, subtly, under your nose, done before you realize what’s happened. 

a thread of panic weaves itself around your spine. 

“what’s this about? you’ve never wanted me to meet freddie before.” 

he shrugs, playing innocent. “just an idea. we’re on break now, will be for some time. i figured meeting you would give freddie something to fuss over.” 

“you know how i feel about my studio, john.” 

“i know, i know. you like your privacy.” 

john stubs out his cigarette in an ashtray on the bedside table then scoots closer, drawing you close with an arm around your waist. his mouth works idle patterns along your shoulder, the spot where your neck meets your back, the ticklish spot behind your ear. 

you tighten your hold on his arm, your nails biting his skin. when you speak, your voice is but a whisper. 

“i don’t want things to change.” 

he stills, lifting his head from your skin. “sorry?” 

“i said i don’t want things to change.” turning, you meet his eyes, nearly losing your breath in the process. he’s close; you can practically taste him on your lips. “what we have works. don’t you think?” 

“’s just an idea, [y/n].” 

ducking your head, you play with the hair on his arm. your heart squeezes tight. “i know. but i say yes now and tomorrow you’ll be…” you lift your face. 

he seems to understand without needing you to finish the thought. 

he untangles himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. you watch his movements, stiff and irritated. he pulls on a pair of ratty joggers, rising from the bed to shut the terrace doors. you startle at the sound of glass rattling in the windowpanes. 

“john, i—” 

he cuts you off. there’s another cigarette between his fingers now. “better take a shower,” he quips. his eyes remain planted on the cigarette packet in his hands. he taps the thin stick against the cardboard several times before jamming it between his teeth. “you didn’t take one last night, and we wouldn’t want things to change, now would we?” 

the door slams shut, the blast echoing in your empty stomach.

you don’t hear from john for a week and a half. it’s not uncommon, the length between visits. he’s busy, you’re busy. sometimes you can barely find time for yourself, let alone him. still, there’s no box of chocolates delivered to your doorstep, no flowers dropped off at an inopportune time. 

there’s just silence. 

it worries you at first, and you wonder if he’s dropped you like a hot potato. it wouldn’t be unheard of. one arrangement ended in a similar fashion, and you nearly lost your studio in the process. but john is better than that. he wouldn’t leave you on the verge of homelessness, would he? he cares about you too much to do such a thing. 

your fears are assuaged when a bouquet of flowers does arrive one afternoon. you have paint smeared along your forehead, and your neck cracks as you stand to answer the doorbell, but the sight of sunflowers in a pretty blue vase erases all your uncertainties. the note tucked in the ramble of flowers makes you smile—sorry for being a dick. give me a call if you forgive me – j—and you tape it to your refrigerator. 

john is still yours; you are still his. 

you call him that night, and after reaffirming your boundaries, the phone call devolves into a mess of heavy breathing and whispered encouragements and sinful sorts of pleasure. 

as you fall asleep, you’re struck by something he said in the hazy cloud of post-bliss: even if this is all you give me, i’m happy. 

even if this is all you give me… 

he wants more. how much you aren’t sure, but enough that you can’t fall asleep as readily as you normally do. frustrated, you slip from bed and finagle your way down the stairs to the kitchen. you warm a glass of milk and lean against the counter, sipping slowly. your eyes fall along the mary cassatt print, now housed on the kitchen wall above the vase of sunflowers. the milk in your stomach curdles. 

john deacon loves you; and if you tarry any longer, you’ll be close to loving him, too.

the decision to call the arrangement off does not come lightly. you mull over it for days on end, even as a sliver of your heart warms to the idea of allowing john to love you as he pleases, of letting yourself love him back. 

it’s all you can think about the next time you see him face-to-face. as he pours you a glass of wine and lays you out on the living room floor, your thoughts are elsewhere. when he takes you shopping for canvas frames, you let him hold your hand, but you can’t focus on what he’s saying about the best fit. even when he mentions your studio and you find yourself willing to invite him inside, you cannot shake the feeling that you are losing a part of yourself you will never regain. 

but would it be so bad? giving in? 

you’re interested in john, that much you will concede. he’s good and kind and generous and a hell of a good romp and you enjoy your time with him. but the stubborn part of you refuses to let go of your own autonomy. you will not become his plaything, his arm candy at all the queen functions he so dreads. you value your independence too much—the safety of your well-crafted walls—to be anything other than his dirty little secret. 

you’re prepared to shove your concerns aside and continue on until john makes the decision for you. he gives freddie your studio address, and freddie shows up one morning unannounced. you invite him in, sketch out a painting over the worktable, smile when necessary, and ignore his wonderings about your connection to john but on the inside you’re reeling. you’re livid and you’re hurt. 

you’ve never been hurt by one of your arrangements before. 

after freddie leaves, john answers the telephone on the third ring. “hello?” 

“we can’t see each other anymore,” you say, your voice firm. 

he’s quiet for a moment. “i’m sorry—what?” 

“you heard me, john. i’m calling it all off.” 

“why on earth would you do that?” 

unbidden, an answer rises to your mouth: because i think i like you as much as you like me and i’m scared.

with a harsh clearing of your throat, you instead say, “you sent freddie here. i told you not to do that.” 

“he did what? no, [y/n], i didn’t send freddie to you.” 

“then how else would he know who i am? my clients don’t run in his circles.” 

panic laces the edge of john’s voice as he rushes to explain, but you grit your teeth against the sound. “i swear, angel, i didn’t tell him where you live. i might have told him about you, yeah, but he’s my best friend, and i needed some advice.” he hesitates, sucks in shaky breath. “don’t do this. don’t call it off.” 

you swallow hard. for the first time in a long time, you feel a wash of tears over your eyes. “you want too much from me, john. i can’t give you what you want. i’m not the girl for that sort of life.” 

“oh, baby, i—i’m sorry. i know i’ve been pushy lately but i—” he sighs. “god, i love you so dearly. i’d give you the world if you let me.” 

at this you choke on a sob. surprised by the sound, you press a hand to your mouth. 

oh god, you love him too. the feeling crashes over you like a wave, and you’re the sea turtle who has found the safety of the sea. john is your sea. he envelops you, carries you to safety and uncertainty all at once. but you know him—he will protect you, guide you, with everything he is and all that he has. 

you love him, you love him, you love him. 

but it’s not enough. it’s not supposed to go like this, and you both know it. 

“i’m sorry, john,” you whisper. you didn’t remember that tears taste salty. “please don’t call me, okay?” 

you hang up before you can hear his protests any further then you crawl into bed and weep.

several months pass. autumn fades into winter, and you grow colder by the day. 

you’re stressed. you cut john off entirely, opening a separate bank account and shuffling your monies and generally working to disentangle him from your life. but no john means no stable income. you’re fine for the time being, your painting for the olsons paid for and gone; but you’ve taken to rushing your artwork now, allowing customers to sit for hastily and poorly arranged portraits with their dogs and children. the paintings are lovely, yes, but they’re not you. it pays the bills, though, so you can’t complain. 

you continue on freddie’s painting. he paid you upfront, so you owe him that much. in the evenings, after shooing the last snot-nosed kid and yippy dog out of your home, you turn on the lamp above the canvas and return to the sort of art you yearn for day and night. the painting screams freddie mercury all over. 

there’s a man, mustached and tan, draped against a purple chaise in the center of the canvas. he’s flanked by a tall gentleman with wiry hair who is focused on a globe in the corner. to the far right, two other men—one blond, one brunette—whisper amongst themselves. you realize, belatedly, that you are painting queen in some sort of ridiculous nineteenth century daydream. it makes you snort every time you sit down to work. 

you struggle to capture john in the painting. you know his face better than you know your own. you dream of it every night and wake to an image of it every morning. 

you love him. you miss him. 

you’re not certain when you started loving him. maybe six months in when he took you to new york and the moma and the empire state building. maybe nine months in—your first christmas together—when he gifted you a song. maybe a year in when he confessed his deepest fears—fears of loneliness and isolation and an empty old age—and made you promise to stay by his side. maybe when he came back this last tour and you wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt to hold back. 

you’ve never been in love. you don’t quite understand the way it works, but you know enough to know that you love him. perhaps you always will, your disco deaky, the thoughtful boy. 

you finish freddie’s painting come the first of the year. it’s been four months without john, four months entirely on your own. you have no compunction to find another arrangement. no one could fill the shoes of john deacon even if they tried, and the idea doesn’t appeal to you like it once did. you’ll go it alone for a while and revel in the autonomy you so desire. 

freddie invites you to dinner when you call and say the painting is ready, and you reluctantly go. you’re half afraid he’ll pull some trick and invite john as well, but he swears he’ll be on his best behavior. the night of the dinner, you dress warm and gently arrange the framed canvas in the boot of your car. after losing your way twice, you eventually find his house and park outside. jim helps you carry the painting through the tight gate and into the front parlor where freddie waits, hands clasped in excitement. 

“oh, i could just piss myself i’m so thrilled!” freddie squeezes your shoulders when you unveil the completed work. “i look so divine, like bloody oscar wilde!” 

the edges of a smile lift your mouth. “yes, divine indeed.” 

“you are more talented than you know, [y/n],” freddie says. he boops the end of your nose. “you shouldn’t hide your talent.” 

“i don’t! i sell my work.” 

“yes, but you could be a star, darling. i could make you a star.” 

“i don’t want to be a star, freddie.” 

“then what do you want?” 

you sigh, shrug, and curl your lips in a wry grin. “not sure anymore.” 

“perhaps dinner will help you figure it out. come on, it’s ready and we don’t want it getting cold.” 

you follow freddie to the dining room. what awaits you sends your blood running cold as the frost outside. john richard deacon, handsome as ever, sits at the table, a smoke in hand. he looks up when you enter, surprise painting his face at the sight of you bundled in a winter coat in his friend’s dining room. 

you twist in the doorway. your fists tremble with rage. “fuck you, freddie!” 

he cringes. “okay, i can explain. you just have to hear me out before you slit my throat.” 

john rises to his feet. “[y/n]…” 

you ignore him and keep your gaze on freddie. “you promised!” 

freddie nods. “yes, i know, but you see it was my fault that this whole thing fell apart.” 

at this, john turns his head. “what are you on about, fred?” 

“well, when you told me about your relationship with [y/n]”–-he lowers his voice to a stage whisper, looking at you from the corner of his eye—“when you told me you loved her”—he returns to his normal voice—“i got very distracted by the idea of a painting of the four of us. so i ignored your issue and looked her up and then it all fell apart.”

john sucks in a deep breath, shaking his head. he runs a hand down his face, and you note the weariness etched along his eyes. “fuck, fred.” 

“so, you see, it’s my fault. if i had just left well enough alone, you two might still be shagging like rabbits and spending all that hard-earned money instead of moping like a pair of silly-pants!” he sobers, his nose twitching. “i really am sorry. it was selfish of me.” 

“freddie—” you start. 

he shakes his head. “no! i won’t hear any excuses—not until you’ve made up.” a timer somewhere in the kitchen dings, and he snaps. “now… if you’ll excuse me…” he slips from the dining room, shutting the door behind him with a tell-tale click. 

you look to the floor. you should get your winter boots polished. they’re horribly scuffed. 

john speaks first. “you look good, [y/n].” 

lifting your head, you scoff. “you always were a flatterer.” 

“no, i mean it.” 

you run your eyes over him and feel your heart trip. god, you missed him. “you look good, too.” 

“what have you been doing?” 

“oh, this and that. mostly painting portraits.” 

“you hate portraits.” 

“i know.” 

outside, the cricks chirp loudly, but you wonder if john can heart the beating of your heart over the chorus of insects. 

“[y/n], i—” 

“john—” 

he smirks. you look to your toes again. 

“you go first,” he says. 

lifting your head, you dare to step further into the room. you steel yourself, biting the inside of your tongue to keep from spilling your guts at his feet. “i was wrong, too.” 

he cocks his head to the side in confusion. “what do you mean?” 

it’s time, isn’t it? seeing him now... how could you ever live without him?

“i was foolish and stubborn and willful. i knew what i wanted, but ignored it for the sake of my own stupid ideals.” you step closer and catch a whiff of his cologne. it sends a thrill straight to your belly. “turns out i need people just as much as you do.” 

“what are you saying?” 

“i’m saying i was wrong to turn you away. i was scared. i’ve only ever known love with a price tag on it, never real love. not until you anyway. as complicated as it is, you have loved me better than anyone else, and i was blind to it for so long. and even when i wasn’t blind to it, i pushed you away. i’m sorry.”

he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing. “what—what are you saying?” he asks again.

“i’m saying i miss you and i’m a right git and i love you and i’m sorry.” 

he reaches for you, his touch like fire on your wrist. “i shouldn’t have pushed you.” 

you shake your head in disagreement. “i needed a good pushing. i didn’t realize how much i needed you until you were gone. and fuck all about the money. i don’t care about that. i needed you. i need you.” 

john moves his hands to cup your face, his palms warm on your cool cheeks. he leans downs and presses his forehead to yours. you exhale, sure that if you open your eyes, if you move an inch, you will wake from whatever dream you inhabit. you don’t want this moment to end—him and you and no one else, all the possibility in the world stretching out before you. 

“you don’t know what it means to hear you say that,” he whispers. “i would be content to love you silently, but, god, i love you.” 

you laugh and open your eyes, blinking back tears. you pull away to meet his gaze. “even though i’m a stubborn fool?” 

“i’m more stubborn and more foolish than you ever could be.” his thumbs work over the apple of your cheeks. “i love you,” he breathes. 

“i love you.” 

you grin. he matches your smile. 

“kiss me,” you whisper. 

his eyes widen, his mouth parting. “but—” 

“it’s part of our new arrangement. you can kiss me whenever you like so long as you promise not to smoke in bed.” 

“fuck. i—” he shakes his head, eyes fluttering shut. you lift a hand to his cheek, and his eyes open. 

“i know. me too.” 

he captures your mouth, the touch soft and everything you have waited to find, everything you have searched for in all the wrong places. he kisses you, holds you against his body, weaves his hand in your hair. he moves his lips in tandem with yours, and you feel like you’re floating. 

he kisses you, and you are home.

[idyoma]

The Best Ways to Learn a New Language

Some of the Best Ways to Learn a New Language

My name is Tamara and I have always been interested in languages, how people communicate and how we can interact even more by learning new languages. I was able to take an international exchange program in 2019 and I started taking this interest to a new level by learning and interacting with friends and people that I was lucky to get to know.

I continue studying and trying to learn from home and this is what inspired me to write this article to help more people achieve their language goals and share some of my favourite ways to learn a new language.

People often recognize that being multilingual is associated with career benefits, but did you know that language learning can also enhance your cognitive health? Too often, people graduate from school and leave foreign languages behind in the classroom. Yet, there are some surprising advantages to tackling language learning later in life, too.

As you learn a new language, you build up your communication skills, supercharge your brain with heightened activity in its language centers, and possibly even open yourself up to new work and travel experiences.  

Fortunately, today’s language learners have a wide range of instruction options, like Idyoma, that don’t tether them to a traditional classroom. Finding time to learn a new language outside the home can be difficult for people with full-time jobs and busy households. By learning a new language at home, you can adopt an instruction schedule that suits your time frame — and you can fit in practice when it’s most convenient for you. As you decide whether to embrace ESL or learn Japanese, Spanish, or French, keep the following information in mind to help you create a learning dynamic at home that supports your learning style. 

Best Ways to Learn a New Language

Benefits of being mulitlingual

Setting up your learning space

Top 10 tips for learning fast

Tips for teaching kids a second language

Why You Should Learn a New Language: The Benefits of Being Multilingual 

Although there are many new pastimes one might embrace — knitting or gardening, web design or data science — to fill time, learning a new language is both enjoyable and professionally useful. Today, the career marketplace is highly global.

Bilingualism and multilingualism can catapult your resume to the top of an employer’s list, especially if the company is international and relies on its multilingual staff to communicate across borders. Learning Korean or German can open up an entire range of job opportunities that you may never have thought of before. 

Of course, there are other benefits of learning a new language, too. Language learning actually enhances your mental health. As we age, our cognitive function can diminish just as our physical health can. But, language learning can reduce that cognitive decline, slowing its process as you forge new neural pathways.

When you learn a new language you can boost your ability to focus, keeping our minds alert and agile. Many people who engage in language learning report that the time they engage in the study actually improves their mood. As you focus on the enjoyment and challenge of your lessons, you’ll focus less on the stress of all things left undone, giving your mind the opportunity to recharge and rejuvenate from your usual anxieties and inner chatter.

Finally, you might opt to learn a new language so that you’ll be prepared to get out into the world and explore. Being multilingual makes you a more skillful traveler, building confidence and helping you navigate new, far-flung places for a grand travel experience. And learning a new language improves your communication skills — a core interpersonal and professional talent that’ll get you far in relationships, in business, and beyond.

 How to Set up the Ultimate Learning Space

Of course, before you start pricing hotels in Barcelona or Paris, you’ll need to begin language instruction. But before you hire a language tutor or sign up for an online class, prepare your learning space at home so that you have everything you need to support your learning goals conveniently in one area. If you have a home office, you can enlist that space to learn, but you don’t have to dedicate an entire room to your new initiative. A special niche in your bedroom, kitchen, or family room will also suffice. 

As you set up your language study area, you’ll want to ensure that it’s both quiet and comfortable. Distractions will prevent you from learning effectively. Opt for a space with good acoustics, since you’ll be doing a lot of language listening. Good lighting is important since you’ll be doing a lot of reading and writing. A desk or small table and comfortable chair are essential furnishings for your study area — but why not take your language learning space to an even more exciting level?

Whether you’ve opted to learn Hungarian or Turkish, why not set up your space with some international flair for inspiration? Add some travel posters to your wall, and keep a globe handy. Incorporate the spirit of your Spanish independent study with a Mexican blanket slung on your chair, or enhance your study of Chinese with some picturesque paper lanterns hung near your window. By creating a fun language learning space, you’ll have a special space with a retreat-like atmosphere that may very easily become your favorite place in the house.

 Top 10 Hacks to Learn a New Language

Once your study space is ready and you know what language you want to learn, it’s time to get down to business. Consider all the various applications available for learning a language at home. The following hacks will help you transform yourself into a multilingual virtuoso — or close to it! Keep them in mind as you develop your language learning goals and make your plan. 

Enroll in an online course

Formal instruction is a good option for individuals who prefer to learn a new language with a more-or-less traditional dynamic. If you’re concerned that independent study isn’t conducive to your learning style, consider this tried-and-true learning route. A formal course features highly structured lesson plans, assignment deadlines, and interaction with a teacher and classmates, albeit virtually. 

Download the app

You’ve probably seen the advertisements online for any number of language learning apps. Less formal than an online course, these apps still offer learners a rich level of instruction designed to help them progress at a clip. Apps are ideal for independent learners who don’t have time to meet consistently for an online class. 

Update your library card

Your local library system will have a wealth of materials to enhance your language-learning experience. Plan to borrow language dictionaries and picture books, novels, and even films in the language you’re learning so you can read, watch, and practice your listening skills. Check out materials in person or reserve them online and pick them up at your convenience. 

Quality earbuds, headphones, or speakers

When you’re learning to speak a new language, you need to be able to hear your learning materials clearly. A speaker that crackles or earbuds that cut in and out will compromise your learning experience. Plan to invest in quality listening devices so that you can hear instructors or your language learning app with crystal clarity. 

Use flashcards

Flashcards work for kids, and they will still work for you, too. In fact, if you have kids, you might want to enlist their help — invite them to quiz you on your German verbs after you quiz them on their multiplication facts. You can also find flashcard apps for literally any language you want to learn. 

Hire a language tutor

There comes a point when you might hit a stumbling block or a series of obstacles while learning a new language. Don’t despair! Check with area colleges, and engage a language tutor. This can be especially helpful if you’ve never learned a foreign language before or you want to stay on track and pick up speed as you move from beginner-level learning to the more complex, intermediate stages. 

Find a learning partner

Convince your bestie, spouse, partner, or friend to consider learning a language with you. When you have a partner, you can keep each other motivated and take turns studying at one another’s homes. Of course, ideally, you’ll want to find someone who’s just as enthusiastic about learning Russian or Portuguese as you are, so choose your language learning pal wisely. 

Listen to native speakers

One of the complaints that many students of languages have is that classroom and app models are too formal and not the stuff of everyday language you’ll hear on the streets of Rio, or Naples. Use your devices to track down native language speakers — like watching and listening to videos on the internet. This is particularly helpful if you plan to travel to the country whose language you’re learning.

Be kind and patient with yourself

Too often, people abandon their language pursuits because life interrupts them, and they find it difficult to resume their studies. Keep in mind that it’s okay to learn at your own speed and tempo. It may be asking too much of yourself to learn Italian in six months. If you need to adjust your goals, do it! The key is to keep going — and don’t be afraid to revisit old lessons when you need a refresher. 

Immerse yourself in culture

Language learning may seem tedious at times, especially if you’re struggling with tenses or complex sentence structures.

Maintain your motivation to keep learning by immersing yourself in the culture of the language. Learning Greek? Invite your best friend to a luncheon at your favorite Greek restaurant. Learning Spanish? Set Saturday nights aside for a tapas feasting! You’ll find that cultural immersion boosts your learning — and enriches your life.

Tips to Teach Kids a Second Language

Speak It 

If you speak a second or third language and you want your children to learn it, the first step is to speak it with them. Children learn through repetition. Consistency is necessary to develop a habit, so the more your kids listen to you speaking in another language, the easier it will be for them to grasp it.

Music

Just like for an adult, listening to music in a different language is one of the best tips to follow when trying to learn a new language. For both children and adults, starting with kid’s songs with easy and basic words can work best. 

Audiobooks 

For bedtime or nap time, you could aid yourself by using audiobooks. Following a story with the help of native speakers can work wonders for children to learn different intonations, accents, and vocabulary while also entertaining them.

Have fun

Doing fun activities in the language you are trying to teach your kids is another great way to help them grasp the language. If you grew up in another country, do you remember what activities you enjoyed when you were a child? You can plan a fun afternoon with games from your home country to do with your children. If this is not the case and you are just trying to teach your child to learn a new language, games with new vocabulary are always the best bet.

Video

Another good idea is to let them watch tv or movies in another language. Not only tv shows where they interact with the audience work, standard format movies, cartoons, and shows can help you at home, they don’t need to spend hours in front of a screen. This is only to aid you in the repetition, consistency, and the develop a habit side of the process. Remember it is important that they have access to other intonations, accents, and vocabulary for them to acquire the language faster. 

Space to Learn 

You can set up a special space for them to study. If they are being homeschooled, they would probably already have a designated space for their study work but if not, you can choose a corner in the kitchen, your home office, or their playroom for this purpose. 

Things to add to their study space:

Get them a small table or desk their size with chairs. 

Set up a whiteboard on the wall with markers for them to write down vocabulary words or to draw. 

Corkboards are great to stick images and vocabulary words to.

Shelves for their storybooks and dictionaries.

Be sure to have good light. 

Add color. Remember children’s classrooms are always colorful, this makes them feel in a fun and exciting environment. Bright colors stimulate the brain and can help children retain information.

Add storage. If you want to avoid clutter, add boxes or drawers for them to keep things they work with.

When is the best time to learn a language?

When young, human beings acquire new languages, they don’t actually learn them, so you could say the best age to learn a second language is as a young child. 

But even if it’s easier to learn languages as a kid, don’t get discouraged. Remember that you can achieve anything you set your mind to. It’s scientifically proven that learning a language as an adult can also have its advantages. As adults, we can follow and understand grammar rules, so learning in a more technical way is easier for adults than for children.

Learning a new language enhances your life in numerous ways while providing you with a marketable skill. As you learn a new language, you’ll develop new communication skills, keep your brain agile, and even discover new writers and artists to read and enjoy as you encounter them in your studies.

Before you know it, you’ll be fluent in the language of your choosing, and who knows where you could go from there?

Written by Tamara Segal

[teamhappyme]

a series of promising events (4/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 6.7k

a/n: happy new year!! we’ve made it to part 4! this part differs from the 3 previous ones, as it takes place all in one (and a half) days. But there are flashbacks, represented with italics. if anything is confusing with the timeline, or anything else is confusing you in general, please let me know! my brain is a weird place and does not connect the dots when i post for a public audience. i hope you guys enjoy this part, it was really fun for me to write!

get ready, let’s go friends!

here are the links to part 1, part 2, & part 3

****

October 2012

“Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.” - Winnie the Pooh

You’re known for your predictability. Yes, you’re overly kind, extremely perceptive, and a little bit of a literary genius. But those closest to you knew the predictability of your life.

You craved routine. You woke up at 5:30 every morning, had breakfast, watched the news, and caught up on some domestic things before heading into the office. You stopped at the same bagel cart every morning, an Asiago bagel with butter for you and a coffee for Spencer. Monday’s, you treated the whole team. You got to work at 7:12, second only to Hotch. 

The team knew how you would react to every case. Missing or dead children would cause you to go silent, families being the target would choke you up, and anything including a scumbag with a signature kill made you nauseous. 

So it was safe to say they were more than surprised to find out that you’d left for a month long european holiday, from an email, with Strauss cc'd on it. The team couldn’t remember the last time you went on vacation, because you hadn't gone further than two hours in one day. 

In your travels through Europe, you stopped in countries that you’d only dreamt about visiting in your dreams. You saw Nyhavn, Denmark, the colorful canal right outside of Copenhagen. Hopped through Warsaw and Gdansk in Poland, before being silenced by your tour of Auschwitz. Next was France, the country you always said you would flee to once you aged out of the system. Besides hitting all the touristy attractions in Paris, you traveled through the alps, and made sure you stopped to see Giverny, the little village that inspired Claude Monet and his water lily paintings. The last true destination was Spain, jumping at the chance to flex your spanish minor muscles. You roamed Barcelona and Madrid, feeling a little like the Cheetah Girls as you stood in front of La Sagrada Familia.

The more you travelled, the more you’d thought about quitting. Thought about sending your resignation to Strauss through an email, leave your desk full of the mementos and picture frames, and continue falling in love with the continent you’d never been to before. 

But then you made your final stop in London, to the sister who you missed immensely, and lost the nerve entirely.

“You’ll regret leaving them for the rest of your life,” Emily said to you, and you wondered for a second if she was projecting her decisions onto you. 

“They don’t deserve me.” You’d mumbled out, just loud enough for her to hear. “I can’t continue on like this.”

You’d given the team everything you had for seven and a half years. The job demanded personal sacrifices you never thought you’d be capable of, until you met the people who signed on for this before you. The people who shared the same commitment to helping others, the responsibility to improve the world around them before the one that housed them. It was the first time you felt at home in your quarter century existence.

But the work never seized. The jet began to feel more like home than your apartment, hotel beds provided more comfort than your own pillow covered mattress. And no matter how many people you saved, no amount of gratification from loved ones could quell the loneliness building back inside you.

So you listened to Emily, and came back to the states on your original return flight, October 23, 2012. You returned to the real world in less than seventy-two hours and promised Garcia you would brush up on the next case before debriefing on Monday morning. 

You were betting on the fact that the team wasn’t lingering around the office, considering it was seven thirty on a friday night as you headed up in the elevator, fresh off your flight from the UK. The last thing you wanted was someone to corner you, when all you wanted to do was sleep off the lingering memories of your last night here. 

The glass doors leading into the BAU gave you a view of the bullpen; empty. Opening the door, you walked over to your desk, quickly glancing around the other spaces to see if anything had changed. It hadn’t.

Grabbing the files Garcia left on your desk and your car keys from the drawer, you tidied up the space the tiniest bit. You made sure everything was squared off to your monitor, updating the days passed on your desk calendar. You wrote a reminder on a yellow sticky to thank Reid for watering your small desk plant and stuck it to the screen for Monday. Everything looked like it was in its place, until you saw a blue stress ball sitting on your chair. Your head whipped up to the office at the top of the stairs, but the lights were off and the door shut. He wasn’t here. 

But you could feel the stare of his eyes from four weeks ago on you just the same.

You guys were working a local case in the District. 

The unsub had murdered three men, each with one shot to the head execution style. There were no signs of torture, and all three men were found with their eyes closed and arms crossed over their torsos; signs of remorse. 

It took the team thirty hours to stick the profile and find the woman responsible. Her name was Kathryn Downey, a forty two year old mother of three, with a law degree that hadn’t been used in fifteen years. After digging into the victims personal lives and her own, the motive and stressor became clear to everyone; her husband had cheated on her. 

You found Kathryn with a gun pointed to her husband’s head, his hands and feet duct taped, and a strip around his mouth keeping him silent. 

Her hands were shaking, and you knew from the second you saw her that she didn’t want to kill him. She was angry, and full of rage, but she wouldn’t be able to follow through with this.

As long as you use the right language.

“Kathryn, put the gun down, we’re with the FBI.” Hotch started in a calm voice, but she shook her head, hands shaking faster. 

“No. I have to do this. He,” She took a breath, pushing the hair out of her face with her free hand. “He has to pay.”

You glanced at Aaron before taking a step closer, slowly lowering your weapon. She needed to feel safe, and she needed to feel like an equal. 

“Kathryn, my name is y/n l/n. I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit from the FBI. I really want to help you through this situation, so I’m going to put my gun down, alright?” You slowly lowered the gun to the ground, kicking it back gently to Hotch. 

“Now Kathryn, I know your children are here. I don’t want anything to happen to them, and I know you don’t either, so could you tell me where they are so we can help them?” 

“In the basement, I locked them in the basement. I didn’t want them to,” She let the thought end, not wanting to manifest it into the universe. She didn’t want them to see their mother kill their father.

Hotch spoke gently into the comms, getting Morgan and Rossi down to the kids. 

“Kathryn, I want to know why we’re here in this situation. I’ve read the file, I profiled you and your family, but I want to know your side of the story. Why are you holding a gun to your husbands head?”

Her eyes widened in the slightest, and you were sure it was from the empathy in your voice. But this was your specialty, and you were determined to talk this woman down. 

“He cheated on me,” She whispered, and for a split second, you thought this was going to be easy. But then she pressed the gun harder into his head, and let out a low laugh. “After everything I’ve done for this family, for him, he just takes his pants off for another woman?”

You heard the safety click off, and Hotch’s own in return. Please do not end in a shootout.

“Kathryn, don’t look at him. Don’t think about him kneeling in front of you. Just focus on me. Tell me how you got to this moment right now.”

“How did I get to this moment? I got here by following around this sad excuse for a man for the last twenty years. Like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t escape this life of mine.” Her eyes started to water, and you internally sighed. You were getting somewhere. “I have a law degree, you know. Fifth in my class at Columbia, and I only used it for a year. And it was in sleazy corporate law. Because I got married, and I got pregnant, and Sean wanted someone to stay home with the kids.

“I went from the intelligent corporate attorney with her eyes set on the attorney general’s office, to a cliche housewife who spends her days cleaning and dotting on her husband and kids. I never wanted to be this woman,” She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall down her face freely. She looked so young in this vulnerable state, too young to have three children. Yet she looked so tired, and so defeated. “I gave up everything for this family. I gave up my career, friends, bucket list dreams, and a life that was waiting to be lived, for this man. I cater to his every need, I listen to him drone on about work, assure him when he’s feeling anxious, and give in when he needs a release. I am my children’s rock; when they need a shoulder to cry on I’m there in a second. They need help with their math homework, I’m the number one girl. But when it’s my turn to fall apart, when it’s my turn to be lifted up and supported, nobody is there for me. And he should be able to be there for me.”

If you hadn’t undergone intense training at Quantico, you would’ve been in tears by now. You empathized with this woman more than you should, and you were trying so desperately to help her out of this situation. So you continued to dig your fingernails into your palms, and spoke again. 

“I know what you’re feeling, Kathryn.”

“You don’t know what I’m feeling!” Wrong move. She ripped the gun away from her husband and fixed the trigger on you. Hotch moved so that he was only one step behind you, trying to get her to lower the gun. “You have no idea what this is like!”

“I do, Kathryn. I promise you I do. I may not be a wife, or a mother, but I know what it’s like to give yourself completely to a person. I know what it’s like to hold onto the stress and fears of the people you love. I understand, because I’m this person too.

“People like you and me, we feel the need to be the emotional support for everyone we love. We never want to see them struggle, and we never want to see them in pain. So, we listen. We overcompensate to make them feel better, and we check in regularly to make sure they’re okay. Our happiness, as strange and sad as it may be, is directly linked to theirs. We can’t be happy unless they’re happy. But once they come out of their depression, once they thank us for being the light in their lives, they walk away, and take the happy rainbow with them. And they don’t leave any for us.” Tears continued to fall down her face, but you needed to go further. She was going to break if you kept going. “Kathryn, I was in your position not long ago. I remember what it feels like when you realize that the love you have for someone won’t be reciprocated. That after everything you’ve done for them, all the small moments that you succeeded in taking their grief away and bringing happiness back into their life, they still don’t appreciate you. And it’s heartbreaking.

“But I’m standing across from you today, on the other side of that pain, trying to tell you that it gets better. It doesn’t go away, but it gets a hell of a lot better, Kathryn. So please, do not let this one moment that you couldn’t take the pain away ruin all the times you did.” 

You expected the tears. You expected an emotional end to this situation. You didn’t expect Kathryn Downey to drop her gun in the middle of the room, and collapse onto you. But that’s exactly what she did. And instead of letting go to untie her husband, instead of joining Hotch in cuffing her, you held her for a minute. You held her breaking heart in your hands, and tried your hardest to take away all her fears and pain for once in her life. 

After a minute, you pulled away and grabbed a hold of her upper arm. She gave you a slight nod, knowing this is what was always going to happen. You led her down the stairs and into the back of a squad car, as Aaron helped the husband to his children once outside of the house. 

You were leaning against the suburban that you came in, watching as the team debriefed with the local pd before being dismissed. But amongst the chaos, Hotch found your eyes, and gave you a knowing look. One that meant you were going to talk through the very personal negotiation you gave.

The team arrived back at the office just shy of ten o’clock, Penelope waiting for Derek at the elevator. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as you led the gang into the bullpen, everyone dropping their go bags at their desks. 

You lingered for a moment as Hotch made his way up to his office, knowing you’d be joining him in a few seconds. You grabbed your blue stress ball, complimentary from the C.A.L.M. department meeting, as through the curtains you could see him drop his bag before checking his phone for any messages from Jack.

“L/n,” Here it comes. “Can I talk to you in my office please?”

You and Spencer shared a look, and he gave you a comforting smile in return. You took the steps two at a time to his office, and shut the door behind you once you arrived. He was standing behind his desk, so you didn’t feel the need to sit yourself.

You waited for him to speak, since he was the one that called you in. It was a little childish, but you weren’t the one who wanted the discussion.

“I want to talk about the negotiation.”

“I thought it was pretty successful. I empathised, I got her to drop her weapon, and no one was injured in the process.”

“Y/n, you know that’s not what I meant.” He uncrossed his arms, letting out a sigh. The two of you were too exhausted to have this conversation, but that wasn’t going to stop Hotch from going on. “I told you that you could lean on me when it all became too much.”

“That was six years ago, Hotch.” Defensive, but not rude. A fine line. “And this wasn’t about work, this was personal. You’re not obligated to listen to our personal issues that take place outside the office.”

“And you are?” Stop spinning my words, Hotchner. “I know you, y/n. This isn’t just something that can be brushed back under the rug.” You scoffed. “You don’t know me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t know me, Hotch. None of you do. You know my file. You know that I got a full ride to Bowdoin, that I was a social worker before transferring here, and that most of my life before eighteen was sealed away. I confided in you six years ago about my childhood and now you think you know me?”

“Why are you getting so defensive?”

“I’m not-” You paused, knowing that if you finished that statement it would, in fact, be defensive. “I’m just really tired and I don’t want to be having this conversation right now.”

“It’s not healthy for you to keep everything in while people spill their lives to you. And you know that.”

“Hotch,” You warned, your exhaustion quickly turning into rage.

“What, you really think I’m just going to drop this after hearing you confess to a serial killer that you have no joy in your life? And now you’re going to try and convince me that I don’t know anything about you? Bullshit, y/n. I know that you talk to your foster siblings every sunday to check in and make sure they’re all doing okay. I know that you volunteer with Garcia to help the families of victims cope with their loss. I know that you cling to Spencer like gum wherever you go to make him feel less insecure in a bar.”

“Stop it,”

“I know that your favorite color is purple, that you still write articles for CNN and The Times under a pseudonym. And I know, more than anything in the world, you want to be the mother that you never got to have.”

“Stop it!” You threw the blue ball into his builtins, hitting one of his stupid administrative awards in the process. He didn’t even flinch. “You don’t get to know me like that.”

“Why not?” You let out a low laugh as tears started to fill in your eyes. He was oblivious, and that's what made it hurt even more. You cracked your knuckles for a few seconds, waiting for him to connect the words you spoke at the Downey house and your frustration with him in this moment.

But his face softened, the wrinkles disappeared from his forehead, and you knew he figured it out. He didn’t need to say the words for you to know exactly what was going through his head. But he was with Beth, and you were not going to interfere. This wouldn’t change anything.

“It’s late, I should head home. I’ll get you my report before monday.”

You left his office without saying goodnight, and you tried to ignore the rest of your team huddled around Morgan’s desk, pretending not to be eavesdropping. But they totally were. 

Instead you grabbed your bags, giving Spencer a reassuring smile as his gaze lingered on you for a second longer. You had no intentions of turning around to see Hotch’s face. But if you had, you would’ve seen the same heartbroken expression across his face, realizing he let you walk away.

You tore your eyes away from the office, not wanting to relive the memory any longer. You stashed the stress ball under your monitor before turning out the light, and making your way back to the elevator.

Once you were settled back in your apartment, you sent a text to Reid and JJ, letting them know you got in okay and that you’d see them at the office on Monday. After getting a thumbs up and a ‘glad you’re home’ in response, you turned in for the night, trying to dream of nights in Paris and Barcelona instead of at the BAU.

---

It was hard for you to get back in the routine of consulting and profiling. Garcia had left you copies of three cases the team was going to be working on when you returned, and you’d barely worked through the first one in two hours. 

Three teenagers went missing from their small town in Idaho, and all were found in Seattle in the same week. Of course, your first case back included kids. 

You resorted to calling Spencer when you really had no idea where to begin. You felt like a rookie all over again, asking for help when creating a geographical profile or running new negotiation tactics. But your best friend was quick to help, assuring you that once you got back to the office, you’d fall back into the routine.

“Did you have a good time?” He finally asked, albeit apprehensively. You didn’t leave on the best terms with anyone, and they all seemed to know what pushed you over the edge.

“I did. It’s amazing to know that there is a whole other world out there that we don’t even know about. It’s so different over there, Spence. It’s peaceful, and beautiful, and everything the place you call home should be.”

You could hear the intake of breath over the line. “Does that mean you’re moving to Spain?” A smile crossed your lips just thinking about Barcelona. But, it wasn’t home.

“This is my home, Spencer. I’m not leaving anytime soon.” You left out the part about contemplating a new life for the better part of three weeks, knowing it would only cause him more paranoia. You were staying in Quantico, continuing what you were born to do.

After drafting a rough profile and reviewing family statements, you took a break from the paperwork staring back at you all morning. 

You made your way into the kitchen to find something for lunch, the afternoon approaching quick. All you really wanted to do was crash on the couch and watch old movies for hours, until monday morning inevitably rolled around. Selfishly you wanted your vacation to last forever. But your mind, and your bank account, thought differently.

After consuming a sandwich and some chips, you brought back the fresh mug of hot chocolate to the kitchen table, ready to take on the second file. Two women raped, tortured, and murdered outside of Miami. Why the fuck did it always have to be Florida.

Halfway through the family statements, there was a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun from the side table, just in case. Only three people had a key to your apartment. One of them was in England, one you just got off the phone with, and one… you didn’t exactly know where you stood with him.

After checking the peephole and seeing Hotch on the other side, you let out a sigh of relief. No one is coming to muder you. But it was quickly replaced with the memories of your last encounter, and the unspoken realization of feelings unrequited.

You placed your gun back on the table, and unlocked the door for him. He was wearing a navy blue quarter zip, jeans, and sneakers, the ultimate Aaron Hotchner not on duty look. It made your heart beat just a little faster noticing his hair was free of any gel, flopping naturally as he walked. 

“Hi,” You greeted him, half of you hidden behind your front door. 

A shadow of a smile crossed his lips, and he placed his hands in his pockets. “Hi. I’m sorry for stopping by unannounced. I know you must be tired and getting ready for Monday.”

“No, it’s okay. Did you want to come in?” You opened the door a little more, stepping out to show your sweatpants and sweatshirt look from behind the door.

“Thank you.” He murmured as he walked through the entrance, moving to take off his shoes. You told him a million times that you didn’t follow that rule, and that you hated it when people made their guests remove their shoes. But he told you once that it was a sign of comfort, that he felt at ease in someone else's home.

“Can I get you something to drink? I have some tea bags left over I think, or I can make you a cup of coffee.”

“No, I’m okay.” 

“Are you sure? It’ll only take a second. Oh, are you hungry? I still have some sealed crackers from before I left, might have something in the freezer if-”

“Y/n,” He interrupted you and you stopped in the middle of your path to the kitchen. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” You nodded, making your way back to the living room. “Oh, I um, got something for Jack while I was in England with Emily. I know it’ll probably keep him holed up in his room for a week, but I couldn’t resist.” 

You pulled out the bag of souvenirs you got for the team, grabbing the London attractions lego set you bought for the young boy. Aaron smiled when you handed it to him, knowing the two of them would no doubt be starting this when he got home. 

“You didn’t have to get this for him. But he’s gonna love it.” 

“I know.” You reached in the bag once more, pulling out the gift you got for Aaron. “And I know you’ll probably never wear this, but I had to get it for you.”

He opened the box, a british flag tie on the inside. He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips, the tacky gift really meaning a lot to him. “Thank you. I can honestly say this is the most unique gift I’ve ever received.”

“Glad to hear it.” You tucked your foot underneath you as you settled onto the couch, letting Aaron set the gifts aside. You knew what conversation was coming next, but you didn’t have the courage to start it. Especially since he was the one to come to you.

He settled in on the couch, a cushion between the two of you, a clear boundary that he’d set. 

“Did you enjoy your time over there?” 

“I had a really great time. I can’t believe I’d gone thirty two years without leaving the country. You don’t realize how much of the world there is to see until you go and uncover a small fraction of it.”

He smiled while beginning to pick at his fingernails. This was a new tell of his, he was usually extremely reserved with his anxiety. “You sound like Emily.” 

“I’m going to take that as a complement.” You said with a small laugh, adoring the woman across the ocean. 

“It is. She called me a few days ago, told me you guys had a nice visit.” 

“We did. Prentiss knows how to have a good time no matter the city. It was a little too much for me, though.” 

“Nobody can quite keep up with Emily.” He added before letting out a breath.

“She also told me that you were contemplating leaving the BAU.” There goes the first shoe, dropping from the ceiling. “Are you still thinking of quitting?”

“No.” It was the truth. Em had spoken some sense into you, and you knew deep down, like you told Spencer, this was your home. “I just needed a break from everything. And Europe was an amazing distraction. But I’m back, and ready to get back into the swing of things.”

He nodded, some tension slowly released from his shoulders. He couldn’t lose another member. It was too soon.

“Was it because of me?” 

“What?” Even though you were expecting this conversation, it still caught you off guard. 

“I’m not conceited enough to think you fled to another continent because of a fight, but is that what pushed you over the edge? What led you to want to quit the BAU?”

In a word, yes. The argument was the last straw on the camel's back. You’d spent years with this unit, fulfilling a destiny that you made up for yourself so that you wouldn’t feel guilty for not having a family or friends to confide in. You spent the better part of the last three years pining for a man you couldn’t have, trying to fill the holes in your life by playing pretend. So yes, it was Hotch that pushed you over the edge. But you learned a hell of a lot about yourself in those four weeks.

“Hotch, did you know that this was the first time I went on an airplane for my own enjoyment? This was the first vacation I’ve been on in my life. I booked a flight on a Thursday night that left at six a.m. the next morning. I was spontaneous, and in control of all the moves I would make for the next thirty days. I’ve never felt more liberated in my life.

“But then I landed in Copenhagen, and had an anxiety attack. I can’t speak Danish, I have no idea how to get around a new country, and I only had thirty dollars in cash to my name. And the only thing I could think of to help me get through it, was calling you. I had your contact pulled up, ready to call you and tell you what a stupid fucking mistake I made. But then I could hear your voice in my head, saying ‘I know you’, and I’d never turned my phone off faster.”

“Y/n,” He sounded exhausted himself, but you weren’t going to give in to the apologies. Not yet.

“I had the time of my life there. I went to places that I never thought I’d get to see in my life. Places that my foster parents told me I’d never be important enough to go to. But I made it. I made it to Giverny, and I saw what inspired Claude Monet to paint the Water Lilies series with my own eyes. I went inside La Sagrada Familia and walked on the steps that Gaudi dreamt of. I saw everything I wanted to, and I wept every place I went to. Because I got myself there. I persevered and worked my ass off my whole life, to get there. I didn’t have any parents, I didn't have any siblings, a spouse, or children. I did it all by myself, and it felt pretty amazing to accomplish that.

“No one knows me like I do.” You finished. Your walls were back up starting to feel secure in your own skin again. 

He stayed silent for a few minutes, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. He was calculating his response, trying to formulate the perfect response to get the two of you back on track. It was exhausting watching his brain work, and you wondered how tired he must always be.

After another minute, he sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. “Beth and I broke up two weeks before you left.” The other shoe had dropped.

“What?” For the second time tonight, you were rendered speechless by Aaron Hotchner. This was not the response you were expecting, and not the news you expected to hear anytime soon. The two of them were obsessed with one another, how could they just end it?

“We ended it two weeks before your trip. She accepted a job in Kyoto, and didn’t want to string me along with long distance. But she also said she knew my heart wasn’t in it anymore.”

You stood up from the couch, not being able to sit still with this new information. Hotch and Beth were no longer together, he said all those things to you as a single man, understood what you felt for him, and still let you walk out of his office. For four weeks. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It was his turn to stand, still leaving enough distance between the two of you to continue your pacing. 

“Don’t deflect to another conversation.” 

“You’re the one that brought it up!”

He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly shaggy hair. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you again. So please, get it through your thick skull when I tell you that I know you. And I don’t mean that on a bureaucratic superior level. I know you, y/n. And just because you’ve been alone your whole life, doesn’t mean you deserve to be alone for the rest of it.” 

Your eyes started to water, so you looked away, gluing your line of sight to the wall next to you.

“You give us all one hundred and ten percent of your attention when we need you. And when I say all of us, that includes Jack and Henry. I’ve never met someone so intune to another person's feelings, who exudes so much empathy with one look and a smile. And we’ve taken you for granted for seven and a half years. Me the most.” Your eyes found his brown ones, begging you to continue looking at him. “I couldn’t have gotten through Haley’s death without you. And that is the biggest understatement of the decade. I am eternally grateful for all that you’ve done for me and Jack. But at the same time, I’m so sorry that it pushed me further and further away from you.”

His own eyes started to water, and he choked out a laugh. “What you said to Kathryn Downey, about giving yourself completely to a person and not getting the love reciprocated. I felt like an absolute idiot for not realizing that you felt the same way I did.” You closed your eyes with his confession, letting the tears roll down your cheeks. 

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you. But then Haley took Jack, and Foyet came, and the world got away from me. And I’m so sorry that you’ve felt the need to carry all our problems on your own.”

“Hotch, you don’t have to apologize.”

“Please, don’t call me Hotch right now.” He took a step toward you. “It’s Aaron, when I’m standing in front of you, begging you to just let me in.”

“I don’t,” Your voice cracked, and you rubbed your hands over your face in frustration. “I don’t know how to let someone love me.”

“I know,” He took another step closer. “You’re just going to have to trust me when I tell you I’ve been in love with you for years.”

He didn’t see the rest of your tears fall, because you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. His arms found their place around your waist, pulling you two impossibly close.

“I love you, Aaron.” You could feel him laughing with his chest pressed against your own, and he moved to kiss the side of your head. 

“I love you.” He whispered back, causing the last of your tears to fall onto his sweatshirt.

He started to pull away, just enough to get a look at your face. His eyes were no longer filled with tears, but his cheeks still glistened when the light illuminated the damp spots on his face. He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, letting his knuckles gently graze your temple. You caught his hand in the middle of his movement, lacing your fingers with his own. You’d been dying to know what it felt like to hold his hand like this for years, when you found yourself comforting him in his office one night, lightly holding his hand in yours. But this was so much better.

“You good?” He asked, and the corners of your mouth turned up the slightest. 

“I’m good.” He traced the lightest check mark on your laced hands, causing a true smile to grace your face.

“You have a tally to see who can make me smile the most?” 

“It’s just mine. Been keeping it for years. But I’m always in the lead.”

You laughed while letting go of his hand, wrapping your arms back around his neck. His eyes flickered to your lips for a second before looking back at you. You gave him a small nod, knowing he was asking for your permission. 

When his lips met yours, you knew this was the feeling that all the fairytales sang about. He was gentle at first, slotting your upper lip between his own. It was slow, and full of love from the years of knowing one another inside and out. He bit your lower lip softly, barely there, and you slowly parted your lips, letting him trace your tongue with his own. 

All you could think about was how warm he was, how his breath was actively leaving his lungs and entering your own as if you were one person. It was all consuming, and you were grateful that he took the lead, because you couldn’t focus on anything but him.

His hands slipped under your sweatshirt, resting on the skin just above your hips. You let out a small gasp as his cold fingers made contact with the sensitive skin, but it only made him laugh into the kiss. 

After a few more moments of getting lost in the feel of one another, you reluctantly pulled away, needing air to fill up your lungs. But Aaron didn’t go far, gently resting his forehead against your own. 

“I love you. And I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to stop telling you.” You closed your eyes and tilted your head up, slowly kissing him again. 

“I’ll never get sick of hearing it.” You mumbled, your lips still grazing his own. He smiled into the kiss, which only made your heart glow brighter and brighter the more he showed you how he felt.

You pulled away first, tracing the outline of his jaw with your thumbs. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He tilted his head to the side, just enough to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. 

The tenderness this man exudes is beyond belief. “I really love you, Aaron.”

He laughed while pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad to hear that.”

You let him hold you for what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only a few minutes. “I promised Jack I would take him out for ice cream to make up for missing his soccer game last night.” 

“Okay,” You said and started to pull away, but his grip on your waist only tightened.

“Really? You’re just gonna let go without a goodbye?” You laughed at his fake hurt expression, so incredibly happy that you get to see Aaron in this light, enjoying his son, his life, and you. 

“I’m not about to stand in the way of Jack Hotchner and a sugar rush. That guy loves his sugar.”

He let go of your waist, but not without a light squeeze to your sides. “I know we literally just started this, but I really would like to tell him. I don’t want to keep any more secrets from him than I have to.”

You smiled at the thought of Aaron telling Jack how in love the two of you were. It made you feel complete, in a way you never thought you’d get to experience in your life.

“Tell him. As long as he doesn’t blab about it to anyone on the team just yet.” 

“You sure?” You nodded while passing him the souvenirs as he slipped his sneakers back on. 

“Aaron, he’s your son. I’ve loved him as long as I’ve loved you, maybe even longer.”

He stood up once again, that stupid smile not willing to leave his face any time soon. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” 

“Must’ve been something pretty good.” You said with a laugh, which he silenced by placing his lips on yours. You hoped the butterflies you felt now would be there every time he kissed you, no matter how many years have passed. 

“Like that.” You said once he pulled away. His dimples were showing now, and you wished that you could take a picture of him in this happy moment and remember it for the rest of your lives. 

“I’ll call you tonight.” He said and opened the front door. 

“Okay. Have fun, tell Jack I said hi.” 

“I will.” He kissed your cheek before starting the walk back down the hallway. He didn’t even make it halfway before turning around, and giving you one final kiss in the doorway. 

“Love you,” He said and gave you one more peck, before you shoved his shoulder. “I love you too. Now get outta here, Hotchner.”

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites @averyhotchner @dreamy-moments @softhxtch @crazymar15 @theinsanespaceship15 @wecouldbreakthedistance @jeor @funnycuteandannoying @andherestograce @thisisntjuliana @captwilson @kennedyblair @lovelysunflowerxoxo @rcompton @iifaequeenii @iwaizumiee @mrsaaronh0tchner @abbeyannsmith-blog @becausehello @rinacriedpower @ssa-raye @ephemeral-barnes @slxtherinchxser @baueoud @lieswithoutfairytales @hug-a-bug-boo @blogmythoughts @freebanditghostcalzone @sugarbutterbailey

[fycarmensandiego]

A chat with author Melissa Wiley

In 1996, HarperCollins published six Carmen Sandiego chapter books, featuring VILE villains from the then-current "Deluxe"/"CD-ROM"/"Classic" generation of computer games and a new lineup of Acme agents, headed by a Black female Chief (Lynne Thigpen ha impact), and focusing on kid detectives Maya and Ben.

The series included two books each by two writing teams and one solo act, Melissa Peterson. I got in touch with Melissa, who now uses the pen name Melissa Wiley, and she graciously answered some questions about writing the Carmen books and beyond.

To get you caught up to my knowledge before the interview, here's Melissa's website, and here's her bio as printed in the two Carmen books (accompanied by the caricature above):

Melissa Peterson is the author of several books for young readers. Born in Alamogordo, New Mexico, she has lived in eight different states and visited Germany and France. She has never ridden a dolphin, but she did eat a great deal of sour cherry ice cream outside the cathedral in Cologne. [Note: These are both references to plot points in Hasta la Vista, Blarney.] Her research for Hasta la Vista, Blarney included many hours playing Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego? An official ACME Master Detective, she lives in New York City with her husband and young daughter.

FYCS: Thanks so much for agreeing to this interview.

Melissa Wiley: What a fun blast from the past! The Carmen books were my first professional writing gig and I had so much fun working on them.

That's so exciting to hear! With that being the case, how did you get involved with the books?

I was an assistant editor at HarperCollins, working for the wonderful Stephanie Spinner. I started out as her editorial assistant at Random House right after grad school and moved to Harper with her a year later, shortly after [my husband] Scott and I got married. Stephanie knew that I wanted to be a writer, and she often sent in-house writing assignments my way (lots of cover copy). When I left Harper in 1995 to have a baby, Stephanie recommended me for several book assignments, including the two Carmen Sandiego novels. That project had been underway for several months—Harper was doing a tie-in with the game and TV show. There were six books in total; two were assigned to me and four went to other writing teams [Ellen Weiss and Mel Friedman, and Bonnie Bader and Tracey West]. I often joke that I got my first modem, my first baby, and my first book deal in the same month!

I loved working with my Carmen Sandiego editor, Kris Gilson. The two books were a blast to write and a great learning opportunity for me. Ellen Weiss remains a good friend of mine. She's a true gem of a person!

Have your experiences writing the Carmen books influenced your work since then?

With Carmen, I discovered how much I love writing humor. Before that (in grad school), my poems and stories were on the serious side. I had so much fun with the playful, sometimes goofy tone of the Carmen Sandiego books that I definitely shifted afterward to more of a focus on humor in my books. I still find writing from a place of playfulness to be my most satisfying kind of work.

Were you familiar with Carmen Sandiego before writing the books?

I loved the computer game! I'd seen several episodes of the show—it's all a bit blurry now and hard to say which I encountered first—and really enjoyed it, but I especially loved the game. Instant classic!

How much guidance did you receive from HarperCollins / Brøderbund? Were the plots your own, or were you given plot outlines?

We were given the basic descriptions for the two kid detectives, and I had a couple of meetings with the editors and the other writers to flesh out the characters a bit more—give them personalities. I don't think Mel was in the meetings, but Ellen was there, and Tracey and Bonnie.

Then I wrote outlines for my two books and the other writers outlined theirs. I was assigned one "Where in the World" mystery and one "Where in Time" mystery. I think I submitted several plot ideas for each—the big challenge was thinking up interesting objects for Carmen and her henchmen to steal. The Blarney Stone and cocoa beans were my favorite ideas and I was thrilled that they got picked!

How did you research the books?

Those were AOL days, and the web wasn't yet a place for intensive research, so I spent a lot of time in the library. For The Cocoa Commotion, I conducted phone interviews with staff members at the Hershey chocolate factory—lots of fun. But I never did get to visit the Blarney Stone!

What was your favorite part of working on the books?

Researching the history of chocolate! Naturally I had to do a lot of sampling in order to describe it properly. ;)

Your author bio in the books mentions that the scene in which Maya and Ben eat sour cherry ice cream in Cologne, Germany was inspired by an actual experience of yours. Did any other experiences of yours make it into the books? Have you had any other travel experiences that notable? (Note: I'm originally from Northern Michigan, so travel experiences involving tart cherries are a high bar to clear for me.)

Ohhh, that sour cherry ice cream! I hope I get to taste it again someday. Apart from eating a lot of chocolate, I can't remember any other personal experiences that informed the books. If I were to write one today, I'd make sure to set a scene in Barcelona. My husband and I spent a week there in 2008 and it was an incredible trip. The paella! The Gaudí buildings! Art on every corner! I'd love to go back someday.

The bio also features a caricature of you with your baby daughter...

That drawing was made by the brilliant comic book artist Rick Burchett, who was working with Scott on Batman comics at the time. Scott was an editor at DC Comics and Rick was one of his favorite artists to work with. When I needed a bio illustration for the Carmen Sandiego books, we commissioned Rick to draw it. I love that piece so much! The baby is my oldest, Kate, who was born right around the time I started working on the books. We still have the original art!

You've written over 20 children's books for a variety of ages, in a variety of genres. Do you have any favorites among them?

That's so hard to say—I'm fond of all of them and I dearly loved creating worlds and adventures for Charlotte and Martha in my Little House prequels—but The Prairie Thief and The Nerviest Girl in the World are extra-special to me. I grew up in Aurora, Colorado and had a summer job at a wildlife refuge on the prairie, a landscape that served as the setting for Prairie Thief. I loved getting to weave secrets into the prairie setting that means so much to me.

Your most recent book, The Nerviest Girl in the World, was published last August. Can you tell us a bit about why you wrote it?

I lived for 11 years in La Mesa, California, a small town just outside San Diego. While I was there, I learned that in the very early days of silent film, there had been a film studio in town. Eventually the studio moved to Santa Barbara, but it was exciting to discover that before Hollywood was the center of the American film industry, little old La Mesa was a moviemaking place. I began reading everything I could find about the studio, and when I learned that many of the cowboys in those early Westerns were real cowboys and ranchers, an idea for a book began to take shape—the story of an adventurous girl who stumbled into work as a daredevil film actress along with her cowboy brothers.

Of course, I'm legally compelled to ask the question that literally every interview currently includes: how has the pandemic changed your job?

LOL! Yes, it's the question right now, isn't it! Well, I've worked at home since the Carmen Sandiego days, and I homeschool my kids, so in the biggest ways our lives weren't hugely affected by the shutdown. But I used to do a lot of my writing in cafés, and I miss that like crazy! I had to think up all sorts of new strategies for staying focused at home this past year. I'm hoping to get back to the coffee shops this summer!

Something I found really interesting is that you have a Patreon, which you explain you started to help pay for medical bills. How has that experience affected your work as an author?

I've played with lots of kinds of content on Patreon and really enjoy having a space to share behind-the-scenes stories. It's a more intimate and personal space than social media, so I feel free to let my hair down and be really frank.

Thanks so much for these fantastic questions! I had so much fun reminiscing about the Carmen Sandiego adventure!

[lonelyreputation]

Drunk on a Sunset | 3 #ShawnMendesWritingCircle

A/N: Week THREE!!! Can you BELIEVE 🥳 Bc I can’t sdjfs Too busy having too much fun collaborating 🥂 Here’s part three to @mendesficsxbombay​ absolutely wonderful co-workers series!! Previous parts linked below!! Can’t wait to see where the next part goes (hopefully in an ~angsty direction sljfdkl)!!!

I wanna shout out @saysweartogod-og​ for being an absolute inspiration to me and always brainstorming with me in the wee hours of the night 🤧 Love you to the moon and to Saturn 💫 (she also created this circle game so props to her)

Part ONE | Part TWO | Shawn Mendes Writing Circle MASTERLIST 

Warnings: None // WC: 2.1K

Tour was everything and more Shawn could have ever imagined.  Sure, he’s traveled the world and met plenty of fans before, but something about this tour was special.  And he knew that the reason why this tour felt extra special.  All he had to do was look to the left, squint hard enough to see through the pink lights that came from the screen behind him, and see you singing along to his songs.

It was a sight he was sure he would never grow tired of.

With the fluttery feeling of butterflies he felt whenever he saw you, it was quickly followed up with flashbacks to that night.  The night of your birthday that he wished he remembered more of, that he wished had played out differently, a night he wished you remembered.  Shawn told himself that everything happens for a reason, that maybe you were supposed to stay Andrew’s tour representative, but he wanted to be so much more with you.

All he wanted was to be in your presence, but he couldn’t stop the nagging he heard in the back of his mind that said to leave you alone.  Sure, he walked on eggshells around you, but your presence was so alluring, that he always chased the feeling.

There had been a travel day––flying from Turin, Italy to Barcelona––and then the day before the show was full of stage set-up and rehearsals.  Shawn tried his best to get you to hang out with him, but you were always whipping out an excuse from your back pocket.  And yes, he knew you had actual responsibilities because this was your job, but he became suspicious when he thought more about it.  You had hung out with him whenever you had a spare moment, mostly just watching films on his tour bus or hotel room, but you never spent more time than necessary with him.

So he was going to try and spend more time than necessary with you.

He helped you bring in the merchandise boxes to the stalls in the arena, he helped you set up his green room with the production coordinator, and he looked over your shoulder when you were with the lightning director making sure everything was working in line for the show.  He knew that he was probably acting a bit childish, but if you didn’t remember what happened that night, he was going to try his damn best to get on your good side.

The day of the show came and Shawn wasn’t able to help much because he was needed to do his responsibilities.  Because just like how helping Cez, and reporting everything back to Andrew was your job, being a performer was his job.

In his pastel yellow hoodie, you stood off to the side, and watched as he flipped the microphone in his hand every now and then, as he walked along the stage for soundcheck.  He was incoherently singing the melodies to the songs you knew frontwards and backwards at this point, and you couldn’t help but feel a small smile tug at the corner of your lips.

He always made you smile, and you had butterflies in your stomach all day yesterday when he helped you with your tasks, but there was part of you that still didn’t know how to act around him.  You were happy that he wasn’t making your business relationship with him weird, but you could tell that he was overcompensating because he thought you didn’t remember that night.

Ever since you heard him stumble while putting his jeans on and sneak out of your room, you were on the same page as him in regards to pretending the night never happened.  Him leaving the warmth of your sheets was confirmation that he thought what happened that night was a mistake.  Although, you thought it was the most miraculous thing that happened.

His touches were gentle, his words were sweet, and his smile was infectious.  That night was a dream in every way possible and you were looking forward to waking up and spending the rest of the day in bed with him.  But he obviously didn’t see it the same way.  So, you tried avoiding him, but his presence was so captivating that you couldn’t avoid him any longer.

“Y/n,” Cez brought you out of your daydreams, “Will you go see if Alessia is in her green room? They want to test her lights one more time with her on stage in…” he looked down at his phone, “15 or so minutes.”

“On it, boss.” You smiled as you whirled around to walk away from the stage.

You walked down the back steps of the stage, almost tripping on the last step, as you walked further back into the arena.  You flashed your “ALL ACCESS” tour credential badge to the security guard who stood at the end of the hallway to the green rooms and he let you through without any trouble.

When you got to Alessia's room, you knocked on the door twice, “Alessia! Can I come in?”

You heard a cheery come in and swung open the door with a smile.  While Shawn’s crew did have people on the younger side, you clicked with Alessia the most.  You plopped down on the couch next to her and laid your head in her lap with a sigh.

“Aww, Y/n,” Alessia rubbed the top of your head with the tips of her fingers, “Talk to me.”

You let out another sigh, “It’s nothing.”  Alessia gave you a pointed look, knowing that it wasn’t nothing, and you closed your eyes, “Something might’ve happened with Shawn.”

“Did he fall off stage again?”

A laugh escaped your lips, but it was quickly left for the empty room to pick up, “Something happened with Shawn…And me.”  Her fingers stopped their languid movements as she just looked down at you for you to continue your confession, “On my birthday we kinda––slept together.”

You expected Alessia’s eyes to bulge out of her head and your confession, but her face stayed neutral, “And what happened in the morning?”

“That’s just it,” you shut your eyes, the embarrassment you felt in the morning when he left crept up in your stomach, “Nothing happened because he left.”

“Typical boy move.”

“Alessia,” you whined, “He’s my boss––”

“Technically Andrew’s your boss.”

You glared at her, “Well, he’s my boss’s boss.  I could get fired.” Panic filled your system as your breaths got shorter, “My reputation could be ruined because of one drunken mistake––”

“Hey, hey…” Alessia’s words were soft as she offered you a small smile, “One, Shawn would never fire you.  And he wouldn’t let Andrew fire you either,” you rolled your eyes, “And two, do you see it as a mistake?”

Of course you didn’t see that night as a mistake.  You weren’t even that drunk.  But he left in the morning before you thought you were awake so he obviously saw it as a mistake.

“He left when he thought I was still asleep,” you sucked in a breath and looked up at your friend with sad eyes, “He definitely sees it as a mistake.”

“But do you?”

You shook your head, “I really like him,” you said just above a whisper, “But we can’t––”

“There are ways––”

“You know better than anyone else how misogynistic the music industry is,” you sat up and looked at her with wild eyes, “If word gets out that I slept with my boss––Don’t correct me again––” you cut her off when you saw her mouth begin to open, “–I would be done for.”

She offered you a sympathetic smile, “Try talking to him.”  You let out a laugh, but she held up a finger, “He might surprise you.”

“I got my answer when he left–––”

“Y/n?”  Cez calling your name through your ear piece cut you off, “Is Alessia lost?”

“Shit,” you swore under your breath as you shot up from the couch, pulling Alessia up by her wrist, “They want you on stage to test lights.”

Alessia nodded, “I'll give Cez an excuse,” she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as the two of you walked toward the stage.

Cez directed Alessia to where they wanted her to stand to test out the lights as you stood off to the side. You were checking the rest of the day’s schedule on the Master Tour app when someone bumped their hip against you; you looked up to see Shawn smiling down.

“Need help with anything?”

You clicked your phone shut and shook your head, “I think everything is pretty much set––Unless Cez says otherwise––You just have your fan Q&A in an hour.”

“Cool,” He nodded his head and rocked back and forth from his heel to the tips of his toes, hands behind his back, “Wanna do something?”

You were about to say yes, but part of you knew you had to put some distance between each other.  You had to try and make your relationship with him as professional as possible.

“Promised my mom I would call her when I got a free moment,” you saw his face fall at your little white lie, “Which I should probably…Call her now.”

Shawn nodded his head, trying to hide the hurt of your rejection as he kept his stare focused on Alessia, “Calling your mom––Yeah, yeah––Family’s important.”

“See you around, Shawn.” You waved at him and walked off the stage.

Shawn watched you leave until you were no longer in his sight.  All he wanted to do was make you see him in the way he saw you.  He’s always wanted you to feel the way he felt whenever he heard good news; he always wanted to tell you first.  He’s always wanted you to feel at peace in his presence because you always calmed him down.  He wanted you to feel everything he felt towards you, and when he saw Alessia bouncing off stage, he knew he had to ask her for help.

“Just talk to her,” Alessia said as they walked around the lower mezzanine level until Shawn plopped down in a seat with a defeated sigh, “She’ll appreciate that more than trying to get me to tell her that you like her.”

He slumped down in the hard seat covered his eyes with a hand, “But I left in the morning, Les,” he peaked an eye through the slits of his fingers, “She probably doesn’t even remember that night.”

“You’ll never know unless you talk to her,” Alessia sat down next to Shawn and angled her body to face him, “You’re twenty-one, this isn’t grade school.”

“Just help me make a plan up––Just so she––So she knows I like her,” Shawn sat up straight, leaned forward so his face was close enough to Alessia’s eyes so she could see how desperate he was, and took her hands in his, “Please.”

“Shawn––”

“Hey––Oh…Oh––Wow––Um, sorry,” when Shawn heard your voice, his eyes widened as he whipped his head around so fast it would’ve qualified as whiplash, and removed his hands from Alessia’s, “It’s um––Shawn, you’re needed at the Q&A and Alessia wardrobe wants you.”

“Y/n––”

“Doors will be opening soon,” your voice was barely above a whisper, hurt evident as you glanced at Alessia whose eyes were just as wide as Shawn’s, surprised to have ben caught with Shawn,“Might want to go somewhere people won’t see you.”

You walked away without another word.  You valued your friendship with Alessia, but after confiding in her that you really liked Shawn, and seeing them so close together, it made you question her authenticity.  And it made Shawn’s sweet gestures all the more confusing.

Of course you were upset, you made a beeline to the nearest bathroom and locked yourself in one of the stalls to stop your shaking hands.  But how could you be mad at them? Rang in your head;  people love them together.

A relationship with Alessia would definitely be a lot less messy than anything you could give Shawn.  They were both creative, professionals in the music industry that understood the demands of being an artist, and had an undeniable chemistry.

If this is what he wants, you unlocked the stall as you went to wash your hands as you thought to yourself; then you were going to be strictly professional with him so he wouldn’t get any ideas that you wanted to be something more with him.

[vitaliciouscreations]

Drop of Paradise - Part 2

Previous | Next

Note: Bridgette and Sabine speak a little English in this part, but since I’m writing this in English, all of the “English” is really badly translated French. I’m so sorry for the badly translated French. Edit: Thanks to @dargeon-lissa the French is now significantly less badly translated.

“Hi, Marinette!”

Marinette turned her head to look at the door of the bakery and smiled when she saw Rose coming through it, followed closely by Juleka. Unfortunately Juleka was followed closely by Lila, and the smile dropped from Marinette’s face before it even had time to fully form.

Rose skipped up to the counter, happy and cheerful as always, and beamed at Marinette. Juleka gave Marinette a much more sedate smile. Lila, behind the other two, gave Marinette a downright nasty look that Marinette was kind enough to ignore.

“Hello, Rose. Hello, Juleka.” Marinette took a moment to swallow her pride and put on her customer service face. “Hello, Lila. What are you doing here?”

Had that sounded too demanding? Too rude? Marinette sent a look to her mother who was tending the register, but she didn’t seem to be paying attention to Marinette’s conversation with her friends. Or rather, her friends and Lila, but Sabine didn’t know about that.

“Lila knows a producer in Japan who works with Babymetal!” Rose said. “He’s looking for a new sound and Lila said that Kitty Section would be perfect! We called an impromptu band practice so Lila can send him a recording! Isn’t that just fantastic, Marinette?!”

“It would be fantastic if you guys caught the attention of someone like that in the music business,” Marinette agreed. “But don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

Rose’s excited smile dropped off her face and Marinette hated it. She hated seeing her friends upset, and she hated being the one to upset them. More than that, though, she hated Lila for offering out fake opportunities like she did. Winding Marinette’s friends up like puppets when she knew eventually the strings she had them dancing on would unravel, along with every lie she’d ever told them.

“Why shouldn’t she get her hopes up, Marinette?” Lila asked in a sickly-sweet voice. “A little optimism is good, right?”

Not when it gets them to believe liars like you, Marinette thought, biting back the words and glaring at Lila. Rose and Juleka shifted uncomfortably.

Marinette forced herself to stop glaring and instead focused on Rose and Juleka. “So, are you guys here to get some snacks for practice?”

“Yup!” Rose chirped. “It’ll be just the five of us, so I was thinking we’d get a box of twenty assorted macarons? And maybe a bag of croissants. Is that alright?”

“That’s just fine,” Marinette said with a smile. “Any preferences on what flavor of macarons?”

“Surprise us!”

“You know,” Lila began as Marinette turned her back to begin the order. “My great grandfather used to own a bakery back in Italy.”

“Really?” Rose asked, already on the hook.

Marinette heard the door to the bakery open as Lila continued. “Oh yes. He taught me how to make the best tiramisu in the world! Of course, I have a hard time baking now with my arthritis and everything, so I have to settle for buying baked goods nowadays.”

“Oh,” Rose crooned. “That’s so terrible.”

“That sucks,” Juleka mumbled.

“Mom,” Marinette called out. “Do you know if the new batch of strawberry cheesecake macarons is done yet?”

Marinette’s mom didn’t respond. Marinette dropped the fifth croissant into the bag and then glanced over to see why her mom hadn’t said anything. Then she nearly dropped the bag.

Standing across from her mother at the counter was none other than Marinette’s favorite cousin, and she was quite the spectacle. Bridgette was wearing a gorgeous gradient blue-to-purple cheongsam that Marinette was dying to get a closer look at, along with a big, floppy sun hat and novelty Eiffel Tower sunglasses. She also had a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and a huge grin on her face.

“That’s a… look,” Lila said in a rude voice. For once Marinette didn’t even mind her comment, too surprised at seeing Bridgette.

“Bridgette!” she called out, and Bridgette turned to look at her. Her grin widened even further upon seeing Marinette and she strode over.

“Ah, et Marinette. Je ne veux pas sonner comme une vieil dame très sentimental, mais tu as tellement grandi depuis que tu as quitté Eden. Tu es presque une adulte maintenant!” Bridgette said in what Marinette recognized as English, but couldn’t understand.

“Oh, Bridgette, Marinette ne sait pas encore parler anglais,” Marinette’s mother said, also in English.

“My bad,” Bridgette said in much more understandable Eden-dialect Chinese, and grinned at Marinette. “Hello Marinette. It’s very nice to see you again.”

“Yeah!” Marinette agreed, switching into Eden-dialect Chinese as well with only a little difficulty. “I’m happy to see you too, Bridgette!”

Bridgette laughed sweetly. “Thank you, Marinette. I see that your sweetness hasn’t changed with your age. But, ah,” Bridgette cast a look in the direction of Rose, Juleka, and Lila. “Don’t let me interrupt you and your friends.”

Bridgette waved at Marinette and headed back over to Sabine, and Marinette turned back to Rose, Juleka, and Lila.

“Wow, Marinette!” Rose exclaimed. “I didn’t know you spoke a language other than French! And who was that? She’s so pretty!”

Marinette smiled at Rose. “That’s my cousin, Bridgette. She came to help me with my presentation for multicultural week.” Marinette set the bag of croissants down on the counter. “I’m gonna go check if Papa has finished with the new batch of strawberry cheesecake macarons. I know they’re your favorite, Rose.”

“I can handle that,” Marinette’s mother said, coming over to them. “Marinette, why don’t you show Bridgette upstairs to your room? I know you have a lot of things you want to talk about with her having to do with your upcoming presentation.” She gave Marinette a knowing look, and Marinette blushed.

“Okay, Mama, but call me down if you need any more help.” Marinette turned to Bridgette. “C’mon, I’ll show you upstairs.”

Bridgette blinked at her uncomprehendingly.

Marinette’s cheeks heated even further. “Ah, sorry. I guess you don’t understand French. Mama suggested I show up to my room, so…”

Bridgette nodded. “Of course. Thank you Marinette.”

Marinette ushered Bridgette through the gap in the side of the counter and lead her into the back. It looked like the new batch of strawberry cheesecake macarons were indeed done, so Rose would be happy.

“I actually wanted to ask you about something,” Bridgette said as they reached the stairs at the very back of the bakery. “Like you said, I don’t speak French. I decided English would be a better language to learn considering how broadly it is spoken across the world. That, and it was easier to learn in Eden than French was.” Bridgette laughed into her hand as they reached the top of the stairs. Marinette began to take her shoes off, and Bridgette followed her example.“I was told that giving my presentation to the French President and Parliament in English would be fine, but I doubt your classmates will understand it as easily. So, I wanted to ask you if you’d be okay with acting as a translator during the presentation at your school?”

“Of course!” Marinette agreed easily. They reached the steep stairs leading up to Marinette’s room. “Watch your step.”

“Thank you, Marinette,” Bridgette said. “For the warning and the future translation.”

“Of course,” Marinette said again. She lifted the trap door and climbed through it before holding it open so Bridgette could do the same. “This is my room. We figured you could sleep in here for as long as you’re in Paris. You can take the chaise or the bed, your choice.”

Bridgette smiled at her. “The chaise seems just fine, Marinette, but thank you.”

Marinette smiled back. “Yeah, of course. Now, ah, do you want to get settled in, or…”

“Actually,” Bridgette said with a sly smile. “I am quite interested in hearing what you have to say. Aunt Sabine mentioned you have a great many ideas on things to do for your presentation?”

Marinette flushed. “Ah, yeah. I guess I got a little enthusiastic. I’m just… really excited.”

“You should be excited!” Bridgette exclaimed. “Eden is finally revealing itself to the world. It’s all very exciting! Now, tell me more about these ideas.”

-

Lila Rossi was the daughter of an important Italian diplomat who brought her daughter with her wherever she went. From Venice to Barcelona, and London to Paris. With so many changes in location over the course of her short life, Lila had developed some very specific abilities. Among them the ability to fit in at any new school by telling people what they wanted to hear, and the ability to say those things in many different languages. Including English.

Eden. Of course that little brat was from Eden. The biggest news story of the century, and of course Marinette Dupain-Cheng was at the center of it. She was at the center of everything Lila deserved to be at the center of, wasn’t she? And come next week, she would be the center of everyone’s attention for weeks to come.

Lila shook her head, well-concealed rage coursing through her veins as she exited the bakery behind Rose and Juleka. Not if Lila had anything to do with it.

“Have you guys heard about Eden yet?” Lila asked as the three of them began to make their way down the street.

“Of course!” Rose exclaimed. “It’s so amazing! A secret Chinese city hidden in the mountains, a secret for millennia? I’m getting inspired just thinking about it! Maybe we can write a Kitty Section song about it!”

“That would be awesome,” Juleka mumbled. Ugh, Lila hated the mumbling.

“I could help you with it,” she offered. “I know a lot about Eden that most people don’t. I actually volunteered there for a whole year when I was younger.”

“Really?!” Rose squealed, and Juleka looked at Lila with interest. Lila hid a smirk. Too easy.

-

Translations (what I meant for the translations to say, anyway):

Ah, and Marinette. Not to sound like a sentimental, old woman, but you’ve grown so much since you left Eden. You’re almost an adult now.

Oh, Bridgette, Marinette doesn’t know very much English yet.

[wowweeharrystyles]

Part 4 | Ripped Trousers & Giving In | 8.5K

‘Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Masterlist

A/N: these videos from HSLOT18 inspired me a LOT to write this chapter sooooo x x x x (let me tell you... these videos... whewwww) 

“I didn’t get a chance to bet against you…. so I still get to keep my job yeah?” Aurora asks waving a folded piece of paper as she walks towards Harry. Harry laughs before pulling her into a hug. 

“Only get to keep it cause I need ya to tie to those damn bows on my shirts. Remind me why we chose so many shirts like that?” He gives her a cheeky smile when he leans back to look at her, his hands clasping at her lower back. Her laugh fills the space of the empty coffee shop and Harry’s smile grows bigger. Aurora pushes the lone curl that has fallen onto his forehead back up to fit in with the rest of his curls. 

Harry’s clad in his favourite slim fit black gucci trousers and a worn in white t shirt. All Harry’s note had lead on was that they’d be walking a bit, noting to wear“comfortable shoes” and then the name of the coffee shop he’d meet her at. 

“So what kind of plans do you have up your sleeves?”

“How do you feel about museums?” He laughs when he sees her face light up. “Guess you like them?” 

“Is it that obvious?” She giggles as her hands fly up to cover her face. 

“Yes.” She groans at his eager response. “But it’s kinda cute, if I’m honest.” 

“Come on, you’ve got like a 30 second window before I get so embarrassed about my excitement to go to a museum in Barcelona that I bail on you and spend the rest of the day watching my entire iTunes movie collection.” 

“You will have plenty of time to watch ‘This Is Us’ later.” Aurora rolls her eyes at him as he grabs their coffees from the barista and leads them out of the shop. 

They spend the majority of the afternoon walking through Fundación Joan Miró. Harry’s hand rarely leaves the small of Aurora’s back the entire time through the museum. During those rare times, he’s towing her along with her hand in his. Harry is thankful for the time they get to spend together on a free day, a day neither of them have to work. He tells her this repeatedly as they admire the art. 

| | | | |

They’re tucked away in the corner table on the patio seating at a local restaurant harry picked out as the sun is setting that evening. Aurora can’t help but admire the way the lighter green flecks in Harry’s eyes sparkly from the reflection of the fairy lights that line the trellises of the patio. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Harry asks before sipping his wine. Aurora fiddles with the stem of her wine glass for a moment. 

“Hm?” She shakes her head. “Nothing really.” Harry raises an eyebrow at her. 

“Seems like something,” he says softly, leaning forward. 

Aurora scrunches her nose with a small smirk trying to maneuver her thoughts. “Today was just really nice.” She sips her wine so she doesn’t say more. 

Dinner is full of small glances and sweet smiles. Harry, like the gentleman he is, walks Aurora to her hotel room door and gives her a kiss on the cheek when they finally say goodnight. 

| | | | |

Aurora is sitting on the counter of the sink while Harry finishes getting ready for the show tonight. She’s admiring the way his hair is sitting perfectly and the way that his suit sparkles even in the fluorescent lights of the arena bathroom. 

“Hand me the Tom Ford bottle there, love?” Harry’s question pulls her out of her daze. She hands him the bottle after taking a look at it. 

Helene gives Aurora a look. Aurora spilled everything to her on the flight to Spain and she’s been teasing and shooting her cheeky looks relentlessly all day. While Aurora was steaming Harry’s suit earlier and Harry was going on and on about the museum they went to yesterday as Ayae messed about with his hair Helene couldn’t help but giggle along with the two of them. Harry was exaggerating Aurora’s excitement about the museum and she was  fighting him about it. “Thought she might faint from excitement” he told Ayae like Helene and Aurora weren’t right there with them. The 4 of them were comfortable and carefree together before shows. Harry liked to keep a light mood while he gets ready. Once he starts brushing his teeth though, he gets all serious. Aurora finds it quite entertaining to see the stark difference. 

Harry continuously jokes with the girls and picks fun at Aurora. He just HAS to bring up Aurora’s movie collection too. When he starts listing off the movie titles in her collection Helene and Ayae burst into a fit of laughter. Aurora rolls her eyes, something that has become a normal occurrence in any conversation with Harry. 

Now, here in the bathroom the conversation has settled down and Harry is generally silent. He’s already brushed his teeth and is now just taking the time to focus and calm down his recurring nerves that pop up every night. Besides Harry’s question, the only other sound that echoes in the empty bathroom is the click of Helene’s camera. Harry’s spraying his cologne on his neck when Helene’s shutter goes off again. “I’m gonna go grab a different lens for the show. Good luck tonight, H!” and at that Aurora and Harry are left alone in the echoey bathroom. 

Aurora draws her attention back to Harry who is setting the Tom Ford bottle back on the counter. He runs his hands lightly through his hair, turning his head slightly so the strong line of his jaw is emphasised. Aurora reaches out towards him, tugging on the bottom hem of his jacket. Harry turns towards her and raises his eyebrows at her. A small smirk appears on his face as he sees the smile on Aurora’s face. He takes one step closer to her and fits himself between her legs. Her legs that were once swinging freely off the counter now completely still as his hands land on her thighs near her knees. Harry reaches his head down to her level and a lock of curls fall out of place and catch on his eyelashes. Aurora first reaches for the curls, swiping them away from his eye but they fall right back. Then, she uses her pointer finger on the side of his chin to turn his head back to the angle that showcases his jawline so well. She places a soft kiss at the hinge of his jaw. Harry giggles lowly at the light touch. When Aurora pulls away to get a good look at him Harry opens his mouth to say something but before he can get a single sound out Harry’s named is getting called repeatedly from the hallway. Most likely Jeff looking for him. Harry’s head drops back on his shoulders and a light groan comes from the back of his throat. 

“Always thinks I’m gonna be late,” he comments. “Gonna watch from the audience tonight?” Harry asks. Aurora nods. 

“Absolutely. Gotta see how this suit sparkles under the stage lighting,” she says, pulling the edges of the jacket together. She buttons it closed for him. 

“All you care about is seeing my suits on stage…” 

“Quite like to see the person wearing them too,” she mumbles. That earns a kiss to her cheek and both of his hands squeeze at her knees. Harry’s name is called again but much louder now. “Good luck,” she presses a kiss close to his mouth, only being able to reach her neck up so high. Even with sitting on a high counter, he’s still much taller than she is. 

| | | | |

Aurora finds her favourite spot in the audience, the back of the pit but still close enough to the crowd of fans that she can feed off their energy and hide her dancing if she needs too. From here she also gets an amazing view of the stage but her absolute favourite part of standing here is when the show starts and the screen rises up. Harry’s comment earlier was partially right. She does love seeing how his suits look on stage but what she loves most about it is the crowd’s reaction. She loves hearing their speculations before the show starts, she loves how the screams heighten when they get a little glimpse of him and she really loves seeing friends turn to each other, smiles covering their entire face, yelling some sort of comment to each other. Tonight she makes out a few screaming comments along the lines of sequins, glitter, and sparkly. Someone standing nearby comments about his hair and Aurora nods to herself with a laugh. His hair becomes somewhat of a thing throughout the entire performance. The stray curl she repeatedly pushed away from his face throughout yesterday and today fell into his eyes repeatedly throughout the show. Helene found Aurora once Harry launched into ‘Anna’. Harry’s adorn in a rainbow flower lei and one of the many pride flags draped around his shoulders. Harry’s incredibly carefree on stage and Aurora admires that about him so much. He’s goofy, and playful, and giggly but still puts on the best show he possibly can. Helene and Aurora sing along to ‘Anna’ and laugh at Harry’s dance moves during ‘What Makes You Beautiful’. They see Harry turn to Mitch and say something on stage, all while reaching down to the inside seam of his pants. 

“Did he just rip his trousers?” Helene asks Aurora in disbelief. 

“Oh god. He did, didn’t he?” Aurora rolls her eyes and her head falls back on her neck, a short chuckle leaving her mouth. “Well… guess I gotta go handle that. He’s got one more before he walks off yeah?” 

Helene nods. “Good luck.” 

Aurora shows her pass to the security at the edge of the pit, then again to another guard at the curtain that leads backstage. Aurora can hear Harry finishing the final chorus of ‘Sign Of The Times’ when she gets to the mini makeshift dressing room that’s located underneath the stage. Aurora is sure to stand out of the way of the entrance and gets her needle, thread and scissors ready. Harry’s laugh fills the small room before he’s even there. 

“Ror!” he exclaims when he sees her. 

“Ripped your pants huh?” 

“Don’t need to fix ‘em now, love. Only got 3 more songs, I’ll be fine.” He’s all smiles and still in the midst of his concert high. He’s also not logical when he’s like this. 

“Yeah, 2 of which are Chain and Kiwi. Your pants will not last through 10 seconds of either of those songs.” Aurora laughs at the look on his face then juts her empty hand out. “Come on, just give me your pants, they’ll be fixed in a second.” Harry rolls his eyes but starts to unbutton his pants anyways. 

The sight of Harry running to the bathroom in his suit jacket, boxers, tall black socks and boots was even funnier than the fact that he ripped a damn hole in his insanely expensive pants. She laughs as she starts to stitch up the hole. Harry’s back in less than 30 seconds and he’s chugging down his 2nd water bottle since he left the stage. He leans down and presses a kiss to Aurora’s cheek. Then another. With the 3rd kiss he wraps his arms around her shoulders. 

“Harry, I can’t fix your damn pants with you like this,” she whines. 

“Sorry,” he whispers lowly in her ear before stepping away from her. 

Aurora knots the thread as best as she can so hopefully he doesn’t rip them again in the next 30 

minutes. Harry slides the trousers on carefully and Aurora goes to leave so she can see the rest of the show. 

“Thank you, love,” Harry says grabbing onto her hand. When she turns around he’s much closer than she thought he would be. That one curl has fallen in front of his eyes again. Aurora reaches up to move it back into place. She can feel the weight of his hands at her waist and for a brief moment both of them are able to block out the deafening screams and the chanting of his name coming from a few feet above them. Harry presses his forehead to Aurora’s and she feels slightly dizzy. He smiles at her lightly and she remembers the smile he gave her while he was singing “Ever Since New York.” He’s started to give her the same smile during the exact part every show. That one smile makes her feel like she does right now in this tiny room. Somehow in a room of thousands and thousands of people he can make it feel like it’s just her and Harry. Without a doubt, goosebumps arise on her skin. 

Harry’s name is called by the stage manager and they’re both brought back to the reality in front of them. Harry presses a kiss to Aurora’s forehead before thanking her again and running up the stairs. She peeks through the curtain at the bottom of the stairs. The single spotlight casts a shadow down the stairs as Harry stands at the mic, center stage. Harry’s voice matches the simplicity of the guitar that opens ‘From The Dining Table.’ Aurora’s heart drops every time she listens to him perform this song. The exclusive view she has right now adds to the experience and she catches herself choking back a few tears. His music is the first thing she fell for and she’s constantly reminded why. Before she knows it, the beginning of ‘The Chain’ echoes through the entire arena and Aurora makes her way to the side of the stage to watch the rest of the show.

| | | | |

“Wish you would’ve come out with us last night,” Harry comments as he walks with Aurora down the hall of the arena in Madrid. He has his arm swung around her shoulder and is telling her about how Mitch was telling this outrageous story and even got up and reenacted it all for the group. Aurora laughs along with Harry’s story.

“Maybe next time, Harry,” she offers, hoping one day she’ll actually get the courage to say yes to 

going with. 

“I’ve gotta meet with my trainer, but I’ll find ya later okay?” He offers her a lopsided smile, “could watch a movie or something before we have to get to work.” Aurora nods at him with a smile before he’s off down the hall. 

| | | | |

Helene is going through some of the photos she’s taken the past few days on the couch with Aurora. They’ve been the only ones in their green room all afternoon. A lot of the crew took the chance to sight see or sleep in so the arena isn’t too busy yet. 

“Aurora!” Helene squeals, “Look at this one of you and Harry.” Aurora looks up from her phone to Helene’s computer screen. 

“Of me and Harry?” She questions. and to her disbelief, on the screen is a photo of Harry and Aurora from last night. It’s nearly identical to the photo Helene choose for Harry’s social channels, but instead of seeing Harry’s reflection in the mirror, the photo was taken from a slightly different angle and you can see Aurora’s frame seated on top of the counter. Aurora face is soft and Harry has a slight smile on his face. 

“Imagine if we posted this photo on accident?”

“Helene!” Aurora yells. “That would be an absolute mess and I would have to change my name and leave the country. Hard pass.” Then their both in laughing fits. 

“That would stir some shit up,” Helene comments when she can finally catch her breath. 

“Ror!!!” Harry’s voice booms through the nearly empty room. “What’re you two up to?” He questions when he sees them trying to suppress their giggles

Helene and Aurora look at each other and burst into laughter again, Aurora can’t stop soon enough to stop Helene from showing Harry the photo of the 2 of them. She has the urge to stop him from seeing the photo, from seeing the way she was truly looking at him in awe while he was getting ready. She doesn’t ever remember making eye contact with him in that moment and Helene must have snapped the photo so fast that she caught the perfect moment. 

“Oh,” is all that comes out of Harry’s mouth the second he sees it. Aurora doesn’t know what to do in the moment and she just waits to see how Harry reacts. A smile starts to tear at his lips and within the same second he pulls his lips in by his teeth, doing his best to hide the smile that threatens to cover his entire face. The dimple that still shows up regardless tells all. He huffs after a moment. “Would ya send that one to me, Tiny?” 

‘Tiny’, what Harry’s nicknamed Helene, nods and quickly sends it over, Harry’s phone dinging in his pocket. Harry ignores it but thanks Helene before asking her if she wants to grab snacks and watch a movie with Aurora and him. She kindly declines and when Harry isn’t looking at her she winks at Aurora. Aurora thinks she might get a headache from all the eye rolls she has to do on a day to day basis. 

| | | | |

Aurora is having trouble keeping her eyes open when Reese Witherspoon as Elle Woods pops up on her computer screen dressed in a hot pink suit. She told Harry when they pressed play on the movie that she was pretty tired and honestly didn’t think she would last an entire movie. She suggested they watch an episode of ‘friends’ instead but he insisted on playing Legally Blonde. He pulled Aurora by the waist and situated her in front of him on the couch, pulling her shoulders back so she could lay her head back on his chest. 

“Don’t mind if ya fall asleep on me,” he had whispered into her hair when the opening titles came up. 

Now, Aurora’s eyes are fluttering shut, not able to fight the tiredness off any longer. She lets go of the last bit of her weight she was supporting herself and is limp against Harry’s chest. Harry only tightens his arm around her waist when he smiles, noticing she’s finally given in to the sleep her body needed so badly. Harry can’t pay attention to the rest of the movie and he’s a bit sad that they didn’t get to watch and quote along to both of their favourite part. Instead, as Elle Woods repeatedly makes note that the daughter took a shower, he presses a kiss to her hair, breathing in the so uniquely Aurora scent. He can’t put his finger on it, but it’s something floral and coconutty with a hint of woodsy-ness to it. Harry tries to focus on the ending of the movie, his eyes start to well up at the end, without a doubt, a good distraction from Aurora’s sleeping body on top of him. He focuses on the small huffs of air that she lets out and rubs his thumb into her forearm, leaving behind goosebumps. He slumps down the couch a bit further, still holding her tight against him. He lets the end credits roll and once the room is silent, Aurora starts to stir. She mumbles an apology and he’s shushing her while she rolls her over so she’s facing him. Harry’s lips graze over her exposed ear and he presses light kisses down her jaw. 

Aurora’s still groggy from her mini nap and his lips on her skin is a feeling she can’t describe. Harry takes over all of her senses so quickly. His chest pressed against hers and his lips roaming her face is a bit overwhelming.

“Hey,” Harry says with a short giggle, his nose scrunching up when he meets his eyes with hers. His nose brushes against Aurora’s, earning a short giggle from her as well. 

“Should probably start getting everything ready…” Aurora whispers. She’s peeling her body away from his, as much as she just wants to stay right where she is. Sitting up on the couch is like pulling away 2 magnets, with Harry’s hands pulling on her waist and the added warmth quickly leaving her body, it feels wrong pulling away. She taps her computer, as the screen has gone dark now, it’s much later than she thought. “Harry, I really gotta go get everyone's clothing ready.” Harry’s sitting up beside her now. He lets out a loud sigh, knowing Aurora is right. 

“Jeeze,” he agrees when he sees the time, “but just like 2 more minutes,” he says as he wraps his arms around her waist and wiggles his face into her neck, his breath hot on her collarbone. 

“Harry,” Aurora whines, trying to pull out of his grip. 

“Rory,” he whines back. 

“Seriously Harry, we both have jobs to do…” she reminds him.

“Ugg,” he groans, “why must you be such a hard worker? Never forgetting anything, always 10 steps ahead of everyone…” 

“Hired me for a reason, didn’t ya?” Harry raises his eyebrows up in agreement, loosening his grip around her waist. “Come on, you’ve got sound check.” Aurora offers her hand out to him, pulling him off the couch. 

Later on, after Harry has finished soundcheck and eaten, he finds Aurora back in his dressing room, but instead of being sprawled out on the couch like earlier, she was working on getting his suit ready for the show. Harry pauses in the doorway, not making a noise and simply just watching her, she’s bopping around a bit to the music she’s got playing on her computer. A smile erupts on his face when he really pays attention to the music that’s playing. Aurora whips her head around, after setting the steamer down of course. Harry didn’t realise he let out a loud chuckle, making his presence known. 

“Whatcha listening to there, love?” Aurora’s heart sinks for a moment then a nervous, embarrassed laugh come out of her mouth. She hadn’t noticed that an old One Direction song came on shuffle. 

“Wait,” she starts to defend herself, “I just had my music on shuffle! Didn’t even notice it was playing!” 

“Uh huh, whatever you say, Ror.” He shakes his head at her. “Your dancing proves otherwise.” 

“You’re an absolute menace, ya know that right?” She rolls her eyes and turns back to the suit to finish what she was doing before being interrupted. 

Harry smirks at her before sitting down on the couch. “Quite excited for this suit, if I’m honest,” Harry offers, changing the subject. 

“Me too,” she agrees, smiling to herself. She can recall the first fitting of this specific suit and remember loving it. Not just the style or design but the way it fit Harry perfectly. He’s done frills and glitter, the whole nine yards, but this look was different. High waisted trousers, cropped jacket and his TPWK tank. Aurora remembers it fitting so perfectly she was antsy to see him perform in it. 

Before she knows it, it’s time for him to slip in to the suit. Ayae leaves the room after Claire requested that she needed some help cause she messed up her hair since Ayae had done it earlier. Aurora’s grabbing his boots from the crate and when she turns around she freezes. 

“Uhm,” she stutters out, “Uh, uhm, here-here’s your boots.” 

“Everything alright, Ror?” Harry questions as he finished tucking in the white tank to his pants. 

Aurora shakes her head, “Uh, yeah,” she pauses, “guess I just forgot how good this suit looks.” Harry raises his eyebrows at her, surprised at her confession. 

“Oh,” is all he lets out. She swears she can see a blush colour the tops of his cheeks. 

“I mean, they all-they all look good,” Aurora tries to back track, she’s cursing in her head, but gives up. “But, like, this one…” she trails off. She likes the surprised look on Harry’s face from her confession. “This one is just so… I don’t know,” she trails off shaking her head. “Anyways… put your boots on.” 

Harry makes his way to the large bathroom to brush his teeth and Aurora follows along. She plops on the counter again, her new favourite place to observe him as he finishes getting ready. Aurora is admiring the way the high waisted trousers fit perfectly and then her eyes catch his arm full of tattoos that are still on full display. The black ink in contrast to his light skin is mesmerizing and she doesn’t think she’s really ever paid as much attention to them as she would like to. The ones that scatter his forearms and lower bicep are familiar but the ones at his shoulder and chest are almost brand new to Aurora. She lets herself study them in detail while Harry brushes his teeth. The A and G on either of his shoulders are delicate and she wants, in the worst way to trace over them, all of them, with the pads of her fingers. The swallows that peak out from the top of the white tank top he’s wearing are driving her insane, she thinks. The white tank not only displays his tattoos but also shows of the ridges of his muscles. Harry’s not absurdly muscular or buff, but the definition that is there is obvious. Aurora doesn’t get it, she’s never seen someone’s muscles look so hard and strong but soft at the same time. His bare skin draws her in more and all she can think about is how his bare skin would feel wrapped around her. 

You’re getting ahead of yourself, Aurora. Slow the fuck down. 

She’s starting to lose her mind a bit over the view in front of her. She doesn’t know what’s going on with her. Aurora forces herself to peel her eyes away from him and it’s harder than threading the smallest needle in the world. She takes the time to look down at her hands and reground herself. Her mind is running a mile a minute and if she were to voice anything going on in her head nobody would understand because it would come out as gibberish. Aurora is finally able to focus on something besides Harry standing barely a foot away from her. She notices her nails could really use a fresh manicure and she thinks she’ll have to get a fresh one in the next city she finds herself in. 

Harry’s hand squeezes at her knee and she looks up to him. 

“Y’alright?” he questions. When she meets his eyes she offers him a small smile and his eyes quirk up in a question. 

“Mhm,” she hums, “lost in thought, I guess,” she answers, surprising herself. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” 

“Nothing important enough to bother you with,” she lets out with a laugh. 

“Never a both to me, love.” The nickname rings in her ears and her brain is no longer consumed by anything else. She nods at him silently. 

He sprays his cologne, the last step of his routine. Aurora appreciates his consistency and thoughtfulness when he gets ready for a show. Everything he does is done just so. She shakes herself out of her thoughts and pushes herself off of the counter. Before she can even say her good lucks and make her way out of the door he’s got a strong grip on her hip. 

“Hey,’ he barely whispers. Aurora avoids making eye contact. “Saw ya wandering eyes this entire time,” he teases. His free hand comes in contact with Aurora’s chin and tilts it up so she has no choice but to look at him. Sometimes she hates how forward he is. She’s nothing like him. She shakes her head at him lightly once both hands are on her waist. She lets her hands fall on to his chest in fist and her head hangs low. She voices an apology, quietly, but speaks nonetheless. 

“Don’t be sorry, don’t mind it one bit.” Harry places a soft kiss on the top of her cheekbone. Aurora lets one of her hands reach for the ‘G’ inked on his shoulder and trace over it like she had wanted to minutes ago. 

“Was admiring your tattoos,” she whispers, her eyes trained on the ink. 

Harry doesn’t say anything, he just lets her delicate fingers graze his skin. Aurora can feel her heart beating and it sends electric like shocks through her entire body. Her hands feel like their on fire and she can’t figure out if it’s because of the nerves or the heat radiating from Harry’s skin. Aurora’s brain turns off she thinks because before she knows she’s reaching her neck up and kissing the edge of Harry’s jaw softly. When her lips leave his skin she can actually hear Harry swallow. 

“I know we agreed to take it slow, but I’m having a real hard time trying not to kiss you right now.” Harry’s voice is deep and Aurora can feel his hot breath fan out across her face. She sucks in a breath, her hands reaching to the waistband of Harry’s high waisted pants that she’s been fawning over silently since he put them on a half hour ago. She breathes out his name as she shakes her head. Harry presses her into the wall, his hips square on hers. Aurora busies her hands at the belt loops before she realises what she’s actually doing. Harry’s lips land on her cheek and then again at the soft spot behind her ear. 

“Harry,” she voices again, trying her hardest to stop his movements. It’s not that she doesn’t like it or anything like that. It’s that she likes it too much. That it feels so unbelievably good. That she doesn’t want him to stop. But she has to stop him, she’s still not ready to take whatever this is, further. “You’ve got a show to do,” she whispers. This is a can of worms she cannot tackle right now. 

“They can wait,” he whispers into her neck. 

“Harry, please,” she almost begs, but she doesn’t know what for, “please,” she’s trying her best here, but his hot breath and his soft lips grazing over her skin repeatedly makes it hard and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to say no to his pouty lips and puppy dog eyes when he brings his face into her line of sight. “Slow, we said slow,” she finally says, using her hands to push him away barely an inch. “And-and, and the way these trousers look on you right now are really not helping,” she says quickly. She shakes her head at herself when she realises what she had just said aloud. A half chuckle, half huff leaves his mouth and she can tell he’s fighting a smile without even looking at her. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, right,” he says the second he locks eyes with her. “Sorry, don’t know what it is about you,” he shakes his head, “driving me crazy.” He smiles softly at her. A slight feeling of relief washes over her now knowing that they’re on the same page with all of this. He sighs. “Got a show to do, I guess.” 

Aurora laughs at him and he thinks his heart swells to double its size, just as it does every time she laughs. He shakes his head again, trying to get her out of his mind for just a short moment so he can get himself stage ready. Aurora slides herself out of the way of the door to grab his jacket. She instantly feels like she’s missing something now that he’s not consuming all of her senses. When she turns around Harry’s already halfway out the door. 

“Babe,” she’s walking towards him, “need your jacket.” Harry nods and he’s in a trance when she helps him slide it onto his shoulders. “Good luck, even though you never really need it.” 

He thanks her and smiles at her. The entire walk from his dressing room to the last set of doors to the stage, all he can think about is Aurora calling him ‘babe’. Normally before a show he can focus and get his mind in check but his brain is full of Aurora right now and he’s doing nothing to stop it. Using her as a flame to ignite his energy and drive this show he’s about to put on. He’s in deep and he knows it right in this moment. He knows that he’ll do anything she says, anything to put a smile on her face, to hear her breathe his name against his neck just as she had a few minutes ago. Harry’s willing to go as slow as humanly possible if it means that tomorrow, or the next day or 3 months from now or whenever, that he gets to call her his.

| | | | |

The first glimpse Harry gets of Aurora while he’s on stage is only seconds into “Only Angel.” Aurora had taken a moment to collect herself before making her way into the audience to watch the show. Harry sees Aurora walking from the side of the stage into the audience and an instant smile grazes his face as he sways from side to side to his music. The lyrics that come out of his mouth, he thinks, are so perfect for this moment - “She’s an angel” - an angel is what she is to him. He shakes his head, hoping that he could shake Aurora out of his head. 

Everyone in the arena is feeding off the energy that Harry is exuding on stage, like a how a flame thrives on extra oxygen. Harry is nothing but smiles and cheeky smirks, dimples on full display the entire time. Aurora doesn’t stay in her normal spot, nor does she seek out Helene. She finds herself on the outskirts of the pit on stage left. Her mind drifts while Harry moves swiftly across the stage. From the angle she’s looking at the stage from, she’s got a perfect profile view of him. She curses to herself when she realises she’s fawning over how he looks in those high waisted pinstripe trousers. At first she thought she was gushing over the trousers themselves, the construction, the styling, the way the fabric drapes at the hem, but she catches her mind drifting towards how Harry looks in them. His legs look like they go on forever, the white trouser stripe accentuating the fit of the leg. Aurora’s eyes trail up to his torso and all she wants to do is wrap her arms around his waist. She wants to run her hands along the smooth, shiny fabric and the more she thinks about it, the more her mind wanders. Shit. Aurora is overwhelmed by the thoughts traveling through her brain. The thoughts of her hands roaming his torso, sliding lower when they reach his back. She shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts. He’s technically my boss. But he’s also, just Harry. This is a fight she has in her head about a million times a day now. 

Aurora is surprised when the intro to “The Chain” begins. She enjoyed the show, that’s for sure, but she feels like she blinked, daydreamed about those damn high waisted trousers, and then he was starting his encore. Aurora can’t help but gaze up to him on the stage, she’s in the midst of admiring his confidence and power in his voice as he rocks back onto his heels and his shoulders follow suit, only accenting the way the suit fits. 

Harry hoists his shoulders up to his ears, both hands on the mic as he belts out. He lets his head fall back, eyes closed, a look a pure bliss falls across his face. Aurora sighs to herself and basques in the idea of bliss falling across his face when he’s with her. She’s fucked at this point and she knows it. She’s in too deep to go back now. Curses fill her head as the song ends and “Kiwi” starts. Harry’s jacket is unbuttoned and he’s fiddling with the waistband of his pants on the side closest to where Aurora is standing. One sly look from Harry to Aurora tells it all. She’s in for it. 

Aurora is bewildered by the fact that Harry is able to communicate with her in the audience. It’s escalated as each show has gone on and every single time he’s on stage he can find her in the crowd at any given moment. 

Reckless is the best word to describe Harry performing ‘Kiwi’. He’s let just about all of his guards down, his hair is no longer in the perfect place that Ayae had done earlier, and there’s a light layer of sweat that covers his exposed skin. Harry’s stealing glances at Aurora no matter where he is on stage. When he makes his way closer to where she is standing he lets himself dance a bit in front of her before he regrets doing so. Harry is instantly reminded how tight his pants truly are and that he’s gotten himself in a tight spot now. Anyone paying attention to Harry can see him pull at the crotch of his pants quickly as he walks towards his mic stand. He laughs to himself as he clicks his mic back into its stand. He takes a glance down to his trousers again, reaching down he goes to pull at the fabric that is sitting much too tight against his bits. All while pulling at his trousers, he searches for Aurora quickly and gives her a look that he hopes relays everything that is going through his head. He hasn’t broken eye contact with her and she can feel the heat rise up to her cheeks. Aurora’s thankful that Harry can’t see the colour her face right now. Her jaw drops at his actions. She wasn’t prepared for him to be so bold and obvious up on stage. He seals the moment with a slow motion swipe of his tongue across his lips. Aurora is left dumbfounded. Before she thinks he’s through with the act he’s putting on for her, he runs a hand through his hair. Though he’s not looking at Aurora, she knows every single action he does in the next few minutes is for her and she can feel the tips of her ears heat up now. 

It’s New York baby always jacked up,

Holland tunnel for a nose, it’s always backed up,

When she’s alone she goes home to a cactus, 

In a black dress, she’s such an actress. 

Harry runs his hands from his hips down to his thighs and then brings his hands up to his head, bringing all his focus to his hips moving side to side. Aurora drops her head back on her shoulders with an eye roll. She doesn’t know what to do with herself right now. 

I’m gonna pay for this. 

He looks directly at her and the look on his face is best described as helpless. Aurora is frozen for a moment before she lets all of her guards down and loses herself in the music. 

| | | | |

Harry’s taking a sip from his new bottle of beer when he hears the light chime of the bar door. He thinks it might be his 3rd or 4th but hasn’t been keeping count. He’s out with the Adam and Mitch again and some crew members tagged along as well. Harry’s reaches for his phone for the millionth time in the past 30 minutes to see if Aurora’s texted him back. She hasn’t. He’s been pouting about it all night. After the show, Aurora was quiet, but much more hands on than normal. They both were pretty quiet in Harry’s dressing room. When Aurora hugged Harry once he got back to his dressing room she let her hands wander his torso like she thought about the entire show She also pressed a handful of kisses to the underside of his jaw before giggling and breaking away. She apologized, mumbling about not being sure why she was acting like this. Harry responded with a squeeze at her hip and then mirrored her mumbling and spoke about him hoping she would get like this. Aurora takes a step away whispering “slow” as a reminder but she doesn’t know if it’s just to remind herself what they agreed on or to remind Harry. Probably both. 

Harry’s too busy checking his phone to notice that the bell at the door was the result of Aurora walking into the bar. Harry wishes he could bring himself to enjoy the time with his friends but he can’t stop thinking about her. When he asked Aurora if she wanted to come out with them she kindly declined, again. He texted her once he got to the bar hoping to get her to change her mind or try to convince her to meet up with him later. 

Aurora and Helene walk into the bar, arms linked and smiles on their faces. Once Harry left the arena, Helene found Aurora and after a few glasses of wine, Helene convinced Aurora to go to the bar and surprise Harry.  

“What if he doesn’t care that I’m here?” Aurora whispers to Helene. 

“Doesn’t care?” Helene questions in disbelief. “Was I the only one who saw him on stage tonight or?” 

“Oh stop,” Aurora hushes. They’re both giggling again. They’ve giggled a lot tonight as a result of a bottle of wine shared between them.

Harry recognizes Aurora’s laugh and his head shoots up, hair falling in his face from the quick movement. He can’t help the smile that covers his entire face when he sees her leaning against the bar. Harry slides out of the booth nodding his head towards Aurora at the bar when Mitch questions where he’s going. 

“Add their drinks to my tab, Rob,” Harry tells the bartender. Helene lets out a laugh, shoots Aurora an all knowing look, and thanks Harry before walking away to find Adam and Mitch. “What changed your mind?” Harry asks as he takes a step closer to Aurora. She shrugs her shoulders, suddenly nervous, the confidence from the wine already gone. She reaches for her Whisky Soda the second Rob slides it to her. She takes a hearty sip before she shrugs her shoulders, avoiding meeting his eyes. “Well,” Harry continues, “thanks for coming,” he offers shyly. 

“Show was pretty great tonight, thought I should celebrate with you,” she finally answers. Harry quirks up an eyebrow. She can see the smirk that compliments his raised eyebrows from the corner of her eye. She focuses on the drink in front of her, watching a drop of condensation rolling down the side of the glass and hit the bar counter. Harry steps closer to her, not even close to touching her still but her hair stands on end across her arms and a shiver rolls down her spine. 

Harry dips his head into the crook of Aurora’s shoulder and he pauses before letting his lips fall to the sliver of bareskin between the trim of her tshirt and the base of her neck.  Another shiver runs down her spine and Harry lets a chuckle vibrate against her skin. 

“You know, we should probably take a look at some of my trousers, they seem to fit a bit tighter than before,” he says casually when he pulls away. He takes a swig from Aurora’s drink nonchalantly. His calm demeanor and confidence frustrates Aurora and she shakes her head lightly. “Why’re you shaking your head?” Harry asks through a light laugh, setting the glass back down, now substantially less full.

Aurora sighs and purses her lips in thought. She finishes off what’s left of her drink before speaking, needing all the courage she can get to say what she really wants to say out loud. “I could give you a list of reasons why your pants fit differently, babe.” Making eye contact with Rob she signals she needs another drink. Harry’s mind draws completely blank when Aurora reaches over and hooks her finger in one of his belt loops, her fingers grazing along the fabric and stitches. “But, it seemed like your dancing was the culprit tonight…” Aurora adds, continuing to mindlessly run her fingertips lightly of the stitches on the waistband of his trousers. Harry huffs at her, finally focusing on her face instead of her hands. 

“Think it was more than the dancing,” Aurora’s eyebrow raises at the sound of Harry’s voice. It was deeper than normal, it sunk to her bones and she’s now consumed by the mixture of his voice and the look in his eyes. His pupils have expanded and even in the dark light Aurora could tell that his bright green irises are only a small ring around his dark pupils. One of Harry’s hands lands on her thigh, “I think I have you to blame for tonight.” Aurora’s entire body stills, her hands loosely grip the belt loop and she lets out a shaky breath. She wasn’t expecting him to be so bold but then she remembers the events from earlier that night. Memories of Harry on stage flash across the inside of her eyelids as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She shakes her head before reaching both of her hands up to Harry’s neck. He complies with her movements and leans down closer to her. 

“Ror.” Harry’s breath fans across Aurora’s face. Aurora voice is stuck at the bottom of her throat and she hopes that she’s relaying what she’s feeling and thinking through her eyes. Before she can think any longer she lets her lips press against Harry’s. They’re both hesitant, relishing in the moment. Aurora grips at the shorter hair at the back of Harry’s neck when his lips press a little harder into hers. She can feel Harry’s shoulders relax as he continues to kiss her. His hands find grip at her waist as his hot breath fans over her face when they break apart for barely a second. Their noses bump slightly before Aurora connects their lips again. The various sounds of the bar are drowned out completely and they don’t know how long they stay kissing at the bar counter. 

Harry pulls away first and Aurora finds herself chasing his lips. Harry chuckles at her actions, endeared by her confidence in the moment. “Hey,” he whispers when she opens her eyes. 

“Hey,” she whispers back, her lips almost close enough to brush against his again. Harry grabs their drinks from the counter after taking a moment between them. 

“Come on,” he says motioning his head towards their group sitting at a large corner booth. Aurora is taken off guard by Harry’s casual transition. When Aurora doesn’t move Harry reaches down and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “Come on, love.” Aurora huffs and jumps off of the stool she was sitting on and reaches for the crook of his elbow. Harry smiles down at her as they walk towards their friends. 

It’s as if nothing had changed. They slide into the booth and fit into the conversations that were already happening. Harry’s complementing a story Adam is telling with a quick witty joke when he moves his beer bottle to his other hand and places his now free arm around Aurora’s shoulder. Harry can feel Aurora’s chest rattle when she gives a good laugh at his jokes. He smiles as he watches her join into the conversation. She even lets a hand rest on Harry’s thigh, squeezing it every so often. Harry presses constant kisses to her hair or behind her ear.

Aurora’s got her 3rd Whiskey Soda in front of her and she turns to look at Harry as he finishes a story. Mitch takes over the story for Harry, going on about one of their crazy times in Jamaica and Harry takes the opportunity that is presented in front of him. With all the attention on Mitch and Aurora still gazing up at him, he connects their lips. They’re both smiling into the kiss. It doesn’t last long, a quick peck, before they’re both engrossed in the story being told. 

The night escalates and somehow Harry gets everyone to stand up and dance around the bar. They’re the only group left and they’ve taken control over the sound system. As “Girls on Film” by Duran Duran blast through the speakers, Harry grabs for Aurora’s hands and is dancing her around, twisting her this way and that, throwing in a few spins, and pressing their lips together whenever he can. Aurora’s cheeks hurt from the wide grin that’s been on show majority of the night. She throws her head back while singing along to the song and Harry can’t think he’s been much happier than he is right now. He thanks the alcohol that’s running through both of their systems but also acknowledges that it’s pushed both of their guards down. 

Harry asks Aurora to come back to his hotel room when they leave the bar. She kindly declines, even after Harry drunkenly clarifies that he just wants to sleep but doesn’t want to say goodnight. He never wants to say goodnight. Harry walks Aurora to her own hotel room instead. He’s said something that neither of them can remember but has put both of them into an absolute laughing mess outside Aurora’s door. 

Harry takes Aurora’s face in his hands, gently once they’ve both taken a breath and stopped laughing. Looking at her eyes then her mouth, then her eyes again, he finally closes the small gap between them. The kiss is kind of messy, but neither mind in that moment. Harry furthers the kiss taking Aurora’s bottom lip in between his and sucks lightly, a small whine coming from Aurora. He likes her reaction and does the same action with her top lip. Another whine. Aurora’s hands roam Harry’s broad shoulders and Harry’s hands move down to her waist, leaning her against the hotel room door. When the door rattles slightly their both reminded that they are standing in the hallway of the hotel. Harry pulls away with regret. 

“I’ve got an early flight to Italy,” he says because he actually cannot think of anything good to say that will compare to this moment. He shakes his head in an apology knowing he broke the moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening, okay?” 

Aurora nods, dizzy from the whiskey and Harry’s lips. Before she closes her hotel room door behind her Harry kisses her cheek and gives her an eye wrinkling smile. It’s safe to say that Harry and Aurora both fall asleep with grins etched into their faces. There are no traces of regret or worry in Aurora’s thoughts from the events that happened tonight and she finally feels at ease. 

I hope you enjoyed !!!! Comments & feedback ALWAYS extremely welcome !!!! Share it with your friendsssssss :)))) love you mean it. 

[ancano]

YoI Fanfic Recs

Okay so I just wanna share some love and show y’all some amazing fanfics that I have personally read and absolutely adored!! You’ll likely see repeated authors, either cuz I follow them on tumblr or cuz I’ll raid their uploads once I find one I really like. Also apparently I read a lot of A/B/O so if that isn’t your thing sorry hhhhhh

No particular order for these, just going down my bookmarks and history lists on ao3

Glitter & Gold by plisetskytrash and victurius (I just caught up with this one and oh my god I love it.) Summary - In a world where drugs, sex, and violence rule, Viktor Nikiforov is the king. As the Pakhan of the Russian Mafia (the Bratva) he is responsible for murder and mayhem across multiple continents and that’s just the way he likes it. The only problem is that a new leader has risen to power in America – known only as ‘JJ’ – and he starts to intrude on Viktor’s territory.Not only is that rude, it’s damn right unacceptable.So, Viktor sets out to find out as much about JJ as he can, including infiltrating the businesses he owns, such as The Kiss and Cry, a sleazy club that works as a front for an exclusive exotic omega strip club that only the richest and most powerful men can access. Naturally, Viktor has no trouble getting inside. Once he’s there, however, his plans are thrown out of the window when he spots a beautiful, young Japanese omega with chocolate-brown eyes and an ass to die for. There’s only one problem: Viktor swore he’d never mate an omega.Will Viktor manage to stay focused on his mission? Or will this omega break Viktor’s most important rule?

Eros and Agape by ImaTastyPorkCutletBowl and Spunky0ne (you’ll see a couple works from these guys in this list because they are *chef’s kiss* amazing) Summary - For as long as Victor can remember, Yakov and Lilia have protected him from being discovered to be an Omega by helping him to project as an Alpha. But at the Grand Prix Final banquet, he comes face to face with the man destined to be his husband.

NEXT LEVEL: Nights After Dreams by RipVanGabriel (this is a LONG one, I haven’t even gotten very far in it, but trust me it’s worth it) Summary -  The silver medal was hard fought and won, but now the stakes are higher than ever. Five gold medals loom on the horizon, but more importantly, the "life and love" within the gold rings. Yuri and Viktor's relationship grows as they get back on the competition road, and new complications rise with them. (Proper follow-up to the TV series; not AU, no crack ships, no weird shit.)

Wait! But, I’m not Yakuza! by ImaTastyPorkCutletBowl, SesshomaruFreak, and Spunky0ne (like I said, these guys, *chef’s kiss* I refuse to admit how many times I’ve reread the 2 chapters that are currently posted. I’m also the only person commenting on it last i checked which is a fucking shame, so y’all go comment on this amazing fic pls) Summary - The Katsuki family, except for the Hasetsu Katsukis, are the largest and most powerful Yakuza family in Japan, so it’s not surprising that poor Yuuri keeps getting mistaken for one of his distant relatives. On a trip to Russia with his father, Yuuri stumbles into a bar to avoid a group of rough looking punks, and he comes face to face with a beautiful, silver-haired exotic dancer. Things get crazy when Yuuri sees the lovely dancer being abused and steps in, only to get himself beaten into unconsciousness. He wakes in his hotel room and finds a note next to his bed…”Thank you for your kindness. I’m sorry those ruffians hurt you. It’s better you stay away. I don’t want anything else bad to happen to you. Vitya” He should go home. He should just forget the man, but Yuuri can’t help himself…Victuuri, intersex Victor, intersex pregnancy, lots of flustered Yuuri!

Love’s Requiem by Kashoku (gonna be honest, I don’t even ship Yuuri/Yuri, but I enjoy this fic) Summary -  If you had asked Yuuri in Barcelona if there was anything that could ever bring him down from the high of being with Viktor Nikiforov, he would have laughed. But when the living legend suffers a career ending injury, it brings new struggles to their relationship. Viktor begins to drown his sorrows, and Yuuri finds himself being pulled beneath the surface in a way he’s not sure he can survive.

you’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be by roserelease (this shit right here is my fucking bread and butter y’all. I can’t even express how much happiness and love this fic gives me) Summary - More than anything, Yuuri wants to impress his cosplay role model Viktor Nikiforov. But after a horrible start to a convention weekend, he panics and backs out at the last second to meet his idol. Normally this would be fine, except Yuuri discovers too late that there's a little Viktor related secret inside the con vlog his best friend filmed over the course of the weekend for him...It's fine, he thinks. Embarrassing, but not the end of the world. And it's not like Viktor himself will ever see the con vlog, so why worry?(Except then Viktor does.)

Paying For Poison by SaerenDPity (another one of my absolute faves that sadly only updates once every other blue moon but when it does update I feel overwhelmingly Blessed) Summary - "Skater Katsuki?" Yuuri's eyes widened as he nodded, and suddenly Viktor Nikiforov was clutching at his coat. He barely registered that his childhood hero knew his name, he couldn't think on that when Viktor's voice was on the edge of breaking. Desperation lined his every movement."Yes th-that's me. Um… Mr. Nikiforov… Do… do you need help?"Viktor shook his head violently and shoved his hand into Yuuri's pocket. Yuuri only had time to squeak before Viktor was backing away, breathing heavily. "Please… please buy me."…Years after Viktor Nikiforov suddenly disappeared from the public eye, he resurfaces at the Rostelecom Cup, desperate for help. And Yuuri simply cannot abandon the man who inspired almost every aspect of his life, and so, he makes the decision to do just as Viktor asks - buy his services as an omega for one night.

Drowning In Your Love by MysticLipstick (another rarely updated fic that I’m head over heels for. please feed me, I need MORE) Summary -  Victor Nikiforov has always gotten away with being a whore in college. Being the top athlete swimmer has gained him tons of attention, championships and girls. However, a cosmic encounter with Yuuri Katsuki has him questioning everything—including his sexuality. Yuuri’s shy nature and blatant disregard for Victor’s fame has Victor chasing him—something he’s never done, but Yuuri shuts him down. Completely.

November’s Secret by LanaBerry (I’ve reread this one about 5 times already tbh) Summary - Overwhelmed with anxiety and his fear of failing, Yuuri faces the issue of if he should continue skating. His best friend, Yuko, proposes a solution - if no one knows it's you, then it's less embarrassing, right? Yuuri begins to create a completely new disguise and persona.But it works a little too well.Before he knows it, Yuuri has become the biggest mystery of the skating world and everyone wants to know who he is. Especially Viktor Nikiforov, the idol he's been loosely basing his new persona on for years.

The ‘Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches’ series by Reiya (recently finished rereading this one, always so fucking good) Summary - ‘…Of all the rivalries in the world of sports over the years, perhaps none has become so legendary as that of Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov and his rival, Japanese Yuuri Katsuki…’ A single event changes the course of Yuuri’s life, throwing him into a bitter rivalry with Viktor Nikiforov that spans across his entire skating career. But as the years go on, rivalry and hatred begin to develop into something very different and Yuuri doesn’t seem to be able to stay away, no matter how hard he tries.Hatred and love are two sides of the same coin and even though everything changes, some things are still meant to be.

With What We Once Had by MagicalMirai (this one is just too cute tbh) Summary -  They called it quits, over a year and a half ago. But even though he should have been expecting it, Yuuri can’t help but feel suffocated when he bumps into Victor at the Grand Prix final, whilst holding his son. The son... he never told Victor about.

Nerve Endings by Phyona (this one is next on the “to reread” list) Summary -  When Yuuri moves in with Victor in St. Petersburg, they have to work through Yuuri's anxiety and Victor's secrets to find their balance.

Puppy Love by Phyona (another phyona fic and it’s just way too fucking cute tbh) Summary - When Yuuri gets turned into a dog, the last place he expects to end up is Victor Nikiforov's apartment. He learns quickly that the only thing worse than being his idol's pet, is watching him pine for someone else.Warning: Makkachin has recently passed away at the start of this story.

The Stars on his Cheeks by QueenWinterofLuna (this one was actually written for a prompt I personally requested and I absolutely adore it, even still) Summary -  A short drabble based on this Tumblr request from @napsushi: Can you write a fic where Yuuri discovers Victor has freckles and is just over the moon about it? This fandom needs more freckled Vitya.

This is all I can find and think of for now but if I remember more I’ll be sure to update it!!

[architectuul]

Twelve Cautionary Urban Tales: Our Acts Make the City

The exhibition at Matadero Madrid, Twelve Cautionary Urban Tales, brings a fresh look into the (im)possible urban futures. It prompts us to wonder about individual actions – mundane or extraordinary, planned or accidental – and the ways in which they contribute towards building the city of tomorrow. 

Celine Baumann’s Parliament of Plants; imagining a democracy based on the principle of mutual care and support. | Photo © Lukasz Michalak  

It is interesting to write about it at this moment when, due to the Covid-19 pandemic, our urban experience is turned upside down. Right now most of us can do the most by completely retreating from city life and staying physically away from each other. And still, as we try to do this from afar but in unison, in solidarity, we already lay the groundwork for our shared future city. What could that city be? Take a look at the exhibition to delve into the cautionary tales.

The first of twelve tales: Inverted Tents by Aristide Antonas, telling about a city fragmented into autonomous pieces | Photo © Lukasz Michalak

Twelve Cautionary Urban Tales, curated by Ethel Baraona Pohl, was opened on February 13 at Matadero Madrid. It consists of twelve cities – that is, twelve stories of cities – asking and teasing and urging us to think about the urban futures. Who do we really live with, in this big city, in this cyberspace, in this tiny room? How children play, and why is that important? Would plants make better parliamentarians than we do? What if we actually listened to the sound of injustice we keep imposing upon Earth? Is our first city in outer space going to reproduce the capitalist mode of production? Did you learn or do anything interesting yesterday?

Are the producers of happiness rankings the new designers of our cities? Our Happy Life: Architecture and Well-being in the Age of Emotional Capitalism curated by Francesco Garutti CCA. | Photo © Lukasz Michalak  

Queering the City is a sound installation with a range of works by artists invited by Katayoun Arian. Its content and connections are subject to rhythmic formations and deformations. | Photo © Lukasz Michalak

With the project 3 Wanders and 2 Strolls, Clara Nubiola explain the Madrid and its infrastructures that has grown from junctions, bridges, informal paths, illegal camps, and glass office buildings. | Photo © Lukasz Michalak

To make us stop and think about all of this and more, Ethel Baraona Pohl, the curator, critic, and the co-founder of dpr-barcelona publishing house, has brought together a variety of practices, from different fields and generations. Their artistic installations compose an exhibition inspired by Superstudio’s famous piece Twelve Cautionary Tales for Christmas, published in 1971 in Architectural Design. With these “twelve visions of ideal cities”, Superstudio gave an enduring lesson on the perils of modernist utopias, the dangers of perfectionism, and the illusion of happiness found in blissful ignorance and blind fate in technology.

Superstudio’s  ideal cities “free from contradiction, equivocation and indecision.” | Illustrations via  arqueologiadelfuturo.blogspot.com

The influence of Superstudio’s radical work cannot be overstated, and the work itself should be studied and analyzed in the context of the critical debate of the 1960s and ‘70s. But it might be interesting to briefly remember some of the Superstudio’s sharp, unexpected, science-fiction inspired visions. Their first city might give you eternal life on a grid of perfect equality, but it will also crush you with a 2,000 tons panel if you so much as consider rebelling against the system. The eighth city, with its perfect proportions and terraces narrowing as they go up all the way to the mysterious top, is the embodiment of class exploitation. The tenth city solved the problem of democracy and public participation by reprogramming anyone who’d ever questioned any of the mayor’s decisions. And the sixth city, the one where you can pay to go in and be whoever you choose to be and do whatever you want to do, might have inspired the TV series Westworld. The issues at the center of Superstudio’s tales have not faded, and their provocative message still warns us, and rightfully so, about the limits of a mechanic, technological perfection which anesthetizes human imagination, and about the values of human action and contradiction.

Cosmorama is a version of one previously exhibited in 2018 at the US Pavilion at the 16th Venice Biennale by Design Earth. | Photo ©  Lukasz Michalak

The Atom People by Traumnovelle, based on the machine-city, questions the paradox of contradictory relations that occur in nature when it is born from the search of ecology through technological means  | Photo © Lukasz Michalak

Exhibition Twelve Cautionary Urban Tales furthers the conversation by putting human action front and center, to be either criticized, admired – or simply induced. These tales have grown into installations, which bring forward a set of questions about our relationship with nature, with each other, with architecture, with political and physical spaces we inhabit, and with those we (still) don’t. And we must come up with some answers: there’s no sleeping through the urban challenges we face today, there’s no one to take over the control panel of our joint existence. We are building our messy cities together, and look, hear, feel – this is where we might end up!

Guerrera video, filmed at the Automotive Museum by Eduardo Barreiros, is one of the works featured in the audiovisual archiving project Selling Bricks.

It addresses the relationship between urban music and an architectural object, the role of popular culture in the dissemination of architectural heritage. 

Unsettled Urbanism by Merve Bedir, Chong Suen, Sampson Wong is a call to understand how collective spatial intelligence is produced and the other ways of living the city that emerge. | Photo ©  Lukasz Michalak

The storytellers bringing their cautionary tales forward are Aristide Antonas with Inverted Tents, Katayoun Arian with Queering the City: A Sono-orientation (with artists Angela Anderson, Irene Cassarini, Karachi Beach Radio, and Gayatri Kodikal), MAIO Architects with The Grand Interior: Towards the Diffuse Home, Clara Nubiola with 3 Wanders and 2 Strolls, Traumnovelle with The Atom People, Celine Baumann with The Parliament of Plants, Chloé Rutzerveld with The Politics of Food: a Radical New Food System for the Anthropocene City, Bartlebooth with Selling Bricks (with Alberto de Miguel), Merve Bedir, Chong Suen and Sampson Wong with Unsettled Urbanism, Design Earth with Cosmorama, Assemble with The Voice of Children and Canadian Centre for Architecture (CCA) with Our Happy Life: Architecture and Well-being in the Age of Emotional Capitalism curated by Francesco Garutti. 

Exhibition closes with a final call back to Superstudio. We’re still working out the same questions! | Photo © Lukasz Michalak

Exhibition at Matadero Madrid shall be set until July 19, 2020. Although Matadero is, like the museums and galleries all over the world, currently closed, the exhibition can still be viewed online.

- by Sonja Dragović 

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Twelve Cautionary Urban Tales  Matadero Madrid, Center for Contemporary Creation Plaza de Legazpi 8, Madrid

From 13 of February to 19 of July 19 2020

Curator: Ethel Baraona Pohl Curatorial advisor: César Reyes Exhibition design: Taller de Casquería Graphic design: Naranjo-Etxeberría